Spencer and Ben arrived punctually at six. She’d showered and changed into a light summer dress. Tomorrow she faced who knows what. This evening she wanted to look feminine and carefree for him. The last thing she ever wanted was to turn their lives into a police discourse.
Ben hugged her at once.
“Hey, she’s mine,” said Spencer, pulling her into his strong arms. His hair was wet from the shower and he wore a classy cologne. He rocked her tenderly, his large strong hands covering her whole back.
“Come on. Let’s get this done,” she said.
“What?” said the two guys in unison.
She seated them at her desk and typed a code into her computer.
“This is the PNC, the police national computer. It’s a huge data base. It can tell you anyone’s criminal record, who owns a car, where somebody lives
