Quinn was wondering how he'd manage to get out to Oak Street Beach more often when he saw her bend and twist in her seat again. Now what? Didn't the woman sit still for a second?

She surfaced with an elastic band and haphazardly bunched and twirled her thick hair into a heap at the back of her head. Those little damp curls appeared on her neck again, and he had to turn away.

"I read all of the letters you dropped off, Miss Adams. Sixteen notes in all, beginning last summer, right?"

"Unless I got another one today. I haven't been to the office to check my mail." Autumn crossed her arms over her chest and looked out at the calm summer-blue water of Lake Michigan.

"All were sent to your office on Chestnut Street, is that correct?"

"Right-which I don't make public. I tell readers to write in care of the Banner." Autumn jolted up again and rooted around in the gym bag at her feet. She produced a little pot of lip balm and dipped her finger inside. With eyes heavy-lidded in concentration, she ran a slick pinkie over lips that formed a perfect O of wet, soft flesh.

Quinn couldn't watch. His chest hurt. "And you reported that before the letters there were other incidents? Slashed tires, the delivery of dead flowers?"

"Yep. Dead roses. Creepy. It started right after my mom died last spring."

"And you have no idea who is doing this to you?"

She tossed the lip balm into the gym bag and gave him a sassy shake of her head. "That's your job, isn't it? I tell people about one hundred and one uses for dryer lint. You solve crimes."

The dark cop sunglasses hid his expression, but Autumn could see his face strain to suppress an outright smile.

"You know, Miss Adams, you're not exactly what I expected."

She groaned. She'd heard that one before.

Wrigley Field now loomed over them and Autumn turned in her seat as they drove by, feeling a huge silly grin spread over her face.