you calling?” he interrupted himself to ask with surprise when she picked up her phone with an exasperated tsk and started to punch in one of the phone numbers she’d written on a notepad on the table next to her computer.
“Your sister,” she answered abruptly as she finished entering the numbers for the Port Henry Police Station and heard the first ring. She’d planned to wait until morning to call Mac’s sister and verify he was who he claimed to be, but if the woman worked nights—
CJ’s thoughts died as the phone was answered and a professional-sounding female voice answered. “Port Henry Police Station. How can I help you?”
“May I speak to Katricia Argeneau—” she glanced to the paper and finished “—Brunswick?”
“Speaking,” the woman on the other end of the phone said, sounding curious now.
“Why are you calling my sister?” Mac asked with amazement before she could say anything.
CJ waved him to silence, but the woman had obviously heard Mac speak, and recognized his voice, because she said, “Is that Mac I heard?”
“Yes, it is, Ms. Brunswick,” CJ answered in her best professional voice even as she scowled to keep him from speaking again. “It’s him I’m actually calling about. He is your brother?”
“Yes,” the woman said at once.
“And he lives at—” She read the address of the farmhouse from her notepad. CJ had copied it from the piece of paper Captain Dupree had given her.
“I’m not sure,” the woman admitted slowly. “I know he rented a house in Sandford, but I don’t have the address with me at the moment. That sounds right though.”
“And he worked in New York previous to this, for ten years or so?” CJ asked, noting the way Mac’s eyebrows rose as he realized she was verifying the information he’d given her.
“Yes. At Argentis Inc.,” Katricia Argeneau Brunswick said, sounding more professional now as she too cottoned on to what CJ was doing. “In fact, he still works for the company. He simply moved to Canada and will work for them from here.”
CJ took a moment to think if there was anything else she needed to verify, but while there were loads of things she’d like to ask, none of them were really pertinent to the case of his house being burned down.
“Who am I speaking to?” Katricia asked suddenly, and CJ grimaced as she realized she hadn’t identified herself.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized politely. “My name is CJ Cummings. I’m an investigator with the SIU.” As a police officer, Katricia would know what that was and probably wouldn’t like her any more than any other officer usually did, so CJ rushed on to explain, “I came to Sandford to interview an officer here, but got roped into helping at a fire instead. The fire was at your brother’s home. He is fine,” she added quickly as the woman sucked in a gasp of air. “In fact, I’ll pass the phone to him now so that he can reassure you of that himself.”
CJ held out the phone to Mac, and then got up and moved to stand by the window and look out at the road as he began to talk to his sister. She was trying to give him privacy, but it was hard not to hear him reassure Katricia that he was fine and explain what had happened.
“Yes, Katricia, she called to verify my information,” he said after a moment when his sister apparently spoke. “No, I couldn’t,” he said, sounding cheerful. Curious, she turned to see that he was grinning and staring right at her while he did.
CJ turned back to the window abruptly, fighting the urge to blush for some reason.
“Yes, she is,” Mac said now. “Yes . . . No, I do not need help. No. Really, Kat, I do not want help. Dammit! Sisters,” he muttered suddenly with exasperation, and she heard a clatter that made her glance around. He’d tossed her phone back on the table, and was now scowling at it with displeasure. The phone call was apparently over and had not ended the way he would have wanted.
“Problem?” CJ asked mildly, moving back to her seat.
“She has decided she should come here to help,” he said with disgust.
CJ’s eyebrows rose at this news. “I somehow don’t think Captain Dupree will appreciate help with his investigation.”
“Not with the investigation, with y—” He stopped abruptly, and then asked, “Why would he not appreciate help? He requested your help.”
“Only because he lost his detective last month,” she responded. “Besides, I