all your very
important questions, I see no reason for us to have our official meeting Friday
afternoon. But before we both go our separate ways, there is one thing I want to
say.”
“I can hardly wait,” he muttered.
“This thing with Layne, it’s a load of crap. She doesn’t break
the rules…she makes sure the rules are maintained. And Ross? He’s as by-the-book
as they come.”
“He’s sleeping with a subordinate officer. Wait,” he said,
holding up a hand, “don’t tell me. They’re in love and love trumps everything
else, even rules, regulations and law and order?”
“I have no idea if they’re in love or in lust or just
scratching an itch until something or someone else comes along. All I know is
that they’re two unattached adults and neither one would let their personal
relationship interfere with their jobs. And they sure as hell wouldn’t create
some sort of grand conspiracy.”
“I guess that’ll be determined. I’ll determine it.”
“You’re an arrogant one, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
“Confident. As if your badge gives you the right to look down on the rest of us
mere mortals. I thought a good cop waited until he had all the facts before
deciding whether someone was guilty, but you…you’ve already judged us. And found
us guilty.”
He held her gaze, not the least bit cowed by her sharp words,
her acerbic tone. “I’m trying to get to the truth.”
“I hope you find it because it’s going to prove that neither my
sister nor Ross have done anything illegal or unethical. It’s also going to show
that no one in my family killed Dale York.”
She walked away. And prayed that she was right. Because if
Bertrand discovered something, anything, that could be used against her sister
or any member of her family, they were screwed.
* * *
L ATE F RIDAY AFTERNOON , Anthony Sullivan
pulled a coffee cup from the dispenser. Ever since his freshman year at Boston
University, he stopped at this same store whenever he got back into town. Some
habits were hard to break.
The bell on the door rang and he glanced over—and wished he’d
attended a twelve-step program for lovers of bad convenience store coffee.
It was her. Jessica Taylor. He knew he should look away, but
his eyes locked on her. She held the door, said something to the short redhead
who waitressed with her at the café. Then she laughed, the sound seeming to
float across the store to wrap around him. Torture him.
Goddamn her.
Ducking his head, he watched the chemically enhanced
vanilla-flavored coffee squirt into the takeout cup. His shoulders ached with
tension. His chest was tight, as if he’d explode if he took a full breath.
They’d met here, right here at this very spot, well over three
months ago. When he’d run in for a coffee, he hadn’t known his entire life was
about to change. But then he’d turned and saw her and it was as if he’d been
struck by lightning. As if everything out of order in his life had neatly fallen
into place.
He’d been such an idiot.
Anthony sensed her approaching, caught sight of her from the
corner of his eye. She was close enough he could smell her light perfume. Could
reach out and trace his finger down the softness of her cheek like he used to.
Longing mixed with the anger in his gut, made it impossible to ignore the
memories that rushed into his mind. Ones he’d been fighting ever since he walked
away from her.
“Anthony,” she said, her voice breathless. Scared. She cleared
her throat. “Hi.”
He should walk away now. He didn’t owe her anything, not even
politeness. But he made the mistake of turning, and noticed how nervous she
looked, the way she twisted her hands together at her waist.
And his feet froze to the floor.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, all he could give her. All he wanted to
give to the girl who’d lied to him, who’d made him look like such a fool.
She’d cut her hair, he realized with a jolt, his fingers
twitching with the need to touch
important questions, I see no reason for us to have our official meeting Friday
afternoon. But before we both go our separate ways, there is one thing I want to
say.”
“I can hardly wait,” he muttered.
“This thing with Layne, it’s a load of crap. She doesn’t break
the rules…she makes sure the rules are maintained. And Ross? He’s as by-the-book
as they come.”
“He’s sleeping with a subordinate officer. Wait,” he said,
holding up a hand, “don’t tell me. They’re in love and love trumps everything
else, even rules, regulations and law and order?”
“I have no idea if they’re in love or in lust or just
scratching an itch until something or someone else comes along. All I know is
that they’re two unattached adults and neither one would let their personal
relationship interfere with their jobs. And they sure as hell wouldn’t create
some sort of grand conspiracy.”
“I guess that’ll be determined. I’ll determine it.”
“You’re an arrogant one, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
“Confident. As if your badge gives you the right to look down on the rest of us
mere mortals. I thought a good cop waited until he had all the facts before
deciding whether someone was guilty, but you…you’ve already judged us. And found
us guilty.”
He held her gaze, not the least bit cowed by her sharp words,
her acerbic tone. “I’m trying to get to the truth.”
“I hope you find it because it’s going to prove that neither my
sister nor Ross have done anything illegal or unethical. It’s also going to show
that no one in my family killed Dale York.”
She walked away. And prayed that she was right. Because if
Bertrand discovered something, anything, that could be used against her sister
or any member of her family, they were screwed.
* * *
L ATE F RIDAY AFTERNOON , Anthony Sullivan
pulled a coffee cup from the dispenser. Ever since his freshman year at Boston
University, he stopped at this same store whenever he got back into town. Some
habits were hard to break.
The bell on the door rang and he glanced over—and wished he’d
attended a twelve-step program for lovers of bad convenience store coffee.
It was her. Jessica Taylor. He knew he should look away, but
his eyes locked on her. She held the door, said something to the short redhead
who waitressed with her at the café. Then she laughed, the sound seeming to
float across the store to wrap around him. Torture him.
Goddamn her.
Ducking his head, he watched the chemically enhanced
vanilla-flavored coffee squirt into the takeout cup. His shoulders ached with
tension. His chest was tight, as if he’d explode if he took a full breath.
They’d met here, right here at this very spot, well over three
months ago. When he’d run in for a coffee, he hadn’t known his entire life was
about to change. But then he’d turned and saw her and it was as if he’d been
struck by lightning. As if everything out of order in his life had neatly fallen
into place.
He’d been such an idiot.
Anthony sensed her approaching, caught sight of her from the
corner of his eye. She was close enough he could smell her light perfume. Could
reach out and trace his finger down the softness of her cheek like he used to.
Longing mixed with the anger in his gut, made it impossible to ignore the
memories that rushed into his mind. Ones he’d been fighting ever since he walked
away from her.
“Anthony,” she said, her voice breathless. Scared. She cleared
her throat. “Hi.”
He should walk away now. He didn’t owe her anything, not even
politeness. But he made the mistake of turning, and noticed how nervous she
looked, the way she twisted her hands together at her waist.
And his feet froze to the floor.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, all he could give her. All he wanted to
give to the girl who’d lied to him, who’d made him look like such a fool.
She’d cut her hair, he realized with a jolt, his fingers
twitching with the need to touch
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