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"I can't imagine what else it could be. The coincidences..." She said, her voice shakier than she would have liked.
"I guess there's only one way to find out." He glanced at her over his shoulder and she put a hand to her cheek, trying to cool her still warm skin. Even now when he looked at her she felt herself heating up again. Felt the ghost of his kiss on her lips, on her neck, and lower.
"Right," she breathed. "I guess I'll meet you at the station?"
"Right," he said, and for an instant it seemed like he was about to say something else, but then, just as quickly, he turned on his heel and left.
When the door thumped closed behind him, she closed her eyes and leaned against her living room wall, trying to stop the spin of the room and the racing of her heart. What the hell had she done? Twice now?
And why was it that this time she didn't feel the least bit sorry?
Securing her badge in her pocket, she made for her car and raced toward the station, her mind humming with thought the whole way.
Or, more specifically, thoughts of Derrick.
She had to tell him she wanted him, that she didn't care about Zac. After all, who was Zac compared to Derrick Archer? He couldn't make her body yield to his the way that Derrick had. And he couldn't make her smile the way Derrick did. Didn't make her feel comfortable, like herself.
She pulled into her parking spot to find Derrick idling by his car.
"They want us to go to the scene." He nodded at her. "Want to come in my cruiser?"
She smiled, thinking of how she might have answered the question under different circumstances, then gave a stiff nod.
Business first. They'd handle business first.
Then they'd get back to pleasure.
He opened the door for her and she slid in and turned on the radio, expecting him to whinge about whatever 90's pop band was blaring from the speakers. Instead, he ignored it and started the ignition.
"So, listen," he said, almost too softly for her to hear.
"Yeah, I..." she started, but she didn't know how to finish and let the words hang in the air between them.
"It looks like I have to apologize again." He reached toward her and ran his thumb over the side of her neck.
She pulled a compact from where she'd left it in his glove box and stared at the tiny love bite on her neck, red and shaped perfectly like his mouth.
"Oh, right," she said.
"We'll make sure it gets covered before we get back."
"Right, good call." She nodded again and folded her hands in her lap. "Listen, Derrick, I think..."
I think what we did was the best thing that's ever happened to me.
I think you're perfect.
I think this could really be something.
"Maybe you should wait to tell me until you know everything. I think this case is going to upset you."
"Why? What happened?"
"The code...the victim was a twenty-six-year old female, blonde hair. She was a dancer. Patricia McGill was her real name, but on the stage she went by Crystal."
"No." All the blood drained from her face and she stared down at her interlocked hands. "You think..."
"I know. Someone found out she informed on them."
