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Peeling off her jacket, she said, “I just passed Lorna’s desk. The lieutenant wants to see us in ten.”
Lorna Driscoll was the lieutenant’s secretary.
“I saw. Email.” He hiked his chin at his computer monitor, then checked his watch.
She paused and took a quick assessment of him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
With a lift of her shoulder, she said, “I dunno. Looks like you’re a few quarts shy.”
“Of—?”
“Oh, don’t tempt me.” Her eyebrows drew together over dark eyes that sparked with humor. “I could come up with lots of things, but let’s just say shut-eye.” She tossed the jacket over her arm. “Let me guess: Jonas McIntyre.”
He sent her a look, but she was already heading to her desk.
Watching her leave, he couldn’t help but wonder about her. There was more to Aramis Johnson than met the eye, a lot more. Yet she was secretive. He chalked it up to her being a private person, but maybe it went deeper than that. Maybe she was hiding something.
And then he stopped himself from going down that lonely, forbidden path. She was a cop. Duly vetted. Dedicated to the department. The truth was that he was becoming jaded from years on the force, and that was dangerous; he was becoming suspicious of anyone he met.
Even his own partner.
Ridiculous, he told himself as he pushed out his chair; he was jumping at shadows.
But no matter how hard he tried to bury them, his doubts had a nasty way of always cropping up again, like weeds gone to seed in fertile soil.
He’d just have to deal with them.
But he’d watch his step. Johnson, like everyone else in his life, would have to prove herself before he trusted her.
