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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 212 из 236"Trust me when I say that I'd rather you'd have walkedin on a full-blown menage a trois than the call I just finished."
She seemed to see me clearly for the first time. "You look shaken."
I shrugged. "My family … gotta love 'em."
She looked at me a long time, almost a minute, as if she was making up her mind about something. Finally, she shook her head. "Rhys is right. Only the threat of seeing you in flagrante delicto would have kept me out here this long. But family business isn't police business, so screw it."
"Are you here on police business?" Doyle asked as he moved smoothly past me into the larger room.
"Yes," she said, and stepped around the couch to face him.
He kept moving into the dining area so it wasn't so confrontational, but Lucy wanted a confrontation. She stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, looking belligerent like she wanted to pick a fight with someone.
"What's wrong, Lucy?" I asked, moving into the room to sit down on the far edge of the couch. If she wanted to keep eye contact with me, she'd have to walk around the couch and face me. She did, settling uneasily into the pink chair again.
She leaned forward, hands clasped together, fingers entwined as she fought with herself.
I asked again, "What's wrong, Lucy?"
"There was another mass killing last night." Lucy usually gave good eye contact, but not today. Today her eyes roved over the apartment, restless, not looking at anything too long.
"Was it like the one we saw?" I asked.
She nodded, resting a momentary gaze on me, then turned away to look at the television, the line of herbs that Galen had growing in the window. "Exactly the same except for location."
Doyle came to kneel behind the couch, arms touching my shoulders lightly. I think he'd knelt so he wouldn't loom over us. "Jeremy has informed us that everyone at his agency has been forbidden from this case. Your Lieutenant Peterson doesn't seem too happy with us."
"I don't know what's gotten up Peterson's craw, and I'm sitting here trying to decide if I care. If I talk to you about this case, it could mean my job." She pushed to her feet and began to pace in the small space of the living room; picture window to pink chair, caught between the couch and the white painted wood of the entertainment center.
"All I've ever wanted was to be a cop." She shook her head, running fingers through her thick brunette hair. "But I'd rather lose my job than see another one of these scenes."
She sat down in the pink chair abruptly, and now she looked at me, those wide eyes, that earnest face.
She seemed to see me clearly for the first time. "You look shaken."
I shrugged. "My family … gotta love 'em."
She looked at me a long time, almost a minute, as if she was making up her mind about something. Finally, she shook her head. "Rhys is right. Only the threat of seeing you in flagrante delicto would have kept me out here this long. But family business isn't police business, so screw it."
"Are you here on police business?" Doyle asked as he moved smoothly past me into the larger room.
"Yes," she said, and stepped around the couch to face him.
He kept moving into the dining area so it wasn't so confrontational, but Lucy wanted a confrontation. She stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, looking belligerent like she wanted to pick a fight with someone.
"What's wrong, Lucy?" I asked, moving into the room to sit down on the far edge of the couch. If she wanted to keep eye contact with me, she'd have to walk around the couch and face me. She did, settling uneasily into the pink chair again.
She leaned forward, hands clasped together, fingers entwined as she fought with herself.
I asked again, "What's wrong, Lucy?"
"There was another mass killing last night." Lucy usually gave good eye contact, but not today. Today her eyes roved over the apartment, restless, not looking at anything too long.
"Was it like the one we saw?" I asked.
She nodded, resting a momentary gaze on me, then turned away to look at the television, the line of herbs that Galen had growing in the window. "Exactly the same except for location."
Doyle came to kneel behind the couch, arms touching my shoulders lightly. I think he'd knelt so he wouldn't loom over us. "Jeremy has informed us that everyone at his agency has been forbidden from this case. Your Lieutenant Peterson doesn't seem too happy with us."
"I don't know what's gotten up Peterson's craw, and I'm sitting here trying to decide if I care. If I talk to you about this case, it could mean my job." She pushed to her feet and began to pace in the small space of the living room; picture window to pink chair, caught between the couch and the white painted wood of the entertainment center.
"All I've ever wanted was to be a cop." She shook her head, running fingers through her thick brunette hair. "But I'd rather lose my job than see another one of these scenes."
She sat down in the pink chair abruptly, and now she looked at me, those wide eyes, that earnest face.