First to Die

Chapter47

AS SOON AS I GOT BACK to the Hall, I did two things: I called Claire and Cindy and told them what I'd found out at Saks, then I went to find Chris Raleigh. I shared everything with Chris, and we decided to put a woman detective from the Sex Crimes Unit inside the department store. I sent a sketch artist over to see Maryanne Perkins at Saks. Then Chris shared something important with me. Roth and Mercer had handed over our case files to the FBI. I felt a knifing pain deep in my chest. I rushed into the bathroom, closed the door behind me, pressed my back against the cold, chipped tile. Goddamn, son-of-a-bitch, controlling men. Goddamn Roth and Mercer! I stared at my face in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed. My skin was burning. The FBI. This was my case- and Claire's, and Cindy's, and Raleigh's. It meant more to me than any other I'd ever worked on. Suddenly, my legs felt wobbly. Neglt's? The doctor had said I'd be feeling fits of nausea or light-headedness. I had my fourth transfusion scheduled at Moffett, the hematology unit, at five-thirty. An overwhelming emptiness tugged at me, alternating between anger and fear. I was just starting to crack this thing. I didn't need outsiders in dark suits and tie pins buzzing around with a clumsy, ham-handed alternative investigation. I blinked into the mirror. My cheeks, which had been burning with anger, now looked pallid and lifeless. My eyes were watery and gray. My whole body seemed drained of color. I stared at myself until a familiar voice came alive inside me. Come on. Get yourself together. You win-you always win. I splashed cold water on my face. The flashing sweat on my neck began to subside. You're allowed one of these. I exhaled with a thin smile. Just don't do that again. Gradually, a familiar glimmer came to life in my eyes and normal color seeped back into my cheeks. It was four-twenty. I had to be at Moffett by five. I'd start on the names from Saks tomorrow. After applying a few dabs of makeup, I made my way back to my desk. To my chagrin, Raleigh wandered up. "Now you can manage their fallout," I snapped unnecessarily, referring to the FBI. "I didn't know," he said. "As soon as I did, I told you." "Yeah." I nodded. "I know." Raleigh got up, came around, and sat on the edge of my desk, facing me. "Something's wrong, isn't it? Tell me. Please." How did he know? Maybe he was a much better detective than I gave him credit for. For a moment, I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted it to come out. Then Raleigh did something totally unexpected. He flashed one of those trusting smiles that I couldn't help but give myself over to. He pulled me out of my chair and gave me a hug. I was so surprised I didn't even resist. I was quivering jelly in his arms. It wasn't quite sexual, but no burst of passion had ever rippled through me more powerfully. Raleigh held me until the anxiety had slowly melted away. Right there, in the fucking squad room. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't want to pull back. Or have him let me go. "I could write you up for this," I finally mumbled into his shoulder. He didn't move. "You want a pen?" Slowly, I pulled myself away. Every nerve in my body felt as if it had retreated from a tense state of alert. "Thanks," I muttered with appreciation. "You didn't seem yourself," he said gently. "Shift's almost done. Want to talk about it over coffee? Just coffee, Lindsay, not a date." I looked at my watch and suddenly saw that it was almost five o'clock. I had to be at Moffett. I gave him a look that I hoped reflected, Ask me again, but said, "I can't. Gotta go."