The Bomb Maker

10

Stahl opened his eyes. The curtains dimmed the room, but he knew the world was light beyond them. He heard the shower come on, and then he thought about the way the night had ended. He let his hand run along the top of the sheet beside him, even though he knew where she was.

He reached in the opposite direction and picked up his phone from the bedside table. It was six o’clock. The shifts would change at eight. There were no missed calls on the screen, but there were plenty of other things — e-mails, tweets, text messages. He scanned the names and knew he was free to ignore them. They were reporters and acquaintances, and one text from Valerie, saying only that she was glad he had made it through the car bomb, and that the check from Mrs. Glover had cleared. None of them were police business except a reminder from his new assistant, Andy, about the police funeral at eleven.

The door to the bathroom swung open and there stood Diane Hines, naked, twisting her hair into a professional-looking bun. Her eyes focused on Stahl’s. “What?” she said. “There’s nothing you haven’t seen several times, close up.”

“I was wondering if my luck would hold.”

She lifted the edge of the sheet, slipped into the bed, and slid to the middle beside him. She put her arm over his chest and kissed him. “Yes.”

Then she said, “But right now we’ve got to get ready for work. I remember promising I’d make breakfast. While you get your shower and dress, I’ll do it.” She swung her feet off the bed and stood again.

He said, “The memorial service is this morning at eleven and I don’t have a new police uniform yet.” He got out of bed.

She turned toward the hallway. “I’m sure you have a nice dark suit.”

“Hey,” he said. “Aren’t you going to ask me if there’s anything I don’t like?”

“If you don’t like it, why would you have it in your kitchen?”

“Good point. See you in a few minutes.” As she started to move again he pulled her back and held her for a few seconds, kissing her one last time.

“No hurry,” she said. “I can be late. I’m screwing the boss.”

He released her.

“I am, right?” she said. “If I came to your door some other night after work, you wouldn’t lock your paranoid locks and gates and pretend you’re not home?”

“Never. If you still want to face the risk now that you’re sober.”

“I’ll take the chance. As you said, in a couple of weeks only one of us will still be a cop.”

“So come back tonight.” He walked toward the bathroom.

“I will.” The door closed. She whispered, “If we’re both still alive.”

When she heard the shower she went back into the bedroom and put on the clothes she’d left there. Then she stepped into the living room and picked up the unopened bottle of Scotch on the coffee table and went to the kitchen to see what he had in his refrigerator.

Within a few minutes she had the table set, eggs and bacon cooking on the stove, bread in the slots of the toaster, and fresh-ground coffee burbling through the filter.

Stahl came out of the bedroom in a black suit that was too good and too expensive for a cop to wear to work. He looked into his kitchen, saw the food, sniffed the smells, and said, “Thank you, Diane. This is wonderful.”

When they finished eating breakfast, Stahl sat back drinking coffee. “How do you want to handle work? Do you want to be moved to another team?”

She shrugged. “No. I’ll go in my car and you go in yours. We spend our shift doing our jobs. Neither of us drops a clue about us to anyone. We go home. When I get cleaned up and feel human again I’ll give you a call.”

“That will do.”

“I’d better get to work. Can you handle the dishes?”

“I can put them in the dishwasher and start it.”

“That’ll do. See you later. Now push the buttons on your console so I can get out of the cell block.”

He went to the door with her. “I want you to know I designed the security for this building, and I’m proud of it.”

“You must have some amazing enemies.”

“I do,” he said. “And if you keep hanging out with me, so will you.”