The Delilah Complex

Thirty-Five

I walked the twenty blocks to the police station, hoping that I could convince myself to turn around and go home before I reached the front door. In my head, I ran through every one of Nina’s arguments and some she hadn’t thought of, but none was convincing. By the time I reached the precinct house I had worked out exactly what I could say and what I couldn’t say in order to stick to the rules of my profession.

Noah was smart and he wouldn’t need much. I would not have to betray anything the members of the Scarlet Society had told me. I’d just show Noah what I’d seen and he’d follow it through.

If, of course, he hadn’t figured it out already. And if he had, so much the better. I’d pick up my bags, take myself home, get into bed and be able to sleep, because although I’d done the wrong thing according to Nina, I would have done it for the right reason. To save someone’s life.

And no one but Noah would ever have to know.

My heart was beating loudly in my chest and my skin felt clammy as I walked up to the front desk, gave my name and asked for Detective Jordain. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him that it’s important and that it will only take a few minutes.”

The young officer dialed the phone, spoke into it, listened and then hung up.

“He asked if you would please wait for him in his office. He’ll be with you shortly. I’ll have someone take you there.”

The corridor was busy-it was always busy here-and no one paid any attention to my escort or me. We turned the corner. Up ahead, coming from the opposite direction, were Detectives Jordain and Perez, and a woman who looked familiar.

You aren’t aware of how quickly the synapses work: your eyes send the message to the brain, which supplies you with conscious information before you even have time to realize you are working on figuring it out.

Of course, the combination of pressed blue jeans, soft brown suede blazer and the ever-present worn leather briefcase were familiar. It had been the dark brown hair that had thrown me.

In my office, as Liz, a long-time member of the Scarlet Society, she was a blonde. But her eyes were the same and they were staring at me, as shocked as I was, asking me exactly the same silent question I was asking her.

What are you doing here?

What trust are you breaking?

I didn’t wait to talk to Jordain. I had been completely wrong to go there. My escort was gone but I knew where to go. Turning, I rushed back the same way I’d come, as fast as I could without running, the shopping bags hitting my legs.

Out in the street it was raining again. I cursed myself that I’d forgotten to buy the umbrella at Barney’s, pulled up my collar, tucked my head down and just kept walking, figuring I’d find a cab soon enough. After three blocks, I did.

I gave the driver my address, sat back, opened my bag, pulled out a roll of peppermints, popped two in my mouth and bit down, knowing that the instant intense scent of mint would obliterate the stale body odor that permeated the air in the enclosed space.

Inhaling the sharp, clean scent, I concentrated on the sensation of speeding through the nighttime streets and the sound of rain hitting the car’s roof.