Chasing Darkness by Danielle Girard Page A

delve
into the whereabouts of officers who had been involved in the Sloan case. Most
of them were still on the force. Many were still in the area. There didn’t seem
to be many good leads in either direction.
    Nick
felt the car shift beneath him and looked up from his crossword. Sam moved and
frowned out the window. When she didn’t look over, he returned his attention to
the puzzle. “Papal scarf,” second letter was “r.” He looked past it. “Court”
was the next clue—three letters. “Woo,” he wrote. He glanced back at Sandi
Walters’ house and then down again. “Tantalum symbol.” He wrote “totem.” The
car bounced again. This time when he looked up, Sam was staring at him.
    “What?”
    “How
do you stand it?”
    Nick
looked around. “The heat?”
    She
exhaled. “No. The waiting. Just sitting here is driving me crazy.”
    He
shrugged, looking back at the crossword. He kind of liked the solitude of
surveillance. Of course, now he wasn’t alone. Sam’s constant motion made it
hard to relax.
    She
moved again and he put the puzzle down. “You want to talk?”
    Her
eyes widened. “No,” she snapped as though he’d asked her to strip right there.
He turned back to the crossword. “I can’t believe I’m on a stakeout,” she said
a minute later.
    He
set the paper down. So she did want to talk.
    She
caught his look. “What?”
    “Do
you miss homicide?”
    She
frowned and shook her head. “No.” She stared out the windshield. “I’m doing
good where I am.”
    “Damn
straight you are.”
    “And
it’s better for the boys. Detective hours were so unpredictable. I need to be
there for them. More even than I am, I think.”
    “You’re
doing a great job with them, Sam.”
    She
smiled at him, and he turned away. He didn’t remember her smile being like that
last time they’d done a stakeout together. He shifted in his seat, ready to
leave.
    Sam
leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
    He
picked up the crossword again, thinking it was an easy solve compared to the
puzzle sitting next to him. And a hell of a lot easier than fighting his own
reactions when he watched her.
    “I’m
terrible at crosswords,” she said, sitting up and glancing over his shoulder.
    He
didn’t answer her. He was sure he’d already used all his good answers and there
wasn’t another damn thing he could possibly say without evoking a negative
reaction. Forty-seven down was “billiard shot”—five letters beginning “m-a.” He
smiled and wrote “massé,” thinking about when he used to play pool with the
guys from his uncle’s band. Now, when he saw a billiard table, it was usually
because he was in the local pool hall hauling someone off to jail.
    Sam
sighed and rubbed her temples. “How long have we been waiting?”
    Nick
shrugged. “About two hours.”
    “I
should’ve brought something to do.”
    He
looked up, unable to keep from smiling. “You want to help with the puzzle?”
    She
shook her head. “I can’t do those things, I swear.” But she pulled the paper
toward her.
    He
smelled her cucumber soap and the citrus scent of her shampoo. Alarms squealed
through his head.
    Moving
back a safe distance, he dropped the page and pointed to a clue. “How about
‘Tennyson heroine’? Second letter is ‘l’.”
    He
watched as she concentrated, remembering when he’d first asked her what perfume
she wore. She had waved her hand and sworn, “Nothing. I can’t stand the stuff.”
And yet she was surrounded by beautiful smells, each of them reminding him that
she didn’t want him—hadn’t wanted him since that one time. And it had not been
enough.
    It
had been two and a half years, but he could still remember it clear as day. He
had brought Rob and Derek home late one night after a ball game. They were the
last of six or seven kids he’d taken home, and they had insisted that he come
in to see the latest video game. Sam had tried to get them to bed, but they’d
insisted. “Just one more game.”