Count to Ten by Karen Rose Page B

or whatever.”
    “You’ll want to update the warrant,” Reed said. “Ours was specific to the arson.”
    Spinnelli nodded. “I’ll call the state attorney’s office and have your warrant by the time you get out to the scene.”
    Mitchell tilted her head toward Spinnelli. “Lieutenant Solliday, can you give us a few minutes alone? You can wait at my desk. It’s the one next to the clean one.”
    “Sure.” He eased the door closed, but instead of going to her desk he leaned against the wall, his head angled toward the door to maximize his eavesdropping.
    “Marc, about Abe’s case,” she said.
    It was the second time she’d mentioned Abe. He glanced over at the clean desk. That would be Abe’s, he surmised.
    Spinnelli’s voice held a warning note. “Howard and Brooks are on it.”
    “Murphy says the trail is cold.”
    “That’s true. Mia, you—”
    “I know, Marc. This is my priority and you know it will be. But if I hear something, if anybody hears anything and I’m available... Dammit, Marc, I saw him.” Her voice became fierce. “If I see the asshole that got Abe, I’ll know him.”
    “He got you, too, Mia.”
    “A damn scratch. Marc, please.” There was a pause. “I owe it to Abe. Please.”
    Another pause, then a sigh. “If you’re available, I’ll call you.”
    “I appreciate it.” The door opened and Reed made no attempt to move. He wanted her to know he’d heard. Color flooded her cheeks, her eyes narrowing as she saw him standing there. For a few seconds she just stared up at him, annoyance in her eyes.
    “Let’s go to the morgue,” she said flatly and turned for her desk where she grabbed the ratty jacket and hat. “Here’s your umbrella.”
    She tossed it to him, then gingerly she shrugged into the jacket, favoring her right shoulder. Spinnelli said she was fully recovered, but Reed had his doubts. If she wasn’t, he was going straight back to Spinnelli for another detective. She took the stairs two at a time which he suspected was a combination of pent-up anger and the desire to make him jog to keep up. He’d already worked out that morning, so he took the stairs one at time, letting her wait on the street. He put up his umbrella but she stepped away.
    “I don’t have my department vehicle back yet and my own car’s very small,” she said, not turning around when he caught up. “You wouldn’t fit.”
    Her words held obvious double meaning. He chose to ignore the personal dig and focus on the issue of transportation. “I’ll drive.” Reed considered offering her a boost up into his Tahoe, but she swung up into the cab with surprising agility and only a minor grunt of pain. He slid behind the wheel and looked over at her pointedly. “You’re not ready to be back yet, are you?”
    She flicked him an angry glance before staring straight ahead. “I’m cleared for duty.”
    He started the engine, then settled back in his seat, waiting for her to meet his eyes. A minute of silence ticked by before she finally turned her head, frowning.
    “Why are we still sitting here?” she demanded.
    “Who is Abe?”
    Her jaw clenched. “My partner.”
    And you’re not,
was the silent addendum. “What happened to him?”
    “He got shot.”
    “I take it he’ll be all right.”
    He wouldn’t have seen her flinch had he not been looking for it. “Eventually.”
    “You were shot, too.”
    Her cheeks hollowed. “A scratch.”
    He sincerely doubted that. “Why were you staring at the glass this morning?”
    Her eyes flashed. “None of your damn business.”
    It was exactly what he expected her to say. Nevertheless, he’d say his own piece. “I’m afraid I have to disagree. Like it or not, you’re
my
partner for the foreseeable future. Anybody could have gotten the jump on you this morning, gotten your weapon, hurt you or somebody else. I need to know you’re not going to be staring off into space when I need you, so I’ll repeat the question. Why were you staring at