closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. “Look, lady, you’ve got a bleeding victim here and this Hispanic teenager’s the last one seen running out of the alley? He’s the suspect.”
“If you think he’s the suspect, why don’t you think I’m the suspect?”
He gave her his best cop stare. “Lady, you’re making me tired.”
The EMTs were settling Cassandra into the ambulance when Lacey felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She was still shaking her head over how a mixedrace child who was a wit ness to a crime and had tried to help had somehow become a teenage Hispanic suspect. It was easier for her to concentrate on the boy than to think about how close she might have come to Cassandra’s fate.
“Lacey, are you all right?” The words came with a lovely wave of testosterone, a voice full of concern.
“I am now.” She touched the hand and turned and smiled up at Vic Donovan. Even though his eyes seemed troubled, she no ticed how handsome he looked in his tuxedo. She hugged him tightly. Lacey didn’t know how long she had been standing in the amber light of the alley, but it felt like forever. It might have been only half an hour. “How did you know I was here?”
“Lucky guess. You’re not at the Christmas party with me, where you’re supposed to be. So I just looked for the cops. I al ways figure that if there are flashing lights and sirens anywhere nearby, Lacey Smithsonian is bound to be involved. And look, I was right.”
“Very funny. You’re just drawn to excitement.” She broke the hug and he reached for her hand. “It’s the excop in you. Like a moth to a flame.”
He smiled, his green eyes crinkling. An unruly lock of his curly hair fell over his forehead. “Just like you. But are you the moth or the flame?” Vic kissed her. “So what’s going on here?”
“Short or long version?”
“Short now. Long one over drinks later.”
She briefed him and he shook his head. He wrapped his arm around her. “So you probably saved your buddy Wentworth’s life, you and your mysterious little shepherd. Pretty exciting.” Vic looked at her hopefully. “Any chance you’re too trauma tized and upset now to go to that ridiculous office party?”
“Not a chance, Donovan.” She stared him down. “I may be upset, but this dress is immune to trauma, and I am showing you off in that beautiful tuxedo and you’re not weaseling out of it.”
“So this is the Smithsonianshowsoffherman event?”
“I warned you.” Lacey tickled his ribs. “You’re the trophy.” “Just think, sweetheart, if you had just said yes way back when, we could have been happily bickering like this for years.
You really want to go to that silly thing at the Press Club? Just to see Mac in a Santa cap?”
“You bet. You’re already dressed to the teeth, Vic. So am I. We deserve it. And I have to let people know—”
“Because it’s news?”
“Yes, but it affects the paper too. Besides, if I don’t go to the party, I’ll just brood about this awful attack, the spooky alley, the weird sweater, the strange little shepherd boy—”
“And before you know it, Lacey Smithsonian’s taking a per sonal interest in the case.” Vic folded her hand in his. “And that would be too much excitement for me. So, my dear, let’s party. We’ll drink to forget. We’ll dance the night away.”
“You have no faith,” she started to say.
“Au contraire, my sweet reporter. I have all the faith in the world in your ability to get involved where you don’t need to. Smithsonian rushes in where angels fear to tread.”
“Hey, buddy, you’re lucky you have me.”
“I never said I wasn’t lucky.” Vic suddenly swept her into a hug and kissed her till her knees felt weak. “I’m very lucky.”
He escorted her back upstairs to her office so she could pick up her bags. Most of the desk lamps were out in the newsroom. Lacey noticed cub reporter Kavanaugh in a pool of light at a desk in the far
“If you think he’s the suspect, why don’t you think I’m the suspect?”
He gave her his best cop stare. “Lady, you’re making me tired.”
The EMTs were settling Cassandra into the ambulance when Lacey felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She was still shaking her head over how a mixedrace child who was a wit ness to a crime and had tried to help had somehow become a teenage Hispanic suspect. It was easier for her to concentrate on the boy than to think about how close she might have come to Cassandra’s fate.
“Lacey, are you all right?” The words came with a lovely wave of testosterone, a voice full of concern.
“I am now.” She touched the hand and turned and smiled up at Vic Donovan. Even though his eyes seemed troubled, she no ticed how handsome he looked in his tuxedo. She hugged him tightly. Lacey didn’t know how long she had been standing in the amber light of the alley, but it felt like forever. It might have been only half an hour. “How did you know I was here?”
“Lucky guess. You’re not at the Christmas party with me, where you’re supposed to be. So I just looked for the cops. I al ways figure that if there are flashing lights and sirens anywhere nearby, Lacey Smithsonian is bound to be involved. And look, I was right.”
“Very funny. You’re just drawn to excitement.” She broke the hug and he reached for her hand. “It’s the excop in you. Like a moth to a flame.”
He smiled, his green eyes crinkling. An unruly lock of his curly hair fell over his forehead. “Just like you. But are you the moth or the flame?” Vic kissed her. “So what’s going on here?”
“Short or long version?”
“Short now. Long one over drinks later.”
She briefed him and he shook his head. He wrapped his arm around her. “So you probably saved your buddy Wentworth’s life, you and your mysterious little shepherd. Pretty exciting.” Vic looked at her hopefully. “Any chance you’re too trauma tized and upset now to go to that ridiculous office party?”
“Not a chance, Donovan.” She stared him down. “I may be upset, but this dress is immune to trauma, and I am showing you off in that beautiful tuxedo and you’re not weaseling out of it.”
“So this is the Smithsonianshowsoffherman event?”
“I warned you.” Lacey tickled his ribs. “You’re the trophy.” “Just think, sweetheart, if you had just said yes way back when, we could have been happily bickering like this for years.
You really want to go to that silly thing at the Press Club? Just to see Mac in a Santa cap?”
“You bet. You’re already dressed to the teeth, Vic. So am I. We deserve it. And I have to let people know—”
“Because it’s news?”
“Yes, but it affects the paper too. Besides, if I don’t go to the party, I’ll just brood about this awful attack, the spooky alley, the weird sweater, the strange little shepherd boy—”
“And before you know it, Lacey Smithsonian’s taking a per sonal interest in the case.” Vic folded her hand in his. “And that would be too much excitement for me. So, my dear, let’s party. We’ll drink to forget. We’ll dance the night away.”
“You have no faith,” she started to say.
“Au contraire, my sweet reporter. I have all the faith in the world in your ability to get involved where you don’t need to. Smithsonian rushes in where angels fear to tread.”
“Hey, buddy, you’re lucky you have me.”
“I never said I wasn’t lucky.” Vic suddenly swept her into a hug and kissed her till her knees felt weak. “I’m very lucky.”
He escorted her back upstairs to her office so she could pick up her bags. Most of the desk lamps were out in the newsroom. Lacey noticed cub reporter Kavanaugh in a pool of light at a desk in the far
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