The Listener. Kay David
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sighed loudly. “The department will take care of it, Ryan, but in the future—”
He shot her a warning look. “I understand.”
“Good. I’ll expect to see proof of that shortly.” She turned without another word and disappeared into the office behind them. The door clicked firmly as she shut it. Too firmly. That wasn’t a good sign, but Ryan didn’t care.
Maria made no effort to move. He wondered what she was waiting for, then she spoke and he wished he’d made his escape when he’d had the chance.
“When can you come in?” Her voice was crisp as she opened her notebook. “I have the Thursday after the rally open again. Is that convenient?”
“No.” He had no intention of letting this woman probe his brain. “It’s not.”
“Then when?”
“I’ll let you know after I look at my schedule.” He started to walk off, then he felt a hand, light as a bird’s wing, brush his arm before dropping. Surprised, he turned back.
“Lieutenant Lukas…” Two lines had formed across her forehead. It gave her an air of concern he didn’t believe for a minute. “You’re facing an emotional crisis and you need help. Forgetting these appointments—”
“I didn’t forget it,” he said. “I was busy.”
Conceding the point even though both of them knew better, she nodded slowly. “Well, then not making time for these sessions is a symptom of how strong your denial really is. You can’t continue in this fashion.”
“I can do anything I damn well please.”
“Not and keep your job.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Her expression stayed calm and even in the midst of his anger, Ryan marveled that she could be so cool. He was doing everything he could to annoy her, but it wasn’t working. Her collected demeanor almost made him envious. He’d been that way once.
“I’m not threatening you at all,” she said quietly. Her expression shifted and this time he couldn’t deny the apparent genuineness of her attitude. Either she really cared, or she was the best damn actress this side of Hollywood.
“You’re a grown man and you can screw up your life any way you want to. But you need help and I can provide it. It’s what I do and I do it well.” She surprised him by smiling slightly. “Lieutenant Lukas, neither of us has a choice here. If you want to keep your job, you have to come talk to me. And if I want to keep mine, I need to listen. It’s really that simple.”
Just as quickly as it’d come, her smile disappeared. From the side pocket of her notebook she pulled out another card, carefully wrote something on it and handed it to him. “That’s an appointment for next week,” she said, businesslike. “I suggest you work your schedule around it, instead of the other way around.”
She turned and walked quickly down the hall—so quickly he could say nothing more. She was persistent, that was for sure.
He looked down at the card she’d given him. She’d printed out the date and time, her handwriting as neat and streamlined as she was, the letters extending above the printed line exactly where they were supposed to be.
Thursday. 3:00 p.m. On the side, she’d scribbled something else. He had to turn the card sideways to read the words.
No excuses.
RYAN TRIED to concentrate the rest of the day but Maria Worley’s image kept interrupting. He fought the dark hair and brown eyes each time they disrupted his train of thought. He didn’t want to think about her. For some crazy reason, it made him feel as if he were being unfaithful to Ginny. Leaning back in his chair, he put his hands behind his head and stared out into the parking lot. The sun was hot and strong, beating into the asphalt and sending shimmers of waves along the blackened surface. He followed their path until they disappeared in the distance.
But could she be right?
Was he heading for disaster?
He immediately dismissed the questions, telling himself he was letting Maria’s sympathetic manner and warm smile get to him. He was fine. He’d been at the range the day before and never missed once. The heart of his paper target had been shredded in seconds, the one-inch circle gone in a puff of smoke. Yet somehow Maria Worley, and her questions, wouldn’t leave him alone.
Everything else aside, he couldn’t deny the logic of her argument. Lena could keep him behind this damned desk until eternity if she wanted to…and she wouldn’t have any qualms about doing so, either. Despite how her obstinacy affected him, he had to admit it was one of the qualities about his boss he appreciated. She was a stand-up person who believed in right and wrong, no matter how tough the situation. He’d watched her face off with men twice her size and mean as hell. Every time, she’d won.
Something told him Maria Worley might be just as stubborn.
But they were both wrong, dammit! He was fine, and furthermore, he didn’t need to talk to anybody about what had happened. Ginny was gone, he was alone, and nothing he could do would bring her back. His throat tightened and burned. That was it. End of story.
With an angry, muttered curse, he turned to the file before him, his front chair legs hitting the floor with a screech. The report was on last week’s situation. The one he’d spied on.
Flipping past the paperwork that meant nothing but was always required, he found the on-site notes Lena had taken during the actual confrontation. He skimmed them quickly and saw that his immediate impression had been right on target.
Hearing shots and voices coming from inside the abandoned buildings, the security guard had phoned the local police department. The arriving officers had investigated as much as they could, then had requested support. They couldn’t penetrate the interior of the buildings without being seen. Lena had issued the call, her notes indicating she’d initially ordered a skeleton crew only. That told him a lot; she hadn’t been too concerned but had not wanted to blow it off, either.
He skipped over the minute-by-minute account and found the sheet on the perp. He was only fifteen, and the gun had been the air rifle that Ryan had thought it was. The case was headed for juvie court.
Then something else caught his eye.
Peter Douglas had gone into the building after it had been secured and cleared. Sweeping for evidence, he’d found nothing but half a dozen empty CO2 cartridges, five cigarette butts and two crushed beer cans. He also listed some “miscellaneous drawings,” at the end of the report. It had all been checked into evidence.
Ryan tapped his pencil on top of the desk and reread the last line. “Miscellaneous drawings.” What the hell did that mean? It was probably nothing, but the description bothered him and for no reason other than that, Ryan headed down the hall to the evidence room.
Ten minutes later, he had the box in his hand. Pushing aside the various plastic bags, he came to a larger one with several sheets of crumpled paper inside. He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves then opened it up, removing the sheets and smoothing them so he could get a better look.
They were covered with pencil sketches, the same image depicted over and over. It took him a minute to recognize the stylized birdlike shape and another five to puzzle out where he’d first seen the form. When he did recall, he whistled softly to himself, not understanding fully, but understanding enough.
The drawings were identical to one Maria Worley had framed and hung behind her desk.
CHAPTER FOUR
SATURDAY MORNING Maria got up early and cleaned the house. She hadn’t been able to afford help when she and Reed had first married and now, although she could hire a service or even a housekeeper, she did the chores herself. She liked the rhythm of sweeping and dusting and mopping. It gave her time to think.
Today