I parked in the detective’s parking lot of the PD since the café lot was being converted into a drive-through. A gust of wind caught me as soon as I stepped out of my car, and I bared my teeth in a grin. This wasn’t the icy wind from a possible summoning. This was simply winter. But I’m dressed for it now, bitches.
The clouds had successfully choked off the sun’s pathetic attempt to infiltrate the day, and the sky was back to being grey and ugly. A battered pickup chugged desultorily down the street, while a cherry red Camaro following it blasted a heavy bass beat from behind tinted windows. Grill smoke from a hamburger shack down the street whipped past me, stirring my appetite, but in the next heartbeat the wind shifted, bringing with it the sour smell of the Dumpster behind the PD. A couple hunched against the wind as they made their way down the street, surprising me when they stopped to admire the display in the window of an antique shop. I didn’t think this was the sort of weather anyone would want to go window-shopping in.
Squaring my shoulders in my kickass new coat, I crossed the street and ducked into the café. I pulled the door shut behind me and inhaled with pleasure as the scent wrapped me in its warm, pillowy embrace. Tugging my gloves off, I approached the counter.
The barista smiled as he passed a tall cup to me. “Morning, Kara. A pound of sugar, a gallon of cream, and a splash of coffee, right?”
“You’re a very smart man, David,” I replied with a grin as I handed over money.
“Well, you’re my most regular regular so far,” he said, then frowned. “That could be taken the wrong way.”
Laughing, I took the change and dropped it into the tip jar. “If you ever start serving chocolate donuts,” I said, “I’d probably never leave.”
“Then for the safety of our fine community, I’ll be sure to avoid ordering any.”
“For the safety of my waistline as well!”
“Y’know, I actually had donuts here when we first opened,” he said, picking up a towel and wiping down the counter as he spoke. “Had to stop carrying them because they didn’t sell.”
I nodded. “The stereotype.”
“Exactly,” he said, eyes flashing in amusement. “None of the cops who came in wanted to be seen eating donuts in public.”
“It’s my private shame,” I said with a parting wink. I turned around and barely caught myself before spilling my precious coffee all over the front of Officer Gordon’s jacket and my own. “Yikes! Sorry!”
Tracy gave me an engaging smile. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were stalking me.”
“It’s true,” I replied. “I have a thing for men who keep me from freezing to death. Oh, and speaking of,” I said as I tugged off the scarf and handed it back to him, “I can give this back to you now.”
“Well, I knew that if you did freeze I’d be the one stuck writing the report about finding your body.”
“I’m on call. I wonder if I’d have to investigate my own death?”
His mouth curved in amusement. “It’s a bureaucracy. Of course you would.” He looked to the patiently waiting David. “Sorry. Hot chocolate, please. Whole milk, with whipped cream.”
Damn, that sounded good. I briefly regretted my addiction to coffee. But only briefly.
He returned his attention to me as David went off to make his drink. “New purchase? Surely you didn’t have time to go back home.”
It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh, the coat!” I grinned. “Yep, just bought it. I couldn’t resist.”
“It’s badass,” he said with an approving nod.
I preened a bit, about to respond when a screech of tires on pavement pulled our attention. An instant later we heard the distinct crash of a car meeting something immoveable.
“That can’t be good,” I murmured as we both quickly moved to the broad windows at the front. The street and the detective’s parking lot were in full view. My vehicle was the only one in the lot. Or rather, it had been. Now there was a dark blue Toyota Camry with its front end embedded in my car’s driver’s side.
I probably stared in disbelief for several seconds while the scene registered in my brain. “That’s my car,” I heard myself say. Then I shook myself out of my stupor. “That’s my fucking car!” Okay, so technically it was the PD’s car, but still, it was assigned to me.
I spun and hit the door at a run, glancing up and down the street just long enough to make sure I wasn’t about to get plowed by an oncoming vehicle. I was still holding my coffee, and the hot liquid splashed my hand through the little hole in the lid. I slowed to a brisk and angry walk as a blond woman made her stumbling way out of her driver’s side of the Camry. She wasn’t going anywhere fast. Not dressed in a pencil skirt and sky-high heels. She had the figure for it, I thought absently despite my current rage. Tall and slim and model perfect, even though she looked like she was in her late forties or so. Terrific genes. The bitch.