Before he could say anything more, Heat pulled back onto the road and punched Lauren Parry on her speed dial. “Hi, we’re two blocks away. . . . Good, see you then.”
Between the stoplight and the OCME garage Nikki had second thoughts. Not about her feelings regarding the article and the myriad ways it was screwing with her life. But she worried she’d blistered Rook too much. She could rationalize it, just chalk it up to being pissed after the cheap shot from the slimebag Wynn Zanderhoof, but still, she could have handled Rook a little more deftly and at the same time made her point. She snuck a look at him as he watched the road in wounded silence. A picture memory came to her of Rook sitting right there in that very seat on so many rides, making her laugh the way he did—and then another glimpse of him, sitting there that night in the rainstorm when they couldn’t get enough of each other so they spent the night trying. Heat grappled with an overwhelming twinge of regret for losing it with him.
Nikki had no problem being tough. She couldn’t abide being mean.
They had the elevator to themselves on the ride up from the second basement parking level, and it was there that she tried to soften her message to him. “This isn’t anything about you, Rook, just so you know. It’s the whole publicity thing, of having my name and face out there. I kind of have had it with that.”
“I think I got your message loud and clear in the car.”
Before she could respond, the doors parted and the elevator filled with lab coats and the moment was lost.
“Hey, there, I’m all set for you,” said Lauren Parry as they entered the Autopsy Room. As usual, even behind a surgical mask, you could see her smile. “We did some shuffling to get this workup for you STAT, knowing it’s a priority and all.”
Heat and Rook finished gloving up and came around to the stainless-steel table that held Cassidy Towne’s remains. “I appreciate that, Lauren,” said Nikki. “I know how every detective wants it like yesterday, so thanks.”
“No problem. I have a bit of a personal interest in this one, too, you know.”
“Oh, right,” said Heat. “How’s the noggin?”
“Hey, I’m hardheaded, everybody knows that. How else does a girl get from the St. Louis projects to all this?” She said it without irony. Lauren Parry lived for her job and it showed. “Nikki, you e-mailed that you wanted a best-earliest TOD, right?”
“Yeah, we have a potential suspect. We just confirmed his taxi ride, so he alibis out at ten-forty-five.”
“No way,” said the ME. She picked up a chart. “Now, you have to understand this was made a more challenging task because the body had been through a lot. Movement, handling . . .” She looked at Rook and added, “refrigeration. All that made it harder to establish our TOD, but I did it. This was more like the three A.M. range, so cross your ten-forty-five off. Is this the chef who had us jacked?” When her friend nodded, Lauren said, “Well, too bad, but cross him off anyway.”
Nikki turned to share a we-figured shrug with Rook, but he wasn’t paying attention. She studied him for a few gloomy seconds in the chilly room, felt the after-pain of her outburst, and had to be drawn back by Lauren. “Hello?”
“Oh, sorry. So, three A.M., right.”
“Or later, could be a two-hour window after then. Now I’ll give you the usual disclaimer that we’re still running toxicology, and blah, blah.” She paused and turned to Rook. “Isn’t this where you usually say if erections last over four hours, call your doctor?”
“Right,” he said flatly.