But his implication went straight to the heart of Crawford’s misgivings about the swift action he’d taken. However, he’d be damned before he gave any indication of it. He said, “You can cover the tab.”
By the time Neal caught up with him and Holly outside the diner, Crawford was giving her instructions. “Check your backseat before you get in the car. Don’t leave the parking lot until I’m behind you. I’ll be right there.”
Holly said a terse good night to Neal, then turned and headed for her car.
As Neal was about to leave, Crawford halted him with a raised hand. Glancing toward Holly’s retreating back, he said softly, “This is sensitive. I didn’t want her to hear it.” He hitched his head toward the corner of the building.
They fell into step. As soon as they rounded the corner, Crawford hauled off and slugged Neal in the mouth. The detective reeled backward, barely managing to stay on his feet, his hands cupped over his gushing split lip.
Crawford shook blood off his right hand. “You make another crack like that one about her skirt, ever, and I’ll make stew meat out of your balls.”
When they reached Holly’s house, Crawford stepped out of his SUV, giving the surrounding shrubbery careful scrutiny. They met at the back door. She unlocked it. As they went in, he stepped around her. “Wait here.”
Sliding his pistol from the holster at the small of his back, he went into the living room and made a visual sweep of it, avoiding looking directly at the sofa. He took the short hallway to her bedroom, which was traditional and tidy. He checked the closet and beneath the bed.
One glimpse into the bathroom told him there was no place in it for a grown man to hide, but he went in anyway because the compact space smelled deliciously of her. Hanging on a hook on the back of the door was the robe she’d been wearing last night. On his way out he brushed his hand across it, the texture sending a shaft of desire through him.
When he reentered the kitchen, she was standing at the open refrigerator. “Water?”
“Please.”
She passed a bottle to him and took one for herself. As he tilted his toward his mouth, he caught her looking at the fresh blood on the knuckles of his right hand. “I barked them on the door of my truck.”
She looked doubtful of that but didn’t question him.
He moved to the sink and washed his hands with hot water and liquid soap. After drying them on a paper towel, he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a dining chair. He pulled the holster from his waistband and set it on the table.
She followed his motions, her gaze lingering on the holstered pistol.
“Goes with the job,” he said.
“So does a uniform.”
“I wear it sometimes. But I can be plainclothes.”
“Do you always wear that?” she asked, nodding down at the pistol.
“It’s always handy. I keep it out of Georgia’s reach when she’s at my house.” Thoughtfully, he ran his fingertips across the elaborately decorated butt of the official-issue pistol. “I wasn’t wearing it when I went to court yesterday. But if I’d had my weapon, I wouldn’t have had to waste valuable time getting Chet’s. Chet might, in fact, be alive. Maybe I could have apprehended the shooter, and Rodriguez would have finished his cigarette in peace. The perp would be behind bars tonight, and Rodriguez would be somewhere besides the morgue.”
She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “I think we’ll always be asking ourselves how things might have gone if only.”
He nodded, but discovered he didn’t have anything further to contribute to that train of thought, so he said nothing as they stood there looking at each other, a few cubic feet of kitchen space separating them. Just like the night before.
With apparent unease, she clasped her hands at waist level. “Marilyn should be here soon.”
“Marilyn?”
“Marilyn Vidal. My campaign manager.”
“Your trusted person?”
She nodded.
He was greatly relieved to learn that it wasn’t Dennis who was on his way to spend the night with her. Admitting to that would be admitting to inappropriate feelings of jealousy. Instead he aimed for professional objectivity. “You explained the circumstances to her?”
“I didn’t go into all of it over the telephone. She wanted to rush right here last night. I told her it wasn’t necessary. But when you began talking about guards, I called her back and told her that I would appreciate her company and offered her my guest room.”
“What’s she like?”
“A steamroller.”
“She didn’t quail at the threat of danger?”
Holly gave a soft laugh. “She’s tougher than anyone you could have placed in here.”
Besides me.
“Marilyn and I have a good working relationship,” she was saying. “I doubt we’ll make ideal roommates.” She glanced at the wall clock. “She should be here soon.”
“You said that already. Anxious to get rid of me?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I think you did.”
Exasperated, she said, “All right, maybe I did. This is awkward.”
“Like returning to the scene of the crime.”