“Can I safely assume these are all poetry books?” Baxter asked, after she finally located him.
Mike gave her a wry look. “Reference books. Of every kind imaginable.” It occurred to him that she was looking particularly attractive this morning-not that she had ever not looked attractive. Had she done something to her hair?
Baxter scanned the desktop. “You’re trying to trace that key chain, aren’t you?”
“You win the Daily Double.” Mike lifted a small baggie that held the elusive bit of evidence. “My gut tells me that whoever killed Sheila Knight left this behind. But I can’t figure out what it is.”
Baxter stared at it, as she had done more or less constantly since they discovered it. “The frustrating thing is, I know I’ve seen it before.”
“I have the same feeling. But I can’t remember what it is. I even showed it around the office. And everyone says the same thing. Yeah, that looks familiar. But no one remembers what it is.”
“What are those curvy things in the middle? Wings?”
“I thought they were hearts.”
“They can’t be hearts. They’re flat on the bottom. Both of them. And why are they drawn so… wispy?” She dropped it back onto the desk. “It’s like a Rorschach test, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. When you don’t know what it’s supposed to be, it looks like everything. Or nothing. That’s why I’ve been poring through every pictorial reference I could lay my hands on. And I’ve sent Penelope to the library for more. When you don’t know what you’re looking for-you look at everything.”
“Sounds like a needle-haystack deal.”
“It is.” Mike pushed away from the desk and stretched. “But if I could place that design, I might trace it back to our murderer.”
“About that.” Baxter suddenly seemed nervous, edgy. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did.”
“For what I did?” There wasn’t much room in the cubicle, especially at present. She was standing barely a foot away. Another time, he might complain about cops who invaded his personal space. But at the moment…
“In Blackwell’s office. When you… you know. Stood up for me. I really appreciate it.”
Mike waved a hand in the air. “I was just correcting my own mistake. It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. It was something. A big something. You didn’t have to do it. Certainly not the way you did. It…” She began fidgeting with her fingernails. “It meant a lot to me.”
Mike shrugged. “Forget about it.” Was she wearing some kind of perfume? Because now that he was up close, it seemed as if she was wearing some kind of perfume.
“Can we talk about the other night? The stakeout, I mean. When we were in the car.”
“Stop beating yourself up about that, Baxter. We had no way of knowing that some killer would-”
“That’s not what I meant.” She averted her eyes. “Could we talk about us? What happened.” Her hand brushed against her lips.
“Oh. That.” Was Penelope messing with the thermostat again? Because it definitely seemed hotter in here. Much hotter than usual. “Sure. If you want to.”
“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Ever since we… you know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
Mike shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, maybe I have. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… you know… kind of…”
“Awkward.”
“Yeah. Awkward.” Now he was fidgeting.
“I’ve felt the same way. But we can’t go on being partners if we can’t even look at one another.”
“That’s true.”
“I mean, we’ve got to finish this case. But after that…”
“Yeah?”
“After that, maybe we should apply for a transfer. I think Blackwell would allow it now. Particularly if we both requested it.”
For some reason, Mike couldn’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say. “Yeah. I think he probably would.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yeah. I mean, right.” He looked up. “Is that what you want?”
“I asked you first.”
Mike frowned. “Now this is a bit childish.”
“I did. I asked you first.”
“I asked you second. So?”
Baxter let out a long exhale. “I have another request.”
It was amazing what she did with her mouth when she was nervous. That cute little half-pout thing. How had he never noticed that before? “And that is?”
“Don’t tell any of the other guys on the force. About what happened. Between us, I mean.”
“Of course not. I would never…”
“Stand around in the canteen with the other guys making rude remarks about a female officer? Perish the thought.”
Mike tugged at his collar. “I apologized for that.”
“Actually, you haven’t.”
“Well, then I apologize for that. It won’t happen again.”
“You won’t tell anyone?”
His neck stiffened. “What, are you ashamed of it?”
“You know what would happen, if word got around. They’d makes jokes, give me some trashy nickname. Start treating me like I was some kind of tramp.”
“We were both there.”
“Yeah, but if a woman does it, she’s a tramp. If a guy does it, he’s Casanova.”
Mike took a step toward her. The heat was so intense he felt as if he were standing in the fireplace. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thank you. That’s all I wanted,” she said, with a note of finality. But she did not step away.
“May I make a request?” Mike asked, inching even closer.
“Fair’s fair, I suppose.” She was looking up, gazing into his eyes.
“It seems to me… we never actually got to finish that kiss.”
“And?”
“If I have to keep quiet and forget it happened, it seems as if I ought to at least get to… finish.”
Baxter didn’t answer, but she didn’t resist, either. Their heads moved closer together…
“Where do you want it?” A new voice emerged from the doorway.
“Penelope!” Both Mike and Baxter jumped backward, like ionized molecules repelling each other. “I didn’t… hear you…”
“Am I interrupting something?”
“No!” they both insisted, much too loudly.
“We were just talking about the case,” Mike said.
“Yes. The case,” Baxter agreed.
Penelope looked at them as if they were wearing their underwear on the outside. “Look, I got those books. You want I should put them on your desk?”