The eerie silence began to give way to voices. They floated in the darkness from above as apartment windows were thrust open and she could hear over and over again the same words from different buildings: “blackout,” and “flashlight,” and “batteries.” She startled at a nearby cough and shined her light on an old man walking his pug.
“You’re blinding me with that damn thing,” he said as he passed, and she pointed the beam down at the ground.
“Be safe,” she said but got no response. Nikki picked up her box in both hands and moved on toward her building with the mini-Mag wedged between her palm and the carton, shining light a few feet ahead of each step. She was two doors from her building when a foot scraped on a pebble behind her and she stopped. Listened. Listened hard. But heard no footsteps.
Some idiot hollered, “Awooooo!” from the rooftop across the street and dropped some flaming paper that spun a bright orange swirl until it burned itself out halfway down to the sidewalk. These were healthy reminders that this would be a good time to get off the street.
At her front steps, Nikki set down the box again and bent to get her keys. Behind her came quickening footsteps and then a hand touched her back. She whirled and threw a high, backward circle kick that grazed Rook, and by the time she heard his “Hey!” it was too late to do anything but gain her balance and hope he didn’t hit his head on the way down.
“Rook?” she said.
“Down here.” Nikki shined her light in the direction of his voice and spotlighted him sitting up in the sidewalk planter with his back against a tree trunk, holding his jaw.
She bent down to him. “Are you all right? What the hell were you doing?”
“I couldn’t see you, I bumped into you.”
“But why are you here?”
“I just wanted to make sure—”
“—that you ignored what I said and followed me.”
“Always the savvy detective.” He put one of his hands against the tree and the other on the sidewalk. “You might want to turn away. I am about to struggle. Pay no attention to the groaning.” She didn’t turn away but put a hand under his arm to help him up.
“Did I break anything?” she asked and shined the flashlight on his face. His jaw was red and chafed from her foot. “Do this,” she said and shined the light on herself as she worked her jaw open and closed. She put the light on him and he followed her instructions. “How’s that?”
“The humane thing may be just to put me down. You got a bullet on you?”
“You’re fine. You’re lucky I only grazed you.”
“You’re lucky I signed that waiver against lawsuits when I started my ride-along.”
She smiled in the dark. “I guess we’re both lucky.” Nikki figured he must have heard the smile in her voice because he drew closer to her, until there was only the slightest gap separating them. They stood there like that, not quite touching but sensing each other’s closeness in the dark of the hot summer night. Nikki started to sway, and then leaned ever so slightly toward him. She felt her breast brush softly against his upper arm.
Then the bright light hit them.
“Detective Heat?” said the voice from the patrol car.
She took one step back from Rook and shielded her eyes against the spotlight. “I am.”
“Everything all right?”
“Fine. He’s…,” she looked at Rook, who wasn’t appreciating her pause while she struggled to define him, “with me.”
Nikki knew the score. As they lowered the beam out of her eyes, she pictured the meeting in Captain Montrose’s office after she’d left and the call that went out. It was one thing to rib each other and play their game of Too Cool to Care, but the precinct was family, and if you were one of their own and you were threatened, you could bet your badge they’d have your back. The gesture would have been so much more welcome if she hadn’t had Jameson Rook on her hip. “Thank you, but you know, this isn’t necessary. Really.”
“No sweat, we’ll be here all night. You want us to show you upstairs?”
“No,” Nikki said a little more urgently than she’d intended. She continued more softly, “Thank you. I’ve got a,” she looked at Rook, who smiled until she said, “flashlight.”
Rook lowered his voice. “Nice. Think I’ll tell James Taylor I have his new song. ‘You’ve Got a Flashlight.’ ”
“Oh, don’t be so—You know James Taylor?”
“Heat?”
“Yeah?”
“Got any ice up there in that apartment?”
Nikki gave it a moment while he rubbed his sore jaw. “Let’s go up and find out.”
NINE
Nikki Heat’s apartment building was not the Guilford. It was not only a fraction of the size, there was no doorman. Rook looped his fingers in the brass handle and held open the front door as she entered the small vestibule. Her keys clacked against the glass of the inner door, and once Nikki unlocked it, she waved to the blue-and-white still double-parked out front. “We’re in,” she said. “Thank you.”
The cops left on the spotlight for them, and thanks to its spill the lobby was dim but not totally dark. “Chair, see?” Nikki shined her light at it briefly. “Stay close.” A row of shiny metal-plated mailboxes caught the reflection beside them. She twisted the beam a little wider, and although it was not as intense, it gave them a better sense of the area, revealing the long, narrow lobby, which was a small-scale match for the footprint of the building. A single elevator sat ahead to the left, and on its right, separated by a table holding some UPS deliveries and unclaimed newspapers, was an open passageway to the staircase.
“Hang onto this.” She gave him the box and crossed over to the elevator.
“Unless that thing’s steam powered, I don’t think it’s going to be working,” said Rook.
“Ya think?” She shined the light up at the deco brass dial indicating which of the five floors the car was on. The arrow pointed to the 1. Heat rapped the heel of her flashlight on the elevator door and a series of loud bongs resonated. She called out, “Anybody in there?” and put her ear to the metal. “Nothing,” she said to Rook. Then she dragged the lobby chair to the elevator door and stood on it. “For this to work, you have to do this up top, at the header.” Clenching the tiny flashlight in her teeth to free her hands, she used them to pry the doors open a few inches at the center. Nikki angled her head forward and inserted the light into the partition. Satisfied, she released the doors and stepped down, reporting, “All clear.”
“Always a cop,” said Rook.
“Mm, not always.”
She learned just how dark it could get when they started climbing the stairs, which were wall-bound and did not get any of the police spotlight bleeding into the lobby. Nikki led with her Maglite; Rook surprised her with a beam of light of his own. At the second floor landing she said, “What the hell is that?”
“iPhone ap. Cool, huh?” The screen of his cell phone radiated a bright flame from a virtual Bic lighter. “These are all the rage at concerts now.”
“Did Mick tell you that?”
“No, Mick didn’t tell me that.” They resumed their climb and he added, “It was Bono.”
It was an easy climb to her third-floor apartment, but the stifling air of the staircase had them both palming sweat off their faces. Inside her foyer she flicked the light switch out of habit and chided herself for being so on autopilot. “Do you have service on that thing?”
“Yep, showing all bars.”
“Miracle of miracles,” she said and flipped open her own phone to speed-dial Captain Montrose. She had to try twice to get a connection, and while it rang, she led Rook into the kitchen and lit up the freezer. “Ice down that jaw, while I—Hello, Captain, thought I’d check in.”