Dressed in another button-front shirt and tidy slacks, he sank down to sit beside her. "You are one hard woman to track down, Gaby Cody."
Her first and last name. What else did he know of her? "Drop dead." Mentally, she retracted that order, just in case He was listening—which she doubted. God couldn't be bothered with such pettiness. She just didn't want to take any chances. Her soul had blackened enough already.
"I'd rather not, thank you. And I'd rather not arrest you, but I will if you make me."
"Yeah?" Stiffened arms braced behind her, Gaby tipped her head back so that the sun caressed her throat. "For what?"
"Assaulting an officer?"
In her tautened position, the laugh sounded more like choking. "An officer who molested me?"
He chuckled—and Gaby felt his gaze on her chest. "Touché. Not that anyone would believe you."
Too drained to measure her words, Gaby straightened and asked, "Why not? Because I don't have anything to grope, or because you have a pure aura? We both know you still did it."
For half a minute, Luther remained utterly silent. Gaby listened to the rumble of engines and the quieter thrum of tires on pavement as cars went past. She heard the muted congestion of voices across the street, a few doors down, at the end of dark alleys. She heard doors opening, a dog barking, and off in the distance, the lone but not unfamiliar wail of a siren.
"Okay." Luther propped his forearms on his knees. His eyes narrowed and his brow pinched. "Let's skip the strange comment for just a second to clear up something else."
"If you insist."
"Yes, we both know I did it, no way for me to dispute it. But we both also know that's not why you ran from me."
"When did I run?"
"A few days ago. With blood on your neck." His jaw flexed. "After you tried to unman me."
Her smile quirked. "Listen up, cop. If I'd tried, you'd be a choirboy. Believe it."
Luther accepted that without expression. "So why'd you run?"
Sighing, Gaby knew she couldn't lie. She had run, he'd seen her, so denying it would do no good. But her reasons would remain her own. Curious, she asked, "Why do you think?"
Without missing a single beat, Luther stated, "You know something about the murder and you don't want to tell me."
Well hell. Gaby took off her sunglasses and scrubbed at her eyes. She had to throw him off that scent somehow. "Yeah, you've got me dead to rights, officer. I know all about it."
"Don't be a smart-ass, Gaby. If you saw something that night, it's your duty to tell me."
"My duty." How ludicrous that sounded.
Luther firmed even more. "If you're afraid of retaliation, I can protect you."
That brought about a genuine laugh—of amusement and bitterness. "If you want to think so, who am I to say otherwise?"
His irritation hit her in waves. "What exactly does all that sarcasm mean?"
Time to run away. Again.
But before she'd even gotten her ass off the step, Luther blocked her. "I won't let anything happen to you, Gaby. I swear."
Temper snapping, she rounded on him. "Good God, man, don't be a complete imbecile. You can't protect me. I'm the one who—"
She cut herself short on that awesome disclosure. Breathing hard, she stared at Luther and saw his fascination, his interest. Oh God.
Rot out her tongue. Make her mute. Let her faint. Something.
But the only thing that happened was Luther's puzzled frown. "You're the one who… ? What? Murdered that old man? Mutilated his body?" His voice deepened to a feral growl. "Lopped off his damn head?"
Shaken, depleted, Gaby pulled herself to her feet. She stared across the street as she asked, "Where'd you get that idea?"
Slowly, Luther stood too. "I didn't. Have that idea, I mean. I was being facetious."
"Oh. Good." She needed to go inside. No. One glance at the dreary entrance and she knew there was nothing in there but her restless thoughts. She started across the street instead, going where, she didn't know yet.
Just away from Luther Cross.
"Let me tell you something right now. Gaby. You're a nanosecond away from being arrested."
Gaby waved that away. "Leave me alone. You're nuts."
"I will arrest you."
"No you won't."
Growling again, he warned, "Don't try me."
Gaby stopped, but didn't turn to face him. "What do you want, Luther?"
She counted five heartbeats before he replied.
"Having you say my name is a start. But I have questions, and I want answers."
Over her shoulder, Gaby took his measure. "What kind of questions?"
"The kind best handled in conversation instead of at the station with you in handcuffs."
Another tired sigh almost took away her knees. She moved two steps closer to him. "You were telling the truth? No one would believe me if I told them what you did?"
He stepped closer, too. "I don't know, but is it worth the effort when you look so beat?"
It didn't take her long to decide to give in. "Come on. I'll buy us Cokes and we can sit by the playground."
"The same playground you used to lose me last time." But he fell into step beside her.
Neither of them spoke. When she reached Chuck's, she went to the window and gave their order. "Anything else?" she asked Luther.
"I'm good."
Yeah, he was. The colorful sunset enhanced a large orange halo encircling him. Optimism, strength. He had both in spades. He'd make a good teacher, a capable leader of others.
Gaby dug two bills from her pocket and paid for the drinks. The cans must've sat in ice because they dripped frosty chips, and when she popped the tab, a fog escaped.
After a deep drink, Luther put a fist to his mouth to muffle a belch and said, "Good. Thank you."
Gaby rolled the cold can over her forehead and, knowing he'd follow, went up the street to an empty bench. With each step she examined the playground. Metal equipment wore shades of rust. A cracked wooden swing offered splinters to an unknowing hiney. But the few children still at play didn't care. Shirtless, most of them shoeless, they mellowed as evening approached, carefree, unaware, and happy.
Just as they should be.
Gaby's stride kicked up brittle leaves. The sun sank further into the horizon until lengthening shadows encompassed everything. Most of the kids would head home now. Others, more neglected, would linger or wander off to different, less puerile amusements.
Gaby stopped by the chain-link fence. As lampposts flickered on, mothers called their offspring home, their voices carrying on the stagnant air.
The youthful crowd thinned—and an older crowd crawled out.
The nightlife started, and with it came a force of hookers, dope dealers, drunks, and thugs. Gaby started to sit.
"Careful."
Luther used the toe of his shoe to nudge away a dead, dried-up mouse curled around the bench leg. She felt much like that critter—used up and frangible.
Cradling her canned drink in a loose hold, Gaby plopped down. "So. You on duty?"
"I got off an hour ago."
"And came to see me." She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and indulged a slow drink. "You do realize how pathetic that makes you, right?"
"You think so?"
"Definitely." The thought occurred to her, and spilled off her tongue. "Don't you have a wife tucked away somewhere, or at least a significant other you could hassle instead of me?"
"Sorry, I don't have either." He didn't smile, but he didn't frown. "What about you?"
"No wife."
That got a chuckle out of him. "Good. Husband, significant other? Now or… ever?"
"No."
An odd inquisitiveness gleamed in his dark eyes. "How old are you. Gaby?"
"Just turned twenty-one."