Saying nothing, not moving, she stood there until Ann rolled her eyes and inched out of his reach.
“Let’s don’t provoke her,” Ann suggested. She strode ahead of Gaby and opened the car door to get in.
Gaby still glared at Luther, and he met her fury with his own measure. He would not back down from her; not in this, and not with anything else.
Her left eye twitched, and she turned away to join Ann in the car . . . in the backseat.
So he was to play chauffeur?
He’d be damned before he asked her to ride up front with him.
Given her posture, Ann wasn’t at all pleased with the close confines of the backseat. Showing her irritation, she nestled up to her car door, as far away from Gaby as she could get.
For her part, Gaby slouched down and propped her knees on the back of the passenger seat. She looked bored. Pissed off and bored.
Luther handed the drugs to Ann. “Hold on to that, will you? And be careful.”
“What is it?” Ann loosened the tablecloth and peered inside.
“An array of dope I confiscated before Gaby and I left Fabian. I couldn’t blow my cover, but there was no reason to leave it there for others to use. Thanks to Gaby, we just came off as a dysfunctional couple. Grabbing the dope only reinforced our pushiness.” He started the car and jacked up the heat. “Be careful with that until I can book it into the evidence room.”
“We are a dysfunctional couple, and I am pushy.” Gaby picked at a fingernail. “No stretch of the imagination there.”
At least she called them a couple, Luther thought. “I should get to the station to do my paperwork. But there’s no reason for us both to go.”
“I’m your partner,” Ann said. “That’s reason enough. And besides”—she gave a meaningful glance toward Gaby—“you have other stuff to see to tonight. I’ll take care of it. Drop me at Mort’s so I can grab my car first.”
He didn’t relish the idea of leaving Gaby home alone, knowing she might take off again. But neither did he want to drag her along to the station. He could only imagine the questions that would crop up if everyone witnessed her prickly temper.
“You’re soaked.”
“So are you. But I have a change of clothes in my locker at work. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Ann located her purse, found a tissue, and tried to repair her makeup. “And this way, you’ll owe me.”
Relieved, Luther nodded agreement. “Gaby, tell us more about Fabian. You think he’s our man?”
“He’s something.” Staring at nothing but the darkness, Gaby kept her gaze out the window. “Definitely a killer, definitely a psycho lunatic. His stench was all over those bags.” She looked at Ann, and in infuriating and unnecessary fashion, added, “The bags of inedible human parts.”
“Of course.” Ann slapped her purse down beside her on the seat. “What others bags would you possibly mean?”
Fearing a real conflict might erupt, Luther said, “Knock it off, Gaby.”
Gaby slouched more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Gaby . . .” Luther warned.
Insulted, Gaby said, “She’s all scrunched up over there like she thinks I’m planning to hurt her. I don’t fucking hurt women.” She rethought that and added, “Well, unless it’s for their own good.”
Luther let out an aggrieved sigh, and explained to Ann, “She slapped around the little skirt who was hanging on me, basically just to scare some sense into her.”
“I’m sure her tactics worked just fine,” Ann said to Luther, and then to Gaby: “But I have plenty of sense already, so I don’t need you—or anyone else—trying to bully me.”
“When did I?” Gaby asked.
Incredulous, Ann swung around to stare at her in disbelief. “Just before! You know good and well that you threatened me with a look.”
Her brow went up. “I was threatening Luther, actually.”
“You were looking at me.”
Gaby smirked. “Yeah, so Luther would know why I was threatening him.”
“Of all the ridiculous . . . ” Ann reached out to touch her arm. “That is not how a woman shows a man that she cares.”
On alert now, Luther kept his mouth shut and just listened.
Gaby pressed the heels of her hands to her eye sockets. “Look, Ann, I have nothing against you except that Luther likes you so much and you’re so fucking perfect. But you can take your advice and—”
“Perfect?” Luther and Ann said at almost the same time.
Ann scowled at Luther, and then said to Gaby, “That’s absurd. I’m far from perfect.”
Gaby dropped her hands and crossed her arms over her chest. “Bull. You’re a fucking saint, and everyone knows it.”
Discomfited, Ann tried a different tack. “Gaby, Luther and I are only—”
“Friends, yeah I know.” She looked out the window again. “Saint that you are, you wouldn’t cheat on Morty, and Luther isn’t the type to poach. But for whatever reason, it doesn’t seem to matter to me.”
Ann and Luther shared a glance before Ann said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Gaby’s sigh was long and exaggerated. “Look, I know you two wouldn’t fool around. But I still don’t like how close you are.” She sawed her teeth together, gave up her scrutiny of the darkness to glare at Ann. “If you want me to spill my guts, then I guess I’m fucking jealous, and isn’t that a kick in the backside?”
Always so honest, Luther thought. A modicum of irritation eased, pushed out by warm sentiment.
Knowing Gaby cared enough to be jealous lent him a certain peace of mind, and gave him confidence that eventually things would work out with her.
Pleased with her, Luther drove out of the alley and headed toward Mort’s without saying a word.
Ann cleared her throat. “There’s no reason to be jealous of me, Gaby.”
“Jesus, pay attention will you? I just told you that you’re perfect.” Gaby reached behind her and pulled out her knife. As she polished it against the denim of her jeans, she extolled Ann’s virtues. “You’re classy, anyone can see that. And smart. And even though you’re really pretty, you’re still kind.” Voice dropping to a mumble, Gaby added, “Even to a mutation like me.”
Ann scooted closer to her. “We’ve discussed this before, Gaby. You’re not a mutation, so don’t say that. I think you’re brave and honorable—”
“And freakish.” She lifted the knife to inspect it. “Admit it. I scare the shit out of you.”
“You’re unpredictable and I know your ability, so yes, you can make me nervous. But nervousness is a long way from fear.”
Letting that go, Gaby made an abrupt change of topic. “Getting a tattoo is a good idea. It’ll give me time to dissect the crazy fuck, maybe figure him out. He’s our guy, I’m almost sure of it, but there’s something about him that’s throwing me off.”
Since that was something new for Gaby, Luther didn’t like it. Usually she saw things in clear-cut, unwavering precision. “Throwing you off how?”
“It’s hard to explain. He has the sickest aura I’ve ever seen. It even lingers around his tattoo parlor, this thick smog filled with pain and misery. But he’s got smarts, too. And a higher frequency of light and power. And . . . ” She stopped, going introspective.
“What?” Ann asked.
“He knows me.” Voice faint with bewilderment, Gaby said, “Somehow, I think the bastard recognized me.”
“From the previous crime scene?” Luther shook his head against that possibility. “We were careful. And you stayed in the cruiser . . . ”
“No.” She shook her head. “I meant that he saw me, who I really am. It was in his eyes, in that messed-up aura of his. When I got near him, it sparked, almost . . . almost like we were connected somehow.”
Very glad now that Ann would take care of business so he could get Gaby home, Luther said, “All the more reason for you not to let him tattoo you.” Hell, he didn’t want to let her anywhere near the lunatic, much less have him stick a needle in her.