There was an uncomfortable pause. They looked at each other and Gio thought he saw something in her eyes. Does she feel this, too?Already? This. . pull?
The pause went on long enough to outlive its own discomfort and became an easy silence. Both sipped their drinks. Marilyn finally broke the silence.
“This is a good song.”
Gio listened to the song drifting from the jukebox. He recognized Stevie Nicks’ sultry voice.
“Very good song.” He felt like an idiot. What was the name of the song? He’d heard it a million times, but he couldn’t think of the title. White Winged Dove or something?
She smiled at his obvious nervousness, took another sip and finished her drink. Gio panicked. She had said she was leaving after that drink-
Marilyn dug in her purse, removed her wallet, and dropped some money on the table. Then she looked up at Gio and smiled again.
“Listen,” she said. “I have to go. I’m meeting a girlfriend.”
Gio nodded glumly. He wanted to ask her out but knew he hadn’t laid the groundwork, knew he would only stumble over his own tongue. You blew it, he told himself angrily.
Marilyn took a pen from her purse. She met Gio’s gaze.
Those eyes!
“Maybe we could go out to lunch sometime?” She smiled.
He sat there, shocked. He took so long to answer that a shadow of disappointment crossed her face. She dropped her gaze and started to put her pen away.
“Yes!” Gio answered too forcefully. She looked up. Gio softened his voice. “I mean, yes. Thank you. You just took me by surprise.”
She seemed to accept that. “What’s your phone number?” she asked. “I’ll call you in a few days?”
“Okay.” He gave her the number.
“See you.” She slid out of the booth.
“Bye.”
Marilyn gave him a smile and left. He followed her to the door with his eyes, watching her leave. It was only then that he realized how fast his heart was beating.
SIX
Sunday, August 21st
Graveyard Shift
2113 hours
Kopriva left the roll call room and walked downstairs to the records desk on the main floor. With Scarface out of commission, it figured to be a slower night. Maybe he’d chase some warrants. Newly issued warrants were stacked by the counter for officers to look at until the records personnel found time to input them into the computer system. Kopriva thumbed through the pile.
“Hi, Stef,” came a female voice from behind the counter.
Kopriva looked up to see Maria Soledad smiling at him. The thirty-year-old Puerto Rican woman had the longest and darkest hair Kopriva had ever seen. He smiled back.
“Hi, Maria. Como Estas?”
“Bien. Y tu?”
“Good,” he replied, having just about reached the limit of his Spanish-speaking skills.
“Did you hear they caught that robber?”
Kopriva nodded, perusing the warrants. “Yeah. Can you believe it was a bunch of day-shifters that did it?”
“Well, they have more experience, don’t they?”
“Yeah, I suppose, when they want to work. I think coffee is the highest priority for some of them.”
“Oh, Stef, you’re being mean. Tu eres malo.”
“Call ’em as I see ’em,” Kopriva said. He pulled a felony drug warrant for a man named Martin Belzer from the stack and handed it to Maria. “Could you run him up for me?”
“Sure.” Maria sat at her desk and quickly entered the name into the computer. It amazed Kopriva how fast she could type. She waited several minutes for the system to come back with a response.
“You type too fast for the computer, Senora.”
“Ten words per minute would be too fast for this system,” Maria replied.
“Government spending at its best,” Kopriva joked.
“Es la verdad,” she said absently. “Looks like you hit the jackpot on this one. In addition to this felony hit here, he has another felony warrant for drugs, plus three misdemeanor warrants.”
“So five total?”
“No, actually seven,” she answered, staring at the screen. “Here’s two more misdemeanor hits out of Seattle. And they’re extraditable, too.”
“Great. Can you print that off for me and confirm the local ones?”
Maria hit several keys and a printer began to buzz next to her computer. “You want a picture of Mr. Ten Most Wanted?”
“Maria, you are a dream.”
“More like a nightmare,” she chuckled, calling up a booking photo of Martin Belzer and printing it. She handed the printout and the black-and-white photo to Kopriva. “I’ll check the file and be back in a few.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Kopriva looked at the printout. Belzer’s listed address was 1814 N. Quincey, in Adam Sector. He should probably have an Adam Sector officer go with him. Maybe Chisolm or-
“Hey, Stef, what’s up?” Katie MacLeod appeared at his side and reached for the warrant stack. “You finished with these?”
“Yeah. I already found my gold mine.” He waved the picture of Belzer.
“Really? How’s that?”
“Mr. Belzer here has a butt-load of warrants.”
“A butt-load? I see. Is that more or less than an ass-full?”
Kopriva considered. “I think it’s the metric conversion.”
Katie laughed. “Very funny. How many does he have?”
“Seven. Two of ’em are felony drug. His last known address is in Adam Sector. You want to come along?”
“Sure. I have to give Kevin a call first, though.”
“Oh, I see.” Kopriva made a whip-cracking sound.
Katie smacked him on the arm. “Shut-up. He said it was important.”
“Okay, okay.” Kopriva raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll meet you at the elementary school there at Monroe and Maxwell.”
“Okay. See you.” Katie walked away.
Kopriva made the whip-crack noise again. Katie stuck her hand in the middle of her back and gave him the finger.
“Such an angry finger,” Maria tut-tutted as she returned from the warrant confirmation. “What on earth did you say to her?”
Kopriva shrugged. “I dunno. Who knows with women? Right, Maria?”
“You better watch it, or I will give these warrants to someone else.”
Kopriva bowed. “Perdoneme. I am an insensitive male.”
Maria gave him a smile. “In that case, your warrants are confirmed. Buena suerte.”
Kopriva thanked her and left.
2130 hours
“Come on, Janice! One more!”
Janice shook her head. “No more, Mark. I gotta get going.”
“Come on!” Ridgeway argued. “It’s early yet.”
“Early if you started at seven,” Janice told him, slipping on her coat. Gio and Stone had left an hour ago. They probably thought they were doing her a favor by leaving her alone with Ridgeway. They weren’t. She’d heard about Ridgeway’s wife and the fireman. There was no way she was getting involved with a cop. Not again, and not with one on the rebound. “You’ve been here since four o’clock. It’s nine-thirty now. It’s time to go.”
“Fine. Go.”
“You should leave, too,” she said. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“I’m fine,” Ridgeway said. “I’ll drink coffee for awhile and drive home.”
Janice shook her head. “There isn’t enough coffee in Colombia to sober you up, Mark.”
“I’m not taking a cab,” he said, getting his back up. “It’s degrading.”
Janice resisted the urge to argue. It would just cause him to get more stubborn, anyway. “Okay. How about I drive you home?”
Ridgeway glanced up. His drunken gaze penetrated her, and she felt a pang in her stomach. Another time, another place.