Karen Rose - Count to Ten

He lifted a brow. "I had three cups of coffee waiting for your pal."

Mia winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would take that long." They'd sat for two hours when DuPree finally showed up with his arm in a sling. Still they'd waited for Getts, the shooter, until she'd spotted DuPree sneaking out the back door. He'd taken off at a run and she'd had no choice but to take him down. Even with his arm in a sling, he'd been a fighter. "You should have interviewed the girls at the sorority house."

"What, and miss the fun?" he said dryly. "Watching you take down a drugged out SOB twice your size was worth the price of admission, even if you didn't catch Getts."

"Slimy little sonofabitch," she snarled softly. "He must have made us."

"You'll get Getts. And you can sleep tonight knowing his pal's in a six-by-eight."

He looked positive and sincere. In fact, he looked damn impressed. Maybe she'd been given a second chance to make a first impression. "Thanks for driving through that back alley and cutting DuPree off. At least I can give my partner that tonight. Let's get to the sorority so you can get home."

He got out of the SUV. "Later. The second reason we're here is that I'm starving and you need something in your gut so you can take some more medicine for that pain. It's a wonder you didn't dislocate your shoulder. What do you take on your hot dog?"

"Anything except ketchup. Thanks, Solliday."

All day she'd walked beside Reed Solliday, feeling small. Now she could watch him as he walked through the store. He moved with a fluid grace unusual for a man his size. And watching Solliday move, she thought of Guy. The comparison had been inevitable, she supposed. It had been a while since she'd thought of Guy LeCroix, which was telling in itself, but now she remembered with stunning clarity.

Guy had moved just like that. It's what had attracted her from the beginning, that panther grace in a big man. He'd thought he loved her, but ultimately, wanted far more than she could give. She didn't really miss him, which was also telling. But she hadn't wanted to hurt him either. She hoped he'd found what he was looking for with his new wife, that he was happy. Since Guy the well had been relatively dry. She'd seen a few men here and there. Mostly there. Nobody serious.

Thinking objectively in the quiet of her mind, she could admit none were better looking than Reed Solliday, even though he did look like Satan when he did the eyebrow thing. Although that little goatee of his did frame a nice mouth.

Mia imagined a mouth that nice would prove an asset in certain areas. As would that panther grace.

Mrs. Solliday must be a very content woman. For a split second, Mia felt a twinge of wistful envy for Mrs. Solliday, whoever she was. But quickly she squelched it. She didn't do cops. It was her life's mantra. But he's not a cop . "He's close enough," she murmured aloud. Still, a girl could watch. Reed Solliday was a very watchable man.

He was at the counter now, paying for their food. The clerk frowned, then dumped a handful of change into the sack Solliday held open. Shaking his head Solliday opened his door, and corralling her wayward thoughts, Mia took the food from his hands.

"My biggest fear is that Beth will bring home a guy like that and I'll have to pretend to like him," he grumbled, settling into his seat. From the sack he pulled a handful of packets. "The condiment pumps were empty. You'll have to make do with these."

"I'm sure I've had worse. Come to think of it, I have worse every time Abe picks the place we eat. He's into that vegetarian crap. Thank you." Mia ripped open one of the mustard packets while Solliday opened the center console between the seats. Nestled among a half dozen cassette tapes was a mason jar half-filled with change. Solliday poured the change from the sack into the jar and closed the console lid.

Mia blinked at him. "Wow. You've got to have ten bucks in change in that thing."

"Probably." He took one of the hot dogs and proceeded to eat it plain.

Appalled, she gaped. "No toppings? Not even mustard?"

He looked at the hot dog with distaste, hesitating. Then he shrugged. "I have trouble manipulating small items."

The jar of change now made sense. "Like pennies and nickels?"

He took a bite and made a resigned face. "Yep."

"And mustard packets?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Give me your damn hot dog, Solliday. I'll put on the mustard."

He handed it over. "Relish, too?"

She shook her head. "Relish, too. Why didn't you just ask?"

He shrugged again. "Pride, I guess."

"Given your assessment of me this morning, I should think it would be shame," she shot back and he laughed. He had a nice laugh, deep and rich, and his smile changed his face from Satan to… well, wow. For a moment she stared. Wow . Then with a hard blink she dropped her eyes to the carton in her lap. Mrs. Solliday was a very lucky lady.

"Touche, Mitchell. Although for the record, as of this afternoon I'm duly impressed with your capability. I haven't seen a move like that since high school."

She handed him his food. "Let me guess. Linebacker?"

"Tight end. But that was a long time ago."

They ate in silence, then Mia folded her wrapper. "So what happened?"

He eyed her over the last bite of his hot dog. "None of your business."

She laughed. "Touche, Solliday. Give me your trash, I'll throw it away." When she climbed back in the cab, he was pocketing his cell phone. "Emergency?"

"No. I just needed to call home."

Mia sighed. "I'm sorry again. You have a family to get home to."

"My hours are as flexible as yours. I have somebody to take care of Beth when I have to work at night. Take something for your shoulder."

So there was no Mrs. Solliday. The sudden thump of her heart was merely interest, Mia told herself, not relief. She popped a few pain relievers, wondering what had happened to his wife, but stopped herself from asking. "So where are we going now?"

"Greek Row."

It would be a while before they got there. "Can I look at your notes again?"

He handed her his notebook. "So what nice thing did you do for Carmichael?"

"Somebody close to her was murdered last year. Abe and I were primary. She was pretty hysterical and I stayed with her until she'd gotten through the worst of it. It was no more than I'd do for any victim's family."

"Obviously more than she expected."

"I guess. Anyway, I've become her personal news source. Every time I turn around that girl is there. But she gave me DuPree. If I get Getts, she'll be on my Christmas list forever." She scanned his notes. "Was the bed made in the spare bedroom?"

He looked surprised. "Yes, why?"

"When I was in school, I studied at the kitchen table. I don't think I would have used somebody else's bedroom, for sure. What was Caitlin doing studying up there?"

"Maybe she got sleepy."

"That's why I asked about the bed. But she could have slept on the couch. Sleeping in somebody else's bed, especially when you've expressly been told not to live in… That's just…" She searched for the word. "Cheeky."

His lips twitched. "Cheeky?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Don't laugh at my adjectives. It's like she was playing Goldilocks, studying and sleeping where she wasn't invited."

"There was a desk in the bedroom. With a computer."

"Ah. We should have it taken in. Check for e-mails and web surfing."

"1 talked to Ben when you were processing DuPree. He said Unger took the computer this afternoon. They'll try to check for e-mails, et cetera, before morning."

"Okay. So walk with me. Caitlin's studying or surfing the web or something. She hears something, comes downstairs and he's there. They struggle in the foyer. Maybe he rapes her. At some point he shoots her. But he doesn't burn her to utterly destroy her. Unless he thought she'd be burnt to ash and he's just a novice. Are we dealing with a novice?"