William Bernhardt - Death Row

“I have the same feeling. But I can’t remember what it is. I even showed it around the office. And everyone says the same thing. Yeah, that looks familiar. But no one remembers what it is.”

“What are those curvy things in the middle? Wings?”

“I thought they were hearts.”

“They can’t be hearts. They’re flat on the bottom. Both of them. And why are they drawn so… wispy?” She dropped it back onto the desk. “It’s like a Rorschach test, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. When you don’t know what it’s supposed to be, it looks like everything. Or nothing. That’s why I’ve been poring through every pictorial reference I could lay my hands on. And I’ve sent Penelope to the library for more. When you don’t know what you’re looking for-you look at everything.”

“Sounds like a needle-haystack deal.”

“It is.” Mike pushed away from the desk and stretched. “But if I could place that design, I might trace it back to our murderer.”

“About that.” Baxter suddenly seemed nervous, edgy. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did.”

“For what I did?” There wasn’t much room in the cubicle, especially at present. She was standing barely a foot away. Another time, he might complain about cops who invaded his personal space. But at the moment…

“In Blackwell’s office. When you… you know. Stood up for me. I really appreciate it.”

Mike waved a hand in the air. “I was just correcting my own mistake. It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. It was something. A big something. You didn’t have to do it. Certainly not the way you did. It…” She began fidgeting with her fingernails. “It meant a lot to me.”

Mike shrugged. “Forget about it.” Was she wearing some kind of perfume? Because now that he was up close, it seemed as if she was wearing some kind of perfume.

“Can we talk about the other night? The stakeout, I mean. When we were in the car.”

“Stop beating yourself up about that, Baxter. We had no way of knowing that some killer would-”

“That’s not what I meant.” She averted her eyes. “Could we talk about us? What happened.” Her hand brushed against her lips.

“Oh. That.” Was Penelope messing with the thermostat again? Because it definitely seemed hotter in here. Much hotter than usual. “Sure. If you want to.”

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Ever since we… you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Mike shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, maybe I have. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… you know… kind of…”

“Awkward.”

“Yeah. Awkward.” Now he was fidgeting.

“I’ve felt the same way. But we can’t go on being partners if we can’t even look at one another.”

“That’s true.”

“I mean, we’ve got to finish this case. But after that…”

“Yeah?”

“After that, maybe we should apply for a transfer. I think Blackwell would allow it now. Particularly if we both requested it.”

For some reason, Mike couldn’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say. “Yeah. I think he probably would.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah. I mean, right.” He looked up. “Is that what you want?”

“I asked you first.”

Mike frowned. “Now this is a bit childish.”

“I did. I asked you first.”

“I asked you second. So?”

Baxter let out a long exhale. “I have another request.”

It was amazing what she did with her mouth when she was nervous. That cute little half-pout thing. How had he never noticed that before? “And that is?”

“Don’t tell any of the other guys on the force. About what happened. Between us, I mean.”

“Of course not. I would never…”

“Stand around in the canteen with the other guys making rude remarks about a female officer? Perish the thought.”

Mike tugged at his collar. “I apologized for that.”

“Actually, you haven’t.”

“Well, then I apologize for that. It won’t happen again.”

“You won’t tell anyone?”

His neck stiffened. “What, are you ashamed of it?”

“You know what would happen, if word got around. They’d makes jokes, give me some trashy nickname. Start treating me like I was some kind of tramp.”

“We were both there.”

“Yeah, but if a woman does it, she’s a tramp. If a guy does it, he’s Casanova.”

Mike took a step toward her. The heat was so intense he felt as if he were standing in the fireplace. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted,” she said, with a note of finality. But she did not step away.

“May I make a request?” Mike asked, inching even closer.

“Fair’s fair, I suppose.” She was looking up, gazing into his eyes.

“It seems to me… we never actually got to finish that kiss.”

“And?”

“If I have to keep quiet and forget it happened, it seems as if I ought to at least get to… finish.”

Baxter didn’t answer, but she didn’t resist, either. Their heads moved closer together…

“Where do you want it?” A new voice emerged from the doorway.

“Penelope!” Both Mike and Baxter jumped backward, like ionized molecules repelling each other. “I didn’t… hear you…”

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No!” they both insisted, much too loudly.

“We were just talking about the case,” Mike said.

“Yes. The case,” Baxter agreed.

Penelope looked at them as if they were wearing their underwear on the outside. “Look, I got those books. You want I should put them on your desk?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Fine.” She pushed a tall stack back to clear a corner. “And don’t forget to go home tonight, Mike. I know how you get when you’re on these big research binges.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t forget to eat, either. You want me to send up some sandwiches?”

“I’ll manage. Thank you, Penelope.” As soon as she left the office, Mike whirled around. “Baxter?”

She was gone.

His enemy had returned.

The one who had taken his life and dirtied it, turned it upside down. The one who had twisted his mind and turned him into something he never wanted to be. Back. Again.

Gabriel Aravena felt his hand shaking as he turned the doorknob and entered his apartment. His neighbor’s description of the person who had come by looking for him had not been that specific, but he knew who it was. Some part of him had known it would happen one day. It had happened often enough in his dreams. His nightmares.

What did the visitor want? Whatever it was, it was sure to be evil. Filthy.

Not yet. Please not yet. The old feelings had returned with such power. The bad feelings. The ones he couldn’t stop. The ones that rampaged when he saw a small girl with dark eyes, dark coloring. Like Erin Faulkner. Like so many others. That was not what he wanted, was it? He had decided, right? Even without the medication, he was not going to be a monster!

He had never been able to resist this person, and deep down in his heart, he knew this time would be no different. How could it be? The visitor knew so much, so many secrets. How could he resist? Was he stronger now? No, weaker. Barely off the Depo, his body still mutating.

He had to get out, that was all. Run. Go somewhere, do something. He was pretty low on cash just at the moment, but tomorrow was payday. He would go to work at FastTrak, collect his check-and then run.

Just the thought of it filled him with sorrow. He would lose his job. Lose the managerial position he had worked so hard to obtain. He would not see April again. And he had no idea where he would go. But he had to do it. He had to get out, he had to stop the inevitable from happening. Because if he didn’t-