Marilyn Pappano - Killer Smile

It was nice to let her mind wander from her current problems, but voices at the door snatched her back to the seriousness of the moment. Daniel came in first, carrying a couple of fat white bath towels and a space heater. The other detective, Ben, was behind him, improvising a clipboard as a serving tray.

No one said anything. Daniel handed the towels to her then plugged the heater in nearby, turned it toward her and flipped the switch on. Ben set a cup of coffee in front of her, along with packets of sugar and tubs of cream, then took a seat on her right. He turned toward her and began writing on the clipboard’s legal pad, adding to the stuff that already filled half of the page.

Daniel sat down on her left, sipped his coffee then leaned back in his chair. He didn’t speak. Ben didn’t. Natasha felt oddly as if she shouldn’t, at least not until the coffee, the towel wrapped around her shoulders and the warm air of the heater chased away her chills.

Rain lashed the windows behind her. She turned to glance out. Second Street wasn’t nearly as busy as First, but there was an occasional vehicle passing and cars were parked across the street. Someone was waiting in one of those cars, visible only as a vague shape through the side-to-side swipe of the windshield wipers. Goose bumps appeared on Natasha’s arms. The car’s engine was running, sending little puffs of exhaust into the chilly air, and the headlights were on. Could that be him? Could he have seen her and Daniel come to the police station? Could he have known they would wind up in the conference room and which windows looked into it?

Suddenly a small blur of energy raced out of the building where the car was parked. Between the rain hat, slicker and boots, it was impossible to see anything about the child, though the pink of the clothing suggested a girl. She ran through puddles instead of over them, pulled the car door open and flung herself into the front seat.

You’re paranoid. Are you going to start cringing from old people and their canes next?

She hated paranoia.

The door opened once more to admit a woman in uniform, a smile wreathing her face and blond hair showing gray roots, and a man dressed in the same uniform as Daniel and Ben. He couldn’t be much older than them, but Natasha assumed he was their boss. His quiet, confident demeanor just said so.

He sat next to Daniel, the woman next to Ben. Natasha regretted picking the seat at the head of the table. It put her at the center of their focus and gave her an instinctive me-against-them response. She should have chosen a chair along the side, where someone would have been forced to sit next to her.

“Close those blinds, will you, Daniel?”

Natasha hadn’t thought to do it herself or to ask, but the instant the gloom deepened in the room, she felt better. Safer. “Thank you.”

“I’m Chief Douglas. This is Officer Gideon, you’ve met Detective Little Bear, and of course you know Detective Harper.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened in her peripheral vision, so she shifted her gaze the other way, to Detective Little Bear. The bear part suited him well; being fierce would be no stretch for him. But at six foot four and all broad shoulders and muscles, he’d surpassed the little part a long time ago.

“Let’s start with the car,” the chief said, “since that’s our immediate issue. We were waiting for the fire marshal to join us, but he’s tied up elsewhere. Tell us what you know, Ms. Spencer.”

She took a long drink of coffee then wrapped her fingers around the edges of the towel around her shoulders and held it tightly as she began to talk.

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