Julie Miller - Kansas City Christmas

Click.

She jerked the phone from her ear as if the soft disconnect had been a zap of static electricity.

What the hell kind of psych game was this? Holly snapped the phone shut and dropped it into her purse as she pushed open the door to the main hallway. “Idiot.”

A blur of white lunged at her from around the corner. “Gotcha!”

Holly yelped, automatically punching at the man who’d startled her while her heart was already thumping in her chest. “Damn it, Rick!”

Guffaws of deep-pitched laughter faded into a wide toothy grin on Rick Temple’s clean-shaven face. “Oh, that one was priceless. If you could see your expression.” He rubbed at a spot on his shoulder. “But you’ve got a mean punch, Doc.”

Talk about idiots. How one man could know so much about forensic science and yet beans about interacting with people in a mature, normal way eluded her. “What are you, in junior high? Sorry about the bruise, but startling the crap out of me is not funny.”

“Depends on your perspective.”

Holly flashed a grin that was more of a sneer than sincere. “You’re a grown man. One of these days you’re going to have to start acting like one. These practical jokes are hard on my blood pressure.”

“Oh, but you make it too easy, lady. Walking around all serious, focused all the time. I’ve got to lighten you up.”

“Giving me gray hairs isn’t the kind of lightness I find amusing.”

“You’re not that old, Doc. You’ve got to start having some fun.” At least he had the decency to retrieve the glove she’d dropped. She knew him to be thirty-two years old, but the grin he still wore looked two decades younger as he handed over the glove. “Think of these little encounters as my way of keeping you on your toes.”

Did he think she wasn’t doing her job? The corrupted evidence files she’d been trying to re-create made her prickle a little more defensively than usual. Not for the first time, she wondered how much of Rick’s teasing was really a warped sense of humor and how much might be resentment that she’d gotten the supervisory job that they’d both applied for. It might be wise for her to remind him who was in charge. “You know, Rick, if you weren’t as good at your job as you are, I might have to write you up for your…personality quirks. If any of your jokes interfere with anyone’s ability to do their job…”

“Oh, good one, Doc. Flatter me and call me out, all in the same sentence.” He pulled back the front of his lab coat and shoved his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I just wanted to catch you before you left and let you know that the preliminary report on that bullet I’m processing doesn’t look promising. I’ve been able to break it down into its components, and maybe even tell you how they’re decomposing so quickly. But pull a manufacturer’s name off it? Even at a microscopic level, I haven’t been able to pull anything substantive off the casing.”

Good. Fortunately, he could be serious when he talked about work. “Any luck with the caliber?”

“I’m guessing a thirty-five mil. I should be able to give you something definitive by the morning.”

Holly was breathing normally now. Her smile was genuine. And another possibility regarding the mysterious shadow had presented itself. “Thanks, Rick. Say, were you down in the basement a few minutes ago, trying to catch me with your update? I was on the phone, but you could have come in.”

“No.” As her humor returned, his faded. “I just now came down from the ballistics lab. Are you checking on me every moment of every shift now? Or do you just miss working side by side with me?”

“We still have plenty of opportunities to work together. I thought someone might be looking for me, that’s all. Thanks. I’ll look forward to that full report.”

“First thing in the morning, I promise. You headed out?”

She nodded. “I’m done for the night. See you at seven?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Good night.”

“Boo.” He flashed his hands in her face, startling her slightly. “Too easy. Just too damn easy.” Rick’s chuckle disappeared with him into the men’s locker room.

Shaking her head, Holly pulled on her remaining glove and turned toward the exit to the parking garage.

Nine nights out of ten, Holly enjoyed working the late shift. With a few juvenile colleague exceptions, she preferred the quiet and solitude of the nighttime hours. Dealing with fewer people meant she could concentrate on her work. Dissecting bodies and processing biological evidence tended to have an isolating effect in the first place, but the calm and quiet and focus on the job were what allowed her to deal with crime scenes that could often be gruesome, and victims who were always some form of tragic. Having to deal with the victim’s family or witnesses on top of the crime itself could be draining.

Yet tonight she couldn’t seem to settle inside her skin.

Holly pushed open the thick steel door that led from the lab building into the attached parking garage. The heels of her boots grated against the concrete as she strode to her car, the abrasive grinding of soles and grit echoing off the walls of the garage. There was an edginess crawling through her veins, and despite knowing she’d be reporting to help with a double-shift in the morning, she was beginning to think she wasn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight.

She didn’t know if it was the unexplained shadow or the pesky anonymous phone calls that had her so off-kilter. Maybe it was Rick’s eternal pleasure at getting a rise out of her or the conversation she’d had with Eli. No doubt it was a combination of all those things that made her so uneasy.

Lengthening her stride, she hurried past cars and trucks and empty parking slots. She pulled her keys from her purse and squeezed her fist tighter around the shoulder strap. Chances were, she was subconsciously preparing herself for another surprise from Rick.

That’s why, when she heard a car door open, she didn’t immediately panic. Enough was enough. If he wanted to keep playing these games, then she would chew him up one side and down the other like the immature child he was.

Only, that was no child climbing out of the black Jeep next to her Honda. And it wasn’t Rick.

Holly stopped. Stared. Retreated a step as a dark-haired man slowly unfolded himself from behind the wheel.

Rick Temple was merely annoying. This guy made her curl her toes inside her socks and brace for trouble.

When she wore her high-heeled boots, Holly stood six feet tall. This guy was taller. Broader. The brass tip of a cane clacked against the concrete, drawing her attention down to the ground for a split second. When the car door closed, her gaze darted back up to collide with eyes that were gray and hooded and cold like steel. The late-night shadow of his beard was scraggly and dark and added an air of menace to his square jaw and angular features. Despite the cane, he moved from the shadows with a deliberate grace and Holly instinctively backed away.

“Dr. Masterson?” His gritty voice was deep in pitch, but hoarse, as though a cold had settled in his throat.

He knew her name? “Yes?”

Was that her pulse hammering in her ears? Or warning drums thundering inside her head?

The gray eyes cut right to the truth. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

Impossible.

“I need to talk to you.”

This man was no shadow.

And he was no practical joke.

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