Page 16 of Nothing to Deny
Duncan would get a call. Everything was fielded through him. Few people wanted to talk to her grandfather directly. They’d rather go through the bodyman or her, if they knew her, which a lot of people did. It didn’t always pay to be approachable.
SEVEN
JUST THEN, someone else appeared in the doorway. Looking past Zard was enough to turn him around.
“Chapman,” she said to the detective, tossing her clutch onto the trolley under the lightbox. “Been a while.”
“What you doing here, Angel?” Chapman asked. “Witness tampering?”
“Yes,” she said, starting toward him. “That’s me, the career criminal… Can we talk?”
He shrugged and stepped out of the doorway.
Zard called after her. “Frey, he one of yours or not?”
Catching the doorframe, she spun to look at him, sparing only a glance at the still-frowning Baer. “Yes,” she said. “Give him the works. The usual workup.”
“Yes, mistress,” he said, heading for the door.
Giving them privacy, Zard went by and disappeared down the corridor.
“I have to take a report,” Chapman said.
“I know.” She nodded. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t talk to him… You have to do your job.”
“Then what are we doing in the hallway? This social?”
Touching her face, his fingers slipped down the front of her chin. She’d be kind and let him enjoy the fleeting moment.
Linking their fingers, she drew his hand down. “Chapman,” she murmured. “Presley is just a kid…” And then there was the ace. “It was a Monument site.”
Groaning, he extricated his hand from hers. “You ever met a kid you won’t stand in front of?”
Broadening her smile, her chin went up until her hair fell from her face. “Never yet.”
And proud of it.
She didn’t object when, with a hand on her hip, he put her back to the wall and braced his weight on a forearm above her head to lean in.
“Have dinner with me.”
“And, what?” she asked. “You won’t question the kid?”
“I’ll still have to question him… but I’ll be nicer about it.”
Toying with a button on his shirt, she avoided looking him in the eye. “You were demoted because of us. Why would you want anything to do with me?”
“I was demoted because Truman’s obsessed with you… and because screwing in police cells is against the rules.”
The memory, from far too long ago, still made her smile. That he returned the sentiment wasn’t a surprise.
“It was a peaceful protest.”
“Way you were screaming didn’t sound so peaceful,” he said, curling a finger under her chin.
“Scott,” she whispered, pressing her hands to his chest, skimming them up to his shoulders to keep their bodies apart. “We’re professionals.”
“Always forget that around you,” he said. “Shouldn’t I get a prize for enduring the marathon. Think about it, what else can Truman take from me? That man needs to let go.”
