4. Frozen Heat by Richard Castle

Author:Richard Castle
Language: eng
Format: epub

ELEVEN

“It seems that Paris is also the City of Lights Out,” said Rook as they got into their taxi outside the hospital.

“Nice. Mr. Sensitivity strikes again.”

“What? I didn’t kil him. You did. You kil ed him.”

“Would you please stop saying that?”

“But you did. You kil ed Uncle Tyler.” He arched a brow at her. “I hope you’re happy now.”

Heat turned away and stared out her window at the grove of blooming horse chestnuts across the highway in Bois de Boulogne. The smooth acceleration of the Mercedes pul ing onto the A-13 back to Paris created the il usion that it was not the car that was in motion but the flowering orchard of trees with their sunlit white blossoms seeming to rol past her like radiant spring clouds.

Of course she hadn’t kil ed Tyler Wynn.

Of course part of her thought she had. The nag of responsibility tugged at her. She envisioned some Notre Dame gargoyle coming to life, and could hear its devilish voice rasping,

“He died because of your visit. It was too much for him. You should have ignored the old man when he begged for more.” The plainclothes detective who had arrived at Hopital Canard to interview her in the aftermath had dismissed that notion. Natural y, he asked her what had transpired before the cardiac arrest, and Heat, avoiding specifics about her mother, shared the detective-to-detective version: Tyler Wynn knew the victims of two murders she was investigating. He engaged voluntarily, which the uniform on post had corroborated. When Wynn started showing agitation, she had tried to break it off, but that made him even more upset, so she thought the better course was to give him the information he pleaded for and then end the interview, ASAP.

“Who knew?” the French inspector said with a shrug, and handed back her credentials. “I have already spoken to the doctor, who says it was not your visit but three bul ets and something cal ed aortic valve stenosis that kil ed Tyler Wynn.”

But Rook picked on her. Why? Because he knew Nikki wel enough to short-circuit her guilt reflex with false scorn. One of the first things he had picked up on his ride-along the summer before was how cops deal with emotion by going against it with sarcasm. The first thing he had said to her after he came out of his recent coma was how pissed he was for not catching the bul et in his teeth, like the superhero he was, and spitting it back at the bad guy. Now, in the back seat of the E-320, Rook was lightening her up by accusing her with his tongue firmly in his cheek.

On the Avenue de New York they passed by the Alma Tunnel, and as Heat gazed at the perennial scattering of bouquets and melted candles offered in memory of the princess who met her fate there, she ruminated on secrets—especial y the ones that died with those who were privy to them. Her reflection brought

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