Before I Sleep by Rachel Lee

Author:Rachel Lee [LEE, RACHEL]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC027000
ISBN: 9780446550338
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2008-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

14 Days

It was nearly eleven by the time Seamus left the station. Glancing at his watch, he decided to head over to the radio station, and see what Carey was up to. He rationalized it by telling himself he just wanted to make sure she got home safely. The he didn't work; he knew perfectly well that he just wanted to see her.

He turned the radio on as he drove, listening to her read an Otis poem over the air, as she had done last night, wondering if she was going to close her show every night with one of the poems.

Not that it mattered. It was her show, the poems weren't bad … and he was beginning to get a bit of an itch about Otis himself. Especially since the preliminary autopsy suggested that Harry Downs bad been slashed to death with a razor or a scalpel.

Carey was coming out of the station when Seamus pulled into the parking lot. The off-duty cop who'd been hired by the station was helping her carry a large box toward her car. Seamus pulled into an empty slot near Carey's car and climbed out.

He recognized the cop. “Hey, Lou. When did you get turned into a mule?”

Lou laughed the deep belly laugh that made him one of the best-liked cops in the department. “Hey, what's a guy to do when a lady staggers by carrying something this heavy?”

Carey flashed a smile. “There's something to be said for machismo after all.”

“Right,” said Lou. “I get the sore arms and shoulders tomorrow.” When Carey opened her tailgate, he shoved the box into the Jeep. “Well, since Rourke is here, I'll just say good night. Gotta get back to my coffee.”

“Thanks an awful lot Lou,” Carey called after him. He waved back at her.

Then, shocking Seamus, she opened her purse, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

“You don't smoke,” he said.

“You're right. I don't. Except for the last week.”

“Put it out.”

“Mind your own business, Rourke. I'll go to hell any way I want to.”

He sighed and leaned back against his car, folding his arms. The shore breeze was whispering in the trees, giving the balmy night a sweet soft feeling.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To make sure you get home safely.”

She puffed on the cigarette and blew a plume of smoke into the night. In the light from the streetlamps, her skin had an unhealthy color, and her eyes looked sunken. He remembered she had probably had even less sleep than he had.

“I talked to the IRS about your dad today,” she said finally.

“And?”

“And they're prepared to negotiate. If you want, I'll see what I can do.”

“I wish you would. You're apt to keep your cool better than I could, given that he's my father.”

“That's why people hire lawyers.” She flicked an ash, folded one arm beneath her breasts, and held the cigarette up near her shoulder.

It was an unconsciously provocative pose, and he felt his erotic daydreams suddenly spring to life again. This was stupid.

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