Death Row by William Bernhardt

Author:William Bernhardt [Bernhardt, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: thriller
Published: 2011-10-03T11:18:36+00:00

Mike entered the exercise room without knocking.

"We need to talk. Now."

Sergeant Baxter was seated on the floor, legs crossed, hands pressed against her knees, eyes closed. She did not look up. She did not answer.

"Did you hear me? We need to talk!"

Baxter opened one eye. "Leave me alone. I'm on my break."

"That didn't stop you from barging in on my coffee klatch and it's not going to stop me from interrupting your-" He stopped short. "What the hell are you doing anyway?"

She opened the other eye and sighed. "I'm meditating. Was, at any rate." She pushed onto her knees and dusted off her backside.

"You meditate?"

"Every day. Keeps me centered. Keeps me from losing control."

"So that's how you do it."

She gave him a withering look. "You should try it sometime, Morelli. You could use a little tranquillity in your life."

"Actually, I used to meditate. Regularly."

"A big ol' macho brute like yourself?"

It was Mike's turn to wither. "Used to." Without thinking, he took her elbow and helped her up. Baxter appeared surprised but did not resist. "I was into the hatha yoga thing. And Zen meditation. Back in college."

"How did you ever get started on that?"

"Oh, it wasn't me really, it was-" He shook his head. "Someone else."

"But you stopped."

"Yeah. I had to make some major life changes a while back. I guess that's one of the things that fell by the wayside. Hadn't even thought about it for years. Shame, really. I always rather enjoyed that."

Baxter folded her arms guardedly across her chest. "I'll probably regret this, but... if you'd like, I could show you a few positions."

Mike considered for a moment, then shook himself out of it. What was he thinking? "We need to talk."

"You've said that three times now. Instead of talking about how we need to talk, why don't you just say what's on your mind?"

Good point. "We have to work together."

"Just now figuring that out?"

"God knows I've tried everything possible to avoid it, but it remains true. You may not like it. I don't like it. But we still have to do it."

She cocked an eyebrow. "So what do you suggest?"

"I suggest we behave like professionals. No more big scenes in the kitchen."

"I can live with that. If you think you can restrain that tongue of yours."

Control, he told himself. Control.

"That means you've got to cool it with the nasty reports. Partners don't do that to one another."

"Blackwell tore it up. And he told me that... that you didn't say anything. About what happened the other day. What you overheard. I... uh... appreciate that."

Baxter couldn't have looked more surprised if he had proposed marriage.

Mike continued. "We both know you could've gotten me into a hell of a lot of hot water. And it must've been tempting, especially after my report. But you didn't." He paused. "Thank you."

She waved her hand. "De nada."

Mike suddenly felt ungodly uncomfortable. Why was it so much easier to deal with this woman when they were yelling at each other? "We're going to have to find a workable compromise.

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