Along Came a Spider

eyes.
    “Hello,” she said in the softest whisper, almost as if she had no voice. “My name is Bobbi.”

CHAPTER 45

    IT TURNED OUT to be another very long day in Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania. We interviewed each person who had been kept hostage inside the McDonald’s. The FBI, meanwhile, had taken custody of Soneji/Murphy.
    I stayed over that night. So did Jezzie Flanagan. We were together for a second night in a row. Nothing I wanted more.
    As soon as we got inside a room at the Cheshire Inn, in nearby Millvale, Jezzie said, “Will you just hold me for a minute or two, Alex. I probably look a little more stable than I really feel.”
    I liked holding her, and being held back. I liked the way she smelled. I liked the way she fit into my arms. Everything still felt electric between us.
    I was excited by the thought of being with her again. There have been only a couple of people I can open up to. No woman since Maria. I had a feeling Jezzie could be one of those people, and I needed to be connected with someone again. It had taken me a while to figure that one out.
    “Isn’t this weird?” she whispered. “Two cops in hot pursuit.” Her body was trembling as I held her. Her hand softly stroked my arm.
    I had never been a committed one-night-stand type, and I thought that I probably wouldn’t start now. That raised some problems and theoretical questions that I wasn’t ready to deal with yet.
    Jezzie closed her eyes. “Hold me for one more minute,” she whispered. “You know what’s really nice? Being with someone who understands what you’ve been through. My husband never understood The Job.”
    “Me neither. In fact, I understand it less every day,” I joked. But I was partly telling the truth.
    I held Jezzie for a lot longer than a couple of minutes. She had a startling, ageless beauty. I liked looking at her.
    “This
is so strange
, Alex.
Nice
strange, but strange,” she said. “Is this whole thing a dream?”
    “Can’t be a dream. My middle name is Isaiah. You didn’t know that.”
    Jezzie shook her head. “I knew your middle name was Isaiah. I saw it on a report from the Bureau. Alexander Isaiah Cross.”
    “I see how you got to the top,” I said to her. “What else do you know about me?”
    “All in good time,” Jezzie said. She touched a finger to my lips.
    The Cheshire was a picturesque country inn about ten miles
    north of Wilkinsburg. Jezzie had run in to get us a room. So far, no one had seen us together at the inn, which was fine by both of us.
    Our room was in a whitewashed carriage house that was detached from the main building. It was filled with authentic-looking antiques, including a hand loom and several quilts.
    There was a woodburning fireplace, and we started a fire. Jezzie ordered champagne from room service.
    “Let’s celebrate. Let’s do up the town,” she said as she put down the phone receiver. “We deserve something special. We got the bad guy.”
    The inn, the corner room, everything was just about perfect. A bay window looked down over a snow-covered lawn, to a lake slicked with ice. A steep mountain range loomed behind the lake.
    We sipped champagne in front of the blazing fire. I’d been worried about the aftereffects of our night in Wilmington, but there were none. We talked easily, and when it got quiet, that was all right, too.
    We ordered a late dinner.
    The room-service guy was clearly uncomfortable as he set up our dinner trays in front of the fire. He couldn’t get the warming oven open; and he nearly dropped an entire tray of food. Guess he’d never seen a living, breathing taboo before.
    “It’s okay,” Jezzie said to the man. “We’re both cops and this is perfectly legal. Trust me on it.”
    We talked for the next hour and a half. It reminded me of being a kid, having a friend over for the night. We both let our hair down a little, then a lot. There wasn’t much self-consciousness between us. She got me talking about Damon and Jannie and wouldn’t let me stop.
    Supper was roast beef with something masquerading as Yorkshire pudding. It didn’t matter. When Jezzie finished the last bite, she started to laugh. We were both doing that a lot.
    “Why did I finish all that food? I don’t even like good Yorkshire pudding. God, we’re having fun for a change!”
    “What do we do now?” I asked her. “In the spirit of fun and celebration.”
    “I don’t know. What are you up for? I’ll bet they have really neat board games back at