Blue Smoke

barely a tap.” True enough, she thought. More a shock than an actual hit.

    “It’s red,” he murmured and touched his fingers gently to her cheek. “I feel terrible. I feel like a monster. Your beautiful face.”
    “It’s nothing.” She found herself soothing him after all. “You didn’t mean it, and I’m not fragile.”
    “You are to me.” He drew her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come by in such a lousy mood in the first place. I just wanted to see you. Then you were partying downstairs. I just wanted to be with you.”
    He brushed his lips over her cheek. “Just needed to be with you.”
    “I’m here now.” She touched his hair. “And I’m sorry I can’t help you out on Thursday. Really.”
    He eased back, smiled. “Maybe you can make it up to me.”
    T he sex was good. It was always good with Luke. And because of the spat, and the slap, he was particularly tender. Her body warmed under his, the muscles taxed by her own long day loosened. And while her system climbed to peak, her mind emptied.
    Satisfied and sleepy, she curled against him.
    “You ever going to get a bigger bed?” he asked.
    She smiled in the dark. “One of these days.”
    “Why don’t you come to my place for the weekend? We can hit a couple of clubs Saturday night, do a late brunch Sunday morning.”
    “Mmmm. Maybe. I may have to help out with the lunch shift downstairs on Saturday, but after. Maybe after.”
    He was silent a moment, and she thought he’d drifted off to sleep. “You could deal with your parents earlier on Thursday, skip out of the dinner part and meet me at the restaurant at seven.”
    “Luke, that’s just not going to work for me.”
    “Fine.” There was a sulk in his voice as he rolled away, got out of bed. “We’ll just leave it all your way, as usual.”
    “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
    “What’s not fair,” he snapped back as he began to dress, “is your unwillingness to compromise on anything. The way you put everything ahead of me.”

    The postcoital glow evaporated. “If you really feel that way, I don’t know what you’re doing with me.”
    “At the moment, neither do I. You take more than you give, Cat.” He buttoned his shirt with short, sharp movements. “Before much longer, I’m going to be tapped out.”
    “I’m giving you the best I’ve got.”
    He shoved his feet into his shoes. “That’s really sad for you.”
    When he stalked out, she lay back.
    Was she that selfish? she wondered. That emotionally stingy? She cared about Luke, but did she take a real interest in his work? Not so much, she admitted, not when she was so wrapped up in her own.
    Maybe her best was sad.
    She rolled over in the dark and searched a long time for sleep.
    W hen Reena walked into the squad room with O’Donnell after spending most of her shift knocking on doors and interviewing witnesses, getting statements from the owner of the building’s ex-wife, former business partner, current girlfriend, there were three dozen long-stemmed white roses spread over the majority of her desk.
    The flowers caused a lot of comments from other members of the unit, but the card made her smile.
Cat,
     
    I’m sorry.
     
    The Idiot.
    Still, she didn’t indulge in sniffing at them until she’d carried them into the break room to give her enough room on her desk to work.
    She had reports to write. Though the identity of the body had yet to be confirmed, the owner was still among the missing.
    With O’Donnell, she walked into their CO’s office to update him.

    “Waiting for the lab reports,” O’Donnell began. “Owner—James R. Harrison—was last seen knocking a few back in a place called Fan Dance, a strip club a few blocks from the scene. We got a credit card receipt cashing him out at twelve-forty. Ford truck registered to him’s parked back of the building.”
    He glanced at Reena, signaling her to take over.
    “We found a toolbox under the debris on the first level, and a screwdriver with a blade that appears to match the punctures on the bottom of the gas can recovered from the scene. Harrison did a turn for fraud five years ago, so his prints are on file. They match ones we lifted from the toolbox, the screwdriver and the gas can. ME wasn’t able to get prints off the body, so they’re working on dental.”
    “We should have that tomorrow,” O’Donnell added. “Talked to some of his associates. He had serious money problems. Liked the horses, and