Dreaming of the Bones

during the week, and when circumstances permitted she went to his. By Friday, having found herself missing him dreadfully, she faced up to the fact that she was going to have to apologize.
    She’d caught him in his office just as he was slipping into his jacket. ”Um, could we have a word?” she asked a bit hesitantly. ”I thought maybe we could go round the pub for a drink—that is, if you’re not too busy.”
    Kincaid had stopped shuffling papers into his briefcase. ”Business or personal?” he asked, looking up at her, still pleasantly neutral.
    ”Personal.”
    He raised an eyebrow. ”Are you buying?”
    She smiled. His teasing was a good sign that he wasn’t still too miffed with her. ”You’re tight as a miser’s bum, but I suppose I can stand you a drink.”
    ”That’s settled, then,” he said, and ushered her out the door.
    Without discussion they walked towards the pub on Wilfred Street , not too far from the Yard, where they’d gone for after-work drinks since they first became partners, A surprisingly bitter wind had sprung up during the course of the day, and by the time they reached the pub they felt grateful for the warmth of the closely packed room. Gemma watched for a table to open up while Kincaid braved the crush at the bar. ”I’ll let you off the hook tonight,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared into the haze of smoke. ”But next time, it’s on you.”
    They had a favorite table, in the comer near the gas fire, and Gemma thought it a good omen when the couple occupying it stood up just as Kincaid appeared bearing their drinks. She dived for it like a rugby forward, and beamed up at him when he reached her.
    ”Good job,” he said as he waited for her to wipe up the drink rings and crumbs with a tissue she’d found in her handbag; then he set the drinks down and slid in beside her. He raised his glass to her. ”It’s been a long week.”
    He’d given her an opening, Gemma thought, and she’d kick herself if she didn’t take it. She took a sip of her shandy to wet her lips, and plunged ahead. ”I’m sorry about last Sunday. About what I said. I was way over the mark, and it was none of my business.” She’d been studying her beer mat intently—now she raised her eyes to his. ”It’s just that... I know it sounds stupid... but the idea of your seeing her makes me feel... uncomfortable.” She looked away again.
    He was silent for a long moment, and she wondered just how big a fool she had made of herself. Then he said, ”I know. I should have realized from the first.” Startled, she looked up and started to speak, but he continued, ”But you haven’t any need to feel uncomfortable. Or threatened.” She made a small gesture, halfway between a shrug and a nod of assent, but didn’t trust herself to speak.
    Moving his glass a fraction of an inch on the beer mat, he added, ”I have to admit that it threw me a bit, seeing Vic again. We’d left a lot of things unfinished.”
    ”Did you...” Gemma stopped and swallowed. ”I mean, have you resolved them?” she finished carefully.
    ”I’ve been thinking about it all week. And I’ve found, rather to my surprise, that I like her very much. But I’m not still in love with her.” He met her eyes. ”Vic said she knew, somehow, that I had someone waiting, and I said I thought I did.”
    Gemma felt herself flush with shame at the thought of the reception she’d given him. ”And this thing she asked you to look into—what did your friend in Cambridge say about it?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.
    ”It wasn’t his case, but he let me see the files.” Kincaid shrugged. ”And I think there are some very odd things about it, but I don’t see what I can do.”
    ”Have you told her yet?” Gemma asked, not having reached the point w’here she felt comfortable saying Vic.
    Shaking his head, he said, ”Thought I’d better do it in person. And I wanted to go over the notes I made from the files with her, in case she found any of it helpful. I’ve rung her and said I’d come again on Sunday.” He paused, looking at Gemma, then smiled his most winning smile. ”Would you go with me this time? I could use some moral support.”
    She managed to nod yes, and before she could backtrack, he took her hand in his and said, ”Are you busy tonight? I’ve missed you.”
    Gemma was suddenly very aware of the shape of his fingers covering hers, the day’s-end shadow along the line of his jaw, and