The Witness

a little pissed off, and that colors it. So when I came back, took the job here, I was busy for the first couple months. Settling in, and my father wasn’t well.”
    “I’m sorry. I hope he’s better.”
    “He is, thanks. He’s good. A little while back, Sylbie and I revisited the past, we’ll say.”
    “You had sex with her.”
    “I did, a time or two. A couple weeks ago, we had an encore. But it just wasn’t there for me.” He studied his wine with a frown. “Maybe you can’t go back.”
    “Why would you, if what was back was a mistake?”
    “Good point. But, you know, sex. I decided I had to resist yet another repeat performance, and I’d have to tell her—which I should have done straight out instead of evading, avoiding. This afternoon, she … well, what she did was have the guy who runs the shop where she has some of her art displayed, and where she works part-time, call me down there. Officially.”
    His conversational style, Abigail thought, was like his mother’s. Personal, rambling. Fascinating. “He reported a crime?”
    “A dispute, which required my intervention. Instead, she’s there alone, with the idea we’ll make some use of the back room.”
    “To have sex?”
    “Yeah. I’m reasonably sure that was the plan, particularly since when I didn’t jump on that idea, she dropped her dress. She just”—he flicked out a hand—“dropped it, and she’s standing there in her skin and red shoes.”
    “She’s confident, and was probably certain of your agreement.”
    “Confident on some levels, and I didn’t agree. I was …”
    “You said it was awkward and uncomfortable.”
    “It was all that. Not that I didn’t …”
    “You were aroused. It’s natural.”
    “Like a reflex. But mostly? It just pissed me off. I was on duty, for God’s sake, and she sweet-talked an easy mark to call me down.”
    Abigail considered it a fascinating example of human dynamics and miscommunication. “It appears she might not fully understand how seriously you take your duties.”
    “I’m not a horny teenager. I’m the chief of the goddamn police.”
    The spike of his temper, and the guilt so clearly wrapped around it, added another level of interest. “You’re still angry with her, and with yourself for the natural reflex.”
    “I guess I am. I had to tell her I didn’t want her—partly because of ground I already covered here, partly because, for Christ’s sake, she didn’t show an ounce of respect for either of us. Another part was knowing I was going to have to slap poor Grover back for making the call, scare the shit out of him so he didn’t pull a stunt like that again.”
    “That’s several parts.”
    “And I’ve got one more. I realized when I was looking at this beautiful, naked woman I’d once loved the way you love when you’re sixteen, I didn’t want her for all the reasons I just said. And because I want you.”
    She turned away, stirred the soup again. It was fitting, she supposed, as he stirred something in her.
    “I said I wouldn’t have sex with you. Do you think I said that to pique your interest?”
    “No. I think you say just what’s on your mind, except what you’ve got behind locked doors in there. But I figure you wouldn’t have brought it up if you hadn’t had some level of want in there yourself.”
    She turned back, remained standing across the counter from him. “It was probably unwise for you to come here when you’re still a little angry and most likely experiencing some residual arousal from this incident.”
    “God, I like the way you talk. And you’re right, it wasn’t the smartest move.”
    “If I reconsidered because—”
    She broke off when he lifted a hand. “Do me a favor? Don’t reconsider right yet. If you changed your mind on it, I’d be hard-pressed to pass it up. If you didn’t, well, I’d just be depressed. I didn’t come by for sex, though, like I said, hard-pressed. Let’s just take it off the table for tonight. I’d be willing to settle for some of that soup, some conversation.”
    She didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to find herself engaged by a man—a police officer—who talked his way past her guard and sat in her kitchen, drawing out her interest with a personal story.
    Logically, she should tell him to go. But she didn’t want to, and wondered what would happen if she did something just a little foolish.
    “I planned to watch a movie with dinner.”
    “I like movies.”
    “I was