The Witness

muttered a mild Russian oath.
    She expected no calls, but a few clients seemed to prefer phone conversations or texts over e-mails. She glanced at the display. Frowned.
    Brooks had managed to dig up her cell phone number. Not really that hard, but it would’ve taken some time and effort.
    Why?
    Cautious, she answered.
    “Hello.”
    “Hey. It’s Brooks.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “What do you like on your pizza?”
    “I … It doesn’t matter.”
    “Pizza toppings matter, Abigail. They’re vital to the pie.”
    She supposed he had a point. And she wished everything about him didn’t appeal and confuse. “I like black olives and hot peppers, particularly.”
    “That’s a go. Any objection to pepperoni?”
    “No.”
    “Perfect. I’ll be by in about a half-hour.”
    “I didn’t ask you to come by.”
    “Yeah, I noticed. You really have to start doing that.”
    “I’m working.”
    “It’s going on seven. Let’s take a break. Besides, I have news for you.”
    “What news?”
    “It comes with the pizza. About a half-hour. See you.”
    She set the phone down, studied it.
    She wasn’t prepared. Why did he always interrupt and insert himself when she wasn’t prepared? Now she’d have to close up the work.
    And she’d planned to have chicken stir-fry for dinner.
    He’d expect conversation, and she wasn’t sure she had any more. Between him and his mother, she was out of what struck her as appropriate small talk.
    Still, she wondered what he’d meant by news.
    Resigned, she shut down the work, then reluctantly put her gun and holster in the drawer.
    She assumed he’d also expect a drink, so she considered her nicely balanced selection of wines and chose a good Chianti.
    Then she stopped, stared at the bottle.
    She was having dinner with him again. That made twice in one week, and that didn’t count the huckleberry pie.
    She was dating the chief of police.
    “For God’s sake. How did he
do
this? I don’t date. I can’t date.”
    She set the wine down and did something else she didn’t do. Shepaced. She needed to find a solution, a resolution to this … situation. Clearly refusing to see him would only make him more determined and suspicious. In any case, her attempts in that area had failed.
    She understood the concept of pursuit and conquer. The male felt challenged, driven to persuade, capture, conquer. Perhaps she should reconsider having sex with him. With sex the pursuit would end, the challenge would be removed. His interest would begin to wane.
    Those were logical reasons.
    It would also include the benefit of eliminating this yearning. Once her own physical needs were met, his challenge met, his interest faded, she would have no reason to think of him at inopportune times. Everything would go back to normal and routine.
    She considered the theory valid.
    They’d have sex, then each would get on with their own separate lives and agendas.
    Relieved, pleased with her qualified decision, she went upstairs, Bert trailing, to make certain there was nothing in her bedroom, bathroom, or indeed anywhere on the second floor, that would catch his eye.
    He’d have no reason to ask about the second bedroom, and the door was secured. She took another moment, asking herself if breaking her own precedents—good precedents—and having an intimate encounter with a local, in her own home, made the best sense.
    She believed it did. She believed she was capable of handling the one-time abnormality.
    She glanced toward her bedroom station when her security signaled. Murmured to Bert to stand down.
    Brooks was prompt, she thought, as she watched him drive toward the house.
    She liked pizza, she decided, as she started downstairs. She liked sex. As she unlocked the door, she assured herself the plan was sound, and both parties would complete it amiably.

12
     
    T HERE SHE WAS, HE THOUGHT, HER CANINE COMPANION AT her side and those eyes of hers so carefully guarded he just knew they held secrets.
    She didn’t project annoyance this time, and still she watched every move he made when he climbed out of the truck with the pizza and a six-pack of Rolling Rock.
    They kept watching him when he stepped onto the porch, leaned in and kissed her.
    “Hi.”
    “Hi.” She stepped back, then went through the locking-up routine. “You brought beer. I have wine breathing, but—”
    “That’ll work, too. We’ll just put this in the fridge.” He passed her the six-pack, then pulled a rawhide bone out of his