Page 77 of Things We Hide from the Light
“Oh, but I could. You’re good at collecting information? Well, I’m good at reading people. You three grew up together without ever really growing all the way up. Knox tried to hide from love so he’d never get hurt again. Nash doesn’t trust either one of you enough to have his back so he’s not going to talk to you aboutwhat’s going on in his head. And you… Well, let’s save that for another day.”
“Let’s not.”
I shrugged. “Fine. You asked for it. You’re a shadowy political consultant who has been linked to the downfall of several prominent men and women in our nation’s capital, not to mention the force behind the rise of several others. ‘Machiavellian’ is the word most often whispered in your direction. And you like it. You like that people fear you. I’m guessing because you had the taste of fear once and it made you feel powerless. So now you’ve got the power to pull all the strings you want. But you’re still not happy.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You allow yourself one cigarette a day probably just to prove that nothing has a hold on you. You’re loyal to your friends and I get the sense that you’d do anything for them. And that ‘anything’ definitely doesn’t end on this side of the law. But would you want Knox or Nash ‘handling’ things for you behind your back?”
“This is different,” he insisted.
“You’d like to think it is, but it’s not,” I said. “Let me put it in terms that I think you’ll appreciate. The amount of time and energy you’ve wasted going behind your friend’s back trying to ‘fix’ things for him could have been saved with a ten-minute conversation. Imagine how many politicians you could ruin or city blocks you could buy if you didn’t have to hunt down innocent women to vaguely threaten them.”
His stony expression changed not one iota, but I still caught it. A flicker of something like amusement in his icy eyes. “I’d never apply the term ‘innocent’ to you, and my threats were more overt than vague.” he said.
“Semantics,” I said breezily.
He watched me finish my salad. “I suggest we keep this conversation between the two of us.”
Keeping secrets. It was what I did. Only I’d been in Nash’s shoes before. My parents hadn’t trusted me to handle anything bad. I hated how it felt to have people discussing my well-being behind my back as if I weren’t strong enough to take part in my own life. I guessed Nash would feel the same.
“Which one of us are you trying to protect, Luce? Can I call you Luce?”
“I hope you’re not out to hurt my friend, Lina. Because I’d hate to have to destroy your life.”
“Looking forward to seeing you try. Now go annoy someone else.”
SIXTEEN
A PAIR OF THANK-YOUS
Nash
Ilooped Piper’s leash around my hand and grabbed one of the two bouquets out of my vehicle’s cup holder.
“Come on, Pipe. Quick stop.”
We got out on the street just as Nolan pulled up to the curb behind me. I threw him a sarcastic salute, which he returned with a half-hearted middle finger.
I was actually almost starting to like the guy.
Piper led the way up the walk to the duplex. It was a two-story brick-and-vinyl building. Both units had a small front porch and flower boxes.
I headed up the three steps to the door on the left. There was a gray-and-white cat crammed up against the screen in the front window. Classical music filtered out to me. I gave the skeptical cat a wave, then I stabbed the doorbell.
Piper sat at my feet, her tail wagging with enthusiasm. It wasn’t as annoying as I thought it would be, having her at work with me. Her routine demands for attention kept me from spacing out over paperwork. And while she wasn’t comfortableenough to let any of the other officers pet her yet, she had started taking hourly trips around the bullpen once she figured out they had treats for her in their pockets.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door along with an annoyed, “I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold your damn horses.”
The door opened and there she was. My guardian angel.
Xandra Rempalski had thick, curly hair. It was black with strands of violet woven throughout. She wore it half up in a lopsided topknot while the rest cascaded past her shoulders. She had tan skin and brown eyes that went from annoyed to curious to recognition.
Instead of scrubs, she was wearing a denim apron with hand tools and loops of wire stuffed in the pockets. Long, silver earrings made up of dozens of interconnected hoops dangled from her ears. Her necklace dripped with tiny chains that formed a V between her collarbones. It reminded me of chain mail.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling stupid I hadn’t done this a long time ago.
“Hi yourself,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe.
