Page 152 of Cold, Cold Bones
“Yet it was okay for me to accompany you to Kramden’s compound. Why bar me now?”
“You have no official reason to be on scene for a takedown.”
“Nor do you,monsieur.”
“Slidell had me deputized.”
“He can’t do that.” I had no idea.
“He can. And did.”
The red-hot Kilauea rage threatened. I held my tongue.
“Look, Tempe. This probably isn’t Skinny’s call.”
We rode in silence the rest of the way, the air between us charged with anger. Slidell’s SUV was idling in the circle drive by the annex. Skinny was outside his vehicle, talking to my tail through the open window of her cruiser.
Shifting into park, Ryan rotated to face me. I felt the blue sizzle of his eyes on the side of my face. The light touch of his fingers on my neck. I shrugged his hand off with a sharp shoulder jerk.
Then I did what I do when my temper is blown. I went too far.
“Pull your head out of your ass, Ryan. If it weren’t for me, all you’d know about this case would be the tidbitsIchose to share.”
“Tempe—”
“Screw you.”
I got out, slammed the door, and strode toward my porch.
Normally, my temper cools as quickly as it flares. Not this time. I felt betrayed on two levels.
Slidell doubted my ability to function outside the lab, an attitude I’d come to expect. But Ryan? How could Ryan side with Skinny in excluding me? In devaluing my competence? Did he really believe I’d do anything to endanger myself or a victim?
And Olivia was still missing.
And Kramden was still out there.
I paced for a while. Worked the thumbnail. Of course, neither helped. Birdie kept his distance, alarmed by the maelstrom of emotions radiating from me.
Sleep was out of the question. Besides, it was only seven-fifteen. Food didn’t appeal. Neither did waiting by my phone.
I considered options. TV? Novel? Laundry? Shower?
Deciding a bubbly soak might be the best antidote for my rattled nerves, I drew a bath as hot as I thought I could stand.
Twenty minutes later, my skin was crimson and every musclehad seceded from my body. I was slipping on sweats when I noticed that a voice message had landed on my mobile.
Figuring the caller was Ryan, and eager for news, I clicked on.
Detective Henry had phoned to check on my well-being.
My newly acquired composure self-destructed.
“Goddamfreakingsonofabitch Slidell!” The device hit the mattress, ricocheted, then rebounded off the dresser. “Freaking hell!”
I sat on the bed and ran through Taylor Swift lyrics in my mind.Oh-oh. You need to calm down. It took the entire song, but the old trick worked.
More serene, I retrieved my phone and dialed Ryan. He answered, voice barely above a whisper.
