"Do you want to stay?" Cary asked quietly. "No." "I'll take you home, then." "No, don't." I wanted to be alone for a bit. Soak in a hot bath with a bottle of cool wine and pull myself out of my funk. "You should be here. It could be good for your career. We can talk when you get home. Or tomorrow. I'm going the couch potato route all day." His gaze darted over my face, searching. "You sure?" I nodded. "All right." But he looked unconvinced. "If you could go out and ask a valet to have Stanton's limo brought around, I'll run to the ladies' room real quick." "Okay." Cary ran his hand down my arm. "I'll get your shawl from the coatroom and see you out front." It took longer to get to the restroom than it should have. For one, a surprising number of people stopped me for small talk, which had to be because I was Gideon Cross's date. And two, I
By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Edward was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar sense of release. "Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely. "Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?" My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied. "Really?" He was unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's back as he walked away. "What?" I demanded. His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves." "You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my sudden good humor vanished. "How's your head?" he asked innocently. "You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction of the parking lot, though I hadn't
First he speaks only to Bad Cop, trying to temper the burgeoning anger. "Calm down, Frank, calm down." But Bad Cop shouts back, "Don't tell me to calm down when he's lying right to my face! I hate these lying bastards!" A bit later, Good Cop actually says something in the sus- pect's behalf. "Take it easy, Frank, he's only a kid." Not much in the way of support, but compared to the rantings of Bad Cop, the words fall like music on the prisoner's ears. Still, Bad Cop is unconvinced. "Kid? He's no kid. He's a punk. That's what he is, a punk. And I'll tell you something else. He's over 18, and that's all I need to get his ass sent so far behind bars they'll need a flashlight to find him." Now Good Cop begins to speak directly to the suspect, calling him by his first name and pointing out any positive details of the case. "I'll tell you, Kenny, you're
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