and it hadn’t been the terror of an agent who had lost a key witness, but rather that of a man for a woman.
He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to feel the kinds of emotions she evoked in him. It was emotional suicide for him to allow himself to think there could be anything real, anything lasting between them.
She had a life someplace else, a life that hadn’t included him until somebody had buried her in a sand dune. He raised a hand and rubbed at his temple where a headache threatened to take hold.
He had two more interviews this afternoon and then he could call it a day. He expected nothing new to come from Rebecca’s best friend or one of Vicki’s coworkers, but he intended to leave no t uncrossed and no i undotted.
He’d even considered the possibility that the killer was a woman since there appeared to be no sexual motivation to the crimes. But he’d dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it had occurred to him. If the women had been basically comatose when taken to the dunes, it would have required a man’s strength to get them from a parking area to the place of their burial.
It had to be a man. But who? And why? And would Tamara ever retrieve the hidden memories that might solve the case? Certainly he had some men who were topping his suspect list.
Henry Todd appeared a likely suspect for Vicki’s death. It sounded like Vicki had become something of a stalker chick once Henry had moved on. Maybe she became such a pain he’d decided to get rid of her permanently. But that didn’t explain his reason for killing Rebecca Cook.
It was just after six when he called it a day and found Tamara in the break room. Her face wreathed into a smile and he wasn’t sure that she was glad to see him or just thankful her boredom was over.
It didn’t matter. Her smile warmed him like the sun after a cloudy gray day. “You ready to break out of this joint?” he asked.
She popped up out of the chair. “I can’t tell you how ready.”
“I thought maybe we’d stop by the pizza place on the way home. Order a large supreme to go.”
“Sounds like a great plan to me,” she agreed.
They were quiet on the way to the pizza parlor. When they got there, they ordered the pizza to go and sodas to drink while they waited.
“Just so you know, I’m probably going to pick off most of the pepperoni and eat it,” she said, finally breaking the long silence.
“Just so you know, I’m probably going to pick off all the black olives and eat them,” he replied.
“That makes us good pizza buddies.”
He smiled at her, knowing she was eager to hear what he’d learned during the day but also aware of the fact that she was giving him time to unwind.
She would make a perfect life partner. She seemed to know instinctively what he needed before he’d identified the need. She understood what he did for a living and that it was a large part of who he was as a man.
He took a sip of his drink and stared around the restaurant, willing away these kinds of strange thoughts. For years he’d told himself he was satisfied being alone, cooking for one and having his space to himself.
But Tamara made him think of dinners for two, of conversation to fill the long hours of an empty evening. She made him think of making love to her before closing his eyes to sleep, awakening in the morning to share coffee across a kitchen table.
He was grateful when the kid behind the counter announced their pizza was ready for pickup. He grabbed the box and together he and Tamara headed back to his truck.
“We’ll eat first, and then we’ll talk about our days,” he said as they pulled away from the restaurant.
“Does that mean you want me to keep my mouth shut unless it’s open stringing mozzarella cheese?” she asked, her voice filled with the lightness of a tease.
He flashed her a fast grin. “No, it just means we only talk about pleasant things while we enjoy eating.”
“Deal,” she agreed easily.
Fifteen minutes later they were seated at Linda’s table, the pie box open before them and each with a bottle of beer. “Nothing better than hot pizza and cold beer,” she said as she reached for a slice.
“You’ve got that right.”