and when they entered the room, Doris, a sweet grandmotherly type in her late sixties with a short, gray pixie cut stood, rushing around her desk to Liza. “I heard what happened. Police are swarming the building.” She put her hands on her cheeks. “I heard you’re the one who found him. Are you okay?”
Liza patted the woman on her shoulder. “I’m fine, Doris. Thank you. The police are going to find out who did this. But in the meantime, Detective Davies here needs Steven Sadowski’s personal information so he can notify the people who need to be notified. Can I go back and get it for him?”
“Oh.” She glanced at Reed, blinked rapidly, and then looked back at Liza. “Yes, of course. Help yourself. All employee records are filed alphabetically. If you need any help, just shout.”
Liza nodded and heard Reed’s footsteps behind her as she led him to a door at the back of the room. It led into a smaller file room, overfilled with more file cabinets, and Reed closed the door behind them. Liza’s skin prickled and a flush of warmth made her feel slightly woozy at being alone with him in the small space. He was behind her and she felt his presence as a ten-ton weight. She opened one of the cabinets and started rifling through the files. After a minute or so she located what she was looking for and turned around, offering Reed the manila folder in her hand. Wordlessly, he took it from her.
He opened it, glancing at the basic information about the man. “Unmarried. No children,” he murmured. “Emergency contact looks to be a mother who lives in Spokane. I’ll put in a call to her when I get back to the station.” He closed the file and looked up at her. “Thanks.”
She nodded and there was an awkward pause between them, the air filled with all that wasn’t being said, but both knowing it was not the right time. Perhaps there was no right time, not for them. And damn it, regret and disappointment vibrated inside Liza, the same way it had as she’d gathered her clothes and headed for Reed’s door as he lay sleeping in bed. She’d almost turned back, almost scrawled a note for him with her number on it and she’d never even considered doing that before.
He tilted his head. “You’re a psychiatrist?”
“A psychologist.” She shifted on her feet, leaning her hip against the file cabinet right behind her, nervous, edgy. This was so unlike the first time they’d talked, laughing, enjoying each other. That had been easy, fun. But that could never be recaptured. And wasn’t that the point? It was easy because it was a one-time deal. Easy because he didn’t know who she really was. “I finished my doctorate two years ago. I haven’t been here that long, but, ah, it’s . . . I like it. It can be challenging. Difficult sometimes.” She glanced to the side, the cool, calm demeanor she’d managed—at least on the outside—in the staff lounge, splintering.
“Liza.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. God, why had she told him her name? He’d know it now anyway whether she’d met him that night and gone home with him or not. But he’d call her Dr. Nolan, or Elizabeth maybe. Not Liza. And moreover, whatever he called her, she wouldn’t have to picture the way he’d first said it, directly in her ear, voice filled with such guttural pleasure, his heat all around her, in her.
“We’re going to find out who did this. So many good people are working on it, right this minute.”
She bobbed her head, glad that he’d misunderstood the cause of her distress. Not that she wasn’t distressed about the murder. But she felt sort of numb now . . . shock settling in. Disbelief. “I know.” She met his eyes. “I see a lot of bad stuff in here, Detective. I hear a lot of sad stories. I . . . the things people do to each other . . .” Her voice faded and she looked away for a moment and then back. “The way those things can bend a person’s mind.” Their soul maybe, though Liza wasn’t sure souls existed. Maybe they were all just tissue and bone and synapse. All things that would one day turn to dust, swept away by the wind and the water and the earth. And really, wasn’t it a relief to believe that might be so? Who wanted to