The Stranger You Seek - By Amanda Kyle Williams Page 0,9

his mouth.

I thought about that. “I haven’t always, Charlie. But I try harder now.”

Neil poured himself a fresh mug of coffee and joined us at the table.

Charlie reached for the plate and picked off another fig. “These are good! Why is your name Keye?”

“My grandfather’s first name was Keye.”

“But you don’t have a family.”

I didn’t remember ever telling Charlie about my childhood, but then I remembered the day I had been brave enough to ask about his past. Perhaps I’d said something then.

“I do have a family. I just didn’t get them at first. The family I have now didn’t want to change my name.”

“That’s good. It’s a good name,” Charlie mumbled, and used his forearm to wipe cream cheese and chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “Besides, it’s what you had that was all yours, right?”

I reached across the table and put my hand on his. “You’re a pretty smart guy, Charlie. You know that?”

“Yep,” he answered. “I clean fish real fast.”

5

The door opened and Lieutenant Aaron Rauser strolled in on a shaft of morning light and nearly collided with Charlie.

“Charlie, what up?” Rauser asked, and held up his hand.

Charlie laughed too loudly and high-fived Rauser. “Gotta go work, Mr. Man. Hey, Keye can cook,” he added, and left without further explanation.

“Oooo-kay,” Rauser said, and then in a half whisper, added, “Hard to believe he was some kind of biomedical something. Poor bastard.”

“I heard he was an engineer, but I never really believed it,” Neil said, and peeked outside to make sure he was gone. “I just figured him for a retard.”

Rauser chuckled, and I said, “That’s incredibly insensitive, even for you two.”

“Whatever,” Neil said, and returned to his desk with his mug.

Rauser headed for the kitchen, where the coffee was almost always fresh. Neil practically lives on the stuff. And sometimes, when he’s in a very generous mood, he makes cappuccino for Rauser and me. He prefers something dark in the mornings, Café Bustelo mostly. Afternoons in winter, he likes a nice smooth Jamaican Blue. On summer days, cold-pressed Cuban on ice with cream and sugar. He cuts me off when my leg starts to shake.

But that wasn’t why Rauser was here today. He had something on his mind. I watched him chewing the inside of his bottom lip while he stirred half-and-half into his coffee. He looked good with his jacket off, shoulder holster over a black T-shirt, biceps tight against the sleeves, gray slacks. I took a moment to appreciate that while he wasn’t looking. Rauser had a few jagged edges, but he was a handsome guy if you’re okay with off-the-charts testosterone levels, the kind of guy who has to shave down to the collarbone every morning. He’s more Tommy Lee Jones than Richard Gere. More Gyllenhaal than Pitt.

The kitchen where he stood doctoring his coffee was really just a corner of the converted warehouse, with all the necessary appliances, a sink, red marble countertops, no walls or partitions. He saw a couple of leftover figs on the table, glanced at me for approval, then plucked them all off the plate. A raging sweet tooth was just one of the things we had in common.

Big puffy leather sectionals had been strategically placed throughout the wide-open space just beyond the kitchen, along with leather cubes in bright colors—red, purple, mint, red, purple, mint. Most of the main space was painted a very light sage, but the longest, most open wall was periwinkle with a shocking Granny-Smith-apple-green line painted across the center, part lightning bolt, part EKG monitor. I had given away my decorating power of attorney to a local designer based solely on her reputation in the city, a decision I questioned later.

“All we need is a goddamn purple dinosaur!” I’d blurted out upon first seeing our newly designed commercial loft. The designer, standing with hands on hips and her subordinates lined up reverently behind her, had very explicitly and through clenched teeth explained to me as if I had some disability how sophisticated and dramatic the space was. Sure. Okay. I can appreciate drama. Hey, I’d paid good money to have her drag us into the twenty-first century and, by God, I was going to learn to love it. A wide, flat-screen plasma television that lowered itself out of the rafters on demand was the highlight for me. It thrilled me each and every time. Neil, Rauser, me, Diane, even Charlie now and then, we had all spent evenings here watching games and movies,