IT TURNED OUT THAT Veris was right. For the next week, the three of them held Alex a virtual hostage in their house and it seemed that there was always someone in the room with him. Veris or Brody even went hunting with him when he needed to feed. With no time to spare to think, Alex found that talking was the only way to sort through the morass of feelings. Most nights, while Taylor slept and either Veris or Brody kept her company, the other would sit with Alex and he would talk. Neither of them offered judgment. Neither of them condemned him, or defended him. They just listened.
It was cathartic in a way Alex had never experienced before. Unburdening one’s soul was something that he had always done in private, between him and God, but he hadn’t reached out to God for a very long time. The release that talking gave him was different, but it had the same effect. He could feel himself unwinding.
It also gave him an insight into why Brody and Veris had stayed together for such a very long time. Total acceptance was a rare quality and both of them had it.
Although Alex found no insights during his week with the three, he did find a different sort of peace. An accepting one.
At the end of the week, Alex politely declined their urging that he stay as long as he liked. He went back home, dressed for work and drove to the hospital. It was time to start living again.
It was a beautiful September day. The leaves were starting to turn, but hadn’t fallen yet, and the temperature wasn’t staggeringly hot. So Alex chose to park his car in the public parking lot on the other side of the hospital and stroll to the hospital, instead of taking the indoor route via his staff parking space. There was a park just on the other side of the parking lot, with lots of old trees and shady spots and he wandered to the hospital side of the park from the parking lot, taking the meandering paths.
Deep barking didn’t at first draw his attention, for lots of owners bought their dogs here. There was an off-leash area on the far side. But when the barking grew closer, Alex looked up. He knew that voice.
Bruce was thundering toward him, his tongue out, his shaggy coat flapping as he ran at full gallop.
Alex caught his front paws as Bruce leapt up and tried to lick his face. He was very pleased to see him again. In the way of dogs and cats and other animals, Bruce wouldn’t miss him until he saw him again and like now, he would simply be glad to see him.
Alex scratched his ears and assured him he was very pleased to see him too, but please sit and visit, instead of jumping up.
Bruce sat down and Alex patted his head. “You are a loyal and brave and true friend,” he told him.
Then he looked up, to spot where Sydney was. But it wasn’t Sydney heading in his direction. It was Rafe.
Rafe was slowing down to a walk, Bruce’s leash in his hand. He had clearly been running to catch Bruce.
A long way behind him, Sydney had come to a halt on the path. As Alex looked, she brought both hands up to cover her mouth. Horror. Or something like it.
Alex looked back at Rafe, at the rueful look in his face. Coupled with Sydney’s expression, it told the full story.
He didn’t make a decision. He didn’t think at all. He turned around and headed back for the car.
* * * * *
When Rafe reached where Sydney was standing waiting, with Bruce in tow, she gripped his arm. “Oh God, Rafe!”
“I know,” he said quietly, patting Bruce’s head. He looked up at her and the expression in his black eyes was bleak. “You said he hasn’t been working, or I would never have suggested we bring Bruce here.”
“His parking space is on the other side of the hospital grounds,” Sydney said. “And he wasn’t working. I didn’t think he would want to, especially not after….” She bit her lip. “Rafe, it looked like someone had shot him!”
“Should we have sneaked around? Stayed inside forever, never to be seen together in public?” Rafe looked just as distressed. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes, we did,” Sydney said woodenly. “We just hurt Alex in the worst way.”
Rafe pulled her to him, and kissed her. “I’ll take you two home,” he said. “Then I’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll put this behind us.”
She laid her hand on his chest. “You’re not going to stay tonight?” she asked.
Rafe gave her a weak smile. “Do you really want me to, now? Do you honestly think you could enjoy yourself, after this? I can only go for the jugular in court, Sydney. I don’t think I could make love to you tonight.”
Sydney shook her head. “I can’t, either,” she whispered.
Rafe turned her around in his arm, so that he was holding her shoulders and they started back toward the off-leash area. Bruce trotted along beside them happily, and Sydney realized that Bruce was as well behaved with Rafe as he had been with Alex. Was it just the male gender that made the difference, or did they both have a quality she lacked when it came to controlling dogs?
“I’ll pick you up for breakfast,” Rafe said, “then I’ll drop you at work. We can talk then. Let’s take the night to put some distance on it.”
Sydney sighed. “I feel like my guts are ripped out. What must he be feeling?”
* * * * *
Once Rafe had gone, Sydney made herself some tea. She steeped it for ten long minutes, and used two teabags. She had been experimenting for a week, but nothing came close to the tea that Alex had made. This way, it was very strong, and if she didn’t go over ten minutes, it wasn’t too bitter.
She didn’t want to sit on the sofa. She felt like she had been spending her life on those cushions, lately. Instead she sat at the table and sipped her tea.
Had it really only been a week since Gallagher’s trial? It felt like months had passed. So much had happened. So much had changed.
She had walked out of the courtroom, ready to punch in walls. She evaded the media gaggle and refused to answer their questions, while Brody stood twenty yards away, bathed in lights, talking to the cameras.
She wasn’t pissed because she had lost. In a way she was glad that Alex’s friend had found a way around Brixton’s nastiness. It was Brixton and every macho ego on the force that she wanted to kill. They acted like they were Dirty Harry, playing up the excessive testosterone for invisible cameras, when they should be thinking everything through, looking at a case based on merits and facts, not what they would like the outcome to be.
Brixton had seriously embarrassed the LAPD and Sydney hoped that when he came back off medical leave—if he did—they would boot him back to uniform and onto the street where he could learn some humility.
Miracle of miracles, there was an elevator waiting when she reached them and she stepped into a half-full car just as the doors started to close. They bounced back for her, then slid obediently closed again. They were three inches from closing altogether when a hand thrust through the space and pushed back on them. They paused, then slid back again and someone in the back corner of the elevator sighed loudly.
Rayner De Leon stepped in and let the doors shut. “Sorry folks,” he said to everyone in general.
“Don’t you get to use the private entrance?” Sydney asked, just as annoyed as everyone else.
“In my own court, I do,” he said. “I have undercover parking, my own sitting room and tea supplied upon demand. Here, I’m just a peon.”
“I thought that once you became a judge, you were always a judge.”
He shifted his heavy briefcase to the other hand. “That’s generally how it goes, but judges don’t usually take on criminal cases in a lawyer capacity. I waive the right to all the perks when I sit behind the defense table.”
“Gallagher must be a very good friend, for you to give that up. Even for just one day,” she added bitterly, for this trial, the ADA had assured her, would run for weeks because of its complexity.
“He is a very good friend,” De Leon said. He turned to face her. “You’re not pissed at me and Alex, are you? I’m sorry, it’s just that back there in the courtroom, I thought you were about to draw your Glock and take us both out. But now, I’m not certain.”
Sydney glanced at the floor lights. “Just a moment,” she said softly, as the elevator halted and the doors opened. She stepped out and beckoned to De Leon with her finger. There was a little alcove over by where the stairs wound up to the next floor, that was bare of people and she walked over to that and turned to face him.
De Leon parked his briefcase on the ground and straightened, looking at her curiously.
“I thought it would be better speak without eavesdroppers,” Sydney said.
“Always,” he agreed, with a small smile. The smile was a nice one, flashing white teeth that contrasted with his olive skin.
“I would like to shoot both of you,” Sydney said truthfully. “Well, I did, for a while. You’re right, I’m not pissed at you because you got the case dismissed.”
He tilted his head to look at her. It was something that Alex did and Sydney caught her breath. “You’re pissed at your colleagues,” he said. “The ones that screwed up and made you look foolish in there.”
“I feel foolish on a daily basis,” Sydney told him. “But never when I’m representing the LAPD. But otherwise, you’re right. Yes. I want to knock heads together. Maybe even take out my Glock.”
De Leon’s smile broadened. Then it faded. “You and Alex aren’t together any more, are you? I’m sorry, I know that’s a personal question, but you wouldn’t even look at him in court.”
“Neither would you,” Sydney pointed out.
“Did you…did it not work out because of me?” he asked. There was a note in his voice that told Sydney that the question was very important to him.
“You still care about him, don’t you?” she asked, figuring it out as she spoke. “You don’t want to think you fucked up his love life.”
De Leon looked down at the ground for a moment, then at her. “You’re very perceptive.”
“I’m a detective for a reason,” she said gently. “It wasn’t you. I had to move on for reasons of my own.”
He was studying her closely again. “Then you still care for him, too,” he said slowly. Before she could lie in response, he added, “You were the reason I walked away.”
Sydney sucked in a shocked breath.
De Leon lifted his hand. “Relax. It ended up that you were just an excuse – a damn fine one. It turns out that I’m a coward, Lieutenant Stevens. Until I met Alex I hadn’t…been with anyone for a very long time. I thought he would be a passing thing. But he wasn’t. Not at all. I got scared. So when I saw him with you, my subconscious grasped for the escape hatch with both hands.”
Sydney cleared her throat. The proper thing to say now would be to point out that he was over-sharing in some gentle way. But it didn’t feel like he was a stranger blurting out secrets of the heart to another stranger.
“Me, too,” she heard herself saying.
“You’re not a coward,” De Leon said firmly.
“I meant, about it being a very long time.”
They both looked at each other.
“Thank you for telling me this,” Sydney said. “It helps. Except that now I feel bad for Alex.”
“Me, too.” De Leon grimaced. “But I’ve burned my bridges. Alex doesn’t give second chances. He never needs them himself.” He picked up the briefcase and held out his hand. “I appreciate your candor, Lieutenant.”
She shook his hand, feeling strength in his grip, but he didn’t bear down on her hand like many men would.
* * * * *
That might have been the end of it, except that Sydney kept running over the conversation, adding in what she knew from her end. Now she understood why Alex had looked so wretched that day. He had let his heart get caught up over De Leon. She couldn’t blame him for that at all. De Leon was a nice man. Considerate, loyal to his friends and smart, into the bargain.
But it made her wonder why she and Alex had gotten together at all. Had she bullied her way into his arms, the way she was sometimes accused of bulldozing suspects? Why had Alex pursued her all those months? And why had she ever considered opening herself up to this sort of heartache? She had known from the start that it probably wouldn’t end well.
That just made her selfish.
She didn’t like that conclusion, although no matter how she looked at it, she kept coming back to the same conclusion and hating herself a little bit more.
So when De Leon phoned and asked her out to dinner, she said yes without hesitation. Anything to get away from her four walls and her self-flagellation. Besides, De Leon knew Alex as well, if not better, than she did.
* * * * *
He insisted she call him Rafe. “Rafael is my middle name,” he explained. “My family all calls me Rafe and my mother called me Rafael when she was pissed at me. It seems appropriate that you call me that, too, as you share my mother’s need to bring me down a notch or two.” His smile was almost dazzling. Damn, he was a fine-looking man.
He took her to a tiny bistro on Venice Beach. There were only about six tables, and they were all small. The single waitress spoke English badly and Rafe switched over to Spanish and after consulting with Sydney, ordered for them. “I hope you don’t mind if I barely eat,” he said once the waitress had gone. “I forgot, when I asked you out, that I had a big lunch meeting with the Bar Association. I’m stuffed to the gullet.” He gave her another warm smile. “Besides, the food isn’t why I asked you out.”
“Why did you ask me?” she asked curiously.
He poured her a glass of the wine and filled his. “This will sound stupid,” he warned.
She waited.
He looked awkward. “You know Alex.” He blew out his breath. “And you know about me and Alex. There aren’t too many people who do, and you’re the only one who would understand how it was with him.”
Sydney sighed. “Then you’re not interested in my hot body and steaming mind?”
Rafe pressed his lips together. “Will you take out your Glock if I say I have a passing interest in the first?”
“What about the second?” she asked.
“Your mind just intimidates me,” he said flatly, and Sydney laughed.
She leaned forward, so she could drop her voice a little. “I have a passing interest in your…” She hesitated.
“You can’t stop now,” he complained.
“Your ass,” she said shortly and pressed her lips together. Why was she doing this? Why was she flirting with a danger she had just escaped from in the most horrible way? Had Alex really opened Pandora’s Box and now it could never be closed again?
But Rafe had lifted his glass and sipped, smiling. “You’re not the first to notice my ass,” he assured her. “Perhaps I’ll be able to sell you on the rest of me, but if it’s my ass that gets you to the table, then I’ll work with that.”
Sydney found she was smiling, too.
Later, as the meal progressed, she realized that it wasn’t just Rafe’s ass that intrigued her. They were arguing law. Rafe had an interest in criminal law although as an appeals judge he rarely got to work with it. As he started quoting from Hinkley’s insanity plea, which Sydney already knew backward, she noticed the soft flesh over his throat and the thick muscles there. She had been watching his wrists all night and the beginning of his forearms, where he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. There was heavy muscle there. Not body-builder thickness, but strong.
He had thick brows and thicker lashes, which might have made his face effeminate, except that his jaw was square and solid.
By the time the waitress came with the bill, Sydney knew he had sold her on the rest of him and he hadn’t done a thing except talk.
She was so screwed.
* * * * *
Rafe had dropped her at home that night and made no attempt to kiss her, or even hint that he might like to. Sydney tossed in her bed, feeling a rare frustration. It didn’t help that only a few days ago, she had experienced the best sex of her life. Now she wanted more of it.
But the risks…!
What if…what if she controlled the risks? Minimized them? Perhaps there was a way she could have both safety and sex.
But she was trying to rationalize it. She couldn’t have both. Didn’t Alex prove that? Didn’t the last twelve years of peace and security absolutely prove she could not have both?
Then she rolled over and thumped her pillows and settled herself down again. Sleep, she told herself and sighed.
When her phone buzzed she was almost grateful for the interruption to her thoughts. Sleep was as far away as it had ever been. Her heart leapt when she saw it was Rafe.
“Were you sleeping?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Pretending to,” she admitted.
“I can’t get you out of my mind.”
Her pulse zoomed and she felt prickly and hot all over. “My steaming mind?”
“All of you,” he breathed. “I want to inhale you and breathe nothing else.”
She caught herself before she agreed and held silent. What to do? What to do? She wanted him. But…the risks!
“Sydney?”
She swallowed. “It’s complicated, Rafe.”
“What’s complicated? I want to take you to bed and make love until you can’t stand up.” This time, he was the one to pause. “I won’t lie and pretend it’s anything else, Sydney. I’m still…Alex is still too close.”
That was how she could have both. Her heart leapt. “I wish you were here right now,” she whispered.
He drew in a breath that sounded shaky. “Open your front door.”
Sydney almost leapt from the bed, startling Bruce on his mat in the corner, and ran to the front door and threw it open.
Rafe put his phone away. She couldn’t see his face properly in the dark, but she didn’t care. She threw her arms around him and he shut the door behind them and lifted her off her feet. “Where’s the bed?” he said, his voice hoarse.
She pointed and he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed.
Sydney tugged at his shirt. “Get rid of this.”
He pulled at the short sleeved pajama top she was wearing. “You, too.”
“You, first.”
Rafe stood up again and undressed more swiftly than she thought possible. In the moonlight coming through the window, he looked tanned. His flesh was sleek and smooth over the muscles. Sydney dropped her gaze to his cock and her heart squeezed. He was already stiff.
She yanked her pajama top over her head, not bothering with the buttons, and tossed it to one side. She curled her legs up under one hip and as Rafe studied her, her nipples crinkled. She suddenly ached to have his mouth on them, his hand between her legs. “Come here,” she demanded.
Rafe slid onto the bed and stopped in front of her, sitting on his knees. “No, you come here.” He picked her up by her waist. “Put your knees around me,” he told her.
Sydney spread her knees, liking the way it opened her up. Rafe lowered her down, right onto his cock. He pushed up inside her and Sydney caught her breath. This was exactly what she wanted. It was so, so good. She moaned as he came to rest inside her and gripped his shoulders, holding on to him.
He resettled his grip on her waist. “Now, what do you want?” And he nipped one of her nipples, making her gasp and squirm.
“Fuck me,” she begged.
“That’s not what you want,” he said, his voice low and crooning. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to come until I can’t come anymore.”
“That’s better.” He began to thrust into her and she could feel his hips and his thighs working. It was good…but it wasn’t enough. Her clit was aching for attention, and she slid her hand down to cover her mound, her fingers flirting with her clit. Her knuckles were pushed up against Rafe’s stomach, and it rippled at her touch.
Curiously, she pushed her hand deeper beneath her, and felt his cock sliding into her. She spread her fingers around it, feeling the moisture from her pussy on the shaft and the silky flesh.
“That feels…interesting,” he said, breathing hard.
Sydney brought her hand back up to her swollen clit and this time, she pushed her fingertips up against it, letting the movement of Rafe’s stomach against her knuckles make her fingers stroke in time with his thrusting. Her orgasm leapt and she began to shake. She was so close to coming!
Rafe’s fingers were touching her pussy, teasing the entrance, and in comparison to what his cock was doing to her, it was a delicate touch that nevertheless made her nerves sizzled. Her climax gathered, and her clit pounded in response.
Then Rafe pulled his fingers backward through her cleft, the fingers that had soaked up her natural lubricant. He pressed them against her anus, and one slipped inside.
Sydney threw her head back, her breath exploding out of her in a raw groan. Her climax tore through her, making her heart and her breath stop for a moment. She saw stars, dancing over her vision.
“Keep going,” Rafe told her. “Come again.”
Sydney kept stroking her clit, harder now and faster. A second climax caught fire and swiftly raged through her, as Rafe pumped into her deeper and harder. This time, he came, too, as he arched back, throwing out one hand for balance, the other gripping her hip.
They stayed in those strained positions for a moment and Sydney could feel her heart in her ears. Then Rafe lifted her off him and placed her on the mattress. A yawn caught her by surprise and it spread through her, making her stretch out her arms and snapping all her tendons taut.
Rafe pushed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s late. Why don’t you sleep? I bet you will sleep like an elephant now.” She saw his smile despite the dark.
Sydney bit her lip. “That makes me feel like I just used you as a sleeping pill.”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “It’s not like I didn’t get any fun out of it.”
“Just sex. Right.”
“Just sex. Exactly.” He patted her pillow and moved out of the way. “Come on. Your eyes are already drooping.”
They were. Now that the fizz of the climax had dissipated, she could feel her body trying to shut down on her. Her thoughts were foggy. She realized she was lying down and didn’t remember deciding she would do that.
The covers were pulled over her and Sydney stretched out her hand. “You don’t have to go,” she murmured.
“Sleep,” he told her. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
And he was. She woke to daylight and found Rafe curled around her from behind, his hand on her breast. His lips trailed over her neck, nuzzling. Sydney was almost instantly awake and aroused and she arched back as his fingers pulled her nipple out between them.
His lips moved over her shoulder and along her arm, then to her hip. He pulled his hand away from her breast as he licked his way over her hip, rolling it and bringing her onto her back. Then he spread her thighs, very wide apart and held them that way. “Breakfast,” he announced, and sucked her vulva into his mouth. His tongue teased her clit, stroking it, and Sydney could only roll her head and moan. Her orgasm sparkled, leaving her breathless and yet still wanting more.
But Rafe sat up decisively. “Real food,” he declared. “It’s a work day and I don’t know about you, but I have early appointments before court begins. You take the shower, I’ll get breakfast.”
“Can you cook?”
“Better than….” Rafe shut off like an ejected CD. He looked down at the floor, then drew in a breath. “I can cook,” he finished.
But he had stepped into the shower with her only a few minutes later, and pushed her roughly up against the wall and taken her from behind. This time, it was his fingers on her clit, tugging on it, and stroking hard, until she had clamped around him with a choked cry, barely staying upright. Rafe had come at the same time, groaning through his climax.
Already running late, Sydney had dressed hurriedly and rushed into the kitchenette where she could smell eggs and bacon and toast, making her stomach grumble.
Rafe wore his trousers and nothing else, and that gave her a clear view of his ass, outlined in gray silk twill, making her breath stop for a second.
He looked at her over his shoulder as he shoveled eggs and bacon onto her plate. “I can feel that,” he remarked.
“You cannot!”
He grinned. “Actually, I heard your breath stop.”
“It was the smell of breakfast,” she lied. “I’m starving.”
He put the plate on the little table in the corner, which was barely big enough for two people to sit at. It meant he had to reach around her and she leaned back as he leaned over her. He looked into her eyes. “I could help stimulate your appetite. You’ll enjoy it so much more.”
She swallowed.
“Should I take the lack of protest as a yes?”
Sydney made herself nod.
He had whipped away the plate, turned her and bent her over the table, then pushed her skirt up over her hips. The panties were pulled down to her knees, and he pushed into her in one long stroke, making her choke and gasp. As he thrust his cock swiftly and deeply, his fingers found her clit once more.
They had come together, after which Rafe had restored her clothing with gentle movements.
His plate was already draining in the second sink and for a moment, Sydney felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. But her rumbling stomach pulled her out of it and she ate hungrily while Rafe got dressed.
He had squeezed her shoulder as he moved over to the front door and opened it. “Sorry to run out like this, but I’m horribly late and I want to change suits. My assistant has sharp eyes.”
“It’s fine,” Sydney assured him. And it was. This was a rare moment of perfection. Her body was satiated and her heart was safe.
“Tonight?” Rafe asked, the door open.
“Yes, please.”
* * * * *
Rafe turned up every night that week. Sometimes they went out. Sometimes they stayed in. But every night ended with sex. When Rafe learned that she liked anal sex, he became even more inventive, bringing toys to torture her with. She fell asleep most nights exhausted and her body quivering with the aftermath of the most powerful orgasms she had ever experienced. But the next morning she would awaken and be eager for more.
And Rafe would be there, willing to accommodate her need.
She thought about him during work hours. Unbidden, sexy images of his strong body, or his lips doing wicked things to her, or his dark eyes, caught in a moment of mirth, glowing with good humor. His flashing smile. The way he made her feel whenever he touched her.
On Thursday night, he arrived late, close to ten. “I’m sorry. Such is the life of a judge. I had to write my decision and it was a bastard case.” He pushed his hand through his wavy black hair, clearly frustrated.
Because it was so late, Rafe had insisted Sydney stay on the sofa and continue reading. He plucked her copy of Parallel Lives off the shelf and settled next to her. “Plato is good for a chuckle,” he told her. “It’s been a while since I indulged.”
They had stayed on the sofa reading once before, so Sydney settled back into the treatise on ancient Norway, shutting out everything around her for it was a heavy duty text. After a while, she looked up to clear her head and mentally breathe.
Rafe was watching her.
Sydney stared back. It seemed perfectly natural that he should be sitting on the other end of her sofa. It felt nice. The last week had been one of rare contentment for her. Perhaps that was why she put the book aside, then moved across the sofa toward him. His arm was lying across the back of the sofa, the other had been holding the book, but it lay open on his knee now.
She put the book on the floor, then leaned even closer to him. Before her lips touched his, she hesitated.
Rafe’s hand caught her head and drew her against him. Their lips met and they kissed. It was a powerful kiss, one that left her breathless and aching for more.
Rafe got to his feet and picked up her hand and took her into the bedroom. There, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her once more. His kisses were heady, making her languorous and weak. He didn’t stop kissing her, even as he laid her on the bed and stripped her of clothing. Not until he slid into her did he stop and even then, as he strained above her, his hips working, his lips would brush hers.
He didn’t seem to want to stop kissing her and that was fine by Sydney. His kisses were like a drug.
And so the week slipped into Saturday, a cooler day with the hint of fall. It had been Rafe’s idea to treat Bruce to a romp in a dog park, for Bruce had been neglected all week by both of them.
Bruce had been bouncing with joy, bowling over other dogs with his happiness, and running back to nuzzle their hands as they watched him play. Even as they stood there in public, Rafe picked up her hand and kissed it.
Then Bruce took off, a hundred pounds worth of dog on a mission. He barked joyfully and streaked across the park and through the gate and out into the larger park area before either of them could react. Rafe was quicker to respond. While Sydney was still wondering what had got into the dog, Rafe broke into a sprint, pounding after Bruce, the leash in his hand.
Alarmed, but still wondering what on earth was going on, Sydney followed. She had rounded the graceful curve in the path just in time to see Bruce jump up and greet Alex nose to nose.
Alex.
Dismay spread through her, making her feel sick, as she watched him look from Rafe to her. Of course he figured it out. Of course there had been no way to hide it from him and spare him the truth.
Sydney finished the last dregs of her now-cold tea, put the cup aside and pressed her hot face into her hands. Now, even Rafe did not want to be with her.
But it was the look on Alex’s face that she kept coming back to. They had hurt him in perhaps the cruelest way in existence. The worst of it was that there was nothing they could do to take it back. Rafe had known that before she did.
There was something that she could do, though. It would mean beggaring herself and risking wrath, but she would do it. For Alex.
She unpacked the copies of non-secure papers she had left over from the Gallagher case, found what she was looking for and dialed the number.
“Hello?” The voice was gruff, not melodious, like Gallagher’s was.
“Is this, um, Veris Gerhardsson?” She found the name, where she had scribbled it in the margins of the sheet in front of her.
There was a tiny silence. “I know your voice,” Gerhardsson said. “Lieutenant Stevens,” he added.
“I’m not on duty. It’s just Sydney.”
“If you’re not on duty, then my curiosity just doubled,” Gerhardsson said.
“It’s about Alex.”
“You have my full attention, Sydney.”
She took a deep breath and began.