Fire Within - By Ally Shields Page 0,2

she passed: retired Chiefs, mostly dead now, and officers killed on duty. The only break in solemnity was a cartoon someone had taped across Ryan’s door. A cop says to a suspect in custody, “You got an alibi?” Suspect: “No, sir.” Cop: “Don’t worry, your lawyer will give you one.” Ha, ha. Cop humor.

Ryan Foster half rose in his desk chair and grinned when Ari stuck her head in the doorway. “Figured I’d see you this morning. Coffee?” He reached for his phone without waiting for an answer and ordered two cups. They’d worked on enough joint investigations that he knew her fondness for caffeine. Coffee, diet cola, chocolate.

She pulled up a chair. Despite her absorption with Eddie’s problem, she couldn’t help admiring the scenery across from her. Six foot and lean; curly, blond hair—the kind a gal itches to run her fingers through—and blue trust-me eyes. That was the surface. Underneath lived the decorated Marine with the steely eyes that showed during interrogations.

Ryan and Ari had dated three or four times in the last few months. River boating, hikes along the cliffs. They shared a cynical sense of humor, and she enjoyed his company. But the spark wasn’t there. She viewed him as a buddy, a good buddy. Most of the time anyway. Ryan harbored other ideas but wasn’t pushing it. Claris, her best friend and confidant, thought Ari was nuts not to snap him up. Claris could be right.

“How was your holiday?” he asked.

“Spent it with Claris and her boyfriend Brando. Grilled steaks, did a few sparklers. Nothing big.”

“No date?”

Not very subtle, she thought and returned a dismissive shrug. “Somehow guys are turned off by females who could obliterate them with fire and habitually carry guns and knives. What did you do?”

“Family barbeque. Ate way too much. My pager kept going off from all the disorderly conduct arrests. Mom took the interruptions in stride, until I got called away on this murder case.”

“At least you got a call. I didn’t. No one paged me until this morning. What happened with that?”

His face creased with immediate remorse. “Just a crazy mix up. I thought they’d called you. And dispatch thought I’d made the call.” He shook his head. “What can I tell you? It was the 4th of July. Too many calls, too many chances for error. It was our screw up. When you didn’t show at the scene, I figured you were out of town at your grandparents. My mistake. Next time, I’ll check.”

Huh. Ari wanted to protest—remind him she’d never gone out of town without notifying him, but instead, she said, “It’s OK.” It wasn’t, of course, but complaining now was a waste of time. What was done was done. “But it’s going to take me time to catch up.”

“I appreciate you not making a big deal of this, but it’s not OK with me. Especially on this case. I have a dispatch officer tightening our procedures so it won’t happen again.” His office door opened and a clerk interrupted with their coffee. As soon as the woman was gone and they were fortified with caffeine, Ryan leaned backed and crossed his arms, watching Ari. “Have you talked with Eddie yet?”

She noted the defensive posturing. It took her a minute to realize Ryan thought she might be angry with him over Eddie’s arrest. Or maybe a little worried she’d think they deliberately kept her from the crime scene. Well, the thought had crossed her mind. Oh, yeah. But Ryan wouldn’t do that. She accepted the screw-up explanation because she knew her partner. He was born a boy scout.

“I just came from seeing Eddie, for all the good it did.” Despite her frustration, she forced warmth into her voice. She didn’t want Ryan to misinterpret her mood as a grudge over the botched notification. “He won’t talk to me. Any clue what that’s about?”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I figured he’d spill it all as soon as you got here. In fact, I counted on it. We don’t know exactly how or why this happened. I’d sure like to hear his side of the story.”

“That makes two of us. But no luck. What did he tell the responding officers?”

“Hardly anything, except the confession. They found him in the parking lot standing next to the dead body. When they asked what happened, he said, ‘I did it.’ Then he clammed up. Now all we get is name, rank, and serial number.”

She nodded absently. “Same attitude I got. The desk