Coming Soon / Hidden Gems. Jo Leigh

a while, she just sat back and watched him drive. It was still rush hour, so traffic slogged. She didn’t mind. She liked the way he maneuvered the car, not shy, but not in a death match, either. It would take them a while to get to the Brooklyn Bridge and across. For once, she was glad she didn’t live closer to Midtown.

      “Where do you live?” she asked, as they made the last turn before the bridge.

      “Park Slope.”

      “Oh.”

      “I told you.”

      “I’m not right on your way.”

      “Close enough.”

      “You live alone?”

      He looked at her as if the question surprised him. “Yeah.”

      “Not me. I have two roommates. Luckily, I don’t see them too often. One has a boyfriend and the other works nights. It’s not bad.”

      “Roommates. I don’t think I could do that again.”

      “You had a bad experience?”

      “I’m not easy to live with.”

      “Good to know.”

      He looked at her again.

      She could hardly believe she’d said that out loud. My word, wasn’t she the brave one. Which reminded her. “I heard something.”

      “When?”

      “In the locker room.”

      “Okay. I assume it was about the murder.”

      She told him everything she could about her conversation with Lorraine. He seemed quite dubious about the Geiger-Danny Austen connection. Not at all about Geiger’s wife.

      “How reliable is this source of yours?”

      “She’s not one to make stuff up, but she did say it was all second hand info. I think the rumor mill at Hush is on overdrive, but you might want to check into those room charges.”

      He nodded as they inched their way across the bridge. “I’m not shocked about Sheila Geiger. I got the impression she wasn’t all that upset that her husband was dead, although damn, she put on a good show.”

      “I wonder…”

      “What?”

      “What her rationalization is.”

      “For what?”

      “Her life. Her husband. No one does something they know is wrong. People rationalize the most horrible things. The paparazzi, they all believe they’re not doing anything wrong. They say the celebrities want their pictures taken. The public wants to buy those pictures. I guess I can’t argue with that.”

      “Only?”

      “It feels so wrong to me. I’ve seen them at their worst, like a pack of wolves. There’s no mercy, no quarter given. Everyone and everything is fair game.”

      “What do you think is behind her suing the hotel?” he asked.

      “She’s thinking about her bank account. With hubby gone and unable to take those money-making pictures, a gal has to do what a gal has to do.”

      “And a job is out of the question.”

      “I think in her mind, yes,” she said. “It is.”

      He sighed. “Boulder sounds better every day.”

      “I’ve never been to Colorado. I hear it’s just gorgeous.”

      “Yep. Green everywhere you look. Great skiing. The English department is top notch. It’s quiet. A man can think. See the stars.”

      “Big change.”

      “Welcome change.”

      “I would imagine so. All that death. All those rationalizations.”

      He reached over with his right hand and touched her left. He didn’t hold it or squeeze it. He just touched her. Then he was gone.

      “Where to?”

      She realized they were approaching the Brooklyn side of the bridge. They hadn’t talked all that much, but there had been pauses. Long ones. Now she was almost home.

      “It’s a right on Henry Street, a left on Remsen.”

      The traffic didn’t ease up until they were almost at her building. Should she ask him up? Would he assume?

      Of course there was no parking space for miles around her old brick building. There never was. It didn’t seem to faze Bax. At her address he simply double parked, reached under the seat and got the bubble light that transformed the car from unmarked to quite distinct. And legal.

      “I’ll walk you up.”

      She didn’t wait for him to open her door. There was a tiny thrill, however, in walking away from the car, Bax’s hand on the small of her back. By the time they got inside, she was squarely fifty-fifty on the question of asking him to stay. Well, maybe sixty-forty.

      They rode up to the fourth floor along with one of her many, many neighbors. Not one she knew by name. Just a woman who kept giving Bax sidelong glances.

      Finally, they were at her front door. He didn’t seem to be anxious to leave as she dug out her keys. Once the door was unlocked, she didn’t know what to do.

      He made it simple.

      “What time do you get to the hotel in the morning?”

      “A quarter to eight, if the trains are on time.”

      “I’ll meet you at the subway,” he said. “You lock up as soon as you’re inside.”

      “Oh. Okay.”

      He bowed just a little, just with his head. When he looked at her again, Mia’s throat tightened as she held her breath. His eyes had darkened and even though she could tell he had meant to walk away, he just looked at her.

      It was as if the rest of the universe darkened and slipped away, leaving the two of them, straddling a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed. Bax swallowed and her gaze moved to his Adam’s apple, then back up to the stubble on his jaw, the slight parting of his lips. There was something unreal about him like this. A man that rugged shouldn’t look so hungry. Or maybe it was the other way around.

      He leaned closer to her. Not by much. Not enough.

      Her own lips parted, willing him to cross the threshold and kiss her, darn it.

      But he stopped. Suddenly. As if he’d been slapped into his role as cop, as protector. He swallowed once more as he stepped back. “Lock up now,” he said, although with a much gruffer voice.

      Mia watched him turn away, then she closed the door and locked it. But she didn’t move for a long while.

      What to make of Baxter Milligan? She hadn’t a clue.

      5

      WHAT THE MOVIE PEOPLE called a trailer and he called a motor home was in the underground garage at Hush. It was a Winnebago-type deal times ten. Plush carpets, flat-panel TV, leather couches, marble counters. It was a hell of a lot nicer than Bax’s apartment and it made him wonder yet again about the public’s take on heroes. All Danny Austen did was dress up and pretend, and for that he got millions, adoration, trailers, women. It didn’t help that Bax had a headache and that he’d had to come to Austen instead of Austen coming to him.

      He leaned back in the incredibly comfortable captain’s chair, waiting while Austen changed. Anxious to get the interview over with, Bax fiddled with his notebook, his pen, and kept thinking not about Danny Austen or Gerry Geiger but Mia Traverse.

      As promised, he’d met her at the subway exit and made sure she got into the hotel safely. She’d