“Your future kid has a genius for a mom.”
“He/she/they sure does.”
Gunnar gave her a final kiss then made his way inside. At one in the morning, the homicide squad room was quiet. Two guys on the night shift gave him weary waves then carried on doing whatever it was they were pretending to work on. Gunnar headed for the breakroom and retrieved his cake, holding his breath to avoid his sensitive nose getting a whiff of out-of-date yogurt and a stale salami sandwich. He rejected the suspect liquid in the coffeepot for a glass of water then returned to his desk. He was done with both his cake and his report by one-thirty and was about to leave when one of his colleagues ambled over.
“Hey, Gunnar, I hear they have someone new lined up for you tomorrow.”
“I guess so. Maeve is off to do baby stuff. What did you hear? Tell me I’m not getting someone straight out of the Academy.”
“All I heard was fresh and green. Other than that, the grapevine is silent.”
“That sounds like spinach or maybe broccoli, neither of which I’m fond of. I’ll guess I’ll find out in the morning, which is too close for comfort. These late-night stakeouts are a killer. I need to get home and crash, grab a few hours shuteye at least.”
“Maybe you’ll get a vamp.”
“Not many vamp cops around here. They’re cool anyway.”
“Until they start sucking on your jugular.”
“Cut it out with that bullshit, Evans. Next thing you’ll be trying to convince us all the earth is flat.” Gunnar gave a low warning growl.
Evans backed away. “Yeah, yeah, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s late and I’m tired.”
Gunnar gave him a brief nod. “Hope your shift is uneventful.” It was too late to start something with Evans, who had a reputation for being denser than the average cinder block. Gunnar headed for the parking lot where his Harley was stowed in a narrow space next to a dumpster where there was no chance it would get dinged by some asshole rookie who couldn’t drive. The pool Chevy was great for stakeouts but Gunnar far preferred his bike.
He zipped up his leather jacket then threw a leg across the saddle. He got comfortable before firing up the ignition. The low rumble of the powerful engine always made him smile. He put his helmet on, because even wolves didn’t win in a fight with the asphalt. He tucked his long hair into his collar to stop it flyingaround then headed into the city to home and much needed rest.
* * * *
He was back the next morning after four hours’ sleep, in a mood that could best be described as belligerent. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to deal with his sleep deprivation, but he gave it a shot. A triple shot of espresso in fact. He bought it from the coffee wagon that had a pitch on the other side of the fence from the parking lot. The guy that ran it, Asa, understood his customer base. He provided caffeine, sugar, decent burgers and large portion sizes to needy cops at reasonable prices. He didn’t engage in unnecessary conversation, which suited Gunnar.
He was inhaling his coffee when he walked into the squad room. He didn’t make it to his desk before his captain beckoned him into his glass-walled office, which took up one corner of the floor.
“That was a good collar last night. Nice work.” Captain Jacobson, mid-fifties and bald as a cue ball, sank into his chair.
Gunnar eyed him suspiciously. “The last time you complimented me on an arrest, you’d sent me to a crime scene where the victim was in twelve separate pieces. You ruined my appetite. So spill, what’s going on?”
“You’re being seconded.”
“What the actual fuck? Maeve’s been gone all of five minutes.”
“Keep your hair on and let me finish. My understanding is that you’ll still be working homicide, just with a different, specialist unit that’s going to be attached to us for a while. It’s a trial thing.”
“What specialist unit?”
“Need to know, and apparently I don’t yet. I’ve got an address and you need to get your ass over there by nine. You’ll be briefed when you arrive. Try to act like you were socialized as a kid, okay?”
“This sucks. What about giving me a say?”
“It comes with a special duty allowance. Another two grand a month.”
“Can we stick with the whole how about asking me thing?”
Captain Jacobson glared at him. “You think I had any choice? I don’t know who the fuck picked you, but they did, God help them. Be your usual insubordinate self and they’ll probably kick your butt back over here within the week.”
Gunnar grunted. “Give me the fucking address.”
“Here.” The captain handed him a piece of paper torn out of a notepad. “Memorize it. Shred it.”
