His eyebrows knitted together. “You’re sorry, huh?”
I shrugged, glowering at him. I had no intention of talking about my pesky newfound emotions with Harris. Later, perhaps. But now, we had more important things to worry about.
He led the way through the recreation center. It contained a deserted playground, a squat white building that was probably a gymnasium, several picnic shelters, two baseball diamonds, several basketball courts, and multiple open fields that looked like they might have been meant for soccer. There were paved paths and at least one unpaved one, all likely used by joggers.
“Wonder what this creep has against parks,” Harris said, nodding to the large aquatic center just to our left, with its shimmering blue outdoor pool. “This is a nice place to take your kids. Why leave your bodies here?”
“I’ve never left my bodies in a place where a child might find them.”
Harris gave me a sideways look. “You okay, Cole?”
“Naturally,” I replied—both too quickly and too harshly. “This is just another day on the force, right?”
He gave me a dark look. “You’re not a cop, and you’ll never be one.”
“Actually, I was for a period of time,” I replied, grateful he’d taken the bait and gotten indignant with me. Besides, it was the truth. In the 1950s, I’d spent a handful of years on the police force in Baltimore. “Though eventually other cops notice you’re not aging, and they start getting awfully nervous around you.”
He snorted. “Gee, I can’t imagine why.”
“It was a long time ago. Another life. You hadn’t even been born yet.”
“You’re not usually this chatty about your past.”
“Indeed,” Thierry commented. He shot Harris a strange look. “Though I must admit I didn’t expect you to have forged any alliances at all.”
“How else would he track down serial killers?” Harris asked darkly.
Thierry’s eyebrows slammed together, and he stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”
“Wait.” Harris shot me a surprised look. “He doesn’t know?”
“I don’t knowwhat, exactly?” Thierry demanded.
I sighed, resisting the urge to rub my temples. If I were still mortal, Harris surely would have given me a headache. “Harris, do be a darling and stop talking.”
Thierry grabbed my upper arm and turned me so I was facing him. He seemed bewildered. “What did he mean, that you go ‘after’ serial killers?”
“He doesn’t hurt innocent people. Ever,” Harris informed him. “Also, take your hands off him or Iwillshoot you.”
Thierry snorted. “You wouldn’t be able to reach your gun in time to stop me from breaking both your hands.” But he said it without heat. He released me and took a step back. His gaze slid to Harris and then back to me. “You’ve made a friend, it seems. You know, I think I might like him.”
“He’s standing right here,” Harris said pointedly.
“Don’t push your luck,” Thierry replied, giving the detective a wintry smile. “I’m nicer than my brother, but I can assure you, you don’t want to test my limits.”
“Are you sure about that?” Harris shot back. “Your brother is a dick, but he’s usually cool about it in his own way.”
I felt a flash of surprise that he was defending me. I gave Harris a wary look, seeing him in a new light. Did he see me as a friend?
That question rather answered itself in the asking, didn’t it?
Naturally, I couldn’t know precisely how Harris felt about me. But yes—alarmingly, I cared what became of him. And on some level, perhaps I always had.
“You seem rattled.”
“Oh, do I?” I shot him a hard look, but he had already turned away from me. He pointed at the baseball diamond to our right. It was cordoned off by yellow police tape, and several dozen civilians were standing nearby, watching the proceedings.
“Looky-loos and press,” Harris said, shaking his head. “Fucking vultures, all of them. Get a hint of tragedy and they descend to make our job harder.”
