“Sorry,” he said, likely reading my rumination as disappointment.
“Don’t be. Thanks for doing that.” I nodded at the other bag still on the table. “Will you get in trouble?”
“I’m a pathologist. I have a hundred different reasons for examining that hair, not the least is a detective badgering me to perform a comparative test. I do as I’m told. No one would question that.”
I chuckled. “Pass the blame. I see how it is.”
Dominique stripped his gloves, tossing them in a nearby pail. He grabbed my hand and tugged me into his bubble. This particular lab didn’t have a viewing window, and I figured that was exactly why he’d chosen it to perform the test.
“Doctor.”
“Detective.”
“You look like you’re going to kiss me.”
“I am.”
Our mouths connected, blistering and sweet, propelling me back to dismissed questions of love. I wanted to shed the endless stress of this case and take him home to bed. Make love again like on Christmas afternoon when Cosette had napped. But I couldn’t. We both had obligations. It didn’t stop us from taking pleasure in the stolen moment, and I savored his lips and tongue, his taste and the warmth of his arms around me.
He pulled away too soon, and I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my forehead on his shoulder.
Dominique traced his fingers down the curve of my back and rested his strong hands on my hips. “What’s your game plan?”
“Head back to the station and collect new marching orders from the drill sergeant.”
He chuckled and brushed his lips over my temple.
“If I get a free minute, I want to dig into these girls,” I added.
“It seems a fruitless mission. How do you proceed when all you have are three-year-old physical descriptions and no names?”
I drew back and fixed his wrinkled shirt as I spoke. “I have approximate ages and a strong suspicion that the one spiraled after her encounter with Jesse and his friends, especially if she was cast aside by an uncaring cop who was supposed to help her.”
I stilled, unwelcome memories seeping in. “I know what repressed anger does to a person, Dom. I was the poster boy for abuse. I know what it sounds like when an unstable teen screams into the void.”
Yet Ottawa was a city of millions. The futility of the task was not lost on me. How would I find one girl in a pool of thousands? But I wasn’t ready to give up without a fight.
Dominique brushed his knuckles over my stubbled cheek, drawing me from my thoughts. “Good luck. I believe in you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You’re a fighter, and you fight for justice… no matter how that looks.”
I contemplated his husky blues for a long time, searching them for answers. Perhaps it would remain the thing unspoken between us, and that was okay.
“Will you come by tonight?” Dominique asked.
“Do you want me there?”
“Desperately.”
The knot in my belly loosened. The strange disconnection that had followed us since Boxing Day and our mild argument at the crime scene at LeBreton Flats vaporized. I could almost believeI’d imagined it. Dominique seemed to hear all I didn’t say. His watchful gaze took me in, but he didn’t push me away.
I wasn’t sure he agreed with my questionable views surrounding this case, but he seemed to have accepted them.
That might change if the day ever came when I had to decide to act or not act.
33
