I feel bad for turning down his offer to come to the doctor with me, so I go to him where he stands at the sink, wrap my arms around him. "It would be worth my while even if the food was terrible."
He lowers his face, drops a kiss to my lips. We haven't done anything except kiss since that day on the blanket surrounded by olive trees. It's not that I need to rush anything, but at the same time, my hormones are in high gear. I know he doesn't regret what we did, he wouldn't kiss me the way he does if that were the case. But there are moments, when his lips are on mine and I'm burning up with desire, that I want to be manhandled. I want his weight, the slap of skin, beads of sweat forming on both of us.
"I'll see you this evening," I tell him. "I have an errand to run before my appointment, and I'm going to grab lunch in town."
"Errand?"
"Police station," I explain.
Confusion tugs at his eyebrows. "You changed your mind and decided to tell the police about the pictures?"
I hesitate. Hugo knows I'm doing work, and he knows what my work is about, but he doesn't ask very many questions. He may have given me his blessing, but that doesn't automatically mean he wants to be involved inevery detail. I can't lie to him, though, especially not when he's asking me a direct question. "I'm hoping to sweet talk my way into your dad's file."
A little bit of the light in his eyes goes out. I hate that. I wish it never had to happen.
With a second, parting kiss, Hugo leaves for work, and I get ready for the day.
The police stationis a brick building in the center of town. Two flagpoles fly an Arizona state flag, and a United States flag, but nothing else about it is remarkable. It doesn't seem like a lot happens in Olive Township, but then again I've been ensconced in a safe bubble at Summerhill.
Admittedly, I've been there due to something I would've normally reported to the police.
"Hello," an older woman snaps when I walk in. She sees my belly and softens her tone. "What can I do for you, dear?"
It's amazing how people melt when they see a pregnant woman. Almost as if the presence of my belly is magic.
"Hello, Mrs. Black." I read her name off her desk, and offer my winningest smile. "I was hoping to ask someone a few questions about an old case."
She pulls her glasses lower on her nose, peering at meover the frame. "I've been with this department longer than you've been alive. What case are you referring to?"
"Simon De la Vega."
Shelaughs.
"Sure, hon." The glasses return to the bridge of her nose. "Let me open up the coldest case file in this town's history to a complete stranger."
I smile sweetly. Bees are attracted to honey, not vinegar. "Mrs. Black, I'm certain you know which officer was with the department during that time. If I could have a teeny, tiny conversation with them, it would be very much appreciated."
Her fleshy arms cross over her generous bosom. "Does the family know you're here poking around their business?"
I admire the loyalty of small towns, the way they fiercely protect their own. "They do. In fact, I can give Hugo a call right now."
Her mouth opens to respond when a portly older gentleman walks through the door. He's wearing slacks and a long sleeve, crisp shirt. Tie. Holding a large paper cup and a white bag printed with the Sweet Nothings logo.
"Detective Towles," Mrs. Black greets, sounding like she's already done with the day even though it's not yet halfway over. "This young lady is asking questions about Simon De la Vega."
Her words send the detective up short, coffee sloshing through the pill-shaped hole in the mouth of the cup. "Is that right?" He looks at me, head tipped. His darkhair has salt and pepper creeping up on all sides. Wrinkles pull at the corners of his eyes, crease his forehead.
He regards me for a few seconds before he says, "Come on back with me."
I'm expecting to follow him through metal detectors, or at least a security guard taking a peek in my purse, but there are zero safety measures. Small town, I guess.
Detective Towles leads me past a row of occupied desks. Every man and woman looks up as I pass. At the far end of the room, the detective ducks into an office. He steps behind a desk, placing his coffee and breakfast on top. He motions for me to take a seat at one of the two chairs in front of his desk. "What can I do for you, miss?"
I don't like the idea of sitting while he's standing, but hopefully compliance from me will beget compliance from him. I settle in a chair, crossing my legs at the ankle. "I was hoping to ask a few questions about the Simon De la Vega case."
Detective Towles's eyebrows climb up his forehead. "That case is nearly twenty years old."
"Correct," I nod.
