I grabbed the gun I kept secured under the desk, and in nothing but my suit slacks and socks, I padded to the front door.
“Don’t do it,” the voice called out from the other end.
I yanked open the door.
“Detective.” Lieutenant Quinn Colson shifted out of the shadows, eyeing the gun in my hand.
“Another second and you’d’ve been on your back.” I holstered the gun in my waistband.
“Already told you, you’re not my type.” He winked.
“Everyone’s your type. What’s got you slummin’ in the back alleys of Berry Springs at midnight?”
“Thought I’d come by and say hi.”
“I’ve known you for three years and you’ve never come by to say hi.”
“Guess today’s your lucky day.”
My eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing Lamaze or something?”
“I did.” He blew out a breath. “A hundred damn times already today.”
I grinned. Colson’s new bride, Bobbi, was in her third trimester, although you’d think it was her fifth talking to the guy. Quinn Colson was a few years younger than myself, with the same build and grit that came from spending yearsin the military. Except he and I had gone very different paths after getting out. The obvious being a white picket fence and family. Pending family, anyway.
“Seriously. What’s up?” I asked, impatient to get back to Seagrave’s case.
“Fine. I couldn’t sleep, took a drive to get some of this stifling fresh air, and came by to check on you. I noticed you were still at the cemetery when I left earlier. Went by just now but you weren’t there. You alright, bro?”
“Fine.”
He jerked his chin past me. “That empty pint you’ve got on the floor says otherwise.”
I turned, picked up the empty bottle of Jack, and hurled it over his head. Two seconds of dead air went by until—bam—the glass shattered in the empty dumpster at the bottom of the staircase.
“Dammit, dude.Thanks.Now we’re gonna get a call from old lady Doris Dill about a noise complaint.”
“Dill passes out cold at six-thirty every day. The woman could sleep through World War Three.”
“I don’t want to know how you know that, man.”
“Probably for the best.”
“Anyway, recycle next time, will ya?” Colson craned his neck to see into my apartment. “Not that you haveanythingto recycle.Jesus,dude, do you sleep on the floor?”
He shoved past me.
“What are you? A college kid? You’ve got one ratted couch that I don’t even want to know where the stains came from, and a—” He looked at me, gaping in utter shock as if I had three human heads nailed to the wall—“aboxtelevision? You have aboxtelevision? You know they have flat screens now, right? Your TV is from the freakingnineties.” He continued, spinning on his heel. “And a kitchen the size of—you don’t even have a dishwasher—and one desk. And awindowair-conditioning unit…” He leaned down and sniffed. “That smells like burnt cheese.”
I kind of liked that scent, if I’m being honest.
Colson breezed past me, checking out the bedroom, where I kept a Queen—mattress, not woman—and an alarm clock on the floor, not that I needed one. I don’t even think the alarm function worked. Thank God I’d removed the antennas from the top or the guy might have had a coronary.
“You’ve been in Berry Springs three years, dude.” He turned and fisted his hands on his hips. “I mean, I get the minimal lifestyle thing but you don’t even have a single picture on the wall.” He squinted. “Is there some sort of gambling addiction I’m not aware of, because I can loan you some money if you?—”
“You come here to check on me or give me decorating tips?”
“Fine.” He raised his palms to surrender. “Just… unexpected, I guess. Anyway, come on. We know you’re not going to sleep, so come on.”
