“I’ll put my money on death by bullet to the head,” Ross said.
“Ha-ha,” Paolo commented dryly before he turned and made hisway back to his team.
Mitch looked at the body again. The sight of the brain matter and congealed blood, together with the coppery stench overlaid with machine oil, turned his stomach. He’d never been so grateful not to have had time for breakfast before the call came in. Although caffeine was another story.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here. I need a coffee.” He tilted his head toward the exit.
Ross fell into step beside him. “I need a stiff drink.”
Mitch glanced at his partner and raised a brow. He sounded like he was half-serious. “Why? The job getting to you?”
“Nah, hair of the dog, mate.”
Mitch almost stumbled, the words being so unlike Ross. They’d worked together for three years, and this was the first time he’d remotely indicated coming into work with a hangover. Not that Mitchcould say the same thing. They ducked under the checkered police tape again. The crowd had thinned, obviously bored by the lack of action.
The dark-leather interior of the sedan was hot when Mitch slid into his seat, the metal of the seat belt buckle hot to the touch. “Jesus, it’s going to be a stinker today,” he said, almost to himself.
“Bloody oath.” Ross clipped himself in and pulled a pairof dark glasses from the top pocket of his suit jacket. He laid his head back against the headrest with a sigh.
Mitch started the car and threw an arm behind Ross’s seat. He reversed one-handed, dodging the police cars and the ambulance and the couple of news vans that had finally turned up. He said a silent prayer he’d avoided the journalists, knowing they’d be hounding them for informationabout the case if they had even the remotest sniff of something gang related.
It didn’t take long to clear the industrial area, with its block after block of gray and dreary buildings, all surrounded by equally gray concrete. Fuck, it was bleak. It was now peak hour, and the traffic was horrendous. It looked like it would be a while before Mitch enjoyed that first longed-for cup of coffee. Heput it out of his mind along with the desire for a smoke. He had taken up the habit after breaking up with Peter, the only thing he regretted about that relationship.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Ross asked, straightening in his seat.
“Nothing, just wanting a cigarette.”
Ross chuckled. “Nothing new, then. You always want a ciggie.”
“Fuck off.”
Ross laughed againand reached into his pocket. He passed the piece of gum to Mitch, who popped it into his mouth with satisfaction. Yeah, there were benefits to working together for so long.
“So you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Who says anything’s wrong?”
He snuck a sideways glance at Ross before returning his gaze to the road. “Hair of the dog. Remember?”
Ross sighed. “It’s Shelley.”
“Things still notgoing well between you guys?” Ross and Shell had been married for only two years, but maybe the seven-year itch had already started to settle in.
“Understatement of the century.” Ross sighed again. “She’s not happy with the way things are going.”
“Yeah?” Mitch braked behind the line of cars crawling toward the city.
“She wants to have a kid, but I’m not sure now’s a good time. I mean, we’rein the middle of the investigation, and I’m hardly ever home. I can’t be there through the pregnancy, and what about when the baby is born?”
“I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask, mate. I know nothing about having kids. But from what I hear, there’s never a good time. If you wait for the stars to align or whatever the fuck sign is needed, you’ll never have one.”
“The voice of reason, as usual.”
Mitch snorted, then breathed a sigh of relief as the traffic started slowly moving again. “So what is it? Money? The commitment? Other than the kid thing, are you and Shell okay?”
“Aside from fighting all the time, yeah.” Ross chuckled, and then his voice grew serious. “I love her and really want a family with her.”
