“I need someone taller,” she called out. “You!” She pointed to Officer Roddy, who was hunched over the coffeepot, discreetly filling his mug.
The quiet, middle-aged beat cop turned around slowly, his face growing red when she beckoned him with an obscenely long, hot-pink fingernail. He lumbered over—all six feet and four inches of him. Sylvia pushed aside the cadet and threw an arm around Roddy’s middle. “Here,” she said, handing him her phone. She gestured in a sweeping motion over her chest. “But take it high. They look better from above.” She sucked in her cheeks and threw her shoulders back. Roddy extended an arm above them and snapped a selfie that probably could have doubled as an aerial shot of the Grand Canyon.
I pushed my way through the crowd of officers, determined to save Roddy before Sylvia could proposition him. He was happily married with twin teenage daughters, and I didn’t imagine he had any desire to offer Sylvia a ride-along inanycapacity.
He looked relieved when I made it to his side.
“Sorry,” I muttered, giving him a quick one-armed hug. I whispered in his ear, “Run while you still can.”
He was quick to take the hint.
“Sylvia!” I hissed, dragging Sylvia into a corner. “What are you doing here? You can’t just waltz into a police station unannounced for no reason!”
“I have a reason!” she said, giving each of my cheeks an air-kiss. “I went to your house first but you weren’t there, so I had coffee with your neighbor. She told me where I could find your hot cop. I figured I’d leave the paperwork with him.”
“What paperwork?”
“Randall called. He needs you and Nick to sign a preliminary offer letter, breaking down all the terms we agreed to at lunch yesterday. Once he has that, he can go back to the studio’s attorneys and have them draft the contract for the series.”
“I’m not ready to sign anything, Sylvia. I haven’t even had a chance to talk any of this over with Nick.”
“Don’t bother. I already filled him in. He’s got all the paperwork on his desk. You two can read it over and sign it together tonight. I’ll pick it up before I head back to New York. But right now, I’m going to see if one of these very attractive policemen would like to have lunch with me. I’m famished.” Her false lashes narrowed as she scoped out the handful of officers that remained in the bullpen. “Oh, my,” she said, smoothing down her dress. “Would you look at the size of the baton on that one?” She was like a jungle cat in a room of unsuspecting antelope, singling out her next meal. I needed to get her out of here before she pounced. I was pretty sure there were rules about hunting in this place.
“Have you tried the firefighters next door?”
“Firefighters?” she asked as I took her by the shoulders and steered her briskly down the hall.
“They’re in the building behind us. You can’t miss them. They have very big hoses.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. “Color me intrigued,” she said as I shuttled her to the exit. “But don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. I want those papers signed and delivered to my hotel by tomorrow, or I’m coming to your house to pick them up.”
“Fine.”
Roddy’s rookie in training, Tyrese, saw us hustling toward the emergency exit and rushed to get the door for us. I whispered in his ear as he held it open for Sylvia. “Can you make sure she finds her way to the fire department?” He looked a little terrified as Sylvia grabbed him by his biceps and towed him outside with her.
I hurried back to the break room and spotted Georgia’s girlfriend, Sam, picking over a box of donuts.
“Where’s Nick?” I whispered.
Sam smirked. “Probably hiding at his desk.”
“They’re never going to let him live this down, are they?”
“Not a chance. Wade Coffey already ordered a life-size poster of Nick’s face on Channing Tatum’s body. He and Coletti are picking it up from the printshop in an hour. They told everyone to come back this afternoon for a rousing game of ‘Pin the Badge on the Hot Cop.’”
I winced. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Doubt it,” she said, taking the last jelly donut. “You can do no wrong in that man’s eyes. But,” she added, placing added emphasis on thebut, “considering the morning he’s endured in the company of your agent, you might not want to go into his office empty-handed.” She passed me a Boston cream. “And maybe get him out of the station before Wade gets back from the printshop.”
“I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks, Sam.” I carried the donut back through the bustling station to Nick’s office. He shared the space with a few other detectives. When I poked my head in the door, they got up and filed past me one by one, suppressing mocking smiles on their way out. Nick was the only one who didn’t look amused.
I came in quietly and sat in the plastic chair beside his workstation. He glared at my sugary offering before reaching for it, the hard line of his mouth softening a little as he set it on his desk. A stack of files sat by his elbow. His laptop was open in front of him, and a single sheet of letterhead with a fancy Hollywood logo rested in the space between us. My name was printed below one of the signature lines. So was his.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea she was coming to the station.”
“But you knew about this.” He slid the contract toward me. I skimmed the bulleted line items of the agreement Sylvia had hashed out with Randall over lunch yesterday.
Finlay Donovan writing as Fiona Donahue (hereafter referenced as The Author), and Nicholas Anthony (hereafter referenced as The Consultant) have been made aware and agree that the source material will be adapted for a television series to be marketed and promoted as being inspired by true crimes.
