Even on a Sunday there was enough traffic that it took Reece an hour to reach the shop in the northern suburb. And sure enough, there was an SPD police cruiser idling in a parking spot. Reece parked in an open spot and got out of the car, striding up to the police cruiser to bang on the driver’s door.
Stensby turned his head in surprise. His green eyes were bloodshot, the same red as his hair.
“You could have turned off your car and gone inside,” Reece snapped at him through the window. “You’re wasting gasoline idling like this.”
Stensby’s eyes narrowed and then quickly relaxed, like he was trying very hard to keep from revealing his irritation to Reece. Good luck with that. Reece had years of experience with that particular emotion; at any given moment, most people in his vicinity were some degree of annoyed with him.
Reece stepped back and folded his arms, watching Stensby awkwardly extract his long limbs from the cruiser. He wasn’t quite as tall as Grayson, but he lacked all of Grayson’s grace, his movements sluggish and dragging. Combine that with the bloodshot eyes, and Reece would venture to guess Stensby was yet another person who hadn’t been sleeping much.
“What’s going on with Jamey?” Reece said, as Stensby stepped onto the sidewalk and shut his door.
But Stensby just waved down the street. “Is that your Smart car?”
He was already walking toward it. Reece huffed and followed. “Yes. Why?”
“You don’t see a lot of these on the road anymore.”
“And?”
“And is being a gearhead a crime?” Stensby said testily, over his shoulder. “I’m into cars.”
Lie.Jesus, what was the point of lying about that? Was this some kind of masculinity pissing contest? Reece couldn’t care less if a man preferred turbos or tutus.
Stensby was eyeing the Smart car. “These are funny, right? Battery in the passenger footwell, engine in the back?”
“Yes,” Reece grudgingly admitted.
“So if you run out of coolant you have to add it in the trunk?”
“No, the fluids are up front.”
Stensby tilted his head, surveying the front of the Smart car with furrowed eyebrows. “Where?”
Reece sighed. He stepped forward and tapped one of the panels between the headlight and front license plate. “Wiper and brake fluid are behind this one. Engine coolant is behind that one,” he said, pointing to the other panel. “My car also averages forty-one miles to the gallon on the highway, forty-three if I draft. Unlike your cruiser, which gets—”
“How about we go in?” Stensby said.
Inside the doughnut shop, Stensby got a coffee while Reece got a cinnamon raisin bagel, and then they stood across from each other at a bar height table. Stensby picked up the sugar canister. “Has Jamey said if she’s coming back to the force?”
Reece gave him a withering look as he pulled off a piece of the bagel. “Why would she? It’s Lieutenant Parson’s fault she left.” He popped the bite in his mouth. “I’m the one who fucked up and Parson took it out on her.”
“Guess he did.” Stensby poured sugar into his coffee. “Funny, I still don’t know how you got out of a felony without so much as a slap on the wrist.”
His tone was light, but his shoulders tensed. Maybe he wanted Reece to think it was a joke between friends, but his body language told his true feelings loud and clear. Stensby didn’t think he should have gotten away with it.
Reece pulled off another piece of bagel. “The whole thing was just a misunderstanding.”Lie.He tried not to wince. Grayson hadn’t misunderstood a damn thing.
And he’d still taken Reece’s side.
“So you didn’t actually commit a crime?” Stensby said skeptically.
“Of course not.”Lie.Reece gritted his teeth.
Stensby was watching him closely. “I never saw you do anything special,” he said suddenly. “I watched you work our cases, and all you could do was figure out how people were feeling.”
“Yes,” Reece said bitingly. “Because that’s what empaths do.”
“Some people think empaths can do a lot more than that,” Stensby said.
