Page 23 of Dancing in the Dark

“No. Police Chief Maron called a few minutes before you got here.”

“Alright, I’ll pass it on.” I look at the bobble-headed Anderson, his eyes jumping from me to Reese each time we speak. “Feel free to make yourself a coffee before we start.” But I don’t offer to make one for him, and I sure as hell don’t offer mine. I snatch up the cup Charlie paid for and work hard on squashing the nerves bubbling in my chest. Re-locking my computer, I step around my desk and breeze past Anderson much too fast for him to stop me.

To touch me.

To demand anything from me.

Moving to Justin’s closed door, I rap my knuckles just once, then I twist the knob and step in to find him already sitting, his fingers steepled, his eyes watchful. His lips curl into a kind smile. “Good morning, Seraphina.” He gestures toward the visitor chair I sit in almost more than the one assigned to my desk, then his eyes flicker over my shoulder and darken.

“Mayor Lawrence.” Anderson closes the door with a soft snick and follows me across the office. While I sit and place my things on the desk, Anderson offers his hand and a sickly-sweet smile. Pay attention to me, Daddy Mayor. I like it when you pat my head and make me feel good about my mediocrity. “Thank you for meeting with me, Mayor. The Port Authority appreciates your time.”

“Mmhm.” Justin releases him quickly and, I swear, wipes his palm on his thigh beneath his desk. “You know me, Mr. Markum. I value cooperation and harmony within my city.” He brings his focus to me and swaps his fake smile for something much more genuine. “Ms. Lewis. I have my finalized statement printed out and ready to go, and Ms. Prescott confirms the motorcades are on standby. If you’re ready to discuss tomorrow’s agenda, I’m all ears.”

“Great.” I snatch my file, though I know damn well exactly how tomorrow will play out. Minute by minute, hour by hour. I’ve memorized our schedule as easily as I practiced and memorized choreography in my youth. “It’s a jam-packed day, but if we stick to the plan, I expect it’ll run smoothly.” I take out the copies I made and hand one across to Justin. His version matches mine exactly. I hand a different, much less detailed copy to Anderson. “Tomorrow’s briefing will begin at eight a.m. here at City Hall, and since there’ll be quite a few of us in attendance, I had Reese reserve the large boardroom. I’ll run through the schedule again for everyone to hear, and after that, Deputy Legal Counsel Markum will provide his final risk summary. Police Chief Maron communicated that he cannot be here today, but confirmed his attendance for tomorrow. He’ll brief us on city security. Also—” I take out another stack of papers. “I’ve prepared an etiquette packet you might wish to go over before the Chinese delegates’ arrival.”

“You’ll stick close all day, though, won’t you?” Justin accepts my offering and flicks through the pages. “I’d hate to mispronounce someone’s name and be the reason this deal falls apart.”

“I’ll stay close,” I agree, my lips twitching with a small smile. “At nine o’clock, the Chinese delegation will officially arrive. You’ll meet them on the front steps.”

“Handshakes,” he rumbles. “Photos. Gift exchange. Gotta put on a show.”

“Precisely. Interpreters will be present. However, I’m led to believe Ambassador Zhao speaks excellent English, so I doubt we’ll run into any trouble on that front. At nine-twenty, you’ll give a short welcome speech for the media. Ambassador Zhao will make reciprocal remarks, then reporters will have an opportunity to ask their questions.”

“Do we think this is a good idea?” Anderson’s brows furrow heavily over dirt-brown eyes. “This deal with China centers on the port, and the port’s spotty history makes for sensationalist journalism. It would be all too easy for a reporter with a hunger for ratings over integrity to ruin what we’ve worked so hard for. Ms. London, for example⁠—”

Is a dirty rotten whore. But it would be unprofessional to say so.

“Tomorrow will appear to be a free-for-all for media attendance,” I cut in. “But I’ve invited key figures to ensure the right hands will go up and appropriate questions will be asked.” I stop on Justin’s eyes. “You simply have to select the correct journalists.”

I open my handy-dandy folder and take out my next stack, ten pages stapled in the top left corner and, on each page, the face and bio of my favorite reporters. Miranda London is not one of them. “I’ll be with you the entire time, and if you need help, I can select the journalists for you.” I offer the pages with a small smile. “At ten o’clock, we’ll be in transit. We’ll have a police escort, a three-car motorcade, and security on both ends.”

For the next forty-five minutes, I continue through tomorrow’s plans step by step, time-block by time-block. When I can, I ignore Anderson and his sour-faced expressions. When I can’t ignore him, I shut him down and feel a little smug knowing I have answers for every single bullshit complaint he tosses my way.

He’s a lawyer, and he gets off on arguing for the sake of arguing. But at least Justin’s presence keeps him from touching me again. Better yet, he doesn’t ask about Charlie.

Small mercies.

10

FLETCH

“Look, I’m not saying I wanna risk jinxing things, but I’m saying…” I toss a fat file on Archer’s desk and continue around to mine. “That’s seven opens and closes in a week. Are killers getting dumber these days, or are we just that fuckin’ good?”

“You’re gonna jinx it.” He settles back in his chair, a playful twitch to his lips as he picks up the file and peeks inside at the arrest report I’ve already completed and Lieutenant Fabian’s initials scribbled in the top right corner. Flicking through the medical examiner’s report and smirking at Minka’s signature at the bottom, he shakes his head and lifts his foot to rest on top of the opposite knee. “You know the universe will fuck us up if we get too cocky. Enjoy the ride, Fletch. But don’t get smug.”

“We’re that good, I think.” I tear open my top drawer and take out a bouncy ball. It’s early in the afternoon, we were assigned a ‘he smacked his best friend over the head with a baseball bat for twenty bucks’ case first thing this morning, our baseball bat is already in evidence, our killer is in cuffs, and Fabian isn’t scowling as much as usual. “Moo’s expecting Penny to pick her up from school, but assuming our desks stay clear, I’m thinking we should make tracks early and take her for ice cream.” I toss the ball from my right hand to my left. “We earned this.”

He drops the file onto his desk and chuckles. “Either you’re getting laid again, or that new mattress is doing good things for your mood.”

“Well, I’m not getting laid, I know that for damn sure.” I toss it again. “And Mia’s still waking me up at least once a night. I haven’t gotten more than three consecutive hours of sleep since…” I think for a moment and try to remember back. “That time we slept in a bus, I guess. But you know me.” I smirk. “I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy.”

“And you and Fifi…?”

The glass is half full, dammit! “Same as usual. She’s mildly intolerant, and I’m head over heels in love with an unavailable woman.” But hey, at least I can say it now without wanting to smash something. “I had to swing by City Hall yesterday for something.”

He narrows his eyes. “And?”

“I saw her. Bought her a coffee, actually.” I set my bouncy ball on my desk and trade it for the empty to-go cup I haven’t quite convinced myself to throw away yet. “Bought myself ten minutes of her time and a smile or two.”