Cadotte's voice broke into my thoughts. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"
"Tell you what?"
"Why you're so interested in a stray wolf totem."
"I'm curious."
"Funny, but you don't seem the curious type."
"You're wrong." I stood. "Number one on the ' what you need to be a good cop'list is curiosity.
Otherwise we wouldn't keep asking all those annoying questions."
"Hmm." He got up and strode around his desk, coming too close, crowding me again.
I liked my personal circle of space, and he was invading it. But to back off would mean I was nervous, that he affected me. I was and he did, but why let him know? Perhaps one of my other attributes was bull-headed stubbornness.
Nah.
"So, should I call you?"
I gaped. "C-call me?"
There went my tough girl image.
"If I find out anything about the totem."
Of course. The totem. Not me. Never me.
Poof went my silly female fantasy.
"Yeah. Sure." I dug out a card with my various phone numbers.
He stared at it, then lifted his eyes to mine. He was still too close. I was still not backing away.
"Jessie?" he murmured. "Short for Jessica?"
"As if."
Jessica was the name of a pink-cheeked, blond-haired, petite ballerina girl.
He laughed. "I can keep this?" He flicked a finger at the totem, which remained on his desk.
I hesitated. Though I hadn't logged the thing into evidence yet, I should. Whether it meant anything or not, who could say? Maybe William Cadotte.
"For now." I grabbed a plain piece of paper, scribbled on it, then stabbed my finger at the bottom. "Sign this."
He picked up a pen and signed before asking, "What is it?"
A lawyer he wasn't. "That's evidence. You just signed for it, but I'll need the thing back."
"All right."
Silence again. Time to say good-bye. I wasn't sure how.
"I'll be in touch. Jessie."
The way he said my name made me recall the sheen of his skin in the moonlight. The way his muscles had rippled, the way his earring had swayed.
When was the last time I'd had sex? Far too long, from the direction of my thoughts. Far too long, since I couldn't quite recall. Not the when, nor the why, I could barely recall the who.
I needed to remember that Cadotte was an expert consultant, nothing more, before I made a bigger fool of myself than I already had.
I got a grip and pulled out what company manners I had. "Thanks for your time, Professor."
He took the hand I offered. My mind went all girlie again. I wanted to know what those dark, long fingers could do; I wanted to feel those large, rough palms against my skin. I wanted to see everything I'
d seen last night. Touch it, taste it, too.
"My friends call me Will." He released my hand.
Friends. Right. I was an idiot.
"I won't," I replied, then escaped.
Yes, my mother would be mortified at my behavior. This time I would have agreed with her. There was no cause for rudeness, beyond my own sense of inadequacy and a tiny kernel of fear that lodged hard and cool beneath my breastbone.
William Cadotte scared the hell out of me, and I didn't like it one bit. So I lashed out.
The need had been born in me long ago to hurt before I could be hurt, reject before I could be rejected, walk away before I could be walked away from. I couldn't change who I was inside, or out for that matter, suddenly become well adjusted, pretty, and proud of it. Don't psychoanalyze me; I've been doing it myself for years.
I'd had friends, but I never let any get too close. I was always waiting for them to turn on me as everyone else had. I'd been in love once, right out of high school. The relationship had ended badly.
Probably because I'd been expecting it to.
I knew who I was. A good cop. A decent person. But a loner. I wasn't scared of much, because I had so little to lose. Which was just the way I liked it.
I'd been telling myself this for years, believing it, too. So why did I suddenly feel lonely and sad in the middle of the day?
I left the university and returned to the station, hoping Dr. Bozeman might have left a message, or even the report. I'd have had better luck hoping the sun would rise in the west.
I filed my own report, then logged the evidence and placed it in the evidence room, leaving the paper Cadotte had signed with the rest.
Since my shift didn't start for several hours and I hadn't eaten anything lately, I returned to my apartment, where I made a small pizza, watched sitcoms, and tried not to think of the case for a while.
When it was time for work, I changed into my uniform and returned to the station. I was barely in the door before Zee started shouting. "Hell and tarnation, what were you doing at that school today, girl?"
"Hello, Zee. Nice to see you, too."
"Fuck that. You could have been killed."
"I wasn't. Get over it."
She blinked. I was usually more deferential to her moods - or rather mood: she only had one and it was bad. I knew she meant well. Zee might cuss like a construction worker, but her old-time upbringing made her reserve the F-word for serious concerns. She'd been worried about me.
I softened, leaned over the counter, and got a faceful of smoke for my trouble as Zee finished lighting her next cigarette off the stub of the last one.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asked.
I stared at her. She scowled back, not in the spirit to be mollified - by words, at any rate. I'd bring her a doughnut and coffee in an hour. Nothing said "I'm sorry" like fried dough and caffeine.