Sylver and Gold

by Michelle Larkin

  “Me, too,” Reid whispered back. Trying not to smile, she grabbed her coat and took the stairs two at a time. Felt good to have a partner. It was too early to tell for sure, but maybe the captain wasn’t the only one in her corner.

  * * *

  London didn’t last long at the precinct. She decided to head home, shower, and hit the sack. Sleep would help her mind tie up the loose ends of this case. Lying in bed, she couldn’t help but think about Reid, all alone at home. Without Mug. She could only imagine what Reid was going through right now—probably wracked with guilt and beating herself up for leaving Mug in the car. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, with sleep nowhere in sight, she decided to take a trip to Reid’s house to check on her.

  She’d bet anything the detective hadn’t eaten since lunch. She’d pick up a pizza on the way.

  Joey answered on the first ring. “Hey, sis.”

  “You still at the restaurant?”

  “Yeah.” He yawned. “Just closing up.”

  “Can you make me a pizza?”

  “Seriously? Now?” he asked, making no effort to mask his annoyance.

  “Now,” she replied, unapologetic. “I’m calling in my favor.”

  He sighed. “You waited all this time to cash in your favor for a pizza?”

  Joey had owed her one since his junior year in high school when he shattered a vase that had been in the Gold family for twelve generations. He was already on shaky ground with their parents for letting his grades slip, so she’d taken the hit for him. “This will make us even.”

  “Seems like a waste of a favor, if you ask me.”

  “It’s not.” Reid was worth this small sacrifice. “Better be really yummy.”

  “Extra yummy, coming right up.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reid arrived home to a dark house. It was the first time in six years that she walked in without Mug chomping noisily on a tennis ball beside her. The silence was definitely unwelcome. Getting a taste of what having a partner would feel like and losing her dog all in one day made her feel—it took her a few moments to identify the feeling—lonely. It was a totally foreign emotion. She realized then how lucky she was to have made it through forty years without ever having felt this.

  Because it really sucked.

  So, this is where you live.

  She spun around to see the captain standing in her living room. He was wearing the same baby-blue button-down shirt and gray slacks as when she’d last seen him. She never communicated with spirits inside her house, but she was more than happy to make an exception for Cap. “It’s about time,” she said, grinning. “What the hell took you so long?”

  There were a lot of hoops to jump through with the Big Guy upstairs in order to pay you a visit.

  “Really?” She’d never asked a spirit anything whatsoever about the other side. She always figured she’d find out for herself, sooner or later. This time, though, she was unable to vanquish her curiosity. “God’s really a man?”

  No, no, Cap said, frowning. That’s the Bigger Guy upstairs. Haven’t met him yet. Or her. Have no idea on the gender…or if there even is one. I’m talking about my guardian angel. Tall guy, angry face, huge wings. Hey, did you know everyone has a guardian angel? Mine was pretty pissed that I, you know, took my own life. Thanks for the heads-up on that, by the way. A lot of help you were, he said with a scowl.

  Right. She’d forgotten about that part. Reid knew there was no hell to speak of, but she’d neglected to consider how suicide would affect Cap’s welcoming committee on the other side.

  His lecture was longer than all Ma’s lectures combined. Cap set his hands on his hips, shaking his finger at her. Life is a gift. Every life has a purpose. All suffering has meaning. It’s not our place to decide when to call it quits. Blah, blah, blah.

  “Pretty important stuff. Hope you paid attention.”

  I did. But enough about me. It’s you I’m worried about, kid.

  “How much do you know?” she asked, grateful to have someone to talk to in her too-quiet house.

  I know there’s a killer on the loose, and he has Mug. That’s about it, I’m afraid. They have this rule over here about free will. We’re not allowed to interfere. Supposed to let humans make their own choices, let things unfold naturally. If we see someone making a mistake, even if it’s a big one, we can’t interfere. I had to swear to it. That’s the only way they’d let me come see you.

  Reid found herself wondering who they were but decided it wasn’t important. “Do you know who the killer is,” she asked, “and where I can find him?”

  No. I only know he’s dangerous. I’m allowed to give you a warning to be careful. Oh, and maybe consider leaning on your partner a little. I like her, he said with a wink. He turned, as if hearing someone’s voice on the other side. Probably shouldn’t have said that last part. He took a few steps back and gave her a salute. Gotta run. See you soon, kid.

  Just like every other spirit she’d met, he vanished on the spot. The air around her felt suddenly devoid of energy. Once again, Reid was alone.

  Exhausted from the day’s events, she hopped in the shower for a quick rinse and then headed to the living room to start a fire. Her house was well insulated—she’d done it herself when she’d stripped it to the studs for renovation—but she always kept the thermostat low when she was at work and hadn’t bothered turning it up tonight. What was the point? She was just going to sleep anyway.

  She stacked three logs in the fireplace, wedged several crumpled-up pages from The Boston Globe beneath the logs, and then set everything ablaze. Curled up with a blanket on the couch, she stared into the flames for long minutes. She couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in her bed without Mug there beside her.

  She tossed and turned on the couch, convinced sleep was forever beyond her reach until Mug returned. Even with the crackling fire, the house was just too damn quiet. She finally sat up, turned on the TV, and channel surfed.

  Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since lunch. At this time of night, she’d usually have a bowl of popcorn in her lap with Mug beside her. Sharing their favorite late-night snack, they’d watch old reruns of NYPD Blue. But she couldn’t even bring herself to make the popcorn, let alone eat it. Not without her best bud.

  She felt her adrenaline kick in and switched off the TV, suddenly angry with herself for putting Mug in harm’s way. Not knowing if he was okay was driving her nuts. How would she live with herself if something happened to him?

  Deciding a brisk stroll around the neighborhood would do her good, she stood from the couch. The doorbell rang, and she froze. Could this be the killer returning Mug? No one ever came to her door. She checked her watch: 11:02 p.m.

  She crept silently across the living room in her bare feet. Careful not to touch the door for fear of making a creak, she peered through the peephole.

  London smiled and waved.

  Maybe, if she was quiet, London would give up and go away. All she had to do was wait her out.

  “I know you’re looking through the peephole, Reid.”

  Reid held her breath, determined to ride this out in stealthy silence. The trick here was to remain quiet and make London believe she was dead.

  “If you don’t open this door in thirty seconds, I’ll break a window and climb in to make sure you’re okay. And this time, I’ll really do it.”

  She sighed, half intrigued at the prospect of having company and half annoyed at the unexpected visit. “You again?” she called out through the door.

  “Me again,” London replied with a thumbs-up.

  Reid made no motion to open the door. She simply continued to stare through the peephole.

  “I realize your social skills are a little rusty,” London said, “but the next step in being a courteous human is to open the door and invite me inside.”

  “Sure, I’ll invite you in…on the eve of Saint Never’s Day,” she shot back. “We already went over this. No visitors.”

&n
bsp; London rolled her eyes. “Is Mug back?”

  “No.”

  “I figured you’d have a hard time sleeping tonight without him,” London said sincerely.

  “And you decided the solution to that was to linger on my doorstep like a stalker?”

  “Not exactly. Though I am feeling kind of stalkerish at the moment, which is being compounded by your refusal to open the door like a normal person.” London held up a large white pizza box. “I bear gifts. Let me in, and I’ll share.”

  Reid crossed her arms, her stubbornness overriding her growling stomach. “Not hungry.”

  “I can hear your stomach from here.” London lowered the pizza and frowned. “Have you eaten anything since lunch?”

  “Where the hell did you find a pizza place open this time of night?”

  “I have connections,” was all London offered. “Since you’re hungry and not going to sleep anytime soon, how about pizza and a movie?” She held up A Dog’s Purpose in front of the peephole.

  “A sappy movie about a dog who dies over and over again? You suck at this supportive partner thing.”

  “Correction: it’s about a dog who’s reincarnated and eventually reunited with his owner.”

  “Great. Thanks for spoiling the movie. Now I definitely don’t want to see it.”

  “Will you just open the door, Reid? I’m freezing my buns off out here.”

  She paused, wondering if she’d heard London right. “Your what?”

  “My buttocks, derriere, booty, caboose—whatever you want to call it—is freezing as we speak.”

  She shook her head. “You mean, your ass?”

  “Sure.” London shrugged. “I’ve heard it called that, too.”

  Reid set her hands on her hips. “I’m not opening this door unless you say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Ass.”

  “You know I don’t curse, Reid.”

  “Then my door stays closed.”

  “Fine.” London stepped closer to the peephole. “You know what’s now numb from impending hypothermia? My ass. Happy?”

  “Damn.” Reid sighed. “I didn’t think you’d say it.”

  “Come on. Just open the door. This beer’s getting heavy.”

  “Beer? You didn’t say anything about beer.”

  “Samuel Adams, Octoberfest.” London held the case aloft. “That’s the one you like, right?”

  “Some detective you are.” She reached out to unlock the door. “Could’ve saved us both a lot of time if you’d just led with that.”

  * * *

  Reid led London to the kitchen in her bare feet and grabbed the bottle opener from a drawer. She cracked open two bottles, then handed one to London.

  “Thanks.” London took a sip and turned in a full circle. “This kitchen is beautiful. Will you give me a tour of the rest of the house?”

  “Nope.” Reid wasn’t in the mood to be hospitable. She was hungry and tired, and her dog was missing.

  “How about pizza and a movie first, then a tour?” London removed her coat and draped it over a nearby barstool. Her blond hair was wet, presumably from a recent shower. She was wearing dark gray sweats and a matching Harvard sweatshirt.

  Reid took a long drink from her bottle and narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to see my house so bad?”

  “Plates?” London asked.

  She pointed to a cabinet near the fridge.

  “Do you want the truth, which might sound kind of creepy on the heels of this impromptu visit, or do you want the less creepy, more socially acceptable answer?”

  Reid smiled, amused. “I’m a homicide detective who talks to the dead. Obviously, I’m going with creepy.”

  London set two blue dinner plates on the counter, lifted the pizza box lid, and served each of them a slice. “Napkins?”

  Reid pointed toward the sink. “Paper towels.”

  London tore off two paper towels and folded them neatly in half. She tucked one under each plate, then handed Reid hers. “I’d like to learn more about you.”

  She laughed, “Like you don’t know enough now?” London was already privy to the two wrecking-ball secrets in her life. What the hell else did she expect to find?

  The rookie shrugged. “I want to know more.”

  “Why?” she pressed.

  “Creepy alert, dead ahead.” London cast her chestnut-brown gaze on Reid, suddenly serious. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.”

  Reid stared at her, waiting for the punch line. “Years? You can’t be serious.”

  “Dead. I warned you it was creepy.” London took a bite of her pizza and daintily wiped at the corners of her mouth. “I figure, if I learn more about you, maybe I won’t like you as much.”

  Reid belched. “There. How’s that?”

  London stared at her.

  “I can fart, too, if that’ll help.”

  London shook her head and laughed. “Wish it was that simple. So far, nothing has thrown me off course. You’re smart, sexy, brutally honest. What you see is what you get with you. You’re not afraid of what other people think—”

  “Oh, I’m plenty afraid,” Reid corrected her. “I’m just better than most at covering it up and making it seem like I don’t give a shit.” How could this crazy-beautiful rookie have a crush on her? The moment felt surreal. She chugged the rest of her beer and set the empty bottle on the counter. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. “This is turning into one of those sappy friend moments, isn’t it?”

  “Only yourself to blame. You chose creepy.”

  “I don’t do relationships, London. I do one-night stands. And I never, ever return their calls the next day like I promised.”

  “I know that, too. Word gets around. Do you have anything else that’ll make you less palatable?”

  Reid stared at the floor in contemplation. “I play the cello,” she admitted, looking up.

  “I said less palatable. Not more.”

  “Naked,” she added. “Except for the socks.”

  London raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m kidding. Playing the cello is weird enough. Just thought that might make the con list.”

  London set her beer down and stepped in front of Reid with the bold confidence of a seductress. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

  Reid would be lying if she said she didn’t.

  * * *

  It was no use. London couldn’t keep her crush under wraps any longer. Who was she kidding? This was way more than a crush. A glutton for punishment, she’d been steadily falling for Reid since the moment she set eyes on her five years ago. Could you really love someone from afar, without even knowing them? Of course not, she told herself. But getting to know Reid had only made her feelings stronger. As irrational as it was, she knew she was falling in love.

  Chapter Nineteen

  London was standing so close that Reid could feel her body heat and smell her perfume. She studied London’s lips and wondered what it would feel like to kiss her. “You’re gorgeous, smart, witty, resilient, and about the only cop I can think of who’s tough enough to put up with me.”

  London inched closer, pressing her hips against Reid’s and trapping her against the granite countertop.

  She grabbed London’s shoulders, spun her around so they’d traded places in the blink of an eye, and held her firmly in place against the counter. She needed this rookie to understand what was at stake. “If we go here, London, you will get hurt. I know me. You don’t. For Christ’s sake, my longest relationship is with a dog.”

  “Just because you’ve never been in a relationship doesn’t mean you can’t have one.”

  “I know my limits. If you’re looking for a one-night stand, I’m totally game. It’ll be amazing because our chemistry is off the charts. I’d love nothing more than to distract myself right now with sex. But beyond that, there’s nothing here for you.”

  “You make it sound like you have no choice in the matter.”

  “I don’t.” R
ealizing her grip was too firm, she released London’s shoulders. “I’m damaged goods, London. You should stay away from me. A six-month partnership with occasional sappy friend moments is one thing. Venturing anywhere beyond that is just stupid. You’d be like Moses, wandering around the desert for forty years. Except you’d be wandering out there way longer.” She paused, trying to decide how best to drive her point home. “Wandering around the desert all by yourself. No food. No water. No sunscreen—”

  London held up a hand to stop her. “I get the analogy.” She stepped closer and searched Reid’s face. “Is that really what you believe?”

  “It’s not a belief. It’s fact.” She took a step back, trying to put some physical distance between them. “I don’t trust anyone. Never have. Never will. Listen to what I’m saying, London. You won’t be able to fix me. Don’t even bother trying.” She turned and cracked open another beer.

  “I wasn’t planning to. You’re already fixing yourself.”

  “What the hell planet are you on?”

  London crossed her arms. “Have you ever turned down a one-night stand before?”

  “With a woman as beautiful as you? No, never.” She let her eyes travel the length of London’s body, shaking her head as she questioned her own sanity. Even in sweats, London was sexy as hell. “And it’s not easy, believe me.”

  “My point exactly.”

  Reid took a long drink and waited for London to explain what the hell she was talking about. But the rookie just stared at her as if she already knew. “Points are best made when they’re comprehended by the party they’re intended for. Care to clue me in?”

  “Let me put it this way. Not to be crude, but do you want to have sex with me?”

  “Of course, that’s a no-brainer. Look at you. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Then why are you holding back?”

  “How bad is your memory?” Reid sighed. “I just told you.”

  “And I remember every word. Just do me a favor and answer the question. But this time, give me an abbreviated answer. CliffsNotes, if you will.” London uncrossed her arms and stepped in front of Reid, closing the distance between them once more. She set her hands on Reid’s hips and pulled her so close that their noses were practically touching.