Sylver and Gold

by Michelle Larkin

  One by one, she tapped all eighteen links and came up empty. Felt like they’d just dodged a bullet or, more accurately, a world-obliterating asteroid.

  “Where do you want to go?” London asked in a chipper tone, obviously just as relieved as she was. “Just name a place, and I’ll take you there. Consider me your chauffeur for the night.”

  Reid sighed. “Home. I’m tired. I just want to sleep.” She imagined that was how anyone would feel after discovering their career had ended overnight.

  They drove in silence for several miles. “I have a better idea,” London said finally. “Do you trust me?”

  They locked eyes, and Reid nodded. “I do.”

  London slowed the car, switched on the blinker, and made a U-turn in the middle of the road.

  * * *

  London reached across the seat and held Reid’s hand. Despite their playful banter, there was a heavy feeling in the car. She knew Reid was grieving for the career she thought was over. But London wasn’t so sure it had to end that way. The beginnings of a plan were already starting to take root in her mind. She just needed more time to sort things out.

  In the meantime, she intended to support Reid in the best way she could. By being with her every step of the way.

  * * *

  Back at London’s houseboat, Reid climbed out of the Rolls with Mug. “Are we starting our pirating adventures tonight?” Her breath billowed like smoke in the cold nighttime air.

  “You can dress up as a pirate and raid my treasure if you want.” London winked. “I think I even have an eye patch inside somewhere.”

  Reid laughed as London walked around the car to join her. Actually, come to think of it, that could be fun.

  London stood in front of her and leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss. “After everything that happened today, neither of us should be alone tonight. I’d like you to stay here. With me.”

  Reid pretended to consider the offer. “If you threw in that eye patch, I could be down with that plan.”

  “Done.”

  After she showered and changed, Reid lifted her watch from the bathroom vanity: 1:43 a.m. She’d been awake for nearly twenty-four hours. It was hard to wrap her mind around everything that had transpired in the course of a day. Her life, as she knew it, was forever changed. Not only was she starting a relationship and allowing herself to fall in love—neither of which she’d ever considered was even remotely possible—but she’d traded her career and reputation for getting a killer off the streets. All worth it, in her book. But still, it was a lot to take in.

  Naked, she brushed her teeth with the spare toothbrush that London had on hand for guests—thankfully, still in the package. Not being able to brush her teeth before sex would be a deal breaker, no matter how horny she was. She paused, thinking. Would they have sex tonight? Maybe. Maybe not. They’d both been through a lot today. She’d let London make that call, knowing she’d be fine either way. The idea of snuggling intrigued her. It was something she’d only seen people do on TV but had never experienced for herself. She’d bet anything London was just as skilled at snuggling as she was at sex.

  She slipped into the plaid pajama bottoms and T-shirt that had been left on the shelf for her. Smelling faint traces of London on the fabric, she smiled and shook her head. They’d come a long way in a short amount of time. Everything they’d been through during the course of the investigation had pushed the getting-to-know-you stage into hyperdrive. But she was okay with that. Something told her London was okay with it, too.

  “Did you find the pajamas I left for you?” London called out from the other side of the door. She’d apparently already finished her shower in the bathroom on the opposite side of the boat.

  Reid opened the door to find London standing there in a skimpy white bikini. Her natural blond hair was now a shade darker, still wet from her shower.

  London grinned and held out a black eyepatch. When Reid raised an eyebrow, she explained, “From my Halloween costume last month. Glad I kept it.”

  “Aye,” Reid said, snapping it in place. Guess that answered any lingering questions she had about the agenda for tonight. “Do ye know where I could score me some pirate’s booty?”

  Laughing, London led her to the bedroom and shut the door.

  * * *

  Reid had barely fallen asleep when she awoke with a start. She sat up, plucked her watch off the nightstand, and checked the time: 3:57 a.m.

  London sat up in bed beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Boyle.”

  “You had a bad dream about Boyle?” London asked sleepily.

  “No. I’m supposed to meet him in thirty minutes”—she leaned in for a kiss—“for our workout.”

  “You’re still going? But you haven’t slept in, like”—London twisted Reid’s wrist to steal a glance at her watch—“a really long time. My brain’s too tired to do the math.”

  “I’m fine.” She had always been able to function adequately for long periods on little sleep. “Mind-blowing sex and a catnap are all I need to get me through the day.”

  “What are you planning to say about the email when you see Boyle?”

  “No clue.” Reid sighed. “I’ll work that out on the way.”

  London kissed her sweetly on the lips and then gazed at her with such tenderness. “Want some company?” she asked sincerely. “For moral support?”

  “Thanks, but you stay and sleep. I’ll catch up with you later.” She stood, tucked the blankets around London, and kissed her on the forehead. London smelled so good at this early hour. Smiling to herself, she walked to the door, paused with her hand on the doorknob, and glanced back uncertainly.

  London sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can I take the Rolls? Just remembered my car’s at the precinct.”

  London didn’t blink as she nestled back beneath the covers. “Sure. Keys are on the counter.”

  “Thanks.” She turned and hesitated at the door’s threshold once again.

  London sighed, poking her head out of the covers. “What now?”

  “The eye patch,” Reid said sheepishly. “Can I take the eye patch, too?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Reid stepped off the elevator with Mug at her side and two muffins in hand.

  Boyle was already waiting for her in his office, clad in bright orange basketball shorts and a neon-yellow tank for their first workout together.

  She reached into the paper bag and tossed him an oatmeal muffin. “It’s way too early for clothes that bright.” Grimacing, she looked him up and down. “On second thought, there’s really no good time to wear that.”

  “My five-year-old picked them out,” he said sadly. He looked down at himself and frowned. “Made the mistake of taking her shopping with me. I tried telling her these weren’t Daddy’s colors, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He met her gaze, unapologetic. “We’ll just have to suffer through this together.”

  She pulled up a chair on the other side of his desk, surprised to see her battle-scarred travel mug perched on the edge.

  “Cinnamon?” she asked, pointing.

  He nodded. “Cap told me how you like it.”

  She took a sip of coffee, and they ate together in silence.

  Finished with her muffin, she looked up. “You check your email today?”

  “Yup.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Did you see the links to the audio and video files?”

  “I saw them,” he said, his expression unreadable.

  Shit. Like pulling teeth. “Well, did you open them?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Didn’t need to. Cap already filled me in.”

  Reid had never been so surprised in her life. “All this time…you knew?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “You never let on. Never treated me any different.”

  “Why would I? You’re the same kick-ass detective who wal
ked in here thirteen years ago and set this place on fire.”

  She stared at him, still in shock. “Do the guys know?”

  “They do now.” He sighed. “But not from me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She’d had the last half hour to think about her next move. Thirty minutes didn’t sound like enough time to make a life-altering decision, but she realized she’d started planning for this contingency a long time ago. She was clear on what needed to happen. “I’m taking that two-week vacation you offered.”

  Boyle paused. “Makes sense,” he said finally.

  “And I’m not coming back.”

  He leaned back in his leather chair and laced his fingers together behind his head. “Back where we started, huh?”

  “Never really left,” she said honestly. She told him about the governor’s threat to expose her if she didn’t return to mentor London. The killer had already made good on his threat, but she didn’t feel the need to point that out.

  “So you were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t.” He shook his head. “I wish you’d come to me sooner, Sylver.”

  “I wish I had, too, Lieutenant.”

  “Mug’s going with you?” he asked glumly.

  She nodded, realizing he’d probably miss the dog more than he cared to admit.

  They sipped their coffee in silence, watching as Mug raided his stash, two tennis balls at a time.

  “I’m glad we caught the bastard,” she said finally. “I’d trade the job a hundred times over if it meant getting a killer off the streets. No regrets,” she said firmly. She wanted Boyle to know she wasn’t bitter about any of it.

  “What am I supposed to tell the guys? They love you like family, Sylver.”

  She pierced him with her zero-tolerance-for-bullshit stare down.

  “Okay.” He put his hands up. “Maybe love was too strong a word. But just hear me out.” He walked around to her and perched on the edge of his desk. “Not only do the guys in this unit care about and respect you, but they’d lay their lives down for you in a heartbeat, Sylver, no questions asked. Finding this out about you isn’t going to change that.” He shrugged. “If that’s not family, then I don’t know what is.”

  And that’s exactly why she was leaving. Everything Boyle said was true. And the feeling was mutual. The guys here would defend her to the end. It was the rest of the BPD she had to think about—they didn’t know her from Jane Doe. The one thing she’d learned over the years was that cops liked to talk. They stuck their noses in everyone’s business. Busybodies with guns was how she often thought of them. Without a doubt, she and the rest of Homicide would be the butt of every joke. She wasn’t about to let the guys face endless ridicule on her behalf. Her mind was made up. No matter what Boyle said.

  “I’ll be back in two weeks to empty out my desk.” She was tempted to do it now and get it over with, but she was just too damn tired. She stood and extended a hand to Boyle. “Thanks for everything, Lieutenant.”

  “You, too, Sylver.”

  As she walked to the door, Cap stepped in front of her, effectively barring her exit. She considered ignoring him and passing right on through him, but that never ended well. Doing so was like getting zapped by a live wire that left her entire body tingling for hours. She wisely halted in her tracks and kept a respectable distance.

  Tell him he’s doing a damn fine job filling my shoes. Cap crossed his arms and looked at her sternly. Go on. Tell him. He needs to hear that right now.

  She turned and leaned against the doorframe, putting her back to the captain. “Cap’s here,” she announced.

  “He is?” Boyle looked around the office. “Where?”

  “Behind me.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s being a pain in the ass.”

  Boyle craned his neck to peer over her shoulder. “I don’t see him.”

  “That’s because he’s dead.”

  “What do they look like?” Boyle asked, appearing genuinely curious. “Spirits, I mean.”

  “The same as when they were here. Whenever I see them, they’re always wearing the same clothes they died in. I’m not sure if that’s how everyone sees them, but that’s how I do.”

  “Then, for your sake”—Boyle gazed down at his radiant outfit—“let’s hope I don’t kick the bucket today.” He looked up. “Is Cap trying to convince you to stay?”

  She shook her head. “Wants me to tell you you’re doing a damn fine job filling his shoes.”

  Boyle’s somber mood instantly brightened. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, while you got him on the line, can you ask him where I’d find the key to the damn closet?” Boyle pointed to the closet in the corner of the office. “And what the hell’s in there, anyway?”

  She nodded at the clock on the wall. “He says it’s taped to the back.”

  “Already looked there.”

  “Look again.”

  Boyle lifted the clock from the wall and set it on the desk, facedown. The black electrical tape blended in seamlessly with the clock’s black backing. “Clever. Could’ve saved me a lot of time if he’d told me about that beforehand.” He carefully peeled the tape back, revealing a silver key. “Do I even want to know what’s in there?”

  Confident her former captain had no secrets, she listened to his answer and started laughing. There were no skeletons, literal or otherwise, in Cap’s closet. That was part of his charm. What you saw was what you got with him.

  “What’s so funny?” Boyle asked.

  “You’ll find some clothes, toiletries, a pillow, a blanket, and a blowup mattress in there. He’d sleep here whenever he and the wife were fighting. Says his best advice for a lasting marriage is for you to do the same.”

  Boyle joined in on the laughter, shaking his head.

  As she straightened to leave, her lieutenant took a seat behind his desk. He looked good there. Even if he was dressed like a human glow stick. “Couldn’t ask for a better co-parent for Mug,” she admitted. “When I get back from vacation, once our divorce is finalized, you can have him every other weekend, if you want. Child support must be paid on the first of each month.”

  “Let me guess. Tennis balls in lieu of cash?”

  She nodded.

  “Deal.” He taped the key back in place and set the clock aside. “And tell Cap we miss him.”

  “I already did.”

  * * *

  Back at home, Reid packed enough clothes, toiletries, food, and paperback novels to last two weeks. She wanted to hurry up and hit the road before she was tempted to change her mind, before she found herself driving to London’s houseboat and slipping back beneath the covers with the sexiest, smartest woman she’d ever known.

  Mug pranced around after her, following her from room to room. He’d accompanied her on more than a handful of camping trips over the years and knew all the signs of an impending departure. She was never sure who was more excited. But there was a somber feeling in the air today that had never been there before. She realized she was going to miss London.

  With one last look around the house, she locked up and climbed inside the RV. The sun was just beginning to rise, right on cue. Looked like they were going to beat morning rush hour. They’d be well on their way to New Hampshire before commuters even started honking their horns.

  She and Mug always camped in Mount Washington State Park and spent their days hiking endless miles of trails. The fresh air and solitude never grew old. Because the area was so sparsely populated, she also rarely encountered spirits—a welcome reprieve.

  She pulled to the side of the road a few miles from where she knew service was spotty and retrieved her cell from the passenger’s seat. She quickly texted London, having already worked out exactly what she wanted to say: Took Mug on a road trip. Will be out of service area. Be back in two weeks. Putting in my papers when I return. Sorry in advance for the flak other cops will give you because of that email. But I know you can handle it. Having me gone
should make things easier for you and the rest of the Good Guys.

  Reid struggled with how to sign off. She didn’t want London to think she was expecting anything from her. She wanted to give London room to breathe because she knew the coming weeks would be challenging. After facing countless interdepartmental questions—and, no doubt, being the target of unrelenting criticism and wisecracks from other cops—she wasn’t sure if London would want to be associated with her anymore. She needed to give London the time and space she needed to decide what was best for her, both personally and professionally. She was already head-over-heels in love with London and only wanted what was best for her. Wanting what was best for someone, even if that didn’t include her, was what it meant to truly care for someone. It was a bittersweet feeling but one she was happy to finally experience.

  So, in the end, she simply wrote the truth: Hope to see you soon.

  She hit Send and put the RV in gear. But before she could pull onto the road, her phone dinged to let her know she’d received a text. Couldn’t be London. She was home sleeping. But who else would be sending her a text? Curiosity got the best of her, so she put the RV in Park once again and grabbed her phone off the passenger’s seat. Sure enough, it was London.

  You

  You? You what, she wondered? Was London texting in her sleep? Maybe she’d somehow forgotten the word fuck, intending to type fuck you. She frowned. No, London didn’t cuss. Maybe suck would soon follow. You suck made more sense. Perhaps London was angry. She was still trying to puzzle it out when another text appeared: will.

  “You will,” Reid read aloud. “I will what?” she asked the phone. She nearly jumped out of her skin when London knocked on the passenger’s side window. She pointed to the lock and mouthed, Let me in.

  Reid pressed a button to unlock the door and stared at London as she climbed into the passenger’s seat. “You again?”

  “Me again.”