It was standing on the counter. Alone, incongruous. Everything else—not that she had much—was neatly put away. But this bottle was standing there, alone and proud, as if it had appeared there of its own free will.
Of course, it hadn’t. It was there because she had bought it on the way home from the club. It had been easy enough to pop into a late-night liquor store, pick out this small bottle, and carry it all the way home. She’d set it on the counter, and then the doubts had crept in.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to open it. That was a good sign, really. It mean that her willpower was getting stronger. That the urge to stay sober was starting to be stronger than the urge to drink. That was good.
But it didn’t mean the question was solved. After all, the bottle was still sitting here on the counter. She hadn’t poured it away.
She shouldn’t have bought it in the first place. And, having bought it, she ought to have poured it all down the sink and thrown the bottle in the trash outside where she couldn’t even smell it.
But she hadn’t.
And that was another kind of sign.
Laura contemplated it, the amber liquid inside. It would be so easy. All she had to do was reach out and take it, and then unscrew the top. She didn’t need a glass. She could drink it right from the bottle. Measure out a shot with her own mouth. Maybe two shots. Maybe three.
Laura was leaning on the counter, her weight resting on her folded arms. She straightened up slightly, freeing one of her arms from the weight. That meant she could reach for it. She stretched out her fingers, feeling them make contact with the cool glass—
Her phone rang from the bedroom where she had left it, and Laura jumped guiltily, startled as if she had been caught by someone watching her. She snatched her fingers away from the bottle like they were burned, and raced into the bedroom to grab the phone before it stopped ringing.
“Hello?”
“Agent Frost,” came the cool tones of Division Chief Rondelle. By this point, Laura was unsure if the man ever slept. “Sorry to call so late, but it’s an emergency. We have a case, and we need you to go now. I know things have been hard for you today, but I’m hoping you can handle it. It’s a bit of a complex one, according to what I’m hearing from the men on the ground.”
Laura caught her breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Did she have enough time before the custody hearing at the end of the week?
What was she going to do otherwise? Sit here, stare at this bottle, and try to think of reasons not to drink it while remembering every failure she’d been the architect of these past few months?
“Right. I’ll head in now,” she said, a snap decision. Anything to stop her from picking up that bottle.
“Be quick,” Rondelle warned. “And bring your bags with you. You’ll need to head straight from here to the airport. I managed to get you both on a red-eye—and it’s not going to wait.”
“Yes, sir,” Laura said, seeing the need for haste rather than continuing the conversation. She ended the call and spun to pick up her travel bags, already packed and ready to go as she tried to keep them. All she had to do was add a few daily necessities, things she had been using at home, and it was done.
Both, Rondelle had said. That meant Laura wasn’t going alone. Which, in turn, meant that it was almost certainly Nate going with her. He must not have had time to request a new partner. Even if he did, it might take a couple of weeks to go through.
She was going to have to face him, and she had no idea how he was going to react. Would he just say right to Rondelle’s face that he didn’t want to work with Laura, and request they bring in someone else? Would he ignore her? Cut her off?
He was a professional. Laura knew that. She hoped he would remain true to form, that he would be able to work with her. But how fun it would be to work alongside him when they were at odds, she had no idea.
She grabbed her jacket from the peg by the door and shrugged it on, preparing to leave. There was one thing she knew. It didn’t look as though she was going to get much sleep tonight, after all.
***
Laura stepped into Division Chief Rondelle’s office hesitantly, looking up to see that she wasn’t the first one to arrive. Nate was already standing there, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. His hands were hooked loosely into his belt loops, probably because he thought it was rude to shove his hands in his pockets in front of his superior. His jacket was draped over a chair in front of Rondelle’s desk, and the shoulder holster he wore over his broad shoulders was visible.
Laura gathered he had probably already been there for a while. In other words, she was late. She stepped in and closed the door behind her, trying not to let her cheeks burn at the knowledge that Nate had not even glanced at her.
“Good, you’re here,” Rondelle said. He was behind his desk, seemingly absorbed in paperwork as normal. “We can get started. I’m sending you to Wisconsin.”
Laura moved to stand in front of the desk, slightly to the left side. Nate moved sinuously, pushing himself off the wall and standing beside her. Beside her, but apart. There was a little more space between them than Laura ever remembered there being. On one hand, it was welcome: no chance of him brushing against her and triggering that sickening shadow of death.
On the other, it was sickening enough in itself, feeling the distance and tension he was putting between them.
“What’s the case?” he asked, his voice low and deferent.
Rondelle skimmed a few pages into a folder and held it out, letting Laura take it from him. “We’ve got a pair of twins murdered in Milwaukee. Two young women in their mid-twenties, both of them found earlier tonight.”
“What’s the catch?” Laura asked, opening the file to give