Danger Signals

mixed in with great happiness. Happiness that he's found you, I guess. About the sadness…I'm not sure.' She paused, and he watched a tinge of pink wash into her cheeks.

'What?' he demanded again. 'Whatever it is, tell me.'

She shook her head, smiling faintly. 'I don't know how you're going to take this, but what he seems to feel for you is…love.'

'Ah, jeez.' He gave a snort of disgust and began gathering up the remnants of lunch and stuffing them into the fast-food bag. 'Now you're creeping me out, Miss Tee. Seriously. This is all I need.'

Her smile widened, to his further annoyance, but at least she had the good sense not to comment. Instead she added her trash to his and looped her camera around her neck, then gathered her skirt into one hand, giving him a brief glimpse of slender legs while she lifted them to swivel around on the picnic bench.

'I really need to get some pictures before it heats up and the blossoms start to droop,' she said, standing and brushing at the back of her skirt. 'Do you want to walk with me?'

He hesitated, knowing very well he should get back to the job. But he didn't want to leave. Not yet. And not because he hadn't really gotten the answers to his questions. Not about the nightmare. No, not that one.

He didn't know how to tell her about the watcher outside his apartment that morning. And about the nightmare. Or maybe he just didn't want to tell her. for the same reason he didn't want to go back to work. Because it was nice being here with her like this, not thinking about the ugliness of the job. or the violence and turmoil of the nightmare. Not thinking about the unanswered questions that kept his muscles tied up with tension and his nerves on edge. Right here, right now, he felt a strange lassitude, something so unfamiliar to him he wasn't even certain he could call it by its right name.

Peace? Contentment?

It was dangerous, that he knew. Peace and contentment weren't things a homicide detective on a case needed to be wallowing in.

He got up from the table and carried the remains of their lunch to the nearest trash barrel, dusted off his hands and turned to Tierney, the necessary words of parting forming in his mind. She was waiting for him a few yards away, her head turned toward him. seconding her invitation with a smile along one bare, lightly freckled shoulder. He felt an odd little hitch in his breathing, and the words in his mind melted away, dried up, like the first raindrops on hot pavement.

What the hell, he thought. A few more minutes isn't going to matter much, one way or the other.

They walked back to the gardens side-by-side, not hurrying, not talking, just strolling the way people do when they don't want the walk to end. but can't say the things they need to say.

Until Tierney took an audible breath and said. 'Can I ask you a question?'

He glanced at her, feeling mellow enough to say, 'Sure, go ahead.'

'What happened to make you feel you needed to talk to me?' She paused, but not long enough for him to reply.

'Something did happen, didn't it? Something that upset you before I called and told you about The Watcher being at the news conference.'

His denial was automatic. 'I wasn't upset. I just-' He broke it off with some whispered swearing, shaking his head, looking at the ground. 'I can't get away with anything with you, can I?'

'Oh, I think you can,' she said, and he heard a smile in her voice. 'When you want to. But you want to tell me this. You just don't quite know how.'

'Okay,' he admitted after some more muttered blasphemy, 'you're right, I did want to tell you.' He held up a hand. 'But I wasn't upset. Just ticked off. Weirded-out. Or something. Not upset. I don't get upset.' He took a deep breath. And purposely didn't look at her. knowing for sure she'd be smiling.

'All right, it was just a dream I had. One I've had before, going way back to when I was a kid. Hadn't had it in a long time, though, and then yesterday you told me you'd picked up…something from me. Something about… violence. Terror, you said. Something bad happening that scared me pretty bad, but you said there was somebody there…' He had to stop, wasn't sure why, suddenly he just couldn't go on.

'The Protector.' Tierney said softly. 'Someone who made you feel safe.'

'Yeah.' He said it on an exhalation, then ran a hand over his hair. 'The thing is, that pretty much is my dream. The one I've been having since I was a kid. Last night I had it again, only this time I heard my mother's voice. I told you I don't have any memories from before I was adopted, and that was the truth. But I do have this dream, and now I'm starting to think it might be some kind of memory.' He paused, and this time she didn't attempt to fill the silence, just waited for him to continue. 'Anyway, like I said. I heard my mother's voice. Only she's not the protector. She's…the violence. The terror-part of it, anyhow.' His jaws tightened, and he could hear the hard edge in his voice. 'I'm pretty sure I know what it was, that part of it. Domestic violence is something I've learned a lot about, in my line of work. Unfortunately. What I still don't get, though, is the part about this…protector.'

'You never see who it is? In the dream, I mean.'

He shook his head. 'It's dark. Then someone comes and turns the lights on, so bright they blind me-hurt my eyes. And I always wake up before I can see the person-the protector's face.' He gave a short laugh. 'I assume it's a person. My little brother insisted it was an angel.'

Tierney smiled, lifted her camera and zoomed in on a cluster of yellow blossoms tinged with blush pink. A man on the opposite side of the rose bed checked, then moved quickly a few steps farther on so as not to ruin her shot. Then he paused to lift his camera, too.

She checked the viewing screen, then glanced up at Wade. 'So then…you woke up?'

'Yeah. It was early, just barely starting to get light. But I figured there wasn't any point in going back to sleep, so I got up. I went over to the windows and looked out at the street-I don't know. I always do that first thing when I get up. Force of habit. Anyway. I spotted a car parked across the street, and a guy was sitting in it.'

Tierney lowered her camera and frowned. They'd moved on to another rose bed, this one a cream and red bicolor, a favorite of hers. On the edge of her field of vision, she saw the man with the camera stoop to smell one of the fragrant blossoms. Waves of contentment and pleasure wafted across the bed like perfume. She relaxed and murmured. 'The Watcher?'

'It was the first thing I thought of. Call me paranoid if you want to, but in my line of work paranoia's a good thing. A little paranoia can keep you alive. Anyway, I tried to catch the guy-ask him what the hell he was doing parked in front of my house in the dark of the morning- but he drove off before I-' He broke off and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. 'Hell. I blew it, that's all.'

She felt his chagrin and embarrassment and knew better than to ask why or how. 'And then a few hours later.' she mused. 'The Watcher shows up at your news conference.'

Her mind was only half on what she was saying; she'd deliberately chosen a path that would intersect with the stranger's, and the distance between them was closing rapidly. Would he step aside and try to avoid her? Or-no, he was standing in the pathway gazing at the sea of glorious blossoms, his face alight with…

Joy. Love. Nostalgia.

The man was immersed in memories, happy ones.

He came to himself as Tierney and Wade approached, and looked around, appearing startled. But with a friendly smile, saying, as he stepped quickly aside. 'Oh-sorry, am I in your way?'

He had a nice voice, mellow and rich. A nice face, too. And kind eyes. But, Tierney thought, there was something weary about them, too, as if they'd seen much that was neither nice nor kind.

She and Wade both made polite assurances, but the stranger's smile grew wry with apology.

'I have to plead guilty to not paying attention. All this-these roses takes me back a bit. The first time I saw my wife was in a rose garden.'

He's holding something back, Tierney thought. A private memory, something delicious…

'Really? Where was that?'

To her surprise it was Wade who picked up the conversational ball, at the same time throwing her a glance that had question pouring out of it like water from a faucet. She didn't read minds, but