Chapter 16
Erin hadn’t set an alarm, but she was used to waking up early. She opened her eyes and saw a ceiling that wasn’t hers. Then she remembered where she was. She rolled over and saw Carlyle, asleep beside her. She leaned on an elbow and studied his face. In sleep, the carefulness that was so much a part of his persona had dropped away. He looked younger, less worn and wary.
She wondered how he’d ended up on such an opposite path from her own, and how they’d wound up at the same destination in the end, lying on silk sheets upstairs from a pub. And she wondered how it was going to end. She’d been telling the truth the previous night. Their relationship wasn’t going to work forever, not the way it was. Sooner or later, someone in the NYPD would tumble to it. Sooner, if Lieutenant Keane from Internal Affairs came sniffing around. Then there’d be hell to pay.
The thing was, Erin was having a hard time caring about the future just then. She felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Being with Carlyle felt right. He was the first man she’d dated who really understood her, understood the Job, and didn’t expect her to be anything but who she was. They could talk, really talk. Added to that was the crackling sexual chemistry. What woman wouldn’t jump at the chance?
That was what Michelle, her sister-in-law, would say. But then, Michelle had two grade-school kids, brought up on a steady diet of happily-ever-after cartoons. Some of that optimism had rubbed off on Shelley. Erin saw all the bad things people did to one another, and they did some of the worst things to people they claimed to love.
Still, she couldn’t deny she felt happier here than anywhere else she could’ve laid her head. She leaned over and very gently kissed Carlyle’s cheek. He shifted slightly, but didn’t wake up. She decided to let him sleep. Easing her way out from under the covers, she went looking for her clothes. Some of them hadn’t made it all the way into the bedroom. She picked up her blouse from the coffee table in the living room and brought it back, along with her other things. Getting dressed in yesterday’s clothes wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed, but she didn’t have a lot of choice. Going out in one of Carlyle’s shirts would attract more attention than a wrinkled pair of slacks.
As she pulled on her pants, she glanced up and saw Rolf in the doorway. He was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. She was probably reading too much into it, but he looked a little judgmental. It was the sort of look her father might have given her.
Her father. God, what was she going to tell him?
“Nothing,” she muttered. “Not yet.”
It was a little before six. She could be at the Final Countdown in fifteen minutes if she hurried.
“Hard liquor before breakfast,” she said to Rolf. “Hey, who can say no to that?”
* * *
The Final Countdown was a little brick storefront. She found it just down the street from the Precinct 5 house. A CLOSED sign hung in the door, but as she peered in the window, she saw movement inside. A moment later, Piekarski opened the door.
“Hey, glad you made it,” she said. “C’mon in. We just got here.”
The SNEU team had a table in the middle of the room. A couple of other officers were at the bar. Logan stood up and raised a glass.
“Here she is! Woman of the hour!”
“Have a seat,” Janovich said. “And a drink.”
“I’m going on duty in less than two hours,” she said. “I can’t get hammered.”
“Just one, then. On Firelli.”
The Final Countdown didn’t have Glen D whiskey, of course; Erin didn’t know any bar but the Corner that carried it. She settled for Jameson.
“Still up, hey?” Piekarski said.
“What do you mean?” Erin asked. She took a sip. Whiskey before breakfast was not really what she wanted, but it was definitely an experience. Hard liquor on an empty stomach always was.
“Same outfit,” the other woman said, nodding toward her.
“Oh. Right. No, I haven’t been home yet.”
“Maybe I oughta be a detective,” Piekarski said.
“You’d hate it,” Janovich said. “Too much paperwork.”
“We got too much paperwork already,” Firelli said.
“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re illegitimate,” Janovich said.
There was an awkward pause.
“You know, illegitimate,” Janovich said. “You can’t read.”
“Jan,” Logan said, “there’s so much wrong with what you just said, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Seriously, O’Reilly,” Firelli said. “You should come work with us. Forget about that Major Crimes bullshit. SNEU is where the action’s at.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Erin said. “Well, not all of it, at least. Hey, I stopped a major terrorist attack last fall.”
“Blah blah blah,” Piekarksi said, winking at Erin as she mimicked her. “Look at me, I stopped a terrorist attack last year. Ain’t I something? Bullshit. What’ve you done lately?”
“We take down hard felony collars every day,” Logan said. “Hell, after we processed the guys from our bust, we did a couple 10-75Vs and nailed two more pushers with a buy and bust. And that was a slow night for us.”
A 10-75V was a vertical patrol, which was when a police unit moved in the stairwells and hallways of an apartment building. A lot of the older apartments in the city had resident drug dealers. “Thanks for the invite,” she said. “But I think I’m good where I am.”
“How ‘bout your partner?” Piekarski asked, offering Rolf her hand. He sniffed it in a businesslike manner and permitted a brief scratch behind the ears.
“He’s not
