I sat in stunned silence, considering a future without Wukowski or a future where Wukowski would be isolated from the work which gave him meaning.
Before anyone could speak, Captain Cortés reshuffled the papers and placed them in her briefcase before rising. “You are welcome to use the conference room for as long as you like. Whatever you have to say must be said here, as I’ve explained to Detective Wukowski. However, no one will overhear the conversation, I assure you.”
“One thing, Captain,” Wukowski said. “If Horton remains in charge of Homicide, my decision is already made. I won’t work under him.” His voice was impassive.
“Understood.” She quietly exited the room.
“Angie—” Wukowski began.
Bart interrupted. “No reason I should remain while you talk, Detective, unless you’re looking for legal representation. I can give you some names.”
“Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve considered and rejected that idea.” He sighed. “I really don’t want to be embroiled in a lawsuit with the Department.”
“Very well,” Bart said, heaving himself up. “Angie, shall I wait for you downstairs, or at a nearby coffee shop?” His voice sounded tender.
“No, but thanks, Bart,” I told him. “I’ll probably want some alone time when this”—I gestured around the room and the Homicide bullpen—“is done.”
With a nod, he left me with Wukowski.
I glanced over my shoulder to the large glass window of the room. “Can we at least lower the blinds?”
“Sure.” He stood and accomplished that, then sat next to me and took my hands. “I was ordered not to speak to you until this meeting,” he said.
“What the hell, Wukowski!” The words exploded from my lips in a quiet growl and I pulled my hands from his. “Why was Art Pence the one to tell me about your being under constant investigation since we started seeing each other?”
“Be fair, Angie. What good would it have done for me to tell you that? It wouldn’t change anything, right? And IA can investigate me until the end of time. They won’t find anything actionable. So I just … I decided to live with it. You’re worth the hassle.”
That stopped my rant. “But now …”
“Yeah. But now. Look, moja droga, the MPD retirement plan is very generous. I can draw a full pension when I reach fifty-five, in two years, seven months and three days.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Without that, well, you’re looking at a man whose finances won’t carry him to Social Security eligibility. So I figure, wherever they reassign me, I can hang on. I’ll probably end up in a precinct house. Not so bad, being a detective in a precinct.”
The words were upbeat, but his eyes and the set of his mouth belied them. I knew it would tear him up to leave Homicide, especially in the middle of the Bike Trail Murders investigation. “You’d do that?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I wanted with all my heart to let him do that, but though it would mean we could stay together, I shook my head. “I see what your work means to you, Wukowski. How you commit to it. How you agonize over it. I don’t want to be the cause of your living two years, seven months and three days doing something that isn’t fulfilling.” I paused, remembering the years I struggled, trying to find a way to be something besides a wife and mom. “And what about after? I can’t see you rocking on the front porch or playing bocci like the geezers at the Italian Center. You’re too young for that. You’re too much man for that. You love your work too much for that.”
“So then I’ll quit.” He grinned. “I could take a page from you, set up as a private investigator. Hell, maybe even work for you.”
I snorted. “That would be a recipe for relationship break-up, you taking orders from me. And it would still leave you missing the work that gives you meaning.” I stood and slowly paced the room. “The other option is also available. We could stop seeing each other until you retire.” And I would miss you every minute, I thought. I turned to face him. “I won’t lie. It would be hell, not seeing you or … holding you. It’s a long time. You might find someone else, someone less … problematic.”
“Don’t be a damned fool,” he gently rebuked. “Before we met, I went a longer time than that without a woman. I’m not so needy that I can’t wait. And I’d expect the same from you.”
“That goes without saying, caro.”
“It won’t be easy, though,” he added. “It’s one thing when there’s no one you’re interested in. It’s another when the person you love is out there, willing and waiting. I see some cold showers in my future.” His lopsided smile was rueful.
“Me, too.” And some lonely nights. “So what do you think? We agree to stay apart for the duration? That’s what makes sense to me, for both of us.”
“Angie.” Wukowski rose and gathered me to him, hugging me tightly. I snuggled into the embrace and heard his heartbeat, steady and strong. “I do not deserve you, but I’m awfully glad I have you.”
“Ditto,” I said, thinking of the lovers in Ghost. At least I knew the precise duration of our pending separation.
I rubbed circles on his back. He bent to nibble on my ear. After a few minutes, we broke apart reluctantly. “What happens next?” I asked.
“According to Cortés, I’ll need to sign a statement that I will not be in contact with you, either physically or via electronic communication, while I’m still on active duty. Iggy can come over to your condo and pick up my stuff. Keep some boxers, my toothbrush and razor, though, because I will be at your door in nine hundred and fifty-six days and …” he checked his watch “… thirteen hours and twenty-eight minutes. Twenty-seven minutes. And I won’t leave until the morning, unless you ask me to. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He pulled me to the vacated chairs and we sat. “So,
