Rook continued with his story, 'While he's out, I try rocking myself over to the desk, where I have scissors and a letter opener. But I tipped over. And there I was, stuck. He came in here briefly and left, then a while after that I heard all sorts of commotion out there. And a gunshot. And then nothing until now.'
Rook listened silently as Nikki recounted in detail to Detective Nguyen the story of how she had decided to drop by and pick Rook up, and how she'd gotten ambushed at his front door. And then she described the essentials of the fight in the great room and the pursuit that came afterward.
When she was finished, Detective Nguyen asked if she could come to the precinct to meet the sketch artist. She said she would and he left, leaving Forensics behind for prints and samples.
Waiting for the elevator to arrive and take her and Rook down, Nikki found her badge in her blazer side pocket and clipped it on her hip. Rook turned to her and said, 'So. You just came over without my OK? What if I had been 'entertaining' someone?'
They got on the elevator, and as the doors closed, she said, 'That'll be the day, you entertain anyone. Anyone but yourself.' He looked over at her and laughed, and then she did, too. And when they stopped laughing, they still held eye contact. Nikki wondered if this was going to turn into a kiss, and her mind was racing to figure out how she felt about that when the car reached the lobby and the outer door opened.
Rook pulled the elevator gates open for her and said, 'Close call, huh?'
Nikki decided which way to take it. 'Yeah. But we'll catch him.' The sketch artist was waiting for them when they got to the First. So were Raley and Ochoa, who took the typewriter ribbon from Heat to run up to Forensics. Raley held up the evidence bag holding the cartridge. 'Do you think this is what the Texan was looking for?'
Heat could hear that soft drawl asking, 'Where is it?' and the memory of it made her inner ear tickle. The columnist's ransacked office, the missing filing cabinet, the looted trash, and absent typewriter ribbons… Clearly someone was trying to get their hands on whatever Cassidy Towne was working on. And she knew if he didn't get everything he was looking for, he'd kill again.
There were only three remaining sketch artists in all for the NYPD. Nikki's was a detective who did his sketching on a computer using software to cut and paste facial features onto the graphic he was creating. As an artist, he was fast and he was good. He asked Nikki precise questions, and when she was unsure of the most descriptive term she could use to explain some of the Texan's features, he guided her to choices, making use of his experience and his degree in Behavioral Psychology.
The result was a portrait of a lean, groomed man with short gingery-red hair, parted on the left; narrow, alert eyes; a sharp nose; and a look made earnest by thin lips and hollow cheeks.
Heat's sketch result was added to the sheet, with her description of the suspect: early forties, six-one, 165 to 170… (muscular but lean, she thought; more Billy Bob than Billy Ray). Last seen wearing a tan sport coat with bloodstain, dress white Western shirt with pearl buttons, brown dress slacks, and brown pointed cowboy boots. Known to be carrying an eight-inch knife. From the computer database of blades, Heat was able to find a picture of his weapon, a Robbins amp; Dudley 3-Finger Knuckle Knife with a cast aluminum molded grip.
With that done, Rook waited in the lobby while Heat met with the shooting team from Police Plaza. The meeting didn't take long, and she left it still carrying her gun on her hip.
Detective Nguyen had offered them each a ride home in a blue-and-white, and Rook said, 'Look, I know we had plans for a drink, but I'd understand if you wanted to bag it for the night.'
'Actually…' She looked up at the wall clock in the lobby. It was almost nine-thirty. And then she looked at Rook. 'I'm really not up for a bar tonight.'
'So, rain check?… Or has the fact that we cheated death made us fated to kick it out privately?'
Nikki saw she had a half-hour-old text from Don, her trainer with benefits. 'Still good for tonight? Y/N?' She held the phone in her hand and then glanced up at Rook, who looked just as frayed as she must have from an evening with a killer. But the post-trauma fragility she felt wasn't just from her throw-down with the Texan. She was still recovering from the fear throb she'd felt when she walked down the hall to Rook's office afterward, not knowing what she would find in there.
'We could compare notes on the case so far,' he said.
She looked thoughtful. 'I suppose we could do that. Take a fresh look at the evidence.'
'Do you have wine?'
'You know it.' Heat put her thumb on her keypad, pressed the N, and said to Rook, 'Not your place, though. I'm not much for yellow tape and graphite dust, either.' When they reached the blue-and-white, she gave the uniform the address of her apartment, and they both got in. Heat handed Rook a glass of Sancerre while he stood in her living room, in front of the John Singer Sargent poster he'd given her last summer. 'You can't hate me too much, you've still got my Sargent prominently displayed.'
'Don't flatter yourself, Rook. It's all about the art. Cheers.' They clinked and sipped. Then she said, 'Let's keep this informal. You relax, enjoy some TV, whatever. I'm going to get a bath and soak some street chase off me.'
'Sure, no problem,' he said, picking up the TV remote. 'Take your time. I think Antiques Roadshow is in Tulsa tonight.'
Nikki gave him the finger and disappeared down the hall. She went into the bathroom, set her wineglass on the vanity, and opened the taps over her bathtub. She was just reaching for her bubble bath when he knocked on the doorjamb.
'Hey, what if I had been 'entertaining' somebody?' she said.
'With what,' he said with a sly grin, 'a little pony play?'
'You wish,' she said.
'Just wondering if you were hungry.'
'Now that you mention it, yes.' Funny, she thought, how adrenaline shuts that part down. 'Want to order in?'
'Or, if you don't mind, I could scrounge your kitchen. No booby traps, I trust.'
'None,' she said. 'Knock yourself out, I'll just enjoy the fact that I'm soaking while you work.'
'Love this thing,' he said and stepped to her claw-foot bathtub. He rapped his knuckles on it and the cast-iron bonged like a church bell. 'If the asteroid ever hits, this is where you should duck and cover.'
A half hour later, Nikki emerged in her robe, brushing her hair. 'Something smells good out here,' she said, but he was not in the kitchen. He wasn't in the living room, either. 'Rook?'
Then she looked down on the rug and saw a trail of cocktail napkins leading to the open window and the fire escape. She went back to her bedroom for her slippers, stepped through the window onto the metal stairs, and climbed them to the roof.
'What are you doing?' said Nikki as she approached. Rook had set up a card table and two folding chairs and lit votive candles to light the meal he had prepared.
'It's a little eclectic, but if we call it tapas we'll never know it's just stuff I scrounged.' He pulled a chair out for her. She put her wineglass on the table and sat.
'This looks great, actually.'
'It is, if you're not too hungry and can't see the burn marks in the dark,' he said. 'It's basic quesadillas cut into quarters and then there is smoked salmon with some capers I found in the back of your pantry. Out of sight, out of mind, you know.' He must have been nervous because he kept on. 'Is it too chilly up here? I brought the blanket off the couch if you need it.'
'No, it's nice tonight.' Nikki looked up. There was too much ambient light to see any stars, but the view of the New York Life Tower a few blocks away and the Empire State Building beyond it were a splendid enough view. 'This is brilliant, Rook. A nice touch after the day we've had.'
'I have my moments,' he said. As they ate, she watched him in the candlelight, thinking, Now what was my issue here? On the street somewhere beneath them a car rolled by blasting classic rock with mega bass. It was before her time, but she knew the Bob Seger song from the clubs. Rook caught her staring at him as the chorus blared out that what they had in common was the fire down below.
'What's wrong, did I overdo the candles?' he asked. 'Sometimes I can come off kind of Mephistophelian when lit by flame.'
'No, the candle's working.' Nikki took a bite of quesadilla and said, 'But I do have something serious I need to ask you.'
'Sure, but we don't have to do any heavy lifting tonight. I know that was the plan but that can wait. I've
