He nodded once, hard. "Okay."
Chapter Ten
Tuesday, November 28, 11:15 P.M.
W heaton was waiting for him at the front door of the studio smiling-until Mitchell walked in. Wheaton's mouth pursed hard, and lines marred her famous face.
Wheaton's face was classically beautiful. And her body… Well, Reed wasn't dead. She disgusted him personally, but his hormones apparently had no ethics. They hadn't when she'd sidled up to him while he investigated that apartment fire last year, either. Her blouse had been unbuttoned so that he could see the lace of her bra and the swell of her breast. Then she'd opened her mouth and that had been the end of that.
"We saw your piece on the fire at Penny Hill's house," he said.
She preened. "It was good, wasn't it?"
"Yes, very. We want the tape. All the tape you took while you were there tonight."
Wheaton studied his face. "What's in it for me?"
"You won't be broadcasting from a jail cell," Mia said acidly.
Wheaton's eyes narrowed. "I don't respond to threats, Detective."
Mia smiled then, and it wasn't nice. "I haven't yet begun, Miss Wheaton. We're specifically interested in the video the neighbor took. Which neighbor was it?"
"You know I won't tell you that. I protect my sources."
"This is a homicide investigation. Miss Wheaton," Mia snapped. "Two innocent people are dead. Cooperate or I'll have a court order tomorrow morning banning any more show of that tape. I want the tape you shot and the neighbor's tape. Now."
"Holly, it's been a very long day," Reed said, making his voice soothing. "We've been on this case nonstop for twenty-four hours. We could get a court order, but nobody here wants to do that."
"I do," Mia muttered and Holly's chin went up and her mouth opened.
"We don't," Reed said before either woman could speak. "Truly. We're trying to put a killer behind bars, Holly. You can help us do that."
She jutted her jaw to one side. "In return for?"
Reed glanced at Mia from the corner of his eye. "An interview when it's all over."
Wheaton's eyes went sly. "It could be weeks. How about a chat every morning?"
"How about once a week?" Reed countered. He wanted a killer off the street. He wanted that tape.
"Two times a week, days and locations to be determined by me."
Reed swallowed his sigh. "Fine," he said wearily. "Can we have the tape now?"
Her smile was feline. "I'll send it tomorrow if I have time. Thursday at the latest."
Beside him, Mia opened her mouth. "Fu-"
Reed cleared his throat, cutting off the rest of Mia's curse. "Tonight. Now. Or the deal's off and Detective Mitchell gets her court order." He lifted his hand when Wheaton started to talk. "And I'll personally see that every engine company in town bars you from any and all fire scenes and," he added softly, "your boss will know why."
Wheaton's mouth went grim and Reed knew they had a deal. "Wait here."
When she was gone he turned to Mia. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
Her blue eyes were cold. "I'll wait for you outside," she answered.
With a sigh he watched her go. Thirty minutes passed and finally Wheaton reappeared, a videotape in her hand. "It has the neighbor's video?" Reed asked.
When she didn't see Mia, Wheaton smiled. "I would never welsh, Lieutenant."
"Of course you would if it benefited you. If this is missing anything, the deal is off."
Her smile went flat. "And how would you know if it were missing anything?"
"Detective Mitchell will tell me after she seizes all tapes made since last Saturday. I expect she'll have her court order by ten tomorrow at the latest."
She cocked her jaw, fury in her eyes. "I could erase them all."
He smiled and pulled his micro-recorder from his pocket, hit //smc rewind and let it replay her last words as her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "I wouldn't. Mitchell would love to see your ass in jail. I don't think you'd find the accommodations to your liking."
"You sonofabitch," she hissed.
He pocketed his recorder and stuck the tape under his arm. Her assessment was very true in a basic kind of way. "Good night," he said. "I'll see myself out."
Mia was leaning on the hood of her little car, eating lasa-gna out of Lauren's plastic bowl. When she saw him coming she tossed the container on the front passenger seat, her face a stony mask. He handed her the tape but she shook her head. "We'll watch it tomorrow," she said. "Eight o'clock." She was walking away when he rolled his eyes and caught up to her.
"Mia, you're being childish," he said and she whirled, fury snapping in her eyes.
"You undermined me," she hissed. "The next time I go to get evidence, I'll have to work twice as hard. Dammit, I could have had a court order by tomorrow morning."
"But you have the tape now." When she just looked at him, he sighed in frustration. "You weren't going to get what you wanted that way, Mia. Sometimes it pays to be-" He cut himself off, but she'd already taken a step back as if he'd slapped her.
"Nice," she finished, her voice brittle. "I'll make a note of it." She walked around her car, shoulders hunched against the wind. She looked small. And hurt.
Let her go, the voice in his head cautioned as she fired up her engine. By tomorrow she'll be fine. But he'd seen the look in her eyes. She'll bounce back. She'll get over itby morning. Trouble was, he didn't think he would. That's not the kind of man I am.
He got in his SUV, considering all he'd learned about Mia Mitchell. She cared, too much, but she coated her feelings with a sarcastic veneer so that nobody would know. He thought about that moment in his kitchen, when he'd caught her looking at him… She'd been interested. He was sure of it. Then when he'd denied interest in a woman like Holly Wheaton-That's not the kind of man I am, he'd said-in Mia's eyes he'd seen respect. So what kind of man was he? Perhaps it was time to find out.
Wednesday, November 29, 12:30 a.m.
Mia lived on a quiet street lined with identical apartments. They weren't fancy, but they appeared clean. Flower boxes hung from most of the windows. He didn't think Mia had one. He couldn't see her taking the time for flowers any more than she'd taken the time for Fluffy the goldfish. Christine had been quite a gardener. She'd loved her roses.
Mia had left so little space behind her car that maneuvering his SUV had been a challenge, his front bumper nearly kissing her rear. Too many double entendres there, he thought. Leave it alone. He watched her get out of her car wearily. Leave her alone.
He knew he should. But for some reason he seemed unable to. She was watching him with steady eyes. Then she approached, waiting as he rolled down his window.
"Tell me something, Solliday. Do you always follow your partners around?"
It was a fair question, he thought. "No."
"Then why me? Am I that pathetically inept that you have to watch over me?"
"No." The trouble was, he wasn't really sure why he was here. No, that wasn't true either. He knew. He just didn't like it. Go home, Reed. Do not get out of this vehicle. He got out of the SUV. "I didn't want to leave it like that."
Her jaw tightened. "It was nothing. We went to get the tape. We got the tape."
Technically, he'd gotten the tape. And she had not. Holly Wheaton had made sure the distinction was crystal clear. Now, looking in Mia's eyes, he could see that she still smarted from the confrontation. "Mia, she's just a vindictive woman."