Hmph. “Well, I think I’m right and you’re wrong.”
“Great.”
“Fine.” Cate buttoned her coat against the cold. She must have been crazy to think anything could happen between them. If he had been interested in her, he certainly wasn’t any longer. Anyway, they were too different by nature, and now they stood on opposite sides of the fence. She followed him onto the sidewalk, crossing to the entrance to the parking garage. Nesbitt’s slowing cadence posed a tacit question.
Cate answered, “I’m on the first floor.”
“What’re you driving?”
“A rental.” Cate walked ahead, and Nesbitt let her pass, his features impassive in the semidarkness. A group of businesspeople came out of the lot, laughing and talking, a fluorescent light flickering like an inner-city strobe on their padded shoulders and cashmere topcoats. Cate led the way to her car, digging in her purse on the fly. She found her keys with less rummaging than usual, stopped at the back fender of the Acura, and looked up at Nesbitt, who eyed her, his mouth tilted down unhappily.
“This you?” he asked.
“Yes. Thanks for the walk.”
“Stay outta trouble, Judge.” Nesbitt turned on his heel, his trench coat catching a cold blast as he walked away, the soles of his shoes scuffing the gritty concrete of the parking lot.
So be it. Cate didn’t watch him go, keeping the melodrama to a minimum. She chirped the car open and got inside. The interior was freezing, the leather seats chilly against the back of her legs. She turned the key in the ignition, backed out of the space, and went up the ramp to find the exit sign, in that counterintuitive way of parking lots, then drove down to the exit. She stopped at the white kiosk, equipped with crappy TV, paid the fee to a young cashier talking on a cell phone, and was about to drive forward when her headlights swung onto the figure of a man.
Nesbitt.
Cate slowed to a stop, and Nesbitt hurried toward her car, yanking open the passenger-side door, folding himself into the seat, and turning to her.
“I’m sorry I treated you that way,” Nesbitt said, his tone still louder than usual. “I do want to hear what you think you learned, but not now. I’m too pissed off to hear you now.” Nesbitt met her eye in the semidarkness. “If you want, when I calm down, maybe by tomorrow night, I can take you to dinner and we’ll talk all about your theory. How’s that?”
Whoa. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“What do you think? You think I like to follow you all over creation?” Nesbitt threw up his hands. “You think I like driving after you to your friend’s? To the hospital? You think I went up to Centralia for my health?”
Cate felt a warm rush of emotion. Nesbitt was really sweet. And he knew the whole truth about her, all that awful stuff, and he still wanted to date her. For a minute, Cate didn’t know what to say.
“This is more than a job to me, obviously,” Nesbitt said, his tone softer. “You know that. You’re more than a job to me. I care about you. I hate what you’re going through, what you’ve been through.” Nesbitt paused, looking at her. “Maybe we can have some dinner?”
Cate felt her throat catch. “Yes.”
Nesbitt smiled. “Excellent.”
It fell suddenly quiet in the car. They sat together in near darkness. Nesbitt’s face was one foot from hers. Cate could feel him breathe. She suddenly realized she knew nothing about romance. He should be kissing her, but he wasn’t. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” she asked, after a minute.
Nesbitt grinned. “Not yet,” he answered as he turned away, opened her car door, and climbed out, leaning over and peeking through the open door, letting in a gust of cold air.
Cate laughed, surprised.
“Pick you up tomorrow night at eight. Good night.” Nesbitt closed the door and gave it a slap, and Cate laughed again, then gave him a wave as she drove away.
She hit the street and turned left, heading back toward the city, feeling happy and excited. She was definitely on to something, after what she had learned from Russo. She knew the next logical step to take. If she could find out more, then she’d have more of a case to present tomorrow night, to get Nesbitt to reopen. She had a lot to do and she felt oddly adrenalized. Maybe because she was getting closer to the real killer, or because she was proving Nesbitt wrong. Or maybe it was Nesbitt’s not-a-kiss.
She hit the gas.
CHAPTER 45
PISTOL RANGE IN REAR, read the blue neon sign, and Cate pulled up in front of the gun shop just as a man was locking the door. She had come straight to the gun shop in Old City and had gotten here just in time. If Micah were going to buy a gun, this had to be the place. The shop was only blocks from her office and apartment.
Cate switched off the ignition and jumped out of the car, shouting, “Excuse me! Please don’t close!”
“What?” The man turned from the door, his steel key ring still in the lock. A security spotlight shone above him, showing an immensely beefy six-footer. The man’s head was shaved, his bumps in bas-relief under the bright light, and he wore only a red Sixers windbreaker, despite the cold.
“Please! Wait!” Cate dashed around the car to the big man. Traffic rushed behind them on four lanes.
“Lady, you need a gun that bad?”
“Uh, yes, I do.” Cate wanted information, not weaponry, but she hadn’t had time to get a story in order. His assumption was as good as any. “Yes, I need a gun.”
“Wait a minute.” The man looked down at her. Up close, he looked about thirty years old, with large dark eyes and thick lips with a scar that vanished when he smiled, like now. “I know you. You’re that judge, been in the papers.”
Rats. “Yes, that’s me.” Cate introduced herself and stuck out her hand, and he shook it without crushing it.
“Lou Behrens.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lou.” Cate had to find a way to use it to her advantage. “So then you know that I’ve been getting a lot of publicity. My house was broken into, and I need protection. I can’t go another night without a gun.” She tried to sound like a damsel in distress, which she had seen on TV. “I feel so unsafe. Please, can you stay open a little? I won’t take long, I promise.”
“Well, okay,” Lou answered, his voice softer, and Cate started to think sexism had been getting a bad rap.
“Thanks so much. I appreciate it.”
“But you can’t buy a gun and start blastin’ away, you understand.” Lou twisted the key ring in the lock, setting it jingling, and opened the front door. “You have to take lessons. Learn firearm safety. We have classes on Saturdays and some weeknights.”
“I will, I will. I just want to have a gun tonight, so I can sleep better. Just in case.”
“Come on in, let’s see what we can do for you.” Lou flicked the switch, turning on old-fashioned fluorescent lights. He ushered Cate inside, then closed the door behind her and headed toward a doorway on the left. “Wait here while I turn off the burglar alarm.”
“Sure, thanks.” Cate looked around at a rectangular store that seemed almost stop-time. Old glass display cases framed with real wood flanked the room on either side, and ancient red-and-black linoleum tile covered the center aisle. On the right wall hung an array of dusty flags, a faded blue one that read COLT and next to it a sun-bleached yellow for RUGER. Under the flags, at least fifty antique guns had been mounted on cheap pegboard, leading to a rack of modern rifles lined butt down in the back, next to a room closed off with bars and padlocks. The air smelled vaguely of dirt and stale cigarettes, like a hardware store with attitude.
“Step over here, Judge,” Lou said, reemerging from the doorway. He set the store keys on the glass top with a clatter and went behind the counter on the left. A grimy cash register sat at the end of the counter, and the wooden shelves behind were filled with stacks of colorful boxes that read American Eagle, in cherry red and white; Winchester, in tomato red; and Remington, in kelly green and chrome yellow. It looked like a cute and cheery display until Cate realized the boxes contained bullets. She shuddered, thinking of the heat that had whizzed past her cheek last night. It reminded her of her purpose.