A Thin Dark Line

He looked away as if she'd slapped him, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "I guess that's as plain as it gets."

A

He barked a laugh.

"-just not in the way you need me to," she finished.

"But see," he said, "we've been through this cycle before, and you come around or I come around, and then-"

A

"Which you won't tell me about."

"I can't."

"You can't tell me? Why? What's going on?"

"I can't do this," she whispered, hating the need to keep things from him, to lie to him. Better to push him away so that he wouldn't want to know.

"I'm not the enemy, A

She dropped her face into her hands. Allying herself with Fourcade, investigating on her own, trying to get Renard to fixate on her so she could trick him into showing the ugly truth that lay beneath his bland mask-she could no more tell A.J. any of it than she could tell Sheriff Noblier. They may all have wanted the same outcome, but they weren't all on the same side.

"Oh," he said suddenly, as if an internal lightbulb just went on in his head, bright enough to hurt. "Maybe you didn't mean the job. Jesus." He huffed out a breath and looked at her sideways. "Is there someone else? Is that where you've been lately-with some other guy?"

A

"A

"Maybe," she hedged. "But that's not it. That's not… I'm so sorry," she said, weary of the fight. "You can't know how much I wish I felt differently, how much I wish this could be what you want it to be, A.J. But wishing can't make it so."

"Do I know him?"

"Oh, A.J., don't go there."

He stood with his hands on his hips, looking away from her, his pride smarting, his logical mind working to make sense of feelings that seldom bent to the will of reason. He wasn't so different from Fourcade that way-too analytical, too rational, confounded by the vagaries of human nature. A

"I know what you want," she murmured. "You want a wife. You want a family. I want you to have those things, A.J., and I'm not ready to be the person to give them to you. I don't know that I'll ever be."

He rubbed a hand across his jaw, blinked hard, checked his watch. "You know-" He stopped to clear his throat. "I don't have time for this conversation right now. I have to be in court this morning. I'll-ah-I'll call you later."

"A.J.-"

"Oh-ah-Pritchett wants you in his office this afternoon. Maybe I'll see you there."

A

An old groundskeeper was scrubbing the toes of the Virgin Mary with a toothbrush when A

"Dat ol' woman, she steal dem flowers," the grounds-keeper said, shaking the toothbrush at A

"You'll have to call the police, sir."

His dark face squeezed tight, making his eyes pop out like Ping-Pong balls. "You is the police!"

"No, sir, I'm with the sheriff's office."

"Bah! Dogs is all dogs when you calls 'em for supper!"

"Yes, sir. Whatever that means," A

The ICU was quiet except for the sound of machines. A woman with cornrows and purple-framed glasses sat behind the desk, watching the monitors and talking on the phone. She barely glanced up as A

Faulkner lay in her bed in the ICU looking like a science experiment gone wrong. Her head and face were swathed mummy-like in bandages. Tubes fed into her and out of her. Monitors and machines of mysterious purpose blinked and cheeped, their display screens filled with glowing medical hieroglyphics. The redhead with the expired license plates rose from her chair beside the bed as A

"How's she doing?" A

"Better, actually," she said in a hushed tone. "She's out of the coma. She's been in and out of consciousness. She's said a few words."

"Does she know who did this to her?"

"No. She doesn't remember anything about the attack. Not yet, anyway. The other detective was already here and asked."

Two miracles in one morning: Lindsay Faulkner conscious and Chaz Stokes out of bed before eight A.M. Maybe he was making an effort after all. Maybe the spotlight of the task force would bring out some ambition in him.

"Has she had many visitors?"

"They only allow family up here," the redhead said. "We haven't been able to reach her parents. They're traveling in China. Until we can get them here, the hospital has agreed to make exceptions to the rule. Belle Davidson has been in, Grace from the realty, me."

"She'll need y'all to help her through this," A

"Don't talk… about me… like I'm not… here."

At the sound of the weak voice, the redhead turned toward the bed, smiling. "You weren't here a minute ago."

"Ms. Faulkner, it's A

"You… found me… after…"

"Yes, I did."

"Thank… you."

"I wish I could have done more," A

"You… on it?"

"No. I've been reassigned. Detective Stokes is in charge. I hear you had lunch with him the other day. Did you have something to tell him about Pam? Was that why you called me Monday?"

The silence stretched so long A

"Do

"What about Do

"Jealous."

"Jealous of who?" A

"Stupid… It wasn't anything."

She was slipping away. A

"Who was Do

The silence hung again, like a cold breath in the air.

"Detective Stokes."