Catch Me (Detective D.D. Warren, #6)(29)

I squirmed in my seat, looked out the window. “Not married. You?”

“Never tried it. Seeing anyone?”

“Tulip’s pretty special,” I offered.

He chuckled. “You two been together long?”

“About to celebrate our six-month anniversary. I’m hoping she’ll bring me flowers. You have any pets?”

“No girlfriend, no kids, no pets. Two parents, one pain-in-the-ass older sister, and three adorable nieces and nephews. That’s enough for me.” His turn again: “Hobbies and interests?”

“I like to clean.”

He paused, glanced at me with his left hand on the wheel. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “I work all night, then sleep all day. Cuts into a girl’s social life, you know.”

“Fair enough.” He glanced down at my hands fisted on my lap, stating shrewdly, “Bet you didn’t get those knuckles cleaning.”

I stared down self-consciously, wishing I’d put on my mittens, or at least tucked my hands beneath my legs. My knuckles were a mess, the valley between the joints of my pinky and ring finger swollen and purple on both hands. The remaining knuckles were abraded in several places, a collection of old and new injuries. Prizefighter hands. Not pretty, not feminine, and yet I valued this new and improved look very much.

“Boxing,” I admitted at last.

Officer Mackereth arched a brow. “Then you do have a hobby. Must be a serious one if you can do that kind of damage wearing gloves.”

I didn’t correct his assumption. Of course I fought bare-knuckled. What good were gloves gonna do me on the twenty-first?

“You seem to work mostly graveyard,” I stated, switching the focus back to him.

He nodded. “Mostly.”

“Why? You must have enough seniority to request a better rotation by now.”

Officer Mackereth shrugged. “I started out with graveyard because that’s what rookies get. And I don’t know. Guess I’ve always been a night person. I don’t mind the hours, while there are plenty of officers with families and kids and dogs, and God knows what, where graveyard would be a real pain in the ass. Seems to make more sense for me to keep the shift.”

“Team player,” I said.

“Most cops are,” he observed. “What about dispatch officers?”

“Loners,” I assured him, which wasn’t exactly true, but I was feeling impulsive. “Being shut up in a darkened room with multiple monitors and a dozen cups of java is our idea of a good time. You know what you get when you cross an air traffic controller with a tightrope walker? A nine-one-one operator.”

He laughed, a rich, easy sound that thrilled me more than it should have.

“What got you into dispatch, anyway?” he asked.

“Tried it out in Colorado. Needed a job, didn’t have a college degree. Call centers will take just about anyone, which fit my qualifications.”

As a student, I’d suffered from chronic memory issues, not to mention a limited ability to focus. It had made for a rough academic ride. Oh, the times Jackie had shaken her head at me as I’d failed yet another test. Turned out, however, that crises brought out the best in me. You don’t want me on your team for a quiz bowl, but if someone’s breaking into your house, I’m the gal to call. I planned on the adrenaline rush being my friend on the twenty-first.

“Not many dispatch officers make it through training,” Officer Mackereth observed now.

My turn to shrug. “Turned out I liked it. Every shift is different, you get to think on your feet. I’m probably painfully ADD, meaning it’s perfect. You?”

“Father’s a cop. Cliché, but there you have it. And I like it. Every shift is different. You get to think on your feet.”

Officer Mackereth exited 93 for Storrow Drive. Almost there now. Through the top of the rear divider, I could just make out Tulip’s head as she sat up in the back.

“You can drop us off in Harvard Square,” I said.

“You don’t live in Harvard Square.”

I looked at him. “How do you know where I live?”

“I’m a cop,” he answered levelly. “I looked it up.”

My hands stilled on my lap. I thought of my loaded Taurus, snug in my bag because they’d never let me wear it holstered at work. “Officer Mackereth,” I began.

“Tom.”

“Officer Mackereth.”

“Tom,” he repeated stubbornly.

“You can drop us off at Harvard Square,” I informed him crisply. “Tulip could use the walk.”

“Only if you answer one question.”

I eyed him mutely.

“Is it just me you don’t trust,” he continued evenly, “or is it all men? Because to the best of my knowledge, I’ve never done anything to disrespect you, but if I have, then I’d like to know so I can do better next time.”

He was nearly at Harvard Square. And he wasn’t going to slow down. I could tell that. He knew my address and he had it in his head that he owed Tulip and me a ride home. Maybe that was nefarious, maybe he wanted to prove what he knew, how close he could get.

Or maybe, he was a guy and I was a girl and tonight we’d shared something pretty intense. And I was exhausted and fired up and he was exhausted and fired up, and he had that deep laugh and that broad chest and it would be easy to touch him.