features hardened. “What do you want?”
“An exclusive. With her.”
Sidney’s stomach clenched in apprehension. If Crystal Dunn wanted a story on her, it meant the end of her privacy, her peace, her only protection.
“No,” he said flatly. “This is a murder investigation, not an entertainment opportunity.”
“I’m running it, Marc. With or without her.”
“We’ll see about that. Stokes holds some sway with Carlisle, too, you know. And she didn’t have to go down on her knees to get it.”
Unlike their earlier exchange about slumming, this barb hit its mark. Her expression as brittle as ice, Crystal turned on her pencil-slim heels and walked away.
When he got in the car, she let him stew for a few moments.
“Who’s Stokes?” she asked.
“My boss.”
“And Carlisle?”
“Hers.”
Sidney nodded, needing no further elaboration. If Marc had caught Crystal sleeping her way to the top while they were involved, it was no wonder he didn’t trust women. “Does she know about me?” she asked.
“She wouldn’t want an exclusive if she didn’t.”
“Can I sue the station?”
“You can threaten to. But that only works if they’re planning to say something about you that isn’t true.”
“Even if it compromises your investigation?”
“Even then. Professional ethics aside, what the press finds out about, they can use. It’s my job to protect information we don’t want out.”
He didn’t say it, but she knew he thought he’d failed. Because he was the kind of man who judged his self-worth in terms of self-control, he was probably angrier with himself than with Crystal Dunn. He couldn’t stop the leak of information and he couldn’t prevent the killer from taking more women off the streets.
The fact that he was having a hard time, in more ways than one, did little to assuage Sidney’s anger. By invading her home and violating her privacy, he’d made her his enemy.
If her lawyer was anyone but Greg, she’d be looking forward to making Marc pay.
At OPD, Deputy Chief Stokes was on a rampage.
After Marc dropped Sidney off at her house, he went down to headquarters, dreading the inevitable confrontation. It came sooner than expected.
As he sat down at his desk, Lacy made a gesture from across the room, slicing her forefinger across her throat, indicating his current status as dead meat. Instead of running scared, he got up and walked into Stokes’s office.
Like a good boy, he’d take his medicine and get back to work.
“What the hell is this?” she asked the instant he showed his pseudohumble face.
He looked down at the photos littering her desk. Digital technology, he decided, was a real bitch. The pictures were very thorough, and at an excellent angle, showing all of his sensual trespasses to maximum effect. “Amateur porn?” he quipped.
“Sit down and shut up,” she ordered.
He did.
“You let Crystal Dunn catch you with your pants down.”
His pants had been up, but he thought it best not to quibble over semantics.
“Sexually harassing a suspect, in itself, is bad enough-”
He picked up one of the photos of Sidney’s body plastered against his, her hands in his hair. “Does she look like she’s being sexually harassed?”
Stokes didn’t even glance at it. “As a high-ranking police official, you were in the position of power.”
He had no comeback for that.
“You used incredibly poor judgment and allowed yourself to be photographed in the process. It’s inexcusable.”
“They won’t run it,” he said with certainty. “This is-” he gestured at the photos “-a mistake. A very stupid, very careless mistake. But it’s not a story.”
“They won’t print the explicit ones, no. As long as she makes no complaints.”
“She won’t.”
She quelled him with a look. “Are you psychic now, too?”
He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he’d had more than three hours’ sleep the past two nights combined. “Chief, I apologize for my
“An exclusive. With her.”
Sidney’s stomach clenched in apprehension. If Crystal Dunn wanted a story on her, it meant the end of her privacy, her peace, her only protection.
“No,” he said flatly. “This is a murder investigation, not an entertainment opportunity.”
“I’m running it, Marc. With or without her.”
“We’ll see about that. Stokes holds some sway with Carlisle, too, you know. And she didn’t have to go down on her knees to get it.”
Unlike their earlier exchange about slumming, this barb hit its mark. Her expression as brittle as ice, Crystal turned on her pencil-slim heels and walked away.
When he got in the car, she let him stew for a few moments.
“Who’s Stokes?” she asked.
“My boss.”
“And Carlisle?”
“Hers.”
Sidney nodded, needing no further elaboration. If Marc had caught Crystal sleeping her way to the top while they were involved, it was no wonder he didn’t trust women. “Does she know about me?” she asked.
“She wouldn’t want an exclusive if she didn’t.”
“Can I sue the station?”
“You can threaten to. But that only works if they’re planning to say something about you that isn’t true.”
“Even if it compromises your investigation?”
“Even then. Professional ethics aside, what the press finds out about, they can use. It’s my job to protect information we don’t want out.”
He didn’t say it, but she knew he thought he’d failed. Because he was the kind of man who judged his self-worth in terms of self-control, he was probably angrier with himself than with Crystal Dunn. He couldn’t stop the leak of information and he couldn’t prevent the killer from taking more women off the streets.
The fact that he was having a hard time, in more ways than one, did little to assuage Sidney’s anger. By invading her home and violating her privacy, he’d made her his enemy.
If her lawyer was anyone but Greg, she’d be looking forward to making Marc pay.
At OPD, Deputy Chief Stokes was on a rampage.
After Marc dropped Sidney off at her house, he went down to headquarters, dreading the inevitable confrontation. It came sooner than expected.
As he sat down at his desk, Lacy made a gesture from across the room, slicing her forefinger across her throat, indicating his current status as dead meat. Instead of running scared, he got up and walked into Stokes’s office.
Like a good boy, he’d take his medicine and get back to work.
“What the hell is this?” she asked the instant he showed his pseudohumble face.
He looked down at the photos littering her desk. Digital technology, he decided, was a real bitch. The pictures were very thorough, and at an excellent angle, showing all of his sensual trespasses to maximum effect. “Amateur porn?” he quipped.
“Sit down and shut up,” she ordered.
He did.
“You let Crystal Dunn catch you with your pants down.”
His pants had been up, but he thought it best not to quibble over semantics.
“Sexually harassing a suspect, in itself, is bad enough-”
He picked up one of the photos of Sidney’s body plastered against his, her hands in his hair. “Does she look like she’s being sexually harassed?”
Stokes didn’t even glance at it. “As a high-ranking police official, you were in the position of power.”
He had no comeback for that.
“You used incredibly poor judgment and allowed yourself to be photographed in the process. It’s inexcusable.”
“They won’t run it,” he said with certainty. “This is-” he gestured at the photos “-a mistake. A very stupid, very careless mistake. But it’s not a story.”
“They won’t print the explicit ones, no. As long as she makes no complaints.”
“She won’t.”
She quelled him with a look. “Are you psychic now, too?”
He rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he’d had more than three hours’ sleep the past two nights combined. “Chief, I apologize for my
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