dressed. He did not turn away even when she sat on the edge of her bed and laced up her sneakers. It gave him a peculiar feeling of intimacy with her to know that he was preparing for his evening just as she made preparations for hers. Almost like a real couple.
Soon they would share an intimacy purer and more intense than any lovers’ tryst. They would know the closeness of predator and prey, of torturer and victim. They would share the wordless language of suffering, and together they would experience the final delicious frisson of death.
Treat shook his head, dispelling the vision his imagination had conjured. He looked around him. No more daylight filtered through his shuttered windows. Darkness had come.
He entered his walk-in closet and began to select his attire for the evening’s entertainment. A formal affair, so he would wear black.
For Miss Osborn, on the other hand, the event was strictly come-as-you-are.
17
C.J. was making dinner when the phone rang. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Ten minutes to six. Salesperson, probably. She almost didn’t answer, but on the third ring she picked up the cordless unit mounted by the fridge. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Rick Tanner.”
Tanner had never called her. “Hey, Rick. What’s up?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“How I’m doing?” Carrying the phone, she returned to the stove and used a wooden spoon to push around some stir-fry vegetables in her frying pan. “We just talked at the station a couple hours ago.”
“Yeah, but at the time I didn’t know what had gone down in that hostage situation. How you climbed in through the rear window and took away the guy’s piece.”
She turned down the flame under the saucepan. The broccoli was starting to scorch. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Pedro’s. I’m finishing up a Code Seven right now.” Completing his dinner break, he meant.
Pedro’s was a Tex-Mex diner frequented by Newton cops and Sheriff’s deputies who worked the Florence area. “Some guys from your division have been talking. I think you impressed them, Killer.”
“You’re not supposed to call me that, remember?”
“It was a slip.”
“Anyway”—she ladled the cooked vegetables onto a plate—“I wasn’t trying to impress anybody. I just didn’t want ... well, you know ...”
“Another SWAT screw-up? Like the warehouse in Long Beach?”
She took a long moment before answering. Sometimes Tanner really could surprise her. “How’d you know I was thinking of that?”
“I didn’t. My partner did. He had to walk me through it real slow. I caught on eventually.”
“I’ll bet you caught on sooner than you’ll admit. You’re not so dumb, Tanner.”
“That’s what I keep telling everybody. But do they listen? Nah.”
There was an uncomfortable pause when both of them realized they had temporarily run out of conversation.
“Look,” Tanner said, “that’s all I called to say. And, uh, I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Ask away.”
“Is it a problem for you—me being SWAT? I mean, is that why ... well, you know?”
“Why I’ve been sort of unfriendly?”
“Right. Not that I don’t deserve it. I probably do. I’m an asshole. Even my best friends tell me so.”
“They might be underestimating you.” She looked out the kitchen window, into the darkness. The sun was long gone. Again she found herself wishing night didn’t come so early in the winter. “Look, you SWAT guys have a job to do, and most of the time you do it well. Anyway, you had nothing to do with the warehouse. That was LAPD Metro’s deal.”
“Sure but, you know, once we put on our vests and goggles, we pretty much all look alike.”
She laughed. “I don’t have anything against you. Rick. I’ve just been ... cautious since my divorce.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. And, uh, I’m sorry if I’ve been, you know, coming on too strong.”
She was touched. He had never apologized to her
Soon they would share an intimacy purer and more intense than any lovers’ tryst. They would know the closeness of predator and prey, of torturer and victim. They would share the wordless language of suffering, and together they would experience the final delicious frisson of death.
Treat shook his head, dispelling the vision his imagination had conjured. He looked around him. No more daylight filtered through his shuttered windows. Darkness had come.
He entered his walk-in closet and began to select his attire for the evening’s entertainment. A formal affair, so he would wear black.
For Miss Osborn, on the other hand, the event was strictly come-as-you-are.
17
C.J. was making dinner when the phone rang. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Ten minutes to six. Salesperson, probably. She almost didn’t answer, but on the third ring she picked up the cordless unit mounted by the fridge. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Rick Tanner.”
Tanner had never called her. “Hey, Rick. What’s up?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“How I’m doing?” Carrying the phone, she returned to the stove and used a wooden spoon to push around some stir-fry vegetables in her frying pan. “We just talked at the station a couple hours ago.”
“Yeah, but at the time I didn’t know what had gone down in that hostage situation. How you climbed in through the rear window and took away the guy’s piece.”
She turned down the flame under the saucepan. The broccoli was starting to scorch. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Pedro’s. I’m finishing up a Code Seven right now.” Completing his dinner break, he meant.
Pedro’s was a Tex-Mex diner frequented by Newton cops and Sheriff’s deputies who worked the Florence area. “Some guys from your division have been talking. I think you impressed them, Killer.”
“You’re not supposed to call me that, remember?”
“It was a slip.”
“Anyway”—she ladled the cooked vegetables onto a plate—“I wasn’t trying to impress anybody. I just didn’t want ... well, you know ...”
“Another SWAT screw-up? Like the warehouse in Long Beach?”
She took a long moment before answering. Sometimes Tanner really could surprise her. “How’d you know I was thinking of that?”
“I didn’t. My partner did. He had to walk me through it real slow. I caught on eventually.”
“I’ll bet you caught on sooner than you’ll admit. You’re not so dumb, Tanner.”
“That’s what I keep telling everybody. But do they listen? Nah.”
There was an uncomfortable pause when both of them realized they had temporarily run out of conversation.
“Look,” Tanner said, “that’s all I called to say. And, uh, I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Ask away.”
“Is it a problem for you—me being SWAT? I mean, is that why ... well, you know?”
“Why I’ve been sort of unfriendly?”
“Right. Not that I don’t deserve it. I probably do. I’m an asshole. Even my best friends tell me so.”
“They might be underestimating you.” She looked out the kitchen window, into the darkness. The sun was long gone. Again she found herself wishing night didn’t come so early in the winter. “Look, you SWAT guys have a job to do, and most of the time you do it well. Anyway, you had nothing to do with the warehouse. That was LAPD Metro’s deal.”
“Sure but, you know, once we put on our vests and goggles, we pretty much all look alike.”
She laughed. “I don’t have anything against you. Rick. I’ve just been ... cautious since my divorce.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. And, uh, I’m sorry if I’ve been, you know, coming on too strong.”
She was touched. He had never apologized to her
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