The Frailty of Flesh by Sandra Ruttan

was it?”
    He squeezed her shoulder and held her gaze for a moment. When he saw the flicker of a smile he let go and went to his own desk.
    She said good night and left without further comment. Another message had come in since they’d gone to Zidani’s office, and he picked up the slip of paper. It only took a few seconds to read it, and then he slipped it in his pocket and reached for the Tylenol he’d offered Ashlyn earlier.
    Just another headache he didn’t need.
    As soon as Craig arrived at his desk his partner stood. “It’s finished. Nothing left to do.” Luke pulled on his coat. “See you tomorrow.”
    Craig nodded and sank into his chair, bumping his foot against a box as he did.
    The Harrington case files. He sighed, glanced at his watch. They’d have to wait, unless he wanted to take them home. There was no way he was going to risk running into Zidani again after the day he’d had.
    He pulled out the box he’d been going through earlier and opened the lid. On top were the files he’d been looking at, the ones with the reports and crime-scene photos. All the case notes, interviews, leads tracked down…All of that still waited in the folders below.
    Craig realized he’d spilled a bit of information when he was talking to Emma Fenton, but she’d reciprocated. Legal action. It explained Zidani’s interest. Anything that could taint Steve would help Zidani keep his job, and he’d no longer be “acting sergeant.” The promotion would be finalized.
    After a minute Craig stood, picked up the second box and stacked it on top of the first one. It wasn’t until he was outside, boxes propped between his body and the Rodeo as he dug in his pocket for his keys, that he realized he hadn’t talked to Ashlyn.
    He opened the door, put the boxes on the front passenger seat and got in.
    They’d talk when she got home.
    Ashlyn pulled into her parking spot and stopped her car. She leaned back in her seat, listening to the drumming of rain on the roof. First it came down slow, erratically. Then it built to a steady rhythm, the kind of long, dug-in rainfall that demanded you take it seriously, coming down thick and fast.
    Thick enough to distort her view of the house. Through the water she could see the warm glow from inside. Craig was home. He hadn’t waited to talk to her at the station. She knew that, because she’d checked at his desk before heading for her car.
    She closed her eyes as she rubbed her temples, wished the rain could wash away her headache. What was it about the nausea that was making her head feel like the inside of a mixing bowl with the beaters set on high? Her stomach wasn’t even that agitated; it just sent a clear message that it was set to trampoline mode, that any time she even thought about eating it was ready to bounce up some lingering remnant from a previous meal to remind her it wasn’t accepting contributions at the moment.
    Throughout the day she’d felt Tain’s gaze on her, sensed the unasked questions. If she couldn’t shake this quickly…
    She sighed and opened the car door. The idea that she wasn’t in control of her own body, that she couldn’t even coerce its cooperation, bothered her. There had to be a way for her to handle it.
    The rain was cold and she felt a shiver run down her spine, but could still only manage to walk to the door. By the time she was inside and had hung up her coat the chill had seeped through her clothes and skin, right to her core.
    The house was quiet. No music, no sizzle of the wok or whirring of the microwave to guide her to Craig. The only clue was the light spilling over from the living room. Her legs protested as she forced herself to walk down the hall, telling her they only had enough strength left to carry her upstairs to bed and that if she went this way she’d have to figure out another way to get to her bed, because they’d have called it quits for the day.
    In the corner of the room, on the far side of the fireplace, the