Free Hallowed Ground by Lori G. Armstrong Page A

blanket ruched around his waist.

    I crossed to him, perching on the middle cushion so my hip touched his. Heavy stubble covered his jaw. Instinctively, I ran my hand across his face, taming his hair. His eyes remained closed.

    “Your hand is cold,” he said.

    “Sorry.”

    “Don’t be.” He sniffed. “And you smell good.”

    He hadn’t flinched at my touch or pushed me away, which was a novelty of late. I kept my hand in place. “Do I usually smell bad?”

    “You usually smell like cigarettes.”

    “Damn. I knew there was something I’d forgotten.”

    “You haven’t even sucked down one death stick yet this morning?”

    “Nope.”

    “You sick or something?”

    “Ha ha.”

    “Then granola boy is influencing you. Maybe he’ll convince you to quit smoking.”

    “Don’t bet on it.”

    He opened his eyes.

    God. My stomach knotted. Exhausted didn’t begin to describe his change in appearance over the past month. His skin had lost the golden glow of summer, his dark hair lacked the usual sheen, his green eyes were pale, as if caring for Lilly in her last days on this earth had sucked the life and the color right out of him.

    “How is Kell, by the way?” Kevin asked. “Still making bean cakes and writing angst-ridden folk tunes?”

    I whapped him on the arm, which earned me a rare grin.

    “I don’t know. He didn’t grace me with his presence after his gig last night. Besides, I’m not his keeper.”

    His grin faded. “Consider yourself lucky.”

    My hand stilled at the bitterness in his tone. I could say something flip, or I could buck up and ask the question we usually avoided. “How is Lilly?”

    “The same.” Pause. “Actually, that’s not true. She gets worse every day.”

    “Kev, I’m so—”

    “Don’t say it. If another person tells me how fucking sorry they are, I swear to God I’ll snap.”
    He struggled to get up.

    I pushed him back down. “Fine. Then I’ll ask why the hell you’ve been sleeping in your office for the last week.”

    “Shit. How’d you know?”

    “Wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I couldn’t figure that out, now would I?”

    “You learned from the best.”

    “Damn straight.”

    He grabbed my hand and held my gaze for the longest time. “I’ve missed you.”

    “Yeah? Well, you know what they say. A day without Julie is like a day without—”

    “Hemorrhoids,” we finished together.

    I smiled. Our inside jokes didn’t seem forced, even when we’d had sixteen years of them. I brushed my lips across his forehead.

    The moment lingered; a connection we hadn’t allowed ourselves for months. Reluctantly, I sat up. “Come on. Over bagels you can tell me why you’re crashing on this crappy couch. And I’ll bring you up to speed on the latest case.”

    His eyes lit with interest. “You brought bagels? If I weren’t already overpaying you, I’d give you a raise.”

    I stood.

    Kevin deposited his feet on the floor and attempted to put himself back together, slowly, clumsily.

    Weird, seeing him befuddled.

    “Well, my liege , while you do something with your hair, I’ll be in the reception area.”

    No smart-ass comeback. Just a muttered, “Thanks.”

    I set out the bagel stuff and snuck into my office for a smoke.

    Ah. Nothing in the world like that first hit of nicotine. While I smoked, I opened Martinez’s file.
    Not much in there: copy of the contract, copy of the check, and my scant notes. Didn’t feel like writing down the horrific details from last night.

    In the doorway separating my office from the reception area, I watched Kevin.

    A chunk of bagel liberally smeared with hummus and cream cheese disappeared in his mouth, the other half was already gone. Was he starving as well as sleep deprived?

    I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat across from him.

    “Aren’t you having one?” he asked.

    I shook my head. “Too early.”

    He shrugged and snagged the other bagel, neatly slicing it in half.