Free Dead Red by Tim O'Mara Page A

hadn’t had The Talk yet. Maybe if we hit the year mark.…
    I put the bagels and coffee on a tray and brought it over to the coffee table. Allison held up one finger, telling me to give her a minute. I took the time to hit the bathroom and splash my face with water for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past day. My face had been feeling hot since the ER. Probably a concussion symptom I was unaware of. When I got back, I sat beside her.
    “So,” she said, rubbing her hand on my back, “what did you and your new friend find out this morning?”
    I told her about Jack’s relationship with Roy White and how the cops had found a semiautomatic pistol next to the dead kid. I left out the part about the letters and numbers scrawled on the victim’s hand. As much as Girlfriend Allison would have loved that tidbit, Reporter Allison didn’t need to know that yet. When I was done, she let out a slow whistle.
    “Wow,” she said. “You’ve got a career in journalism if this teaching thing doesn’t work out.”
    “That’s off the record. Whatever your guy finds out on his own is fine, but I don’t know how much the cops are gonna put out there, so…”
    “We had this talk already, Ray,” she said, pulling away her hand on my back.
    “That was last December, Allison. I just wanted to make sure the ground rules were still in place and acceptable.”
    She reached over and patted my leg. “Don’t be a dick. It doesn’t suit you.”
    “I’m not being a dick,” I said—something I usually say when I’m not quite sure if I’m being a dick or not. “What were you working on when I came in?”
    She leaned away from me as if I’d burped. “That’s what this is about?” She looked down at the laptop and turned it toward me so I could see the screen. “I was researching shootings over the past five years like Ricky T and the other cabbie’s. I didn’t find much. Then I looked into how many cops are in the reserves and how many go back to the force after they get back. It’s all background, Ray, that whoever does cover what happened to you and Ricky is gonna need. I know I can’t cover your story, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do a little research and help out. Besides, what the hell was I supposed to do when you were out playing detective in the early-morning hours? Vacuum?”
    I leaned over and put my arm around her.
    “I guess you could have made the bed,” I said. “Done a load of laundry?”
    She laughed. “You are a dick.”
    “Let’s write it off as an early-morning gaffe from a guy suffering from a concussion and a near-death experience.”
    “You didn’t seem to be suffering much last night when I was helping with your recovery.”
    “I know. It was like finding out I had really good health insurance.”
    We both laughed this time, and she placed her head on my chest.
    “You didn’t sleep much last night.”
    I pulled her in tighter. “I kept hearing the gunfire,” I said. “I got up a few times thinking I smelled something burning. I was wide awake when Jack called.”
    “Post-traumatic stress,” she said. “Probably why you made the extremely wise decision to go out with Jack.”
    “I was so wired, I had to do something. Heading out with him was as good as anything else, I guess.”
    “How you holding up now?”
    “Still wired and tired. I’m glad you’re here.”
    “Me, too.” She reached over and grabbed each of us half a bagel. “Eat a bit.” She looked at the cup in my hand. “Coffee’s probably not the best idea, but what the hell? I’ll run down in a bit and get The Times and my paper.”
    I looked at my laptop. “I was thinking about getting a digital subscription to the Times. ”
    “Yeah, well, don’t do it for my sake.”
    “Problem?”
    “I’m old-school that way, Ray. I need to hold the paper, turn the pages, get my fingers all inky.”
    I smiled. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about that.”
    “How do you feel,” she asked, “when