Free Into the Light by Aleatha Romig

Mindy away, to a safe place. “Where’s your car?”
    Pointing to the left, he said, “It’s right over there.”
    I turned and spotted his unmarked Charger.
    “How about when you’re done with work, you come back to my place, instead of going home to that empty apartment?” Dylan leaned closer. “You left in a hurry this morning and besides, I’d like to learn more about that vivid imagination of yours.”
    I blushed, liking how he’d twisted my comment. “I’d like that too, but I didn’t go home yesterday, and I don’t have any clean clothes. Oh, and then there’s Fred. I need to check on him.”
    Dylan’s eyes sparkled in the warm Detroit summer sunshine. “Fred’s a fish. I think he’ll make it. As for clothes, I have this amazing new technology. It’s called a washing machine. I bought one because I’d heard they were all the rage. I can cook some dinner; you can experiment with the new technology?”
    I tilted my head and sighed. “You’re terrible. If I used that amazing new technology , what would I possibly wear? I mean, I need all my clothes clean.”
    “Oh! That’s the fun part. That’s where your vivid imagination comes in. If you need help”—he pulled me close, circling my waist—“I’m sure I can come up with a few ideas that don’t require clothes.”
    I reached for his shoulders, stood up on my toes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being here. I appreciate it. But I think I’ll take a rain check. The same outfit at work for three days, even if it’s clean, will get people talking, and seriously, you don’t know Fred. He mopes if I’m not there. It’s really sad to see his little blue betta fins all drooped. Bye.”
    As I walked away, my phone buzzed, and I opened the text message:
     
    Dylan: FRESH SALMON?
     
    He definitely wasn’t playing fair. Cooking wasn’t my thing.
    I started my car and looked in my rearview mirror. Dylan hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t even gotten into his car. Instead he was leaning against the Charger, his long, jean-covered legs crossed at the ankles, his black, short-sleeved shirt looking too damn good stretched over his chest. I backed my car out and drove toward him. His face lit up, glowing triumphantly from his sparkling eyes to his shiny white teeth.
    I came to a stop and rolled down my window. “You’re not playing fair! You know how I am about your cooking.”
    He laughed. “You know how I feel about yours. That’s why I offered. I’ll cook some salmon on the grill, with some asparagus, a few cold beers . . .” He pouted. “But if you’d rather hang out with Barney.”
    I shook my head. “Give me an hour and I’ll call you. No promises.”
    He winked. “I’ll be waiting.”
    I rolled up my window, cranked the air conditioning, and headed back to the station.
    Even the thought of his cooking made my stomach rumble and growl, but no, I couldn’t go back to his house tonight. It wasn’t that Bernard needed me, though I needed to call him to tell him the body wasn’t Mindy’s. What I wanted to do had nothing to do with work or with the drug distribution happening at the port. What I wanted was to call Dr. Tracy Howell and find out why she’d called me down to the morgue twice, and what she was really trying to tell me.
    I reached for my phone to call Bernard and saw my wrinkled slacks. I definitely needed to go home. Turning my car toward my apartment, I decided to call Bernard and do more research from home.

CHAPTER 7
    Sara
    After I heard Jacob walk Dr. Newton to the door, I expected him to explain what the doctor meant about my training.
    Will I be left alone with Sister Lilith? Will Raquel or Elizabeth be there? For some reason, I suspected that this was a women-only thing. Do I remember that or do I just suspect it?
    Instead of talking to me, however, Jacob resumed his pacing. Back and forth, four steps. Though he was still taking big strides, his shoes didn’t pound the floor with the force and