Free Dark Reservations by John Fortunato

Cordelli.”
    â€œFine. I thought it was a fugitive case. You’re not up to handling a high-profile murder. Go do your job-search bullshit. I don’t care. Just get out of here.”
    On the way to his desk, Ginny called his name.
    â€œJoe, there’s a woman here about Edgerton.”
    â€œTell Cordelli. It’s his now.”
    â€œHe’s out.”
    â€œWho’s on duty?”
    â€œTenny. He’s out, too.”
    Joe sighed.
    Ginny, who had been handling the squad’s administrative matters for over twenty-three years, looked at him with her “Can you talk to this person?” eyes, which she always used when a walk-in came to the office and the duty agent wasn’t available. Ginny was like a nanny to the squad, the one who always had a cookie and kind word for everyone. How could he refuse her?
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œSierra Hannaway.”
    Joe thought for a moment, trying to place the name. Nothing.
    â€œDid she say why she’s here?”
    â€œHer sister, Faye Hannaway.”
    The tramp with the movie star name.
    Ginny gave him a sly smile. “She’s not wearing a wedding ring.”
    â€œIs everyone trying to set me up?”
    â€œEveryone but you.”
    Joe rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger. He’d awakened with the usual headache this morning, but it had subsided on the drive in. Now it was returning.
    Ginny winked. “Be a gentleman and turn on that Joe Evers charm.”
    Joe gave a fake smile.
    To the right of Ginny’s desk was the reception window, which provided a view of the waiting room. The woman wore a simple blue dress, the hem dropping below her knees. Conservative. There seemed nothing striking about this woman, except for her shoes: blue with shiny stones covering the toes. For some reason, the shoes seemed to say something about her, hinting at a hidden flair. Then he realized this was the second time he’d noticed a woman’s shoes. First at Mickey’s and now here. But perhaps footwear wasn’t really what drew his attention.
    He stepped into the waiting room. The woman looked up. Runny mascara marred petite, elegant features. She was a few years younger than Joe, but only a few.
    â€œHello, I’m Joe Evers. How can I help you?”
    The woman stood, and he saw her hair, all of it. He had seen it through the window but hadn’t thought anything of it then. But now it was stunning, a shimmering ebony cascading down to the small of her back. The cheap fluorescent lamps in the room could not diminish its iridescent quality. When she moved, her hair glistened like dew running down fine blades of grass. Joe stared, captivated.
    â€œAre you the agent handling the case?”
    â€œLet’s talk in here.” He opened the door leading to the interview room. Devoid of decoration or warmth, the space contained only a desk, a phone, and three chairs. Its purpose was to obtain information from walk-ins, not entertain them.
    He positioned one of the chairs for her, then sat behind the desk.
    â€œIt’s about my sister.” She brought a tissue to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I thought this was all behind me. It’s been so many years.”
    â€œI understand. Some things are difficult. Take your time.”
    She looked up over her tissue, meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”
    He offered a smile.
    â€œI’ve been following the news about Congressman Edgerton’s car being found and…”
    Joe waited.
    â€œI want to know if you’re going to be like the rest of those so-called investigators who worked on my sister’s case. All they ever did was call her a conspirator and a gold digger.”
    Joe put a hand up. “Listen, I—”
    â€œI’m not done. I need to get this out now, or I never will.” She took a deep breath. “I accepted what they said twenty years ago because I was young and didn’t know any better. But now I