Burnt Offerings - Laurell K. Hamilton [121]
“You got a uniform inside the room?” I asked.
He gave one curt nod.
“Is he as trigger-happy as the rest of you, or can I open the door without being shot at?”
Padgett strode to the door and knocked on it. “Smith, it’s Padgett. Detective coming in.” He opened the door with a flourish and ushered Lorraine and me in.
I looked at the young uniform seated just inside the door. Kevin was slumped down in a chair across from him, an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. The werewolf looked at me, and one look was enough—not a happy camper. It wasn’t just nicotine withdrawal either.
I half-pushed Lorraine into the room, then walked back to Teddy. I held my left hand out to him, and he took it. I helped him stand, though he didn’t need the help. “Thank you,” he said, and he didn’t mean for helping him stand up.
“No problem,” I said. I escorted him back to the room. Once they were both safely inside, I turned to Padgett.
“We need to talk. I’d prefer private if I could be guaranteed no one will get shot while I’m gone.”
“You okay in here, Smith?” he asked.
The young cop said, “I’m fine. I like animals.”
The look on Teddy’s face was scary even to me. That otherworldly energy was rising like a warm, stinging tide. “If the nice policeman behaves himself, then so do the rest of you,” I said.
Teddy stared right at me. “I know how to follow orders.”
“Great, shall we find some place private, Detective Padgett?”
His breath was coming fast, almost a pant. He was feeling the rising energy, too. “We can talk right here. I’m not leaving one of my men alone with these things.”
“I’m okay, boss,” the young cop said.
“You’re not afraid?” Padgett asked. It was a question that cops seldom ask each other. They ask, are you all right. They admit to being nervous. Never scared.
Officer Smith’s eyes widened a little, but he shook his head. “I know Crossman. He’s a good guy. She saved his life.” Smith sat up a little straighter in his chair, said softly, “These aren’t the bad guys.”
A tic started in Padgett’s cheek. He opened his mouth, closed it, then turned abruptly on his heel and left. The door slid shut behind him. We all stood in the suddenly thick silence.
Stephen said, “Anita.” He held his hand out to me. His face was flawless, no scars, no marks of any kind. I took his hand and smiled.
“I know you guys heal fast, but it’s still impressive. You looked pretty bad last time I saw you.”
“I looked worse,” a soft male voice said. Nathaniel was awake in the other bed. His long auburn hair hung like a shining curtain around his face, maybe longer than waist-length. I’d never seen a man with hair that long. I couldn’t see his face because I was too busy staring at his eyes. They were the color of lilacs, a wonderful pale lavender that was a genuine showstopper. It took me a few seconds of staring to be able to see the rest of his face. He looked a few years older awake than he had unconscious—nineteen instead of sixteen, maybe. He still looked drawn and tired, ill, but there was a vast improvement.
“Yeah, you looked worse,” I said.
Stephen turned to Officer Smith like they were old friends. “Can we have a few minutes alone?”
Smith looked at me. “Okay with you?”
I nodded.
He stood. “I don’t know how Padgett’s going to like it, so if you want to exchange secret codes or anything, make it fast.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it.” He stopped in front of Lorraine before he left. “Thank you. Crossman has a wife and two daughters. I know they’d thank you if they could.”
Lorraine blushed and nodded, mumbling, “You’re welcome.”
Smith left, and I walked over to Nathaniel’s bed. “Nice to meet you while you’re conscious.”
He tried to smile, but the effort showed. He held out his left hand to me, the right hand was still hooked up to an IV drip.
I took his hand. His grip was tremblingly weak. He drew my hand towards his mouth as if to kiss it. I let him do it. The effort made his hand shake.