Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [300]
“I know that. I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
She stood up then and stared down at me, her hands in fists at her sides. “I am not acting like a child.”
“You’re right, you’re being way too judgmental to be a child.”
Zerbrowski called, “Anita, we need to roll.”
I stood up, brushed off the back of my jeans, and yelled, “I’m coming.” I looked at Arnet and tried to think of anything that would make this better. Nothing came to mind. “Nathaniel is my sweetie, Jessica, I would never hurt him.”
“I saw you hurt him,” she said, and she sort of threw the words at me like she had the word gigolo.
“He doesn’t see it that way.”
“He doesn’t know any better,” she said.
I smiled and fought the urge to give one of those laughs that is half nerves and half exasperation. “You want to save him. You want to ride in and save him from a life of degradation.”
She didn’t say anything, just glared at me.
“Anita, we need to go, now,” Zerbrowski yelled. He was standing in the open door of his car.
I glanced back at Arnet. “I thought Nathaniel needed saving once, too, needed me to fix him. What I didn’t understand is that he isn’t broken, well, not more broken than the rest of us.” And that was probably more truth than I owed Detective Jessica Arnet. I left it at that, and jogged for Zerbrowski’s car. He asked me how it had gone with Arnet. I told him it could have gone better.
“How better?” He asked as we eased past the news van and a crowd of gawkers.
“Oh, like the Valentine’s Day Massacre could have been a better party.”
He gave me a look. “Jesus, Anita, it isn’t enough that you and Dolph are pissed at each other, you’ve got pick a fight with Arnet?”
“I didn’t pick a fight with either of them. You know I didn’t pick one with Dolph.” We were easing past the tape and barriers that the uniforms had moved for us. The television crew had the camera pointed straight at us. Great. I resisted the urge to give them the finger, or something else equally childish.
“I shouldn’t have said that about Dolph. I know you didn’t start that.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s eating Arnet?”
“If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”
“You’re not going to tell your version first?”
“No one ever believes my version, Zerbrowski. I’m fucking coffin bait. If you’ll fuck vampires, you’ll do anything, right?” And just like that, I started to cry. Not loud, but tears, real tears. I turned away and stared out the window. I had no idea why I was crying. Stupid, so stupid.
Did I really care what Arnet thought of me? No. Did I care if she trashed my reputation to the rest of the squad? Yeah, I guess I did. Shit.
Zerbrowski was either so astounded that I was crying that he didn’t know what to say, or he was treating me like he’d treat any other cop. If they don’t want you to see them cry, you don’t see it. Zerbrowski drove to the Church of Eternal Life, concentrating on the road like a son of a bitch. I stared out the window the entire time, and cried.
64
THE PARKING LOT was full, and I mean full. So full that Zerbrowski parked in front of the church in the fire only zone. We had Marconi and Smith in a car behind us, along with two marked cars. Apparently, Zerbrowski had been planning our strategy while I was trying to fix things with Arnet. Apparently, Abrahams or Arnet had been left in charge of the murder scene. I was betting on Abrahams. I wouldn’t have left Arnet in charge of a little league team tonight. Of course, I might have been a little prejudiced right that moment.
He had two uniforms station themselves at the doors, and he told them to get their holy items out. “Nobody leaves, unless you clear it with me, is that clear?” It was clear. I suggested that there was another door at the parish hall entrance, and since we had enough manpower to cover it, Zerbrowski just nodded and said, “Do it.” It was like he was channeling Dolph, but it worked. Everyone just did