2nd Chance (Women's Murder Club 2)

I shook my head. I told him what I had found out.

“Maybe he’s moved on,” Jacobi offered. “How ’bout I go in and flash the badge? With Coombs’s photo?”

I shook my head. “How ’bout we sit here and wait.”

We waited for over two hours. Stakeouts are incredibly dull. They would drive the average person nuts. We kept our eyes peeled on the William Simon, going over everything from Helen Keating, to what Jacobi’s wife was serving for dinner, to the 49ers, to who was sleeping with who at the Hall. Jacobi even sprung for a couple of sandwiches from a Subway.

At ten o’clock, Jacobi grumbled, “This could go on forever. Why don’t you let me go inside, Lindsay?”

He was probably right. We didn’t even know if Helen Keating’s number was current. She had taken it weeks ago.

I was about to give in when a man turned the corner on Larkin headed toward the hotel. I gripped Jacobi’s arm. “Look over there.”

It was Coombs. I recognized the bastard instantly. He was wearing a camouflage jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets, a floppy hat pulled over his eyes.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Jacobi muttered.

Watching the bastard slink up to the hotel, it took everything I had not to jump out of the car and slam him up against a wall. I wished I could slap him in cuffs. But we had Chimera now. We knew where he was.

“I want someone stuck to him, twenty-four hours,” I told Jacobi. “If he makes the tail, I want him picked up. We’ll figure out the charges later.”

Jacobi nodded.

“I hope you brought a toothbrush.” I winked. “You’ve got first watch.”

Chapter 82

AS THEY WALKED hand in hand toward her Castro apartment, Cindy admitted to herself that she was scared shitless.

This was the fifth time she and Aaron Winslow had been out together. They had seen Cyrus Chestnut and Freddie Hubbard at the Blue Door; been to Traviata at the opera; taken the ferry across the bay to a tiny Jamaican café that Aaron knew. Tonight, they had seen this dreamy film, Chocolat.

No matter where this went tonight, she enjoyed being with him. He was deeper than most men she’d dated, and he was definitely more sensitive. Not only did he read unexpected books like Dave Eggers’s A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Amy Tan’s The Bonesetter’s Daughter, he lived the life that he preached. He worked twelve-to-sixteen-hour days and was loved in his neighborhood, but he still managed to keep his ego in check. She’d heard it over and over again interviewing people for her story. Aaron Winslow was one of the good guys.

All the while, though, Cindy had felt this moment looming in the distance. Hurtling closer and closer. Ticking. This was the natural step, she told herself. As Lindsay would say, their foxhole was about to explode.

“You seem a little quiet tonight,” Aaron said. “You okay, Cindy?”

“I’m great,” she fibbed. She thought he was just about the sweetest man she had ever gone out with, but, Jesus, Cindy, he’s a pastor. Why didn’t you think of this then? Is this a good idea? Think it through. Don’t hurt him. Don’t get hurt yourself.

They stopped walking in front of the entrance to Cindy’s building and stood in the lighted arch. He sung a line from an old R&B tune, “I’ve Passed This Way Before.” He even had a good singing voice.

There was no use postponing it any longer. “Look, Aaron, someone has to say this. You want to come up? I’d like it if you did, hate it if you didn’t.”

He exhaled and smiled. “I don’t exactly know where to take this, Cindy. I’m a little out of my range. I, uh, I’ve never dated a blonde before. I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

“I can relate to that.” She smiled. “But it’s only two floors up. We can talk about it there.”

His lip was quivering slightly, and when he touched her arm it sent a shiver down her spine. God, she did like him. And she trusted him.

“I feel like I’m about to cross this line,” he said. “And it’s not a line I can cross casually. So I have to know. Are we there together? In the same place?”

Cindy elevated on her toes and pressed her lips lightly against his mouth. Aaron seemed surprised and at first he stiffened, but slowly he placed his arms around her and gave himself over to the kiss.

It was just as she had hoped, that first real kiss. Tender and breathtaking. Through his jacket, she could feel the rhythm of his heart pounding. She liked it that he was afraid, too. It made her feel even closer to him.

When they parted, she looked in his eyes and said, “We’re there. We’re in the same place.”

She took out her key and led him up the two floors to her place. Her heart was pounding.