1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1)

I didn’t really want to go, didn’t want to feel on display as the cop who’d caught Jenks, but Mercer pressed.

And it was Mark McGwire and all, so I put on a windbreaker and went along for the ride.

All evening long, Chris and I kept sneaking looks at each other. There was a special energy in the box, a glowing ring around just him and me.

The game was background noise. In the third, Mighty Mac hit one off Ortiz that went out of sight and almost landed in the bay. The stadium cheered wildly, even for a Card. In the fourth, Barry Bonds tied it with a shot of his own.

Chris and I couldn’t stop watching each other. We had our legs up on the same chair, like schoolkids, and every once in a while our calves brushed together. Jesus, this was better than the ball game.

Finally, he winked at me. “Want something to drink?” he said.

He went over to the bowl of drinks, which was elevated from the seats, and I followed. The others didn’t look back. As soon as we were out of sight, he placed his hands on my thighs and kissed me. I felt on fire. “You want to hang around?”

“Still beer left,” I joked.

His hand brushed against the side of my breast, and I felt a tremor. Soft hands. My breath quickened. A flicker of sweat broke through on my neck.

Chris kissed me again. He drew me in close, and I felt the cadence of a heart pounding between us. I didn’t know if it was his or mine.

“Can’t wait,” he said.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I meant I can’t wait.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I sighed. I couldn’t hold back. My whole body was heating up to the boiling point. I glanced down at Cheery and Mercer and the two Mill Valley types. This is crazy, Lindsay.

But everything lately was crazy, everything speeding out of control.

It seemed as if every natural force in the universe was driving Chris and me to find a secluded spot. There was a bathroom in the skybox, barely large enough to put on makeup in. We didn’t care.

Chris led me into the bathroom while the baseball crowd roared at something. We could barely squeeze in. Jesus, I could not believe I was doing this here. He un-buttoned my blouse, I unfastened his belt. Our thighs were pressed tightly together.

Gently, Chris lifted me onto him. I felt as if a shooting star had exploded in my veins. Chris was up against the counter; I was in the palms of his hands; we were squeezed into this tiny space, but we were in a perfect rhythm.

A crowd

roar echoed in from outside: Maybe McGwire had hit another, maybe Bonds had robbed him — who cared. We kept rocking, Chris and I. I couldn’t breathe. My body was slick with sweat. I couldn’t stop. Chris kept it going, I gripped on tight, and in a moment we both gasped.

Two hero cops, I thought.

It was the best, the freest, the most excited I had ever felt. Chris rested his forehead on my shoulder. I kissed his cheek, his neck.

Then the strangest thought took hold of me. I began to laugh, a mixture of laughter and exhausted sighs. We were pinned there, spent, a few feet from my boss. I was giggling like a damn fool. I was going to get us caught!

“What’s so funny?” Chris whispered.

I was thinking of Claire and Cindy. And what we had just done.

“I think I just made the list,” I said.

Chapter 97

THE NEXT DAY, Jenks asked to meet again. Jill and I went to see him on the tenth floor. We wondered what was up.

This time, there was no cat and mouse, no bullshit at all. Leff was there, but he rose, humbly, as soon as we came in.

Jenks looked far less threatening in his gray prison garb. The worried look on his face was a clear message.