3rd Degree (Women's Murder Club 3)
“The bad news?” I said, hoarsely.
“Someone’s gonna have to teach you how to dress for these photo ops.”
“New fashion look.” I squeezed back a smile.
I noticed that he had a raincoat draped over his arm and was wearing the navy herringbone suit I’d seen him in the first time. It was a very nice suit, and he wore it well.
“The vice president’s recuperating. I’m heading back to Washington tonight.”
All I could do was nod. “Okay…”
“No”—he shook his head, inching closer—“it’s not okay. Because it’s not what I want.”
“We both knew this would happen,” I said, trying to be strong. “You have a job. The interns…”
Molinari scowled. “You’re brave enough to go after a man holding a canister of deadly poison, but you’re not ready to stand up for something you want.”
I felt a tear creep out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t know what I want, right now.”
Molinari put down his raincoat, then drew close and put a hand to my cheek, brushing away the tear. “I think you need some time. You have to decide, when things calm down, if you’re prepared to let someone in. Like a relationship, Lindsay.”
He took my hand. “My name’s Joe, Lindsay. Not Molinari, or Deputy Director, wink, wink. And what I’m talking about is you and me. And not trying to joke it away because you’ve been hurt before. Or because you lost a really close friend. I know this’ll come as a disappointment, Lindsay, but you’re entitled to be happy. You know what I mean. Call me old-fashioned.” He smiled.
“Old-fashioned,” I said, doing exactly what he accused me of, making jokes when I ought to be serious.
Something was stuck inside me, the way it always seemed to stick when I wanted to say what was in my heart. “So, you get out here how often?”
“Speeches, security conferences… a couple of national crises factored in…”
I laughed. “We can’t help the jokes, neither of us.”
Molinari sighed. “Even you must know this by now: I’m not one of the assholes, Lindsay. It can work. The next step is yours. You have to make a move to try.”
He stood up and brushed his hand over my hair. “The doctors assured me that this is perfectly safe.” He smiled, then leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips. His lips were soft, and mine, chapped and dry from the night, clung on. I was trying to show him how I felt, knowing I’d be crazy not to tell him and let him walk out that door.
Joe Molinari stood and draped the raincoat over his arm. “It’s been a privilege and an honor getting to know you, Lieutenant Boxer.”
“Joe,” I said, a little scared to see him go.
“You know where to reach me.”
I watched him head to the door. “You never know when a girl might have a national emergency….”
“Yeah”—he turned and smiled—“I’m a national emergency kind of guy.”
Chapter 109
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, my doctor came in and told me there was nothing wrong with my system that a good glass of wine or two wouldn’t cure.
“There are even some people here who want to take you home,” he said.
Outside my room, I saw Claire and Cindy peeking in.
They took me home about long enough to shower, change, and give Martha a long-overdue hug. Then I had to go down to the Hall. Everyone seemed to want a piece of me. I made a date to see the girls later at Susie’s. It was important that we get together now.
I did the news spots on the steps of the Hall. Tom Brokaw was patched through and interviewed me on a video link.
As I recounted the story of how we had found Danko and Hardaway, I felt a tremor snaking through me, distancing me even as I spoke. Jill was dead; Molinari was gone; I didn’t feel much like a hero. The phone was going to ring, some other homicide called in, and life would slam back the way it always did. But this time I knew nothing was ever going to be the same.