Chosen To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Pescoli grinned at the sarcasm. It wasn’t like uptight Selena Alvarez to joke, but here she was, her lips twitching, relief on her sharp features.

“You know, Pescoli, you scared me to death.” She set the flowers on the ledge of a window overlooking the parking lot. Snow was falling over the asphalt that had been plowed earlier in the day.

“Didn’t mean to.” She winced as she pushed the

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lever on the bed to raise her head. “Have we located Hicks’s body?”

“Not yet.”

Then her nightmares wouldn’t cease.

Alvarez dropped the gum onto Pescoli’s table near her half-full glass of water. “Merry Christmas. I thought you might be wanting to smoke and I thought since you’re in the hospital and all, and New Year’s is right around the corner, maybe you should quit. Like for good. Besides I don’t think the doctors would approve if I brought in a pack of cigs.”

Pescoli eyed her partner. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“Meaning ‘butt out’?”

“Something like that.” But she picked up the pack of tasteless gum. “Seriously, how’re things at the office?”

“Better. Since Star-Crossed is now officially over. Joelle wants us to have some kind of New Year’s party, but everyone’s dog tired and just wants to have some time with their families.”

“You?” Pescoli asked and saw the shadow cross her partner’s eyes.

“Nah. I don’t have anyone around. I volunteered to cover some of the shifts.”

“You could use a break.”

“I’ll get one.” She nodded toward the bed. “Once my partner’s back on her feet.”

The door opened and a heavy-set nurse with apple cheeks swept in. “Can I get you something?”

she asked as she hit a button to turn off the call light.

“Yeah, how about a release,” Pescoli said. “The 454

Lisa Jackson

doctor mentioned I might get out of here today and I need to get back to my kids and my job.”

“Tomorrow, I think he said.” Nurse Patterson wasn’t easily bluffed. “But I’ll check, Detective.”

“Good.”

The nurse backed out the door and Alvarez, her expression turning somber said, “Seriously, Pescoli, I know you and I, we’re kind of oil and water, don’t always get along, surely don’t see eye to eye, but . . . what we do, it works.”

“Yeah?”

“And there was a time when I knew that son of a bitch had you. I knew that your initials were part of his message and I thought that psycho had already killed you.” Her eyes were dark as obsidian. “I was sure that we were going to find your body tied to a damned tree.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Not quite. Christ, Pescoli, what the hell were you thinking? Taking off on your own? Letting that son of a bitch get the drop on you!” She was agitated now, her cheeks flushed, more flustered than Pescoli had ever seen Alvarez who was usually wound so tight, under so much control.

“I was just thinking about my kids. I didn’t ask the creep to shoot out my tire!”