Page 42 of Pure Killers

I shake my head and give Seb a smile. "I'm sorry, I'm such morose company. Let’s talk about something cheery."

Seb smiles. He's wearing a high-necked sweater, a little too big for him. It’s navy blue. "Cheery?"

Thunder rumbles outside, the rain pouring harder, as though to punctuate what an odd suggestion such a thing might be.

***

Seb is so awkward that it’s kind of cute as I smile and wave goodbye to him in the middle of the station floor. He ducks away, probably blushing, back to his lab, and I'm still smiling as I turn for Dirk's desk.

He's sitting back in his chair, watching me with a raised eyebrow as I come and perch on the corner of his desk. "Nice lunch?" he asks with a smirk.

"Lovely, actually. Cheery, even."

"Oh yeah?"

I click my tongue. "Come on, don't look at me like that. He's shy, but he's nice. I need some nice."

As though in surrender, he lifts his hands. “Hey, I think it’s good. I’m surprised, and I don’t really see it, but…”

“Don’t see it?” I cut him off, my eyebrow raised.

Dirk shrugs, smile still in place. “Maybe he’s too nice,” he teases.

“I’m nice!”

“Sure. Anyway, as I was saying, I think it’s good you’re moving on.”

“I’m not…” I stop myself. It’s okay to move on, in some ways. "Well, thanks." Meeting Dirk's somewhat cheeky gaze as he leaned far back in his chair, my gaze briefly drops to where his shirt is ruffled over his abs. Looking away as soon as I realise what I’m doing, I pull at a thread on my jeans, inwardly berating myself. He’s yourpartner,for God’s sake. The newly opened floodgate of my long-dormant sexuality sure is proving over-active lately.

“You know, I never asked you how well you knew my husband. You were here when he was. When I was, a bit.”

Dirk shrugs, tapping his pen on the paperwork in front of him. He pretends now to stop ignoring it, sitting up and straightening his shirt. “Yeah, we passed each other’s desks sometimes. It was a bit of a boy’s club in here back then. Didn’t have much to do with him, personally.”

I watch him. “I don’t need to be a detective to see there’s more to that.”

Dirk sighs. “Look, what does it matter what I thought of your late husband? So he could be a bit gung-ho for my taste.” He grins. “So are you.”

“You didn’t like him.” And so what? After what I've done with the potential murderer of him, that seems minor.

Dirk tilts his head side-to-side. "Well, you were the better detective. Although we didn't cross over much back then. And Caleb was good too, but he was locking you away in the suburbs and it felt… well, antiquated.”

I blink. I’d never seen it that way. Why hadn’t I? “The Cocooner was targeting female detectives then…”

“Yeah. You stopped coming in before that.”

Was that right? I suppose it was.

“Either way,” he says more lightly, “While I’m sorry for the loss, I’m glad you're back on the job.”

“What about his partner?”

“Tristan?” he shrugs. “He was a good guy. Seen a lot for his time, you could tell. Bit distant, I guess. A good balance for…” he trails off, seeming to realise he was about to speak ill of the dead. “Anyway. The Cocooner got his sister a year before he landed on the case. They were in the field a lot.” He looks closely at me. “Not been listening to more theories, have you?”

I shrug. “We should at least think about the things people are conjecturing. Back at the bar, the man I spoke to seemed to be implying the Cocooner operating now is a copycat. And with Tristan possibly the burned body… it would make sense to link him as the original Cocooner.”

“Don’t you think Caleb would have twigged on if his partner was the one he was hunting?” Dirk asks, eyes narrowing. Would he? Would I? I look away. Dirk taps his pen. “I guess anything is possible. But, I don't know, Tristan, wrapping people up like that? And his own sister?”

"A lot of people start on their family members, or people they know."

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