Page 54 of Long Way Down

Dubois took the picture, and then took a deep, harsh breath that rasped in his throat. His eyes widened, and his hand spasmed, photo wavering and slipping before he took a better grip on it. “Lana,” he murmured, softly anguished.

The French were dramatic – at least, that’s what Granddad had always said, staunch American loyalist that he was – but this drama was real and not at all for show. His eyes glistened, before he blinked hard and passed the photo back. His jaw clenched and his throat jumped as he swallowed. “Ananimaldid this to her. Whoever he is, he’s not a man.”

“You and I are on the same wavelength,” Contreras said, slipping the photo back out of sight. “And we’d really like your help catching him, if you’re able to.”

Dubois took a deep, steadying breath, and jerked a single nod. “Yes. Stay for my class.”

The door clanged open, and voices tumbled in.

“We can talk after.”

He wiped the anger from his expression and went to greet his students, voice calm and musical, so soft it could barely be heard above the actual music.

Melissa turned toward the door, and froze.

“Detective Dixon.” It was Tobias, wearing a motorcycle jacket and a scarf, both spotted with rainwater. Rain glimmered in his hair, too, scattered beads of crystal. He wore a cross-body satchel and carried a zippered, black portfolio.

In that first instant, still gripped by surprise, she thought that he looked glad to see her.

Then he closed the distance between them and said, “Hi.”

She swallowed with some difficulty. “Hi.”

His smile was a slow-blooming, almost-shy thing, his teeth very white in his tan face. “Are you, uh, stalking me or something?”

Her face warmed. Last night flooded her thoughts, Pongo’s fingers inside her, his tongue on her clit, while she wondered if Tobias would eat her out with the same dedication and enthusiasm. She said, “No, I’m–”

His grin widened, and she realized she was being an idiot. That she’d felt the urge tojustifyherself to him…that she wasblushing…

She wanted the floor to swallow her.

“I’m teasing,” he said, unnecessarily. He shifted his weight and his satchel, muscles pulling at the fitted jacket. “How’s the case going?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Oh.” He looked crestfallen, a moment, before his smile rallied. “Right. I understand. Um.” He glanced across the studio. “Were you interviewing Professor Dubois?”

She recognized that she was angry with herself, embarrassed and flustered by her automatic reaction to him, and that was why she said, not kindly, “My partner and I will be observing the class. Try to pretend we aren’t here.”

He nodded. “Okay. Of course.” He hitched his satchel strap higher and walked away with the air of a kicked puppy.

“Fuck,” Melissa muttered under her breath, and went to claim a stool over by the windows.

Contreras joined her there as the class stowed their gear in cubbies and chose easels. “I see El Guapo is here tonight,” he said.

She shot him a dark look. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but I bet you know what that means. I saw you making eyes at him.”

“I do notmake eyesat anyone.”

“Nah,” he conceded, climbing onto the stool next to hers and settling his coat around him; a joint or two cracked, and he made a face. “It was more like trying to vaporize him with your eyes. Which is good.” His voice adopted a paternal, cautionary quality. “You know I’m only kidding. Once this is all done and behind us, and he’s in the clear, I think you ought to ask him out. He’s very interested in you, I can tell. But right now…”

“He’s not off the suspect list,” she said through her teeth. “I know.”

“Just checking. Heishandsome, though.”

Tobias had chosen an easel that faced them – whether or not that was on purpose, she couldn’t know – and the golden lamplight painted the waves of his hair with ochre, and highlighted the shadows above his collarbones and along his wrists. He’d shed his scarf and jacket and was in another loose, woven sweater, this one cream, frayed sleeves pushed up to reveal the forearms she’d admired at their last meeting.

---