Page 7 of Lust
The girl’s bottom lip trembled.
She needed to say something to take her mind off it, so added, “It’s your birthday, right?”
The girl nodded.
“Happy birthday. It can only get better from here. What’s your name?”
“Mirabelle,” she mumbled.
“Nice to meet you, Mirabelle. I’m Detective Liza Lazarus. Come on. I won’t hurt you. My job is to protect you. Let’s take you somewhere you’ll be safe. I know a good shelter that gives coupons and cake to anyone who’s having a birthday.”
* * *
Liza sankinto her office chair, mentally exhausted. It wasn’t the cold outside, or the journey she’d taken across town to drop Mirabelle at a domestic violence shelter, or her bloody knuckles. It was the fact the station was virtually empty, and she’d come back to it after taking the afternoon off.
She glanced around the bullpen where the detectives sat. Her “office” consisted of a small desk laden with case files. No walls separated her from her coworkers. Only one detective remained.
Briggs was a forty-something ex-patrol cop built like a linebacker. These days the muscle had turned to pudge, but he still cut an imposing figure. The rest of the dayshift had vanished early. That was the sad state of the detectives at the CCPD. No one cared to do the actual work, and the captain also skipped out early, so he failed to care to reprimand them. Only, while they’d left because they had a social life, Liza had been pretending. What was the excuse for the rest of them?
When Briggs stood, loosened his tie, and closed the drawers on his desk, Liza glanced at the clock.
Five p.m.
She wanted to punch something.
Briggs gathered his coat and hat from the rack before striding toward the door. When he passed Liza’s desk, she jumped up and blocked him.
“Hey, Briggs,” she greeted.
“Liza.” His heavy brows drew together. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good, except... where is everyone?”
Briggs’s eyes dropped, and he suddenly became interested in the pattern on the tiled floor. “Don’t know. Knocked off early, like you, I suppose. I gotta go.”
He tried to shove past, but Liza never cowered around big guys. She’d spent her life growing up around them. She sidestepped and blocked him again.
“You’re keeping something from me,” she said.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Briggs. It’s me. I’ll figure it out, eventually.”
He stared at her.
She could sense he was about to make up an excuse, so spoke first. “This many detectives leaving early isn’t right. Must either be one helluva homicide, or a special occasion.”
His body language betrayed him. Sweat on the upper lip. Pupils contracting when she’d said the latter. “So it’s a special occasion.” She frowned as the truth dawned on her. “And if you’re all going, and I know nothing about it, then I wasn’t invited. What the fuck?”
He winced. “Don’t take it personally, Liza.”
She grabbed his tie and yanked. “What the actual fuck, Briggs?”
“Joe Luciano is back in town.”
Liza’s hand went lax. The tie slipped through her fingers. “What?”
Briggs sighed. “He asked us all to keep it quiet. He’s back in his old place and has invited us dudes for a poker night. I’m sure he’ll catch up with you soon. Look, I’m late. I gotta go. Poker night starts in an hour and like most bastards who were invited, I still need to get across town to see the wife before heading out.”
