"Being hunted by a psycho killer is kind of an attention getter," she said dryly.
"Yeah." He decided to go for broke and asked, "Will you give me another chance?"
"I don't know," she said, and his heart sank. "I told you I wouldn't be hasty or do anything drastic, and I won't. My attention is a little splintered right now, so I think we should just shelve this discussion for a while." Okay, he thought. That was a swing and a miss, but he hadn't struck out yet.
"May I sleep with you?"
"You mean have sex?"
"No. I mean sleep with you. In our bed. I'd like to make love with you, too, but if you won't do that, will you at least let me sleep with you?"
She thought about it for so long that he began to think he'd swung at and missed another ball. Finally she said, "Okay."
He heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn't brimming over with enthusiasm, but she wasn't kicking him out, either. It was a chance. They had a lot of years together, and that was holding them together when couples without much of a history might already have called it quits. He couldn't expect to undo in one night the accumulated damage he had wrought over the past two years.
But she had hung in there with him, so he wasn't going to quit now, no matter how surly she got, or how long it took him to make her believe he loved her. The most important thing was keeping her alive, even if she walked out on him afterward. He didn't know if he could stand losing her, but he knew he sure as hell couldn't stand burying her.
"I'm so tired," Jaine said. "You must be exhausted."
"I've been running on coffee all day long," Sam replied. "The jolt is wearing off, though. Want to make it an early night?"
She yawned. "I don't think I have a choice. I doubt I could stay awake if I tried." She rubbed her forehead. "I've had a splitting headache all day, and nothing I've taken has been able to touch it."
"Damn," he said mildly. "We aren't even married yet, and already you're having headaches."
That earned a faint smile.
"Did Shelley whip out a giant cucumber today?" The smile grew a little, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yeah. Every time we closed our eyes, she plastered us with cucumber slices. I don't know if they work, but they feel good." She paused. "Did you make any progress today?"
He grunted in disgust. "All I've done is tread water. The computer didn't turn up anything, so Bernsen and I have been going over the files to see if we missed something. Do you remember any harassment complaints, or any trouble between two employees?"
"I remember when Sada Whited caught her husband fooling around with Emily Hearst and they had a brawl in the parking lot, but I doubt that's what you're looking for." She yawned again. "Harassment complaints, huh? I can't remember any. Bennett Trotter probably should have a sexual harassment complaint filed against him every day, but I don't think anyone has. And he has dark hair."
"We haven't ruled out brunettes. We haven't ruled out anyone. Marci could have picked up that blond hair from someone she brushed against in the grocery store. Tell me more about Bennett Trotter."
"He's a jerk, always making comments that he thinks are sexy, but he's the only one who thinks they are. You know the type."
He did. He wondered if Bennett Trotter could provide proof of his whereabouts on the two days in question. "There are several people whom no one likes," Jaine continued. "My boss, Ashford de Wynter, is one. He was in a real snit over the List, until the company decided to go with the free publicity, then he mellowed out." Sam added Ashford de Wynter to his mental list. "Anyone else?"
"I don't know everyone. Let's see. No one likes Leah Street, but I don't guess she counts."
The name was familiar. It took him only a second to place it. "She's the drama queen."
"And a pain in the rear. I'm glad she's not in my department. T.J. has to put up with her every day."
"Anyone else besides Trotter and de Wynter?"
"No one that sticks out. I remember a guy named Gary or something like that who was really bent out of shape when the List first came out, because some of the women were ragging him about it, but he wasn't violent about it, just sulky."
"Can you find out his name for certain?"
"Sure. Dominica Flores was one of the women needling him. I'll call her in the morning."
It was strange how altered everything was, T.J. thought the next morning as she entered Hammerstead. Marci and Luna weren't here. They would never be here again. As difficult to accept as Marci's death was, Luna's was impossible. T.J. still couldn't get her mind around it. Luna had been so damn bright and sweet, how could anyone want to kill her over a stupid list?
The killer was here in this building, she thought. She might walk past him in the hallway. Maybe coming to work wasn't the smartest thing to do, but in a weird way she had wanted to be here because he was here. Maybe he would say something, though she knew that possibility was remote. Maybe she would catch an expression on his face – something, anything, that would help them figure out who he was. She wasn't any kind of Sherlock Holmes, but she wasn't stupid, either.
Jaine had always been the most intrepid of their group, but T.J. figured she could be a little daring, too. Coming to work today felt daring. Jaine wasn't coming in; the headache she'd had yesterday hadn't let up, and she was spending another day with Shelley, being pampered. T.J. had to admit she also liked the idea of Galan worrying about her. It was silly, maybe even stupid, to come to work when she knew he was alarmed about it, but he had taken her for granted for so long that his present intense concern was like balm to her hurt feelings. He had surprised her last night with what he said. Maybe they could make it together. She wasn't going to rush into accepting his apology any more than she had rushed into a divorce when their marriage first started crumbling, but she did love him, and for the first time in a long while, she thought he might love her, too.