“You’ve put me in a very awkward position.”

“I’m sorry. Considering the circumstances, I felt I had to tell you.”

“I won’t lie. If I’m asked, I’ll tell what I know.”

“Fair enough.” He exited onto Carrollton Avenue, heading toward the river. “But nobody’s going to ask.”

Saturday, April 28, 2007

6:35 a.m.

Stacy couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shut off her mind. Like a hamster on a wheel, her thoughts went round and round, replaying the events of the night, the things she had learned.

Captain Patti O’Shay had broken the law. Spencer had known she was doing it. He’d felt no remorse, then or now.

And he’d kept it from her. So effectively, she hadn’t even suspected.

Stacy was uncertain which revelation had rocked her more-his secret-keeping or her total obliviousness to it.

How could she trust him? And how could a relationship flourish amid secrets and lies? A healthy relationship required total honesty, which led to complete trust.

Like the best cop partnerships. You never wondered if your partner had your back. If you wondered, you were dead.

Spencer snored softly beside her. Not an unpleasant sound. Comforting. Familiar.

She rolled onto her side and gazed at him. No wonder neither of them had a clue where they were going. How could they?

“Why’re you staring at me?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“I’m not.”

He cracked them open. “Liar.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “Go back to sleep. I’m getting up.”

“Crazy woman.”

Tell me about it.

She slipped out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt on over her cotton pj’s.

“Stacy?”

She stopped at the door and looked back. “Yeah?”

“Marry me.”

She stared at him, quite literally dumbstruck. Several seconds ticked by before she found her voice. “You didn’t just say-”

“I did. Marry me.”

Just last night they had agreed they didn’t know where their relationship was going. “You’ve caught me by surprise, Spencer. Why are you asking me…now?”

“Dunno. Think ’bout it, okay?”

She nodded and backed out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Like most girls, she had daydreamed about the day the man she loved would propose marriage. The fantasy included bended knee, candlelight, music and the promise of undying love-not to mention a ring.

Somehow “Dunno,” a sweatshirt and pj’s didn’t cut it.

She started the coffee and went out for the paper. The day looked to be pretty damn spectacular: blue sky, puffy clouds, low humidity. Of course, in New Orleans the weather had been known to turn on a dime.

When she returned with the paper, the coffee was already burbling its last. Spencer stood at the counter, leaning against it for support, staring at the coffeemaker.

“You’re up.”

“Smelled the brew. Couldn’t resist.”

She cocked an eyebrow. Interesting. Fresh-brewed coffee seemed to be able to do what his unanswered question could not-propel him out of bed.

So much for his being on pins and needles. It was only a decision about the rest of their lives.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, sweetened it, shuffled across to the table and plopped onto a chair. “What d’you have t’day?”

“Baxter and I are touring Gabrielle’s listings. See if we missed anything. We’re bringing a canine unit with us.”

The dogs were trained to indicate on all types of narcotics. In fact, their olfactory glands were so sensitive, they could pinpoint areas where drugs had been stored, even when they were no longer there and in amounts as miniscule as parts per billion.

“Smart.” He sipped the coffee. “Gabrielle’s records offer any leads?”

“He’s the one who was smart. His appointment book, PDA and computer were all clean. The lab’s performing forensics on his cell phone.”

The ordinary cell phone user didn’t realize that cell phones retained information even after being deleted or wiped. Mobile Electronic Forensics, which used specially designed software to retrieve stored data, was fast becoming a major player in crime investigation. Invaluable information such as contact lists, numbers called and duration of those calls, text messages sent or received, as well as pictures, movies and even customized rings tones, could all be lifted. There was even software that could read multiple languages, such as Arabic and Chinese.

“But so far,” she continued, “we’ve got nothing to tie him to either end of the meth process except the word of the bartender.”

“And his getting gunned down in his Uptown driveway on a school night,” he added, yawning. “Want to go for bagels?”

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about food.”

“I’m hungry.”

“By any chance, do you remember dropping a bomb on me a few minutes ago? The ‘M’ bomb?”

“I do. Seems to me, the bomb’s in your court.”

“Don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“If you want to. But in the end it’s either yes or no.”

“You drive me crazy!” She folded her arms across her chest. “Flipping nuts.”

He took a sip of his coffee, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Reason enough to say yes. It’s not every day you can agree to spend the rest of your life with someone who sends you off your rocker.”

That was the closest she was going to get to her romantic fantasy: being sent off a rocker instead of over the moon. Some girls had all the luck.

Something in her expression sobered him. “I am who I am, Stacy.”

And so was she. “No,” she said softly. “I won’t marry you.”

His expression didn’t change. He simply nodded. “Do you want to move out?”

“Is that what this is about, Spencer? You could have just asked me to go.”

He frowned. “That’s not why I asked.”

“Then why did you?” She held up a hand. “And don’t tell me you don’t know. I’m not accepting that.”

“We talked last night about where our relationship was going. This morning, getting married just seemed the thing to do.”

“The thing to do?”

“That it was time. You know, to-”

“Shit or get off the pot?”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

This proposal had just gone from bad to worse. “Maybe I will move out.”

“Stacy, I didn’t mean-”

“Yeah, you did.” She pressed her lips together a moment, using the time to focus her thoughts. “You’re right, Spencer. Maybe it’s time we faced the fact that this isn’t going anywhere and moved on.”

He didn’t respond. She crossed to the doorway, stopped and looked back at him. He sat unmoving, gaze fixed on a point somewhere past her. She wondered if he hurt at all. If he, like she, felt as if someone had reached inside her chest and now held her heart in a vice grip.

Somehow, she thought not.

She let out a long breath. “It might take me a couple of weeks to find a place. I’ll start looking right away.”