45
“Colby called me last night,” Carrie said, a sparkle in her eyes. She sat with a cup of coffee on my office couch waiting for Detective Reginald Rollins to arrive. “He saw us at O’Reilly’s, asked me out. He thought we were an item.”
“You and I?” The warm cup felt good in my hands. “We are, but not in the way he meant.” I sunk down into the other end of the couch. “Are you going?”
“Of course. We’re going to dinner tonight.”
I liked seeing the glow return to Carrie, her usual MO. She had been mired in a low-level depression since the abortion.
Detective Rollins strolled into the office. “Coffee. Good! I could use a cup of Joe,” he said, slipping off his coat and throwing it on a nearby chair. “This better be good, bringing me out on a Saturday morning.”
When I got up to get him his
