Black River Read Free Page B

give a guy a hug?”
    Corso glanced over at the sergeant, who pursed his lips in thought.
    “She stays outside the barrier,” he said.
    Dougherty nodded okay. The sergeant checked the crowd and said, “Give the lady a little room.” The two cops directly in front of her stepped out into the street.
    Corso and Dougherty stepped into the breach and shared a hug, a hug long enough and hard enough to embarrass them both and send them reeling away from each other like opposite poles of a magnet. Corso brushed at his coat, while she tugged her sleeves back down over the tattooed words and leaves and tendrils that spiraled their way around her arms.
    “There seems to be a barrier between us,” he joked.
    “There always was, Frank.”
    They hugged again, and he remembered the smell of her, something like vanilla and cinnamon. After a moment, they stepped back and stood in silence, taking each other in.
    “How’re things going?” he asked.
    “Same old,” she said. “And you?”
    “Busy.”
    “I saw you on television the other night.”
    He shrugged. “Got a new publicist. She’s a real go-getter.”
    She gestured up the street. “Way too many bodies for me,” she said. “I never had much taste for full-contact photography.”
    “What else are you working on?” Corso asked.
    “The usual. Freelancing for anybody with the cash. Trying to put a new show together.” She offered a wan smile. “Always hoping to come up with that one big story that will put me over the top and turn me into the next Frank Corso.”
    He opened his mouth to protest, but she kept on talking.
    “You seen the papers?”
    He shook his head. She checked her watch.
    “So you haven’t heard what they found buried in the bridge footing?”
    “What?”
    “A truck.”
    “I’ve missed you,” he said, out of the blue.
    She shifted her weight and looked up at the steel-wool sky. Up the street, Bruce Elkins had abandoned the crowd and smiled his way inside.
    “Me too,” Dougherty said finally.
    “I think of you a lot. Maybe we could—”
    “Don’t,” she said. “We agreed…remember?”
    “Way I recall it was more like you agreed.”
    “Whatever,” she snapped.
    Corso’s lips tightened. He turned away.
    She winced and put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that…like it sounded.” When he didn’t respond, she stepped in closer and lowered her voice. “It was too much for me, Corso. It felt like beating my head against a brick wall.”
    He looked at her over his shoulder. “At least it wasn’t boring.”
    “What it was was exhausting. I always felt I was on the outside looking in.” She waved a hand in the air. “You’re like a stone. I shared myself with you, Frank.” She slashed the air again. “Willingly…blissfully… and seven months later I didn’t know any more about you than I did when I started.”
    She stepped around in front of him and took his face in her hands.
    “Besides…”
    The cop on Corso’s right turned his face away, as if embarrassed to be listening.
    Corso cleared his throat. “Maybe we should do a nice platonic dinner or something. Catch up on old times and all that.”
    “Besides,” she said again, louder this time, “I’ve got a boyfriend. It’s been over a year, Frank.”
    Corso’s pale eyes flickered.
    “People pair up. That’s what happens here on earth. It’s how we keep the planet populated.”
    “I didn’t say anything,” Corso protested. “Did I say anything?”
    “You didn’t have to. Besides…he’d go crazy if I went without him. I’ve told him all about you.”
    Corso made a rude noise with his lips. “I know you. You’ve been rubbing his nose in my famous-author status, haven’t you?”
    She laughed. “Only when he really deserves it. He’s read all your books. He says you’re a passable stylist.”
    Corso’s face arranged itself into something between a sneer and a smile.
    “He’s super jealous of you, but at the same time, another part of