Devil's Corner Read Online Free PDF Page A

she got there, taking off her stained trench-coat and laying it over another dining room chair. She couldn't bear to look at it again, much less wear it. She entered the kitchen, flopped into the wooden chair at the round table, and kicked off her pumps. "I hate high heels."
    "Me, too." Dan set the wine on the tile counter and went into her silverware drawer for the corkscrew. He knew exactly where it was, because he was over so often. They had met a year ago, when she'd become an AUSA and got the office next to him, and they'd become close, sharing gossip at lunch and war stories whenever possible. They had dinner after work, too, when Dr. Bitchy was on call; Dan had probably cooked more meals in this kitchen than Vicki had, which made her feel oddly ashamed. She eyed the room in case there was a pop quiz.
    The kitchen measured about twenty feet long and was just wide enough to qualify as a galley. Authentically distressed oak covered the floor, and matching cabinets lined the wall. A halogen light of tangerine Murano glass hung down from the ceiling, casting a soft, if concentrated, glow on the round kitchen table. Dan stood at the indefinite edge of the lamplight in jeans that were too big, which Vicki found secretly charming.
    She watched him pour the wine into two glasses, and it washed bubbling against the side. It was a Chardonnay, which Dan knew was her favorite, and his thoughtfulness triggered a wave of longing so powerful that she had to swallow, physically forcing it back down her throat. She wished that she could lose herself in him for just one night, but he didn't think of her that way. Not that it mattered, for those purposes. He could just lie still.
    "Here's what the doctor ordered." Dan turned, glasses in hand, and brought them to the table, where he put them down and sat in the other chair. They both lifted their glasses without saying a word, tacitly toasting Morty. Their eyes met, but Vicki broke contact first and took a sip. The cold Chardonnay tingled on her tongue. Cold comfort, but comfort.
    "Thanks for doing this," Vicki said.
    "What a guy."
    "Really, it was nice of you. I know you hate Chardonnay."
    "Not true." Dan took another sip and rallied, putting the moment behind them. "Chardonnay is classy. Even the word is classy. Chardonnay makes me feel almost as classy as you."
    "Don't start." Vicki smiled. It was a running joke between them. Her parents were prominent lawyers who ran a prosperous firm in Center City, and Dan had grown up in a working-class city neighborhood, Juniata, and his father was a ne'er-do-well who had served time for petty forgery. Dan had a chip on his shoulder about his family, but it didn't matter to Vicki, except that it reminded her of her parents. She fleetingly considered calling to tell them she was okay, but they generally went to bed by ten o'clock.
    "So, you want to talk about what happened?" Dan looked at her so intensely, it could qualify as foreplay in most jurisdictions. Just not the Platonic jurisdiction.
    "In a minute."
    "Fair enough. I was worried about you."
    "You'd better." Vicki always shrugged off any nice thing Dan said, even borderline flirting. He would never have cheated, and she wouldn't want an affair with him; frankly, not only because of her morals, which went out the window when he wore those jeans, but because she wanted to be number one. What trial lawyer would settle for number two? The name for number two is loser.
    "They said on the TV news that you ‘narrowly escaped with your life.' " Dan made quote marks in the air, but didn't smile. "Is that true?"
    Vicki flashed on the guns. It struck her that she had faced two tonight, which should count as narrowly, if not miraculously. "Yes."
    "Were you scared?"
    "My underwear is clean." Dan laughed. "That was an overshare."
    "I'm proud of that. It wasn't easy."
    "I try not to think about your underwear." Don't try so hard . Vicki watched him drink his wine, which was almost half gone, and a silence