"The Marker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morgen Shelby)

The woman who stood behind the reception desk now had to be less than five foot tall. She stood admiring him with pale blue eyes that were just a little too friendly.
Where had she come from? How had she managed to simply appear right in front of him? He really was losing his edge. "I'm already signed in and stamped," Sam explained. He held out his fist so she could see the ink that looked like a temporary tattoo across the back of his hand.
Her warm appraisal made him uncomfortable, like a piece of meat in a butcher's display case. He always got a sick, guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach when women looked at him that way. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingering a worn silver chain.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord art with thee...
He shifted his gaze away from direct contact with the woman at the front desk, studying the pictures on the wall behind her. Anything but meeting the woman's watercolor eyes. Anything not to encourage her.
The pictures held the usual faces. The Governor. The Commissioner of Corrections. The names changed from one institution to another, but the faces stayed pretty much the same. "Sam Callaghan, West Virginia State Police. I'm waiting for—"
Except that one. Sam stopped mid-sentence as his eyes scanned the picture again. Employee of the Month. "Kristina J. Donovan."
The woman blinked twice. "Excuse me?"
He was hardly aware he'd read the name aloud. Sam rallied himself, forcing his breathing back under control, willing his pulse rate back to normal. He turned his most charming smile on the little woman. Her badge said she was a Unit Manager. Doris White. "I'm waiting for an escort back to Interview, Ms. White, but I'd really like to see Kristina Donovan while I'm here if you could arrange that for me."
Doris studied him for a moment longer, her smile fading. "Tina's in records, pulling some case files for me. I'll take you back."
Sam nodded curtly, dismissing the woman as if she didn't exist. Because, for him, she didn't exist. His mouth went dry. His chest felt tight, as if there were some great weight pressing on it. He slid his hand back into his pocket. Hail Mary, full of grace...
The hall seemed like the longest walk he'd ever taken. You're just imagining the resemblance. You've been wrong before.
The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women...
Why would she be here? He'd thought to find her in a restaurant, or a shop somewhere or—or anywhere else. Anything but actually working in law enforcement.
Hope? A caseworker named Kristina Donovan? That can't be Hope. Not here.
Doris waved at a doorway where a sign on the wall said records. "I'll be around the corner in the copy room if you need me," she offered.
Hope...
His heart was beating so fast it was bound to explode.
Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
He stood staring, drinking in the sight of her, waiting for her to feel his eyes watching, waiting for her to look up, recognize him, call his name.
Control. Get yourself under control. Slow, deep breaths. Can't let her see you falling apart like this.
Her name was different, her hair was shorter, just past shoulder length, but she couldn't change her face—the face that had haunted his dreams. She looked a little older, naturally, but not so much older. Not as much older as he'd been feeling lately. She'd gained some weight, but only enough to give her curves a fuller, softer line. He'd have recognized her anywhere. His arms ached to hold her. He had to try three times before he could find the voice to speak her name.
"Ms. Donovan?"
Tina looked up, startled by the voice from the doorway. "Ms. Donovan? I'm Sam Callaghan. I'm here for Kelly?"
The voice was rich and deep, flavored with the taste of the South, warm and almost intimate from across the room. Memories came flooding back. Warm breath against her neck in the night. Hot lips pressed against her skin. Promises whispered in a soft southern drawl. Tina closed her eyes, trying to push back the pain.
Spike...
She almost whispered his name, but she knew he wouldn't respond. He'd said his name was Sam. Sam Callaghan. She was imagining the resemblance.
She'd been alone too long.
The Trooper took up the entire doorway, filling it like the moon eclipsing the sun. Tina glanced back down at the files Doris had requested, trying to hide her confusion. The man's voice had sounded so familiar for a moment. It took her back, to another time, another place. But he couldn't be Spike. He was a cop...
"Kelly?" Tina quickly reverted to her professional shell, shutting down her emotions with the ease that came from years of practice. "Doris pulled quite a few files. This may take me a few minutes."
"I don't mind waiting." Although the ghost in the doorway answered with a smile that dimpled his chin, he didn't disappear. He just stood there, one hand in his pocket, staring at her. Maybe not staring. That wasn't quite right.
Waiting.
She just didn't know what the hell he was waiting for.
He settled against the doorframe, one shoulder hiked slightly higher than the other, as if he were planning to wait right there all day.
Spike used to carry.. .No. He was a cop. Just another cop doing his job.
But that voice....
If she could just get a good close look at his eyes...
She couldn't begin to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her with a uniformed State Trooper standing in her doorway—especially one who looked like a Greek god and who reminded her so much of a ghost from her past. "There are chairs out front, just as you come in," she offered hopefully.
"I'm fine. Unless I'm disturbing you." He added it almost as an afterthought—which it probably was.
There were chairs right here in the records room. Chairs and desks where you could, normally, sit down and read the files you'd just requested. But if he sat down across from her, which she knew he would, that would place the man at her eye level and only four feet away.
She'd be able to get a better look at his eyes. "Have a seat, Officer Callaghan."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
Tina tried not to stare as she searched through the files Doris had pulled, even though he was worth staring at. But just as he got close enough for her to really see his eyes he did the oddest thing. He put his sunglasses back on.
Damn.
He moved with the sure, strong, confident rhythm of an athlete. "Baseball?" she asked absently.
One eyebrow raised behind the dark glasses. "Was that just a lucky guess?"
Tina hadn't meant to say it out loud, but since it seemed she had, she explained. "You're very athletic, but you don't look like the football type," she reasoned, trying to keep her glance impersonal.
"I used to play baseball, in high-school and college," he admitted. "Now it's softball on the weekends with the guys from the department. We have a charity league. Helps to keep in shape. The bad guys are getting younger and I'm not."
As if he needed to worry about aging. He was the kind of man who would just get better looking with age. Tina found such injustices annoyed her more now that she'd hit forty-something. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she frowned at the stack of files in front of her. "Give me that name again please."
"Kelly," the Trooper repeated. No, not a Trooper. He was an Officer. First Sergeant Sam Callaghan, according to the nametag over his breast pocket. "Liam Kelly."