Some cases are more complicated than others. It’s not that the perpetrators are unduly cunning; most are as mindless as the crimes they commit. More often than not, it’s the relationship dynamics of the cops involved that throw an investigation into turmoil. To my misfortune, the Plank case promises to become as complex as the DNA we’re hoping will solve it. It’s dredged up a part of my past I’ve been running away from for seventeen years. A past I knew I would eventually have to face.

I’m thinking about the choices I made as a fourteen-year-old girl, and the demons born of those choices, as Tomasetti and I head back to the police station. He hasn’t spoken to me since we left the bar. The silence is uncomfortable, but I prefer it. I think he does, too. Or maybe the silence is safer than talking. God knows I’m no expert on men, but I’m pretty sure he wants to spend the night with me. I’m not sure I have the resolve to refuse if he presses.

It’s almost ten P.M. when Tomasetti pulls the Tahoe into a visitor slot outside the police station and kills the engine. Hands on the steering wheel, he stares straight ahead. “Come with me to the motel.”

Temptation tugs at me. He’s a meticulous lover, and it would be so easy to lose myself in that for a few hours. I want to blame my indecision on the vodka. But the debate rioting inside me is a lot more complex than an alcohol-fuzzed brain. It scares me because I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling won’t be appeased by an orgasm.

“I can’t.” I don’t look at him, but I feel his eyes on me.

“I guess I’m still wondering if we’re . . .”

“Maybe that’s the problem. We haven’t defined what we are.”

“We have a relationship,” he says.

I finally meet his gaze. “Based on what?”

“Mutual respect. Admiration.” He smiles. “Really great sex.”

“What about friendship?” I say. “Trust?”

“That, too.”

In that instant I know if I don’t get out of there, I’m not going to leave, so I reach for the door handle. “I have to go.”

He grasps my arm. “Don’t give up on us.”

“I haven’t.” Opening the door, I slide out then bend to look at him. “See you tomorrow.”

I’m one of those people who can get by on little sleep. Probably a good thing since I’m a functioning insomniac. Tonight, I don’t know if it’s the case or Tomasetti that has my brain tied into knots. Probably a little bit of both.