the walls less stately and the floors plainer.
In the rear guts of the building were some small offices, converted storage rooms cleared out to house a growing but hesitant interest in new sciences, technologies, and manners of mental and physical study. Alienists were a new concept, studying the patterns and possible motivations of the human mind. The new process of fingerprinting was in the stumbling stages of becoming routine. Eve found the possibilities exciting and was glad when any department kept an open mind.
No one was more sensible about all methods and practice than the man whose office sat before her at the end of the hall, his door open.
Eve stared at Detective Jacob Horowitz, framed in the open doorway of his dimly lit room with its well-worn furniture and stacks of collected case material: papers, bound notebooks and the occasional item from a crime scene that the evidence room seemed to have forgotten but he never did.
He wore a finely tailored black frock coat, dark blue waistcoat, and crisp white neckwear tied in a loose knot. Not required to wear the uniform of a patrol officer on a beat, he dressed in elegant simplicity, a gentleman conducting interviews and professional business who could seamlessly disappear into a crowd from one clue to the next. To Eve, though, he would always stand out.
He looked up. His dark eyes, ringed in striking slivers of blue, suddenly lit. His frown of concentration vanished, his sharp-featured face shifting into a devastatingly handsome expression of delight. His smile nearly lifted Eve off the ground. The growing fire in his gaze at the sight of her made her toes curl in her boots.
They had become something that could no longer be ignored. Steady sparks struck between them had caught. They were now a conflagration.
But the work. The cases came first. As they should. But at some point, what they kept pushing aside might drag them over the edge if they weren’t careful. It might become a necessity to let the fire breathe; putting it out didn’t seem possible. Eve couldn’t imagine dousing it.
Floating to his threshold, she wondered if she appeared ghostly in her approach.
“Hello, Whitby,” he murmured fondly, gesturing her forward. “What brings you to me? I’m glad you’re here, as I’ve a lot to share with you, but you look…well, lovely, but worried.”
“Well…for a start, I want to see you, and I have something to confess.”
At this, he rose out of his chair.
Realizing her voice had sounded more sensuous than intended, she continued at a stammer. “I mean…something happened today you need to know about, and you should come by tonight for dinner. And an instruction.”
He came around to the side of the desk and approached her. “Are you all right?”
Reaching out, he cupped her elbow in his hand, running his thumb softly over the wool. He managed to touch her in the most caring of ways. Never possessively or too untoward, he won her with small, delicate gestures. Every one unlocked her further, and she feared she’d simply open; in trust and in desire. Her mind swam. Cheeks scarlet, she was grateful for his dim office. Her knees went weak at the thought of such surrender, and he reached out and cupped her other elbow in his hands, steadying her as he searched her for an answer.
“Yes, I…” Her eyes fluttered closed; the sensation of him so near and holding her in such a gentle touch was overwhelming. She debated about lying, but he deserved the truth. “You…affect me…sorry. I nearly forgot what I was going to say. I woke up…came to…this morning at Sanctuary again. Driven there, mentally, by Prenze. Whatever read and hold he gained on me through his devices, he’s using it and I have to fight it.”
“Why Sanctuary? What does he want with that place?”
“I suppose because Sanctuary is a place where spirits have ultimate control? He seems threatened by spirits. Maggie was one of his prisoners, and she escaped only by Sanctuary’s intervention. I just have to make sure I’m not aiding the enemy by my own connection to spirits. Not having control over myself is the greatest terror I’ve ever experienced.”
“I can imagine,” he said, keeping that soft hold on her. “But you’re strong.”
“Sanctuary itself has a pull on me too; my soul feels bonded to the place, I just have to be sure if I visit it’s on my own terms. So, that’s what dinner will be about: psychic shielding and maintaining control.” She dared look in his eyes. The fear and anxiety of the morning fell away. In its place, all their near misses threatened to bowl her over. She found herself blurting out, “Not that there…aren’t cases when I wouldn’t mind…losing a bit of control, I suppose. In the right place. With the right person.”
“We’ll have to do something about that,” he replied in a murmur. A subtle shudder coursed down her body and an overwhelmed little laugh leapt from her lips. “But not now,” he cautioned. “Not here. Certainly not in this zoo. I can’t be seen embracing you, and I dare not close my door. The higher-ups remain unnerved by me, especially now that I’ve got other precincts cooperating with me, something they never manage to do well.” He stepped closer. “And of course, we’ve a great deal of casework to do. But something has very nearly happened to us. More than once. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
They’d had several, maddening, time-stopping near kisses by this point without actually kissing, and Eve felt sure he was thinking of each and every one of those missed opportunities as she did.
“And at this point,” he continued, “we must plan for it. I don’t want to get caught up in a hasty moment and regret imperfect circumstances. But if we don’t…allow ourselves…a moment of affection…” He stared deeply into her eyes and then shifted his gaze to her lips.
“I won’t be able to stop myself,” Eve breathed.
“And, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t stop you.…”
Her arms itched to seize him, to run her hands through his gentle curls, to press against him so that she could drink him in, feel his wiry strength, press her forehead to his and imagine what he was thinking; one mind to the next.…
“So…we’ll be intentional, then,” Eve said haltingly as noise from the hallway reminded them this was no place for passion, even if she could lose herself in his gaze indefinitely. “Soon.” It was a promise that couldn’t wait forever. But not here, Jacob was certainly right.
She stepped back, and they both took a deep breath. That she seemed to affect him in just the same way made her heart beat with a joyous thrum. Despite all the fear that came with her work and present cases, this fresh pulse was stronger. Yes, the work came first. Work now. Indulgence later: an earned, sweet reward.
He returned to sit behind his desk, safer to put a barrier between them to keep them from colliding against one another like magnets.
“What was that you were saying about dinner before we got distracted?” He chuckled.
“Please come to my side of Fort Denbury tonight, for dinner and a lesson,” Eve said. “The Bishops will be teaching us how better to shield our minds from intrusion and the kinds of projection Albert Prenze has been inflicting on us.”
“I’ll happily go with you, but since it’s many hours until dinner, there are several things I’m sure you’d like to see first.”
He gestured for Eve to sit opposite him as he opened a file.
“I salvaged this before anyone stating that ‘no Whitby works here’ could toss it,” Horowitz said, sliding a telegram envelope across the desk. “Since you’ve gone even quieter about your precinct than before, it seems this circled a bit before alighting here.”
“Oh, thank you for catching it.” Eve glanced at the otherwise unadorned Western Union telegram envelope and then opened the flap.
“If I’m in office,” the detective explained, “I try to be present when the mail arrives. They call it snooping; I call it due diligence, making sure nothing comes in that my colleagues