it's sitting by the overcoat/ the
second shelf, the note she wrote/ that i can't bring myself to throw
away...
Matchbox 20, Long Day
She glanced at the display on her phone before answering it, a smile tugging at her lips as she recognized the number. "Hey," she said, turning away from the microscope.
"Hey, babe," he replied, and she heard the caution in his tone, in the deep timber of his voice.
Her smile faded. "What is it?" She was suddenly glad that, for the moment at least, she was alone in this corner of the lab.
"We got a tip that Kerrington got on a bus to LA two days ago. We gotta get out there, check it out."
That was the problem with cases, sometimes they took an unexpected turn and you had to follow it wherever it went. "When are you leaving?" There was another pause and she heard the sound of a locker slamming shut. "Don, don't tell me-"
"Me and Philips are getting on a plane in a coupla hours," he said. "We're just about to leave for La Guardia."
There was silence on the line for a moment, and she knew he was waiting for her reaction. "Stell-"
"Okay," she said running a hand through her hair, her jaw clenched. "It's fine. I understand."
"I know we had that thing tonight-"
"It's fine," she repeated, hearing the snap in her voice and knowing he would hear it too. She sighed. "Really, it's fine, we'll do it some other time."
"I'll be home as soon as I can."
It wasn't like they had never spent any time apart. Cases ran long. Sometimes they were on conflicting shifts, spent all their time together sleeping and communicated through post it notes on the fridge. She forced a smile. "Just catch him."
"I will." There was a pause and she heard someone talking in the background. "I gotta go, babe. Love ya."
"You too." And, foolishly, she waited until she heard the click of disconnection and the start of the dial tone before she snapped her own phone shut.
--
Interested yet? More to come soon.