Andy knelt silently on the pavement, studying the spatter of blood across the sidewalk. Her gloved hand reached forward and traced the crimson swirls of a partial shoe print on the gray concrete.
"McNally, earth to McNally." Andy looked up to see Sam peering over her shoulder at the print.
"Did you find something?" She tried to keep her voice neutral, but it was cooler than she meant it to be. Sam raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't comment on it.
"I've been calling you for the past five minutes, would you mind dragging your ass out of the clouds and joining me here?" The easiness of his tone, coupled with his casual manner towards her all day made it clear she was a colleague, and nothing but. Andy picked up on it, and it hurt, deep. As hard as she tried to brush it off, the wound was still fresh. Just as, apparently, was their victims.
"The blood here, the shoe print, it's still wet Sam. Whoever was here can't have been gone more than ten minutes. And judging from the amount of blood here, they won't be very far." Andy didn't know if they were looking for a helpless victim or a violent criminal, but her stomach tightened uncomfortable at the idea that they could be looking for a body. She didn't know if she could handle it today. She glanced up at Sam, his dark eyes clouded with thought, and felt her heart constrict. One day at a time, she told herself. Carelessly, Sam grabbed her hand to pull her up, and Andy's heart gave another pathetic kick. One minute at a time, she revised, as the pain squeezed her chest, just one minute.
Unaware and unaffected by what was taking place in Andy's head, Sam released her hand and reached for his radio. He called in a BOLO for their victim, whom witnesses had described as a white male, early thirties, wearing an orange windbreaker. The jacket would be easy enough to identify, he thought to himself, but the inevitable mosaic of blood that likely covered it would be easier. No one had seen what had happened, according to the few fine citizens that had spoken to him at all, but two separate witnesses had shared the same story of seeing the bloody man stagger out of the alley and then disappear.
Sam turned back towards Andy and had to avert his gaze when it fell on her bent over the cruiser, writing notes. He told himself he was only human, and only a man, when his eyes skimmed her fine ass in those stupid navy slacks. He tried not to notice the way the sun lit up streaks of red in her hair, darker than when he met her, but still soft enough to run his hands through. He shook his head, and looked away. He half wished he didn't know what it was like to tangle his fingers in that long, dark hair, tugging her head backwards to expose her neck to his lips. But he did. And though he was happy with Marlo, and his relationship with McNally was platonic now, these memories haunted him.
He didn't want her, he told himself. She'd left him just when he finally opened up to her. She had taken his vulnerability and thrown it in his face. They were just colleagues now, hell, he was a detective and she was only a few years out of the academy. He could easily smother his feelings for some rookie who chose her career over him. As he thought it, a small hand grabbed his shoulder and he swiveled to see Andy's face inches from his. They both took an involuntary step backwards. Her stunning brown eyes dropped from his, then met his gaze.
"The station called, Peckstein brought in a white male matching the description we gave. He's at the barn now but EMS are on their way to pick him up. They said we could meet them at the hospital, but he's in pretty bad shape." Her voice, almost young, but with that hint of rasp, seemed to seep right into his bones as she spoke. Refusing to acknowledge it, Sam flashed her his dimpled grin, then turn towards the car.
"You coming McNally?" He didn't bother to look back at her as he strode towards the drivers side. Suddenly she was right in front of him, blocking his path.
"Where do you think you're going?" There was enough confidence in her voice to have him checking his pockets for the keys. He looked up to see her dangling them in front of him, laughter glinting in her eyes. He narrowed his own at her.
"I wouldn't have taken you for a thief McNally." He held out his hand for the keys, but she didn't drop them. Nudging him out of the way with her hip, Andy slid into the driver's seat and smiled innocently up at him.
"You coming Swarek?" His answering glare lasted a few seconds before he gave up and stomped over to the passenger's seat.
'I'm a d," he muttered, " working the streets like some damn beat cop, and I don't even get to drive." Sam looked over to see Andy laughing, that arresting grin causing something in his gut to tighten. One day at a time, he told himself. Just one day.