glossing and polishing, she thought she could detect the faintest scent of ancient field dust in the artificially cooled air.
The elevator opened as soon as she pressed the call button. They’d gone for a post-industrial look here, with walls made of sheets of metal that looked like someone had punched it repeatedly until it behaved.
As the lift rose, she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. Her stomach grumbled loud enough to be heard above the elevator’s pulleys. She hadn’t eaten anything since her interrupted lunch at Eric’s. There’d been no time.
Once she’d returned from the police station, she’d spent hours putting together a complete news package about Marie Whitney for the final edition. DJ had stayed late to help.
The headline – Murder Shocks Peaceful Neighborhood – was mediocre, in Harper’s opinion. But it was, at least, accurate.
Miles hadn’t told anyone about Harper’s behavior at the crime scene. Now, she was here to give him the explanation she’d promised.
On the fourth floor, the doors swept open with a soft shushing sound, revealing a dimly lit, wide hallway with exposed brick walls. The door to number twelve stood ajar.
She walked in, shutting the door behind her. A husky blues singer’s voice streamed from speakers.
‘Hello?’
The loft apartment had soaring ceilings and a floor made of wide planks of reclaimed oak. Huge windows lined one wall, framing the glittering lights of downtown Savannah and the undulating dark swirl of the river.
The living room, dining room and kitchen were all one space. His furniture was modern – leather and chrome. Most of the lights were turned down low, except in the kitchen, where Miles sat at the table in the bright, clean glow of a pendulum light.
Glancing up at her, he tilted his head toward the fridge. The wire-framed glasses he wore for close-up work glittered in the light. If he was still angry at her, it didn’t show on his face.
‘Grab yourself a beer.’
He’d spread the internal parts of a camera out on clean, white paper and under a bright light was working with an array of complex tools, meticulously putting it back together.
He did this regularly; said it helped him think.
A police scanner on the counter next to the fridge buzzed and crackled loud enough to be heard above the music.
Harper pulled a bottle from the fridge.
‘I’m surprised to see you,’ Miles said, as she popped the lid with an opener he’d left on the counter. ‘Figured you’d be at Rosie’s.’
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