style="font-size:15px;"> Except, she thought, in his case, what he listened to was probably all related to his work. Detective Santini didn’t seem the type to be concerned about people as people, the way she was. Concern was what had brought her into medicine in the first place. It was her overwhelming desire to heal, to fix, to make things right if she could that had made her decide to become a doctor. She’d gone into obstetrics because there she also had the added thrill of seeing new life coming into the world.
It helped balance out the times when she couldn’t fix things or make them right again.
“A man who listens. Your wife must be a lucky woman.” It was a flippant, sarcastic thing to say, but she was edgy and wired and heartsick all at the same time. She’d forgotten that he’d told her he was widowed.
Santini looked at her sharply. Had she been standing, Sasha thought, she would have reflexively taken a step back, like someone on the receiving end of a physical blow. Obviously, the wound was still very fresh. It wasn’t like her to have forgotten something like that, even if he was a stranger. She attributed it to the fact that she was very shaken.
“Sorry,” she offered.
His voice was completely dead when he responded. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
The silence hung between them, thick, uncomfortable. At least, it felt that way to her. Sasha took another stab at making amends. “I got personal and I shouldn’t have. It’s a habit I have.”
His eyes met hers again. “Talking first and thinking second?” he guessed.
That stung. “Your turn to apologize,” Sasha said after a beat.
A small, faint smile played along his lips before retreating. She had guts, he thought again. Brains, beauty and guts. On a good day, she was probably a very dangerous lady to tangle with. “I guess that makes us a couple of sorry people.”
She didn’t know if he meant it as a joke, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt and smiled anyway.
Tony asked her a few more questions, including inquiring about her immediate whereabouts around the time of the murder and if there was anything further she could tell him about the victim.
She noticed that he used the word victim rather than Rachel’s name. It made it sound so impersonal, so detached. But, she supposed that was probably a defense mechanism on his part. Otherwise, after all the horrible things he’d undoubtedly encountered as a homicide detective, he would have become completely paralyzed emotionally.
She wasn’t completely certain that he wasn’t now.
Taking a breath, Sasha told him everything she could remember.
“Rachel didn’t stay after hours and socialize,” she told him. “At least, not that I know of. She came, did her work, and went home.” Rachel never tried to get away with anything, but neither did she feel the need to give more than she was being paid for. She wasn’t one to go the extra foot, much less the proverbial mile.
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