Chapter 8

It took me about twenty minutes to throw dinner together. While I waited on the pasta to cook, I rolled the idea of the crime database around in my head. I leaned back out the door of the kitchen. “How Boolean is the search engine?”

“It’s pretty literal,” he replied. “When I put dead cat, and dead squirrel and explosives all in together with paint and crank calls I got forty-eight thousand hits.”

“Ugh, I guess I’m in good company.” I went back into the kitchen. In a few moments I heard Brendan come up behind me. He did a fairly typical thing, looking over my shoulder to peek at the sauce I was stirring. I didn’t expect the hand on my back. It was really not much more than a touch. I wanted to turn and kiss him, but didn’t think I could stand the inevitable rejection. I had come to the decision, he probably wouldn’t punch me; he was way too controlled for that.

“It smells good.”

“Enh, I like the brand.”

* * * *