Page 38 of Any More Questions for the Corpse?

“Why is that so important?”

“What?” Des said.

“Why is being a cop so important?”

“Because,” Des said, “it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But why?!”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Why a cop? Why not a doctor? Or a teacher? Or a fireperson? Firewoman seems wrong; not the idea, the word. Police have officer, what do firepeople have?”

“Fighter,” Des said, indulging the tangent.

“That’s it!” Mal said triumphantly. “Yeah, why not a firefighter? Why a cop?”

“Because it’s who I am.”

“Not anymore,” Mal said gently. “You can’t be a cop and a vampire. If you could they’d have made a TV show out of it years ago.”

“I know.” Des broke down. Tears streamed down her face and hard sobs rocked her back and forth as she brought her knees up to her chest. Mal felt like he’d been punched in the gut, or more accurately like he’d punched her in the gut; he’d never seen her like this before. He hadn’t meant to upset her—that’s the last thing he wanted.

“Can I?” Mal said, gesturing to put his arm around her. She nodded through the tears and Mal tucked her head onto his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. Mal whispered “I’m so sorry” as he rocked back and forth with her. He brought his other arm around and slowly brushed her dark hair from out her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. Those piercing green eyes of hers stared at him all puffy and red, and she gave a half smile as she began to speak.

“Something my grandma always used to say. ‘If you hunt only deer, fed men fall prey to lions.’ ”

“Old people say the weirdest shit.” Mal chuckled, and this forced a sad chuckle out of Des. “Sorry. Seriously though, I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s kind of our family motto. My dad explained it to me when I was little. Hunting deer does good, it feeds people, but it’s not enough to just do good, you have to stop the bad.”

“You have to hunt the lions,” Mal said, finally getting it.

“Exactly. That’s why I have to be a cop.”

“Y’know, cops aren’t the only ones who hunt lions,” Mal said. “Journalists hunt lions. They have worse weapons, but they do it. We’ve been hunting lions this whole time, and we’re not cops. I think your family would be proud of you even if you’re not part of the biggest lion-hunting club. That’s cops, y’know. Have I butchered this metaphor enough yet?” Des let out a fuller chuckle this time.

“Are you mocking my family motto?” Des said, a proper smile now on her face.

“No, I’m just trying to make you laugh,” Mal said, squeezing her close.

“It’s working,” Des said, finally unfurling her legs from her chest. Mal suddenly felt very aware of his arm around her, and an intense awkwardness struck him upside the head, causing him to slowly bring it back. Des put her hand out between them, palm up; without thinking Mal slipped his hand into hers. It felt comfortable, like they’d been holding hands for centuries.

“You can’t tell anyone I was crying,” Des said, pushing against Mal with a nudge.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Mal said. “You still want to run away to Greece?”

“Maybe I’ll stick around,” Des said, leaning her head on Mal’s shoulder. “I can’t leave before we’ve finished this case. Maybe by then I’ll feel more comfortable with my new pride.”

“Wait, are we lions now?” Mal said. “I’ve really lost track of this.”

“Yeah, me too.” Des paused for a moment, then said, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Mal said.

“Keep your secret so long. Mine came out within the first week.”

“It was easy, I just shut myself off from everyone.”