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“And fries,” Reed decided. She hailed a passing waitress and ordered for the both of them. As their drinks were promptlydelivered, she took off her suit jacket and raised her glass. “Well. Cheers.”

Cody had the distinct impression that this signified a marker in the evening as if Reed had metaphorically gone off duty herself with the gesture.

“Cheers,” she replied and clinked her bottle against the rim of her glass. “Ms. Reed—”

“Please, call me Kim. I find formality gets in the way after a while.”

Cody instantly wondered in the way of what… Intimacy? A little annoyed that it was the first thing that popped into her head, she didn’t ask and just agreed.

“Okay. Kim. Before we move on to that, though, there’s one more thing I’d like to know.”

“Sure. Fire away.”

“How close were you with Cassie Winters?”

Reed’s left eyebrow instantly arched up. “Close? Are you asking me if we were lovers?”

“No offense, but yes.”

“None at all taken. Cody.” Reed used her first name with a smile only tempered by a flash of sadness at the mention of the missing woman. “To confirm, I tend not to date my clients. It’s bad for business.”

“Of course.”

“And Cassie also never looked at me that way. She was firmly heterosexual. Which you probably already guessed I am not.”

One of the regulars here, a woman Cody had been intimate with a couple of times, flashed her a flirty wink as she walked past the table.

“Hey, Detective. Nice to see you.”

“Hey, Bree. You too.” Cody did not linger with the greeting, though, and her occasional partner moved along after a knowing glance at Reed.

???

She thinks we’re together.And of course, she would, Kim reflected. Two women at a lesbian bar, sharing drinks and a bite to eat…Of course.Kim held back from shaking her head at her own self. Part of her still struggled to comprehend what had got into her to ask the detective to meet her at this bar, of all places. Buying her dinner, encouraging her using first names, and bluntly admitting to not being straight were also as far out of character for Kim as they could be. And yet… Another part of her, long denied, was not sorry at all to be seen spending private time with the handsome detective. Tonight, Miller was wearing jeans, well-worn military-style boots, and a light red-checked shirt over a simple black t-shirt. Kim assumed the shirt was only there to hide the weapon on her belt, but the style suited her. Cody wore no make-up, not that she needed it with those brilliant blue eyes. She had long, black lashes. And her hair was attractively messed up as if a woman had just run her fingers possessively through the blond strands. Kim caught herself fantasizing about doing just that to her now. She watched Cody sip her beer straight from the bottle. Her lips looked full and attractively moist, fastened loosely around the mouth of the bottle, and Kim wondered what her mouth would taste like. Desire rose in her unexpectedly, hot and bright like a healing flame. Still, before she could fully embrace it, a single memory struck to steal the heat. Icy tendrils wrapped around her throat, replacing joy with a sense of terror, squeezing hard enough to hurt and make her gasp unconsciously.

“Ms. Reed. Kim.”

Startled, Kim refocused to find that Cody was watching her. No ice in her eyes, just pure warmth and a hint of polite concern. Her fingers, firmly laced around her forearm, radiated plenty of heat.

“Sorry,” Kim mumbled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine. Just drifted for a second.”

“Not another vision, was it?”

“No, no.” Kim sighed. Might as well tell her a bit more about those, so she understood how it worked. “All the women in my family happen to be very sensitive.”

“Psychic?”

“Yes, but sensitive is the word we use.”

“Alright.”

As their food arrived, Cody let go of her arm, forcing Kim to suppress another shiver. This one not due to a bad memory, but to the sudden loss of contact. She felt it acutely.

“When my parents got married, they moved to Texas,” she volunteered. ”My father worked in the oil industry at the time. I was born in Houston, but the family has ancestral roots in Louisiana and before that, the French Antilles. My great-great-great grandmother, Camille, apparently had the gift.”