Page 22 of Midnight Witness
After we thanked the man, he wandered back to his desk.
Luke motioned for me to take a seat, then crouched beside me. “You search; I’ll write.” A small crease formed between his brows. “Although I need a pen.”
Smiling, I passed him my purse. “There’s one in here.”
With slightly wide eyes, he took the bag. “You want me to dig through your purse?”
A half-smile tipped my mouth, and I turned toward the computer screen. “There isn’t anything in it that’s embarrassing.” I traded bags like my underwear, so any purse I carried usually only held the essentials.
He opened it and peered inside. “Still. I know several women who guard their bags like Cerberus guards the gates of Hades.”
I sent him a quick look, surprised at the reference, then chuckled. “Maybe if you got into it without permission, I’d get a little grouchy.”
“Understandable.” He reached in and pulled out a pen. With a quick click, he was ready. “Hit me.”
I typed in the next name on the list. Within seconds, we had several entries. I read off the catalogue numbers for Luke to write down.
After checking two more names, I paused. “Do we want to get reference numbers for all of the names, or should we stop here for now?”
Luke looked at the paper, cocking his head. He clucked his tongue, then met my gaze. “We could stop. See what pans out in what we have.”
I nodded once and pushed back from the desk. “Let’s go find that librarian.”
That turned out to be the easiest thing about the next fifteen minutes. Who knew microfiche could be so uncooperative?
I heaved a sigh as the microfiche tried to unspool itself again from the machine. “I don’t remember it being this hard.” I cast a quick look up at Luke, who hovered next to me.
“You want me to try?”
Thoroughly done with fighting the film, I stood up before he could change his mind. “Have at it.” I swept a hand toward my vacated chair.
Grinning, he sat down. Lacing his fingers, he stretched out his arms and turned his hands, cracking his knuckles. “I think you just weren’t paying attention. It didn’t look that difficult.”
“Mmm, sure.” I crossed my arms and waited for the inevitable chaos.
On his first try, the film slipped right off the reel, flapping noisily.
A soft chuckle escaped my lips.
He shot a wry look at me and tried again.
This time, it tried to slide off again, but he stopped the machine more quickly than before, then manually wound thebeginning of the reel until it was no longer loose. When he pushed the button to make the spools automatically spin, it stayed on and advanced the reel.
The grin he tossed me was nothing short of smug.
“That’s not the way he showed us how to do it,” I argued.
Luke lifted one broad shoulder. “But it worked. Now, what’s the first date?” He turned the paper on the desk so he could read it.
I huffed. Show off.
“Grab a chair and sit, so you can read this too.” He motioned to the unoccupied rolling chair at the next microfiche station.
Doing as he said, I scooted close.
A second later, I eased away a fraction. He smelled yummy.
The distance didn’t help much, but I was soon able to push his deliciousness to the back of my mind as he found the first article. It was about the woman’s disappearance.
