“Hello, Kerry.” Eleanor’s voice sounded a touch on the smug side.

“Did you forget our meeting?”

Oh, pooters. Kerry rested her head on her hand. “Not exactly,” she said. “We were here on a project until almost four last night. I just got back in.”

“Four?” Eleanor replied. “Good grief, woman. I can’t think of anything fun I’d like to do until four in the morning, let alone anything involved in work.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is.”

“No, and I’ve got no urge to find out,” the marketing VP said.

“Well, how about a reschedule for tomorrow?”

“Fine.” Kerry rolled her trackball and studied her schedule, now displayed on her fully booted PC. “How’s 3:00? I’ve got two reviews to do in the morning.”

“3:00 it is. Try not to sleep through this one, huh? Though I hear the company’s worth it.” Eleanor chuckled, and hung up.

Kerry had to think about that for a moment before she groaned and let her head hit the desk with a soft thump. Then she got up and trudged around the desk, snagging her coffee mug and heading for the door.


334 Melissa Good Mayte’s desk was empty when she passed it, as was the hallway when she ducked across it to the little kitchenette that served the fourteenth floor. She went to the cappuccino machine and started some milk frothing, studying it as the coffee poured out of its nearby funnel.

The scent itself made her perk up a little, and she breathed it in, trying to extract some alertness from it.

“Well, well!” Clarice entered with her own cup. “Everybody was wondering where you were.”

“Really?” Kerry was very aware of the ragged edges of her temper.

“They could have done something out of the ordinary, like ask my admin.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Clarice chuckled. “Not that anyone blames you, Kerry.”

One, two, three. “Blames me for what?” Kerry asked with studied innocence, pouring her coffee into her steamed milk and stirring it gently.

“Sleeping in,” the black woman explained with a grin. “Not with that bedmate.”

Kerry turned and looked at her. “Clarice, that’s inappropriate,” she stated quietly.

Clarice’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she let her cup drop to the counter with a slight bang. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “Here I thought what you two were doing was inappropriate. Silly me.”

There weren’t numbers high enough for her to count this time.

Kerry walked over and got into Clarice’s space, mustering up as much attitude as she could, given her sleepless state. “That’s also inappropriate. One more time, and I’ll put it on your record. You want that?”

Clarice studied her in silence for a short time.

“Do you?” Kerry repeated.

“No, I don’t.”

“Dar and I keep our personal lives out of the office. Why don’t you try doing the same thing?” With an almost verbal snap of her fingers, Kerry turned and walked out, stalking across the hall and jerking open her door to continue inside.

Fortunately for both of them, Dar’s reflexes were not quite as burned as Kerry’s were, and she caught the cup of hot coffee as it went flying from the blonde woman’s grasp as they collided. “Whoa!”

“Crap,” Kerry exhaled. “Sorry.”

Dar carefully handed her back her cup, with only two lonely drips.

“S’all right. Wasn’t your fault—you had no way of knowing I was in here,” she added reasonably. “So what put a barracuda in your shorts?”

“Grr.” Kerry walked to her desk and put the cup down. “Just a personnel problem.” She sighed. “Your friend Clarice.”

“Ah.” Dar scrubbed a hand through her dark hair. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll transfer her to the Nome office. Give me a minute.” She started Red Sky At Morning 335

back toward the inner corridor that connected their offices.

Kerry intercepted her. “No. No, Dar, this is my problem. I’ll handle it.”

Her lover eyed her. “Point of fact, Kerrison, this is actually my problem, and we both know it,” she disagreed.

“Actually,” Kerry went and sat down at her desk, “it’s really her problem, but she’s my employee and I’ve got to deal with it. I’m not going to run away from another issue.” She spun her trackball. “How’s the data dump coming?”

Dar studied her, deciding if she should accept the change of subject. She walked over and perched on the corner of Kerry’s desk, reaching out to take her hand and tugging a little to pull her around so they were face to face. “You deal with it,” she said. “But if it gets to be too much, you come to me, Kerry. I’m the reason she’s being a bitch to you. It’s not your fault.”

Kerry pulled their joined hands over and kissed Dar’s knuckles. “I appreciate the offer.” She rubbed her cheek against the back of Dar’s hand. “And I’ll remember it.”

“Okay.” Dar ruffled her hair. “The data dump’s going, but it’s taking sixteen forevers,” she admitted. “I hope we can get something out of it, or this is going to be one big expensive waste of time.”

Kerry grunted softly. “Do you want to get something, really, Dar?”

she asked in a quiet voice. “Sometimes proof is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Dar looked at her. Kerry’s face was pensive, and the weight she carried on her shoulders from the choices she’d made was evident to her partner’s watching eyes. Without a word, Dar leaned over and gave her a kiss, then a brief hug, before she stood and headed back to her own office.

Kerry reached up to touch the spot where Dar’s lips had been, and found a smile somewhere. “Kiss my ass, Clarice,” she announced wryly.

“Just kiss my Republican WASP ass.”

IT WAS DARK outside, and the MIS office was very quiet. Only one light was on, in the small office that once had been Dar’s and was now temporarily again as she worked on her database project.

She leaned back in her chair and propped one knee up against the desk, reviewing the screen with tired eyes. An entire screen of characters faced her, white letters on a dark background that didn’t change no matter how many times she read them.

With a soft curse, she got up and stretched out her back, careful not to jar her shoulder as she circled the tiny room with weary, slightly rocking paces. Finally she stopped and gazed at the wall, studying the spidery traces of the network diagram—her network— that was tacked up in all its glory.


336 Melissa Good Her cell phone rang. Dar turned and leaned against the wall, unclipping the instrument from her belt and answering it. “Yeah?”

“Hello, Dar!” Alastair’s voice sounded, as always, resolutely positive. “How are things going?”

“Lousy,” Dar admitted.

“Ah.” Her boss cleared his throat. “No luck, huh?”

Dar gazed at the computer, aware of being balanced on a knife of decision. After a moment, she inhaled, aware of the sting as the knife cut her. “Wish I hadn’t had any,” she said. “It’s all there, Alastair.”

All there. She’d been wrong. Uncle Jeff had known, and more than that, he’d used knowing to buy Chuck his boat. There was no way to hide any of it—and Dar had in fact been more than a little shocked at herself for wanting to.

“Ah.” Alastair absorbed the information and the silence that followed it. “Well, we knew it wasn’t pretty, Dar,” he said briskly. “But we did what we got paid to do.”

“Yeah,” Dar agreed quietly.

Another silence ensued.

“But?” Alastair ventured.

“But what’s the price for it, Alastair?” Dar asked. “There’s a lot of dirt in here a lot of people, very powerful people, won’t want dumped into the sunlight. What about us?”

“Us?” Alastair asked. “As in you and me?”

Dar snorted, walking across to the desk and plopping back down into her chair. “Us as in the company. Thirty percent of our contracts are with the government, Alastair. You want them all pissed at us?” She looked at the screen, reaching over to scroll her mouse down a few clicks. “Is it worth it?”

This time, it was Alastair who was quiet for a span. “Y’know, I don’t think I ever thought I’d hear you say something like that, Paladar,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft in your old age.”

A faint, brief smile crossed Dar’s face. “Maybe.” She exhaled. “Or maybe I just don’t want to bury old friends today.”

“Ah.” The CEO acknowledged her reluctance. “Well, the company can stand the glare, Dar. We just did our jobs. The brass can be upset at the results, but not the methods, and given your natural bias, they can’t even fault the process.”

“Bias?”

“C’mon, Dar,” Alastair said. “At any rate, I know I can leave this decision in your hands, and I want you to know—whatever you decide, I’ll back you a hundred percent.”

Gee. Thanks. Dar tipped her head back and regarded the ceiling.

“Gee, thanks,” she repeated audibly into the phone. “You have a nice day too, Alastair.”

Her boss chuckled briefly. “I know how you feel, Dar,” he said.

“Had to sit in your seat once myself, and it’s not easy.” His voice grew Red Sky At Morning 337

more serious. “But that’s why they pay us the big bucks, lady. You know it and I know it. So you just make your best decision, and we’ll take it from there.”

Dar accepted the mild rebuke with a slight nod of her head. “Yeah, I know,” she acknowledged. “It’s just been a long week. Maybe Kerry was right after all; I was too close to this.”

Alastair gave that statement its due and proper regard. “Or maybe you’ve just swallowed a few too many painkillers,” he suggested.

“Sleep on it, Dar. Don’t choose now. Just go home, relax, and wait for sunlight to make your decision.”