"Hey, kiddo-- what's up?" He held up an index finger, signifying to Montoya that he'd be a minute. Montoya gave him an exaggerated wink, as if he were talking to some "hot babe," but got the message and, taking Brinkman's report with him, slipped through the partially opened door. "I just wanted to check in," Kristi was saying. "I've got an hour before my next class and I thought I should call and give you the rundown. My last class before Thanksgiving will be over Tuesday at four, so you can pick me up anytime after that." Bentz flipped through his calendar, surprised that the month was getting away from him. "I could be there by six, maybe sooner if I turned on my lights and siren." "Oh, that would be a great idea," she mocked. "You really don't have to drive up and get me, you know. I can find a ride." "I want to, honey. It's not a problem. Baton Rouge isn't that far. Besides I'd like another look at the campus I'm paying for." "But if you're busy ... " Her voice trailed off. He glanced at the pile of paperwork on his desk, the bulletin board on the wall behind him with shots of the victims of homicides yet to be solved.
