“Hey,” I said, “would you hold my calls?” “Napping again?” she teased. “Not yet, but I probably will be soon,” I admitted. “I’m taking another run at Miranda’s dissertation. Last time I nodded off at page six.” “In that case, I’ll buzz you every five minutes.” “You’re such a help.” I hung up, smiling. I still wasn’t quite sure what was happening with Peggy—if, in fact, anything was happening: neither of us had spoken about our unexpected evening of movie-watching hand-holding—but the air around us did seem different, charged with electricity, low though the voltage might be, and full of unspoken possibilities. But was I ready for possibilities? I had just propped my feet on the desk and opened the dissertation to page six when my intercom beeped. “Heavens, I’m not even sleepy yet,” I answered. “You have a call on line two,” Peggy said. “A call? You mean one of those things you’re holding?” “I know. But this is Captain Decker, from the Knoxville Police.
