Tessa Stark: Desert Heat

Chapter Four

 "Special Detective Stark, I'm sorry to keep you waiting," a deep voice from behind her sounded out, tearing her from her thoughts and bringing her face about just in time to see a line of bodies filing into the conference room.

Straightening her shoulders and putting her work face on, Tessa moved away from the window and started across the space, meeting the uniformed man heading the front of the procession as he reached the table, and extending her hand toward him.

"Sheriff Gonzalez? Its nice to meet you," she greeted as the man accepted her gesture, giving her hand a few firm pumps.

"Likewise," he responded, his dark brown eyes briefly flickering over her. "And thank you for coming all this way to help us out."

Giving a curt nod, she turned her attention to the other men in the room, who were already pulling out chairs and taking a seat at the table. Two of them were wearing suits and ties, one was in plain clothes—faded jeans and a grey button down with the sleeves rolled up—sporting a shoulder holster and a badge clipped at his waist, and one was in full uniform, his arms full of file folders. And they were all staring at her as if they couldn't comprehend exactly what they were seeing, their expressions rife with a mix of surprise and overt male interest.

"Have a seat, Detective. I'll make the introductions and then we can get on with business," Sheriff Gonzalez briskly commanded as he pulled out the chair she'd placed her things in front of.

Obeying, she dropped into her seat, which was at the head of the table, making sure to keep her expression neutral, despite so many eyes boring straight into her. She'd been in this spot plenty of times before. Any second now...

"So, you're Special Detective Stark?" the man in the light grey suit asked, with a fair amount of dubiety, before the sheriff could even take his own seat.

And there it was.

"I am," she replied evenly, figuring she was speaking to Senator Richard Whitmore, who's expensive, highly tailored suit jacket and paisley tie probably costed more than what a public servant would pay for a couple month's rent.

"You're...The Shark?" he asked with open skepticism now, his light, cold eyes filled with disbelief. And perhaps a measure of disdain.

Tessa flinched, despite herself. "I-I...I'm sorry, what?" she gaped, swiftly going from confused to wondering if she was somehow being insulted right to her face. "Are you...I'm not sure what you mean."

From the other end of the table, the uniformed officer cleared his throat, casting her a sheepish look. "That's what everyone calls you, ma'am. Stark the Shark."

She heard the officer's words, but she couldn't quite comprehend them, so she just sat, blinking dumbly at him.

The young man cleared his throat again, running a hand over his buzzed, wheat colored hair and wincing slightly "Its a nickname. Like Sammy the Bull or Vinnie the Chin."

"I-I..The Shark?" she croaked out flatly, wishing she could say something intelligent, but her mind was simply stalled.

"Yes, ma'am. The Shark, as in...you know...a solitary predator, relentlessly stalking its prey, doesn't leave anything behind but...a smear of blood in the water..." the officer's voice trailed off, leaving a rather thick silence in its wake.

Again, all she could do was gape. She was...what? Being compared to a bloodthirsty predator?

It was Sheriff Gonzalez's turn to clear his throat. "Thank you for clearing that up, Officer Collins. Can we move on, please?"