The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(11)
At least she had called rather than texted. Anyone who texted tough conversations was a chickenshit.
Drawing in a breath, he called her. On the third ring, his call landed in her voice mail. “This is Tessa. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Bubbly, upbeat, and no signs of stress in the recording. That tone fit the memories of the woman he’d once loved. Hell, still loved. He missed that voice. That Tessa.
At the beep he spoke succinctly. “Tessa. It’s Dakota. I can meet you today at the coffeehouse next to the station. Two o’clock.”
He ended the call giving her no room to negotiate. If she really wanted to talk to him about filing divorce papers—the only reason he attributed to the call—she would do it at his convenience. He’d made it easy for her to leave him, but right now he didn’t feel like making this easy.
He started the car and was backing out onto the road when his phone pinged with a text. It was from Tessa. See you then.
The typed response must underscore her dread. She’d known that this time when she called, the probability of him answering was high. She needed to communicate, but she wasn’t eager to talk.
As much as Sharp wanted to bust Tessa for the text, he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to discuss the final stages of their marriage either.
He put the car in drive and texted: Understood.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tuesday, October 4, 9:00 a.m.
Dr. Tessa McGowan sat in her car, staring at the one-word text from Dakota. Establishing their first meeting in eight months, a task she’d been avoiding since her return to Richmond days ago, was done. What little relief she’d hoped to feel was fleeting and quickly knuckled under to anxiety.
“I will fix this mess,” she whispered.
She glanced up at the tall building located in Richmond’s city center. The building housed the state medical examiner’s office, where in a half hour, she had a job interview for a yearlong fellowship as a forensic pathologist with Dr. Addison Kincaid.
For the last eight months Tessa had worked with the United States military’s Project Identify in Vietnam to identify the remains of lost American soldiers. She’d been navigating the jungle paths and partly paved roads of the northern rural province, growing adept at slicing through jungle or dodging cows and widow-maker potholes.
The months away had left her out of practice with maneuvering rush-hour traffic and scouting parking spots. She’d allowed nearly an hour for the five-mile drive from her cousin’s Manchester apartment just south of the James River. Thanks to green lights and a prime parking spot opening up, she still had thirty minutes to kill.
Doing her best to shove Dakota from her thoughts and unknot a tangled stomach, she got out of her car and steadied herself on low heels. Straightening her pencil skirt, she squared her shoulders as she tucked her purse under her arm. Her plan was to walk around the block a couple of times, burning through the remaining minutes and calming her mind. She’d hiked hundreds of miles in the jungle and loved the steady rhythmic pace of walking. But the new heels negated whatever relief she’d expected when they quickly pinched and promised blisters.
With Plan A looking less viable with each step, she switched to Plan B, which was to sit in the medical examiner’s lobby and wait for her appointment. She walked toward the gray building and opened the front door. A rush of cool air greeted her as she approached a thick plate-glass window shielding the lobby receptionist.
Tessa leaned toward the circular opening and said, “Good morning.”
An African American woman in her fifties wearing a blue security guard uniform looked up over pink half glasses. “May I help you?”
“I’m Dr. Tessa McGowan. I have a job interview with Dr. Addison Kincaid. But I’m a half hour early.”
The woman studied her, as if reconciling Tessa’s words with the image of a too-petite, too-young woman with long black hair who did not fit the image of a pathologist. “Have a seat. I’ll call down.”
“Thank you.” Tessa turned and crossed the lobby, her heels clacking on the tiled floor. She sat on the edge of her seat, tightening her hand on the leather strap of her purse.
She’d applied for this job online two weeks ago on impulse, making the filing deadline by hours. When she’d received a call for an interview last week, second-guessing had kicked into high gear as it always did when she rushed without thinking. It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t do the job. She could. What nagged her was the idea of establishing yearlong roots in a city filled with complications.
The elevator chimed open, and a tall, slim woman in her midthirties stepped into the lobby. She wore long dark pants, a white silk blouse, and thick brown hair coiled into a twist. Small hoops dangled from her ears, and around her neck a chain was threaded through a gold band. Green eyes scanned and settled on Tessa. The woman smiled. “Dr. Tessa McGowan?”
Hand extended, Tessa crossed to Dr. Kincaid. “Yes. I’m Dr. McGowan.”
Dr. Kincaid’s handshake was firm, her gaze direct. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’ve heard great things about your department.”
Perceptive eyes sparked with curiosity. “Really?”
“I asked around about you.” She drew in a breath and reminded herself her rash candor had gotten her into trouble before. “When I was in Southeast Asia, we had several Virginia doctors attached to our group. They knew you by reputation. All spoke highly of your department.”