Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(23)

“He’s going through a nursery rhyme stage. We read a lot of Mother Goose, sing lullabies. Sophie?” D.D. asked.

“Good. Into gymnastics, tae kwon do and target shooting.”

D.D. was regarding her with a faint smile. “I hear other rumors as well. You and the New Hampshire sergeant Wyatt Foster? Thought there was some chemistry during the Denbe case.”

“We’ve been dating six months.”

“Nice. Introduced him to Sophie yet?”

Tessa hesitated; she couldn’t help herself. D.D. arched an inquiring brow.

“We tried two outings,” Tessa confessed. “Mostly . . . she stared at him. You know, the way you and I might regard a serial killer or registered sex offender. She was never sassy or disrespectful . . . but I wouldn’t have blamed Wyatt for running for the hills. Sophie can be very intense.”

“They should build something together,” D.D. recommended. “Wyatt’s a carpenter, right? Maybe he can teach her how to make something. Sophie will suffer his presence for the sake of the power tools, and in the meantime, maybe some of Wyatt’s laid-back New Hampshire charm will work its magic. They’ll bond.”

“Pretty good for a woman with a little boy.”

“As a detective you have to be prepared for all kinds of evil. Even nine-year-old girls.”

D.D. picked up her menu. Tessa followed suit. The waitress came; they placed their orders. Shrimp for Tessa, clam chowder and baked cod for D.D. They both drank water. Then it was time to get down to business.

“Heard about your arm,” Tessa said, gesturing to D.D.’s stiff posture. The detective had recently suffered an on-the-job injury to her left arm. Rumor mill was it was serious and ongoing. As in she might never again be fit for duty. The department had a heart about such things. Most likely, the detective would be offered a desk. Except D.D., like Tessa, wasn’t a woman meant for sitting.

“Figured as much.” D.D. eyed her sharply. “Here to talk to me about my future employment opportunities?”

“Never hurts to know,” Tessa responded mildly. “And it must not hurt to listen, given that you agreed to lunch.”

D.D. gave a single-shouldered shrug, maybe not totally convinced, but not arguing either. “Do you like what you do?” she asked, clearly curious.

“More than I thought I would. For example, working the Denbe case . . . an entire family gone missing, racing against all odds to find them. You and I, we do best in situations that provide a challenge, as well as a sense of purpose.”

“Kind of an extreme case. Where you got a lot of help from the BPD, I might add.”

“You’d be amazed how many extreme cases exist in corporate America. You have money, egos, and world domination at stake. People can get a little nuts.”

“You like it.”

“I do. Which, I’ll be the first to say, surprised me. And to be honest, the hours are better. My daughter knows that nine times out of ten, I’m coming home for dinner. And watching her game on the weekend. And getting four weeks’ paid vacation a year, while earning a salary that lets us spend that time someplace sunny.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“It’s true. My job is superior to yours in every way.”

“Not every way.”

“Highly challenging, incredibly lucrative, and family friendly. Tell me what working for a corporate security firm can’t offer you.”

“Phil,” D.D. said simply. “And Neil. My squad mates. You’ve always been a lone wolf, Tessa. Whereas I’ve always loved my team.”


* * *



THEIR LUNCHES ARRIVED shortly. They made small talk, caught up on mutual acquaintances. Bobby Dodge, a state police detective, was doing well. Still married to Annabelle, now had three kids, just bought a fixer-upper out in the burbs. Big yard, D.D. reported. Kind of place perfect for a swimming pool, trampoline and summer barbecues. Oh, and they’d gotten a puppy, an Australian cattle dog. Most likely to herd the kids.

Around and around she and D.D. went, exchanged stories on people they knew, cases they’d worked. Until lunch was done, Tessa had charged it to her corporate card and they were back to the matter at hand.

“You’ll think about it?” Tessa said at last. “Maybe come in for a sit-down interview? Never hurts to know what’s out there.”

D.D. nodded. Her love of her team aside, if she couldn’t pass the fitness-for-duty test, she was done as a cop. Tessa was offering her a lifeline by even considering her for Northledge Investigations, and they both knew it.

“Speaking of dogs, state has a new development on an old case,” D.D. said as they rose to standing.

“Oh yeah?”

“Guy was out playing with his dog,” D.D. said, “tossing a stick for him in a nearby stream, when he happened to notice a small black handgun beneath the water. He turned it in to the police; the lab matched the pistol to the bullet used to kill John Stephen Purcell. You know, that hit man murdered three years ago.”

Tessa didn’t say anything.

“Just got me thinking,” D.D. said casually. “There are still a lot of unanswered questions from that night—”

“My daughter’s doing just fine,” Tessa interjected curtly.

“I don’t begrudge that. I don’t.” D.D. shook her head. “But, Tessa, you and I . . . You’re right. We’re meant to be doing things. Hell, we’re meant to be wearing badges. And the kind of people who wear the shield are supposed to uphold the system, honor the law. There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. And you—”