Love You More (Tessa Leoni, #1)(61)

D.D. didn’t dwell on the photo too long. She was getting the impression that Baby Warren was a vegetarian. Red meat bad. Dry cereal, on the other hand, was starting to sound good.

“Of course I know Trooper Leoni,” Hamilton was saying now. He was a distinguished-looking senior officer. Trim, athletic build, dark hair graying at the temples, permanently tanned face from years of outdoor living. D.D. bet the young male officers openly admired him, while the young female officers secretly found him sexy. Was Tessa Leoni one of those officers? And did Hamilton return the sentiment?

“Fine officer,” he continued evenly. “Young, but competent. No history of incidents or complaints.”

Hamilton had Tessa’s file open on his desk. He confirmed Tessa had worked graveyard Friday and Saturday nights. Then he and Bobby reviewed her duty logs, much of which made no sense to D.D. Detectives tracked active cases, cleared cases, warrants, interviews, etc., etc. Troopers tracked, among other things, vehicle stops, traffic citations, call outs, warrants served, property seized, and a whole slew of assists. It sounded less like policing to D.D. and more like basketball. Apparently, troopers were either making calls or assisting other troopers making calls.

Either way, Tessa had particularly robust duty logs, even Friday and Saturday night. On Saturday’s graveyard shift alone, she’d issued two citations for operating under the influence—OUI—which in the second case involved not just taking the driver into custody, but arranging for the suspect’s vehicle to be towed.

Bobby grimaced. “Seen the paperwork yet?” he said, tapping the two OUIs.

“Got it from the captain a couple of hours ago. It’s good.”

Bobby looked at D.D. “Then she definitely didn’t have a concussion Saturday night. I can barely complete those forms stone-sober, let alone suffering from a massive head trauma.”

“Take any personal calls Saturday night?” D.D. asked the LT.

Hamilton shrugged. “Troopers patrol with their personal mobiles, not just their department-issued pager. It’s possible she took all sorts of personal calls. Nothing, however, through official channels.”

D.D. nodded. She was surprised troopers were still allowed their cellphones. Many law enforcement agencies were banning them, as uniformed officers, often the first responders to crime scenes, had a tendency to snap personal photos using their mobiles. Maybe they thought the guy who blew his head off looked funny. Or they wanted to share that particular blood spatter with a buddy they had in a different field office. From a legal perspective, however, any crime-scene photo was evidence and subject to full disclosure to the defense. Meaning that if any such photos surfaced after the case had been adjudicated, their mere presence would be grounds for a mistrial.

The DA didn’t like it very much when that happened. Had a tendency to get downright nasty on the subject.

“Leoni ever reprimanded?” D.D. asked now.

Hamilton shook his head.

“Take a lot of days off, maybe personal time? She’s a young mom, spending half her year alone with a kid.”

Hamilton flipped through the file, shook his head. “Admirable,” he commented. “Not easy meeting both the demands of the job and the needs of a family.”

“Amen,” Bobby murmured.

They both sounded sincere. D.D. chewed her lower lip. “How well did you know her?” she asked the LT abruptly. “Group bonding activities, the gang meeting for drinks, that sort of thing?”

Hamilton finally hesitated. “I didn’t really know her,” he said at last. “Trooper Leoni had a reputation for being distant. Couple of her performance reviews touched on the subject. Solid officer. Very reliable. Showed good judgment. But on the social front, remained aloof. It was a source of some concern. Even troopers, who primarily patrol alone, need to feel the cohesiveness of the group. The reassurance that your fellow officer always has your back. Trooper Leoni’s fellow troopers respected her professionally. But no one really felt they knew her personally. And in this job, where the lines between professional and personal life easily blur …”

Hamilton’s voice trailed off. D.D. got his point and was intrigued. Law enforcement wasn’t a day job. You didn’t just punch a clock, perform your duties, and hand off to your coworkers. Law enforcement was a calling. You committed to your work, you committed to your team, and you resigned yourself to the life.

D.D. had wondered if Tessa had been too close to a fellow officer, or even a commanding officer, such as the LT. In fact, it sounded as if she wasn’t close enough.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hamilton asked suddenly.

“Me?” Startled, D.D. blinked at the lieutenant colonel, then nodded.

“Do you fraternize with your fellow detectives? Grab a beer, share cold pizza, catch the game at one another’s homes?”

“Sure. But I don’t have a family,” D.D. pointed out. “And I’m older. Tessa Leoni … you’re talking about a young, pretty mom dealing with a barrack of entirely male officers. She’s your only female trooper, right?”

“In Framingham, yes.”

D.D. shrugged. “Not a lot of women in blue. If Trooper Leoni wasn’t feeling the brotherly love, can’t say I blame her.”

“We never had any complaints of sexual harassment,” Hamilton stated immediately.