Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(6)



“What?” Tessa couldn’t help herself; the news was unexpected given D.D’s status as Boston’s reigning supercop.

D.D. jerked her head toward the front door of the brownstone. “Lead detective is Neil Cap. He’s inside if you want to take up matters with him.”

Tessa had to search her memory banks. “Wait a minute. The red-headed kid? The one who spent all his time at the ME’s office? That Neil?”

“I raised him right,” D.D. said modestly. “And for the record, he’s five years older than you, and doesn’t take well to being called a kid. Definitely, you’re gonna need better manners than that if you want to muscle in on his case.”

“I don’t need manners. I have permission from the owners to enter.”

D.D.’s turn to appear surprised. Her bright blue eyes narrowed shrewdly. “The family? You’ve spoken to them? Because we’d really like to speak to them. Right away, in fact.”

“Not the family. Turns out, like a lot of rich guys, Justin Denbe didn’t purchase his own home. His company did.”

Detective Warren had always been a smart woman. “Shit,” the detective exhaled.

“As of six this morning,” Tessa filled in, “Denbe Construction retained Northledge Investigations to handle all matters related to this property. I’m authorized to enter the home, assess the scene and conduct an independent analysis of the incident. Now, we can all stand around waiting for the fax to reach your offices, or you can let me get to work. As I was explaining to this fine officer here, the Denbe family is just a little bit connected. Meaning you might as well let me enter and put my head on the chopping block. It’ll save you the time and effort later of finding someone else to blame.”

D.D. didn’t speak, just shook her head. The detective studied the brick walk for a second, maybe composing herself, but more likely coming up with the next line of attack.

“What’d you serve in the end, Tessa?” D.D. quizzed. “Four, five years as a patrol officer?”

“Four.”

The veteran detective looked up. Her expression wasn’t mocking, but frank. “Not enough experience for this kind of case,” she stated bluntly. “You’ve never processed evidence, let alone dissected a five-story crime scene, let alone taken on responsibility for this kind of situation. We’re not talking speed-trapping motor vehicles or administering breathalyzer tests to drunks. We’re talking an entire family, gone, including a teenage girl.”

Tessa kept her face impassive. “I know.”

“How’s Sophie?” the Boston detective asked abruptly.

“She’s doing well, thank you.”

“My son’s name is Jack.”

“How old?”

“Eleven months.”

Tessa had to smile. “Love him more than you ever thought you could love someone? Till you wake up the next day and realize you love him even more?”

D.D. didn’t look away. “Yes.”

“Told you so.”

“I remember, Tessa. And you know what? I still think you were wrong. There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. As a cop, you knew that better than anyone, and you still shot a person in cold blood. Whether out of love, or out of hate, murder is never right.”

“Allegedly,” Tessa replied coolly. “Allegedly shot a person in cold blood.”

D.D. did not look amused. She continued, voice slightly softer, “But…you got your daughter back. And there are days now, just like you said there would be, when I look at my son, and… I don’t know. If he was in danger, if I feared for his life… Well, let’s just say I still don’t agree with what you did, but maybe I understand your actions better.”

Tessa remained impassive. As apologies went, this was as close as D. D. Warren was ever going to get. Which already made Tessa suspicious of what the Boston detective would do next.

Sure enough: “Look, obviously, I can’t stop you from entering the house and conducting your independent analysis, given that the owner of the house has granted you permission,” D.D. said. “But respect our efforts, okay? Neil’s a solid detective, backed by a seasoned squad. Better yet, we have a head start on evidence processing, and if what we think happened, happened, the fate of this family depends on us getting our acts together. Pronto.”

Tessa waited a heartbeat. “It’s not like you to use your nice voice.”

“And it’s not like you to be stupid.”

“True.”

“Got a deal?”

The sun was all the way up now. Warming the brick sidewalk, illuminating the cream-painted town house, reaching fingers for the yawning solid walnut door. Such a beautiful street, Tessa thought, for such a terrible crime. But then, she knew better than most that no one ever knew what really went on behind closed doors, even in a supposedly happy family, even among the wealthy Boston elite.

She took the first step forward. “I won’t touch your evidence.”

“I already said that—”

“I just want the computers.”

“Why the computers?”

“I’ll let you know when I find them. Now let’s get moving. As you said, clock’s ticking. Congratulations on your new family, D.D.”

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