Steven James - The Bishop

After dropping off Missy at her office, I needed a minute to sort through my thoughts, figure out what to do next. Too many cables tugging at my attention.

Tessa was upset.

Basque was in town, apparently trying to help Lansing in this custody case.

Dr. Lebreau was still missing.

The killers were still at large.

My arm really hurt.

If there was ever a time for coffee, this was it.

I took Tessa to an indie coffeehouse in downtown DC. She ordered a small soy milk latte; I went for a twenty-ounce Kenya AA and managed to down it and get a refill before she came out of the bathroom.

Now we were walking through a tourist-riddled park near the Capitol on our way back to the car, which I’d had to park about three blocks away.

Above us, the tangled branches of the trees lining the path seemed to snag the late afternoon sunlight, letting only jagged pieces of the day land around us.

Shadow and light, blinking at me every step of the way.

For no stated reason, Tessa and I both moved urgently toward the car.

So many thoughts corkscrewing through my mind.

I wanted to hear what Lien-hua might have discovered about the lack of DNA evidence, figure out what was going on with Margaret and her abstruse reference to abortion, go over my geo-profile again…

I’d had my phone’s ringer off since the beginning of the custody meeting, and now I glanced at the screen and noticed I had a missed call from Cheyenne.

Great.

Just one more thing to work through.

Yesterday morning Tessa had told me I was being flirty with both of them, and I had to admit she was right.

So now, considering that I seemed to be patching things up with Lien-hua, I needed to make sure my flirtiness with Cheyenne came to an end. Feeling a narrow stab of guilt and not really wanting to go through my texts and perhaps find another message from her, I pocketed the phone.

Took a drink of coffee.

Tessa gestured toward a Metro station. “So, I guess I’ll head home then.”

“I’ll take you. The car is just at the end of the block.”

“You’ve been with me for like over three hours. You need to stay here, get back to this case.”

“That can wait,” I said. “I don’t like it that Basque is here.”

“I get that, but you’ve got an undercover cop following him, so-”

“What makes you say I have a cop following him?”

She looked annoyed at having to explain herself. “Basque shows up, then you make an urgent phone call before leaving the lawyer’s office, then you stare at a guy with a mustache who pulls up outside the building in a sedan. Cops are easy to spot. Who else besides serial killers and cops have mustaches these days?”

“Pakistanis.”

“Yeah, okay, and so do cowboys, but this guy was a cop.”

I bowed out of the mustache debate. “I’m not leaving you alone. I don’t trust Lansing.”

“But in the meeting, Ms. Schuel said she’d get a restraining order if he showed up anywhere near me. He wouldn’t dare follow me.”

“And how do you know she said that?”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “She was yelling when she said it-look, Patrick, I’m fine. I have some stuff to do at home anyhow. I’ll take the VRE. You need to stay here.”

“I don’t think so.”

Our car still lay fifty meters away through the strangled sunlight.

She followed me grudgingly.

We walked.

Shadow to light.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“If you can look me in the eye and answer one question, then I’ll shut up and I won’t argue. You can bail on this case, come home, and babysit me.”

I didn’t like where this was going; I went for some coffee.

“Well?”

“Go on,” I said.

“You have to be honest.”

“I’ll be honest. What’s the question?”

“You have to promise.”

“Tessa. All right. I promise.”

Shadow to light.

“Look me in the eye.”

Good grief.

We stopped walking, and I looked her in the eye.

“Now, tell me that the Bureau has a better chance of finding these killers, of saving people’s lives if you’re not helping. If you can tell me that, then I’ll go home with you and I won’t nag you.”

“That’s not fair. Besides, it wasn’t even actually a question.”

She stood in that slumpy-teenage-girl way and gave me a critical stare.

“Tessa, there are plenty of good people working this case. It’s not like-”

“I can rephrase it if that would make it easier for you.”

“You’re more important to me than-”

“Don’t do that.”

My phone rang. Cheyenne’s ringtone.

Unbelievable.

“Do what?”

“Use me as an excuse.”

“I’m not using you as an excuse.”

It rang again.

“I get it that you love me,” she said. “But do they have a better chance of saving lives if you’re at home babysitting me?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

Ring.

“Just answer it.”

“I’ll get it in a minute.”

“No, I mean my question.”

“The answer is no-”

“Okay.” She sounded satisfied. “Now, get the phone.”

Another ring.

Annoyed, I picked up. “Cheyenne. Hey.”

“How are you doing? Just touching base. Seeing how the case was going. How your arm is.”

“Listen, can I call you back?”

“Sure.” But she sounded concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

Tessa said, “Ask her what she’s doing tonight.”

I shook my head at Tessa, spoke to Cheyenne, “Just give me a few minutes.”

“Ask her,” Tessa urged.

“Cheyenne, can you hang on a sec?” I held the phone against my chest. “What is it you want, Tessa?”

“It’d be stupid for her to drive into the city to help you out right now. With traffic on a Friday night? Give me a break. It’ll take me like an hour and a half to get home on the VRE, she can work till then, hang with me for supper, and whenever you get back you can fill her in on the case. It’ll give you a couple hours to work, I’ll be safe, problem solved. Everybody’s happy.”

I tried to find a glitch in her plan.

“No,” I said stubbornly.

“Can I see your phone for a sec?”

“Tessa-”

She held out her hand. “Here, just for a minute.”

“I’m-”

She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. A reprimand from an adolescent girl.

I resisted, but in the end I found myself giving in.

Tessa took the phone. “Detective Warren, hey, it’s me. Um, listen, I’ll be home at like 6:45 or so. Can you stop by until Patrick gets back? Yeah, he’s getting all weird on me… I know. Yeah, no, we’re okay… Whatever, you will so not beat me this time… Yeah, right. So, okay, do you want to talk to him again…?”

She returned the phone to me. “She wants to say hey.”

I said to Cheyenne, “I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about anything.”

“Tessa’s trying to flex her wings, and it’s just not good timing.”

“It’s no big deal, really. I’ve been in class all day. I’ll hit the firing range, get my rounds in, then head to your house and see you when you get there. You can bring me up to speed. Besides, this’ll give me a chance to practice my new hobby.”

“Your new hobby?”

“Remember? Coming to your rescue?”

Oh boy.

“Yeah.”

Don’t be flirty.

Don’t be flirty.

Don’t be flirty.

“Well,” I said. “Thanks.” I gave her Tessa’s cell number so it’d be easier for them to connect, and we ended the call.

Tessa was finishing her latte. “So?”

“Are all teenagers like this?”

“It’s possible that I’m gifted.” She hitched her purse strap over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything’s cool. She doesn’t have to stop being your friend just because you kissed Agent Jiang. Just remember-”