Leann Sweeney - Shoot from the Lip

“I am so sorry. I’ll send flowers tomorrow.”

“I’ll be filling in for Benson, and that’s not exactly my dream assignment,” DeShay said. “White is no Jeff Kline. He’s old-school. But I was the logical choice, since I’m already up to speed on the baby case.”

“What about Christine O’Meara? Because I found out-”

“Julie called me. Good work, Abby girl. Course, we have to wait on a positive ID through Emma’s DNA.”

“What I don’t understand is why no one checked her fingerprints back then,” I said. “Even if she didn’t have a driver’s license, you told me she’d been arrested once.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason. I just pulled the initial HPD report filed after they found her. She was a meltdown. Discovered in a field and had probably been lying there in hundred degree heat for a couple days. The corpse was no more than bones in a puddle, Abby.”

I swallowed, glancing Emma’s way. She was deep in conversation with Kate. “Thanks for the image. I don’t think I’ll be passing that along to Emma.”

“When Julie called she also updated me on the infant bones. She said there’s no evidence the child suffered any traumatic injuries, at least to the bones they collected. Could have been a natural death after the home birth.”

“You’re saying Christine’s only crime may have been not reporting the child’s death?” I said.

“We don’t know. But the O’Mearas’ case has become a priority. We had some jerk-off TV journalist all over our asses today. Did he care we have a brother hanging on in the ICU? I told him where to get off, but I’m betting he’s not leaving this train, Abby.”

“Paul Kravitz?”

“That’s him. I thought Don White might have a stroke himself when this guy showed up.”

“You didn’t tell Kravitz anything?” I said.

“No way. But he’ll go to the higher-ups, and then we’ll have the local news crawling all over us, too. I gotta say, this is a nightmare, Abby. A damn nightmare.”

“Emma wants me to stay on the case, find out why her mother was murdered. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay? Of course it’s okay. White might not be thrilled, but it’s not like this is the first time a private eye’s been investigating while we’re doing our thing. He’ll get over it.”

“He did seem a little testy when Emma wanted me with her during that first interview,” I said.

“Don’t expect an improvement in that area now that Benson’s down, and don’t be surprised if I don’t get back to you right away if you call. I still have my own twenty-some cases, plus I gotta study up on Benson and White’s load.”

We said our good-byes and I returned to Kate and Emma.

“That was DeShay.” I put my phone back in my bag and told them what we’d discussed.

Emma said, “I am so sorry about Sergeant Benson. He was nice to me, seemed to really care that my baby sister was dead, said he’d help me find answers.”

“Now you’ll have DeShay on your side,” I said.

“You didn’t get a chance to answer my question,” Emma said. “Will you keep helping me?”

“You betcha. Think I’d throw you to the coyotes?”

Kate drove home while I stopped at Beck’s Prime and picked up our dinner. They do have an acceptable black-bean burger that Kate will eat. I went for the cheddar burger and added grilled onions so I could say I had a vegetable today. I skipped the fries, promising myself to get into those running shoes tomorrow. God, how I missed Jeff.

Once we were seated at the kitchen table and had started eating-Kate was drinking something thick and carrot orange from the blender while I enjoyed a Diet Coke-I brought up Clinton Roark.

“Tell me what’s going on, Kate. You just broke off a serious relationship, and you’re dating someone else only days later. That’s sounds like something I would do, not you.”

“We aren’t dating. I’m, well, helping him.”

I shook my head. “You think I don’t know my heinie from a hard drive?”

“He wants to become a-”

“A vegetarian. Sure. You know what I think? I think ‘Oh, my God, we were both born in the Year of the Rat’ would have probably worked just as well.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. “Okay. Maybe I feel an attraction. Is that so wrong?”

“How would the shrink who resides in the thinking part of your brain answer?” I said.

“That’s just it, Abby. I don’t want to think and rethink every decision. That’s what Terry tried to do for both of us; that’s what totally turned me off.”

“Bet Roark’s at least fifteen years older than you.” I swigged my Diet Coke.

“Fourteen.”

I had my burger halfway to my mouth and froze. “He’s forty-four?”

“How old is Jeff?”

I raised my chin. “Thirty-six.” We sounded like we were back in junior high school having a boyfriend war like we used to-mine’s better than yours. I took a deep breath. “Sorry. I guess his age doesn’t matter. I’m worried about you, that’s all. You had one big cry and now you’re over Terry? I don’t think so.”

“I’m moving on, Abby, and it’s not my fault if someone walked into my office and seemed like exactly the right person to help me do that. We have chemistry.”

“Yeah. So did my ex and I, even after we got divorced. Chemistry experiments can blow up in your face.”

Kate knew this was true. No reply needed. She drank her orange concoction and it left her with a neon mustache. She looked downright ridiculous when she said, “This is all your fault, you know.”

“My fault?” But I couldn’t muster any conviction. She looked too funny.

“I watch how you and Jeff interact. There’s all this passion between you, so much-”

I was unable to hold back the laughter another second.

“What?” she said.

“You look like you should do a billboard for ‘Got Carrots?’ ”

She swiped at her lips and then we were both laughing.

The next morning I managed to find my running shoes and spent an hour walking and jogging near the Rice campus. We were blessed with a perfect October morning, cool and bright, and I felt energized by the exercise. By the time I arrived back home, Kate had left for work, and the cell phone I’d forgotten on the kitchen counter must have been making noises while I was gone. Diva was sitting and staring at the thing as if it were a mouse hole.

When I picked up the phone, I saw I had a message from DeShay. I listened to him say, “Hey, Abby. The DNA comparison on the baby is in. After I talk this over with White I’ll get back to you.”

I closed the phone, thinking how Emma might have two sets of remains entrusted to her now-the baby’s and her mother’s.

But it was Emma, not DeShay, who called me after I’d showered and dressed. She said the police were coming to her hotel to talk to her. “Sergeant White sounded so serious, and he wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone. I don’t want to face him alone.”

“DeShay told me they have DNA results on the baby,” I said. “That must be what this is about.” I told her I was on my way, then checked to see if DeShay had left me a voice mail message while I was in the shower. But he hadn’t. Maybe he and White were shutting me out.

I made the drive to Emma’s hotel in less than fifteen minutes, but not soon enough. When she let me into her suite, White and DeShay were there. Room service coffee and a plate of fruit and croissants sat on the glass coffee table. White was holding a jam-loaded roll in one hand and a mug in the other. DeShay stood as I came around the sofa to sit next to Emma. White took a giant mouthful of croissant and nodded at me in greeting.