Live to Tell - Lisa Gardner [159]
She stood up dizzily at the bottom and caught me watching her.
“Love you, Mommy!” she cried, and dashed back up hill.
I watched her run away and wished, not for the first time, that I didn’t have to know all the things a woman like me had to know.
Hello.”
A man had peeled off from the crowd, making his approach. Late-thirties, five ten, hundred and eighty, buzz-cut blonde hair, heavily muscled shoulders. Maybe another cop, given the venue, but I didn’t recognize him.
He held out his hand. Belatedly, I offered my own.
“Brian,” he said. “Brian Darby.” He jerked his head toward the house. “I live down the street. You?”
“Umm. Tessa. Tessa Leoni. I know Shane from the barracks.”
I waited for the inevitable comments men made when meeting a female officer. A cop? I’d better be on good behavior, then. Or, Ooooh, where’s your gun?
And those were the nice guys.
Brian, however, just nodded. He was holding a Bud Light in one hand. He tucked his other hand in the pocket of his tan shorts. He wore a blue collared shirt with a gold emblem on the pocket, but I couldn’t make it out from this angle.
“Got a confession,” he said.
I braced myself.
“Shane told me who you were. Though, to give me some credit, I asked first. Pretty woman, standing alone. Seemed smart to do a little recon.”
“What did Shane say?”
“He assured me that you’re totally out of my league. Naturally, I took the bait.”
“Shane’s full of shit,” I offered.
“Most of the time. You’re not drinking your beer.”
I looked down, as if noticing the bottle for the first time.
“Part of my recon,” Brian continued easily. “You’re holding a beer, but not drinking it. Would you prefer a margarita? I could get you one. Though,” he eyed the gaggle of wives, who were well into the third pitcher and laughing accordingly, “I’m a little afraid.”
“It’s okay.” I loosened my stance, shook out my arms. “I don’t really drink.”
“On call?”
“Not today.”
“I’m not a cop, so I won’t pretend to know the life, but I’ve been hanging out with Shane a good five years now, so I like to think I understand the basics. Being a trooper is way more than patrolling highways and writing tickets. Ain’t that right, Shane?” Brian boomed his voice, letting the common lament of any state trooper carry over the patio. At the grill, Shane responded by raising his right hand and flipping off his neighbor.
“Shane’s a whiner,” I said, letting my voice carry, as well.
Shane flipped me off, too. Several of the guys laughed.
“How long have you been working with him?” Brian asked me.
“A year. I’m a rookie.”
“Really? What made you want to be a cop?”
I shrugged, uncomfortable again. One of those questions everyone asked and I never knew how to answer. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“I’m a merchant marine,” Brian offered up. “I work on oil tankers. We ship out a couple of months, then are home a couple of months, then out a couple of months. Screws with the personal life, but I like the work. Never boring.”
“A merchant marine? What do you do … protect against pirates, things like that?”
“Nah. We run from Puget Sound up to Alaska and back. Not too many Somali pirates patrolling that corridor. Plus, I’m an engineer. My job’s to keep the ship running. I like wires and gears and rotors. Guns, on the other hand, scare the crap out of me.”
“I don’t care for them much myself.”
“Funny comment, coming from a police officer.”
“Not really.”
My gaze had returned automatically to Sophie, checking in. Brian followed my line of sight. “Shane said you had a three-year-old. Holey moley, she looks just like you. No taking the wrong kid home from this party.”
“Shane said I had a kid, and you still took the bait?”
He shrugged. “Kids are cool. I don’t have any, but that doesn’t mean I’m morally opposed. Father in the picture?” he added casually.
“No.”
He didn’t look smug at that news, more like contemplative. “That’s gotta be tough. Being a full time police officer and raising a child.”
“We get by.”
“Not doubting you. My father died when I was young.