Love You More - Lisa Gardner [40]
“You attend the wedding?”
“No. Didn’t even hear about it until it was all over. I think I noticed Tessa was suddenly wearing a ring. When I asked, she said they’d gotten married. I was a little startled, thought it was kind of quick, and okay, maybe I was surprised they didn’t invite me, but …” Lyons shrugged. “It’s not like we were that close or I was that involved.”
It seemed important for him to establish the point. He wasn’t that close to the couple, not that involved in their lives.
“Tessa ever talk about the marriage?” D.D. asked.
“Not to me.”
“So to others?”
“I can only speak for myself.”
“And you’re not even doing that,” D.D. stated bluntly.
“Hey. I’m trying to tell you the truth. I don’t spend my Sundays dining at Brian and Tessa’s house or having them over to my place after church. We’re friends, sure. But, we got our own lives. Hell, Brian wasn’t even in town half the year.”
“So,” D.D. said slowly. “Your hockey buddy Brian Darby ships out half the year, leaving behind a fellow trooper to juggle the house, the yard, and a small child, all by herself, and you just go your own way. Have your own life, don’t need to get bogged down with theirs?”
Trooper Lyons flushed. He looked at his Coke, his square jaw noticeably clenched.
Good-looking guy, D.D. thought, in a ruddy face sort of way. Which made her wonder: Did Brian Darby start bulking up because his wife carried a gun? Or because his wife started calling a hunky fellow trooper for help around the house?
“I might have fixed the lawn mower,” Lyons muttered.
D.D. and Bobby waited.
“Kitchen faucet leaked. Took a look at that, but out of my league, so I gave her the name of a good plumber.”
“Where were you last night?” Bobby asked quietly.
“Patrolling!” Lyons looked up sharply. “For chrissake, I haven’t been home since eleven last night. I got three kids of my own, you know, and if you don’t think I’m not picturing them every time Sophie’s photo flashes across the news … Shit. Sophie’s just a kid! I still remember her rolling down the hill in my backyard. Then last year, climbing the old oak. Not even my eight-year-old son could catch up with her. She’s half monkey, that one. And that smile, and ah … Dammit.”
Trooper Lyons covered his face with his hand. He appeared unable to speak, so Bobby and D.D. gave him a moment.
When he finally got himself together, he lowered his hand, grimacing. “You know what we called Brian?” he said abruptly. “His nickname on the hockey team?”
“No.”
“Mr. Sensitive. The man’s favorite movie is Pretty Woman. When his dog, Duke, died, he wrote a poem and ran it in the local paper. He was that kind of guy. So no, I didn’t think twice about introducing him to a fellow officer with a small child. Hell, I thought I was doing Tessa a favor.”
“You and Brian still play hockey together?” Bobby asked.
“Not so much. My schedule changed; I work most Friday nights.”
“Brian looks bigger now than when he got married. Like he’s bulked up.”
“I think he joined a gym, something like that. He talked about lifting weights.”
“You ever work out with him?”
Lyons shook his head.
D.D.’s pager went off. She glanced at the display, saw it was the crime-scene lab and excused herself. When she left the conference room, Bobby was grilling Trooper Lyons on Brian Darby’s exercise regimen and/or possible supplements.
D.D. got out her cellphone and dialed the crime lab. Turned out they had some initial findings from Brian’s white GMC Denali. She listened, nodded, then ended the call in time to bolt for the ladies’ room, where she managed to keep the soup down, but only after splashing a great deal of cold water on her face.
She rinsed her mouth. Ran more cold water over the back of her hands. Then she studied her pale reflection and informed herself that like it or not, she would get this done.
She would survive this evening. She would find Sophie Leoni.
Then she would go home to Alex, because they had a couple of things to talk about.
D.D. marched back into the conference room. She didn’t wait, but led with the big guns because