Love You More - Lisa Gardner [8]
She thought the yard might hold the key. Big, sprawling, and completely unprotected in the midst of population overload.
Cut through the school parking lot, walk onto this property. Emerge from behind four different apartment buildings, walk onto this property. You could access the Leoni residence from the back street, as D.D. had done, or by walking up the concrete steps from the front street, as most of the Massachusetts state police seem to have done. From the back, the front, the right and left, the property was easy to enter and easier to exit.
Something every uniformed officer must have figured out, because instead of studying a pristine sweep of white snow, D.D. was currently looking at the largest collection of boot imprints ever amassed in a quarter acre.
She hunched deeper into her winter field coat and exhaled a frustrated puff of frosty breath. Fucking morons.
Bobby Dodge appeared on the back deck, probably still searching for his vantage point. Given the way he was frowning down at the mucked-up snow, his thoughts mirrored her own. He caught sight of her, adjusted his black brimmed hat against the early March chill, and walked down the deck stairs to the yard.
“Your troopers trampled my crime scene,” D.D. called across the way. “I won’t forget that.”
He shrugged, burying his hands in his black wool coat as he approached. A former sniper, Bobby still moved with the economy of motion that came from spending long hours holding perfectly still. Like a lot of snipers, he was a smaller guy with a tough, sinewy build that matched his hard-planed face. No one would ever describe him as handsome, but plenty of women found him compelling.
Once upon a time, D.D. had been one of those women. They’d started out as lovers, but discovered they worked better as friends. Then, two years ago Bobby had met and married Annabelle Granger. D.D. hadn’t taken the wedding well; the birth of their daughter had felt like another blow.
But D.D. had Alex now. Life was on the up. Right?
Bobby came to a halt before her. “Troopers protect lives,” he informed her. “Detectives protect evidence.”
“Your troopers screwed my scene. I don’t forgive. I don’t forget.”
Bobby finally smiled. “Missed you, too, D.D.”
“How’s Annabelle?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“And the baby?”
“Carina’s already crawling. Can barely believe it.”
D.D. couldn’t either. Crap, they were getting old.
“And Alex?” Bobby asked.
“Good, good.” She waved her gloved hand, done with small talk. “So what d’ya think happened?”
Bobby shrugged again, taking his time answering. While some investigators felt a need to work their homicide scenes, Bobby liked to study his. And while many detectives were prone to jabber, Bobby rarely spoke unless he had something useful to say.
D.D. respected him immensely, but was careful never to tell him that.
“At first blush, it would appear to be a domestic situation,” he stated finally. “Husband attacked with a beer bottle, Trooper Leoni defended with her service weapon.”
“Got a history of domestic disturbance calls?” D.D. asked.
Bobby shook his head; she nodded in agreement. The lack of calls meant nothing. Cops hated to ask for help, especially from other cops. If Brian Darby had been beating his wife, most likely she’d taken it in silence.
“You know her?” D.D. asked.
“No. I left patrol shortly after she started. She’s only been on the force four years.”
“Word on the street?”
“Solid officer. Young. Stationed out of the Framingham barracks, working the graveyard shift, then racing home to her kid, so not one to mingle.”
“Works only the graveyard shift?”
He arched a brow, looking amused. “Scheduling’s a competitive world for troopers. Rookies get to spend an entire year on graveyard before they can bid for another time slot. Even then, scheduling is awarded based on seniority. Four-year recruit? My guess is she had another year before she could see daylight.”
“And I thought being a detective sucked.”
“Boston cops are a bunch of crybabies,” Bobby informed her.
“Please, at least we know