The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [128]
“I know, sir,” Marion forced herself to say patiently. “I did look into the matter. I know two-way calling shuts off the phone, but what about call forwarding?”
“Who would forward a call for a prisoner?”
“Shelly Zane.”
Quincy was silent for a moment. Then he blinked his eyes. “I don’t know if Zane has call forwarding.”
“She does. I checked. She used it a lot. In the last two years calls were forwarded to two hundred and forty-seven different numbers. I compiled a list.”
Slowly Quincy nodded. “We should look into that. We can ask Houlihan to have Task Force A start in on it immediately. They could use a few good leads.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You can sit in the surveillance van with Houlihan and me,” he said abruptly. “If there’s action, you’ll see it.”
“What about assisting Team A?”
“That would be stepping on the team leader’s toes, Agent. First thing you learn in crossjurisdictional investigations—don’t step on local law enforcement’s toes.”
Marion knew a lecture when she heard one. “I would like to sit in the van. Thank you, sir.”
“Then it’s settled. You may not agree, but even being invited to take part in surveillance on this kind of case is a huge responsibility. Don’t blow it.”
His tone was curt and dismissive. His attention was already returning to his gruesome stack of photos, and it was clear he didn’t want to speak to her anymore.
She nodded her head once and left. Her throat was thick with frustration. She had wanted more. More praise for her ideas, more inclusion into the male-dominated world of violent crime. More recognition that she was smart, savvy, and capable. Instead, she’d been dressed down as thoroughly as any rookie, then tossed a bone to keep her from whining too much.
She thought Quincy was wrong. She had her own opinions, her own ideas. And she was suddenly sick of spending her life playing by other people’s rules.
Opportunities were not given. They were made.
She knew how she would make hers.
THE PHONE RANG in the motel room. Tess snatched up the receiver.
“Yes?” Her voice was hopeful. Lieutenant Houlihan had told her he would call if they learned anything about Sam. Tess had been staring at the phone for the last two hours as the sun had sunk, the room had darkened, and she and J.T. had become too weary to even snap on a light.
“Oh, hi, Marion.” Her shoulders slumped. “No, we’re fine here. It’s just a motel, you know how motels are. It does have a pool, so J.T. got to swim. I don’t think it helped much. He’s about to wear a hole in the carpet. Do you want to speak to him?”
J.T. halted mid-stride. The look on his face was wary and torn.
Tess held out the phone to him. Marion’s answer had equaled his expression. At least they were both trying.
“Hello?” J.T. said carefully. “No, it’s fine. Tess is playing solitaire, I’m going insane. The usual.” He nodded his head and just listened for a bit. “He wasn’t the right one for you,” he said finally. He sounded awkward. “You’ll . . . you’ll find someone else. Someone better. It’s tough. I know. But there are other fish in the sea, you know?” His gaze rested on Tess.
After another few minutes he said good-bye and hung up. He resumed pacing immediately.
“Is she okay?” Tess asked quietly.
“The divorce papers arrived today. Her housekeeper called her with the news.”
“Oh,” Tess said with feeling. “That must be very difficult. Especially now, with everything else going on.”
J.T. nodded, but she couldn’t read his expression.
“It was good that she called, J.T. She’s reaching out to you.”
“Yeah.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m not good at this.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“No one does. Have you ever tried explaining to a four-year-old that her father’s an ax murderer? In the end, we all make it up as we go along.”