“If I can get ahead of the curve . . . Don’t you get it?”
“Maybe not.”
“Trust me.”
“If you’re suggesting I separate you from the badge when you’re standing there wearing the badge, that’s asking too much. I can’t do that.”
He reached for the badge pinned to his shirt. As he did so, a knock came on the door and he left the badge in place and turned to answer the door.
“A call from Seattle for you.” Nancy looked beyond him to Fiona and then between the two of them. “I can tell them you’ll return,” she said.
“No,” Walt said. “I’ll take it.” To Fiona he said, “It’s good work. Stay with it.”
Her flushed, angry face remained fixed on him, his back now turned toward her. “Yes, Sheriff,” she said through clenched teeth.
Nancy held the door for him but knew better than to venture another look inside.
“Everything okay?” she asked, as they crossed the hall into Walt’s office. “That looked a little . . . heated.”
“Is it Boldt?” he asked, not answering.
“A woman named Matthews. She asked if we had Skype or video conferencing, and I told her I could set it up for you.”
“Can you?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“Impressed is more like it. Kevin does that stuff for me at home. Lisa, sometimes.”
“She does too much for you,” Nancy said.
They’d reached his office. Nancy came around his desk and took control of his keyboard, avoiding having to look at him, knowing she’d overstepped. The tapping of the keys sounded louder than normal.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she said.
“You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“Am I?” She marched past him to his office door and shut it. “Okay then.”
He wished he could take it back.
“Under the heading of none-of-my-business: you’ve become way too dependent on Lisa. I guarantee you she only charges you for about a third of her billable hours, because if she didn’t, you’d be homeless by now, the amount of time she spends there. The girls have it bad enough being yanked back and forth. When they land on your side of the net, you should be there, not some paid-by-the-hour quasi-governess, aunt, babysitter. And she will never tell you that. She will never tell you how her own family needs her and how much you take advantage of her. You got the short end of the stick, Walt. No one’s denying that. You needed Lisa to fill in while you got it together, and she did, and you did. But you spend too much time here. Much more than you used to, and I don’t think you even see that. The job can fill some of the heartache, and no one begrudges you that, but you and me, we’ve been at this a long time together. All I’m saying is: it’s time to move on.” She drew in a deep breath and then exhaled. When he failed to respond, she said, “Click the green telephone in the open window. She should answer.” She stood there for a second too long, huffed audibly, and let herself out.
Walt hadn’t moved. He made an effort to breathe, shook his head, and moved toward his desk.
33
Daphne Matthews was a looker, given that computer video was anything but flattering. A dark beauty that carried an intensity in her eyes and an implied invitation in her somewhat husky voice, she piqued Walt’s intellectual curiosity; he wanted to step through the screen and spend a couple of hours with her. He thought of her as Cleopatra—mysterious, seductive, fiercely intelligent—and she had yet to say anything more than “hello” and “good to meet you.”
“The sergeant suggested I get in touch.”
“Much appreciated.”
“Anything new to add to the case?”
Walt walked her through some but not all of it, sensing she somehow knew he was withholding from her. Maybe she expected that from any cop.
He watched her arm move as she took notes about Bea’s discovery of the blood evidence. Watched her reread and study those notes. Her eyes flicked up at him and back down. He could hear her faint breathing over the computer’s thin speaker.
“Nothing worse than unsolicited advice,” she said.
“Consider it solicited,” he said.
“The sergeant’s seriously interested in your case and believes there’s both a possibility and probability that it may overlap with the Caroline Vetta investigation, which is why he asked for this meeting.”
“I’m okay with it. Really. Sergeant Boldt and I . . . He was a welcome presence here. We worked well together, I think. He speaks highly of you.”