building. She also jotted down their cell phone numbers.
"We'll be back in a couple days. Follow up questions." Kallie closed her notebook and pocketed it. The same motion moved her coat behind the weapon she wore on her waist, not in a shoulder holster, like he did. She arched an eyebrow and then winked at Dawson. "Be seeing you around."
"Oh, I'm really looking forward to that, Detective," Dawson said with a smile, with almost a hopeful look on his face, which was… weird and tripped bells, although he had no fucking clue why.
They made it two steps past the window before Kallie lost it. "That motherfucker is abusing her."
"Yeah, he could be." He hated there was nothing they could do about it.
"Could be?"
"Unless she comes forward, it is hard to prove."
"I'm going to be coming back."
"She's got to make a complaint, or you have to catch him in the act." There were no handprint bruises on her that he could see, and he'd looked. He’d wanted a reason to put cuffs on that bastard.
Kallie stopped on the sidewalk and palmed her phone. Glancing at the screen, she growled in irritation before shoving the phone back in her pocket. "He's going to end up killing her," she snapped. She wrenched the car door open and dropped inside the car.
"She knows to come looking for us at the precinct. Next time you stop by, I'll give you a couple business cards for local shelters and social workers." Brock turned on the vehicle and waited for traffic to clear before he merged into the lanes of traffic. "Was that the ex again?"
She waved a dismissive hand. "She's so freaking tiny. He was what… six-two or three and at least a hundred pounds heavier than her? I hate abusive pricks." She ground out the words and flopped her head against the headrest. "Okay, sorry. I'm picking up my soapbox and heading home now, and yes, I know she needs to make the complaint. It is just frustrating."
"That fire in your gut? That's the reason you do this job. You, my dear detective, are a warrior for the underdog and you can preach to me from your soapbox anytime."
"Yeah, well, we all need someone, don't we?"
"Always." He wondered if she realized she'd included herself in that comment. His admiration for this woman just reached a new level. She was a survivor. He depressed his turn indicator and headed toward the morgue.
10
Kallie hated morgues. Hated them with a passion, but as far as morgues went, Hope City's wasn't the worst she'd ever seen. As a matter of fact, the building was new, and it appeared to be more of a business office than a morgue.
"Over this way." Brock led her to a reception area. "Hey Dori, how you been?"
A brunette gave Brock a long thirsty look—like he was a glass of water and she was dying from thirst. "Hey Brock. I'm fine." She leaned forward and gave Kallie a once over. "New partner? What happened to Jordan, and why haven't you called me? We should hang out."
"Jordan is being loaned to the Feds. This is Kallie Redman, my new partner. Kallie, this is Dori Chamberlain. She went to school with my baby sister, Bekki. I've known Dori since she was in diapers."
The amusement in Brock's eyes when the woman nearly had an aneurysm was not funny. Okay, it was hilarious, but all the sexy eyes and want on the woman's face was placed quickly and firmly in the 'you're too young for me and this shit is never going to happen' category. He'd obviously had to set the woman straight on other occasions because he was damn good and succinct with the shoot down.
Dori finally jacked her jaw off the floor and huffed, "What do you need?"
"Dr. Carpenter?"
"She's in Autopsy Four. You can sign in and go through to the observation loft." Brock made quick work of signing in and grabbing a badge for each of them. They headed down a long corridor, but Kallie waited until they turned the corner before she started laughing. "Please tell me you've let her down gently in the past, because that was not nice."
"That girl." Brock groaned and pointed to the right. "She was out of control in school. I joined the Marines and came back, and she's grown up and more determined than ever. Seems she thinks we have chemistry."
"Do you? Have chemistry?" The woman was all smoldering beauty and tight clothes.