Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24) - Catherine Coulter Page 0,29

pajamas covered with red cats, and sat cross-legged on the bed, her tablet on her lap. She read more about Wilde. Three years with the Philadelphia Police Department, married three years, three medals for bravery, divorced. On the fast track until his team member and best friend was murdered and he failed to find the killer. After Wilde had resigned, he dropped out of sight for a few months until he’d become the chief here in St. Lumis.

Pippa read until her eyelids were at half-mast. She turned off her tablet and the lamp beside the big circular bed and lay back, wondering why Wilde’s best friend had been murdered and why he hadn’t found whoever was responsible.

When she slept, she dreamed she was in a jail cell, seated on a bench fastened to a wall, with a beautiful woman with thick dark hair like a mantle around her shoulders seated next to her. There were plates stacked high with Mrs. Trumbo’s oatmeal cookies in front of them. The woman told Pippa she knew it was wrong to eat them, but she had anyway, until she could only lie there, blissfully full. Suddenly Chief Wilde appeared on the other side of the jail cell bars, his eyes on the woman, and he was shaking his head, telling her she shouldn’t have eaten the cookies and look where it got her. She told him he was pathetic because he didn’t know what the cookies meant. The woman laughed at him and was fluffing her hair when Pippa awoke with a start, her heart pounding, sweat dampening her sleep shirt. What in heaven’s name did that weird dream mean? Who was the woman? And why was she dreaming about Chief Wilde? What did Mrs. Trumbo’s oatmeal cookies have to do with anything? Then she remembered. She’d seen that woman when she was looking into Wilde. It was his ex-wife, Serena Wilde.

She huffed. What could she expect except weird dreams after swilling that vodka-laced punch?

14

WASHINGTON, D.C.

GEORGETOWN

SAVICH HOUSE

SUNDAY MORNING

DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN

Savich and Sherlock left Sean with his grandmother and Senator Monroe, a longtime fixture in her life, to attend church, eat his grandmother’s fried chicken and potato salad for lunch, and play Frisbee in the small park across from his grandmother’s house. As they left, they heard Sean explaining in great detail how Marty, his future wife and next-door neighbor, had dressed as Wonder Woman and lassoed all the adults and made them tell the truth, which made them laugh and got them more candy.

“At least he didn’t make himself sick,” Sherlock said as she slid into the Porsche.

“Through no fault of his own,” Savich said as he closed her door and walked around to ease into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and smiled when his beauty roared to life. “I’ll bet he and Marty stuffed themselves before coming back into the house. And then they chowed down on popcorn while they watched that Scooby-Doo movie.”

She laughed, leaned her head back against the sinfully soft Porsche leather. “I think if I see that movie one more time I’ll be able to say all the characters’ lines. We’ve seen it with him, what, half a dozen times already?”

“Nah, no more than four.”

Sherlock sighed. “I’d have enjoyed playing Frisbee with Sean in the park with your mom and the senator. The senator’s gotten pretty good, says Sean keeps him on his toes. He’s gotten lots of practice what with his seven grandchildren. Well, if he and your mom get married, he’ll have a step-grandchild, too.”

The thought of a stepfather didn’t give Savich a jolt like it once would have. “I doubt marriage is in the cards. Mom told me last month she likes things the way they are between them. Like me, she misses Dad. On the other hand, the senator is quite a debater, and he’s smitten, a big point in his favor. And he’s proven he can stick. They’ve been seeing each other nearly three years now.” Savich slowed and carefully steered around a dozen bicycles, mostly tourists weaving in and out, having too much fun to be careful. Thankfully, traffic was lighter on Sundays.

Sherlock said, “I wonder what Congressman Manvers thinks about Agent Griffin Hammersmith protecting his wife. An alpha male in the same house as another alpha, only this one is twenty-five years younger and so good-looking he stops traffic.”

“Griffin won’t be there all day. About now, he’s leaving for his command performance at Jessie Tenley’s surprise birthday party for her

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