check in with Suicide Joe this morning, then come out to report to you. After I agreed, you embraced me and gave me a sloppy kiss. I believe there's now a rumor going around that my wife is our beard."
Duncan considered a moment. "Did I at least kiss her, too?"
"You did. You want to hear about Joe?"
Duncan jingled the keys in his pocket. "I was about to drive into the city, check in on him."
"I can save you the trip. He's doing better than I expected considering the shape he was in yesterday when I first saw him."
"Was his wife-"
"She was there," Phin interrupted. "She was pretty damn pissed, but she was there. He's got a violent sunburn, which they're treating, and I've approved, as his attorney, the court-appointed psychiatrist. As you're not pressing any charges, he's not going to do any serious time. He'll get help, which is what you wanted."
"Yeah." So why did he feel so guilty?
"If you hire him again, Dune, I'll kick your ass."
"You can't kick my ass." Duncan gave him a slow and crooked grin. "You don't fight dirty enough, black boy."
"I'll make an exception. He'll get help. His wife will take him back or she won't. But you've already gone beyond what most would, and you hired him the best counsel in Savannah."
"Better be, for what you charge," Duncan mumbled.
Phin only grinned. "Got yourself to blame for that. Well, I'm going to head back and overcharge a few other clients."
"What about the redhead?"
"What redhead?" Tipping down his sunglasses, Phin frowned at Duncan over them. "There were a couple of blondes and one delicious brunette trying to move on you last night, but you were too busy brooding into your beer to intercept the passes."
"No, not last night. The redhead. Phoebe MacNamara. Lieutenant Phoebe MacNamara. God." On a long, exaggerated sigh, Duncan patted his heart. "Just saying that gets my juices up, so I believe I'll repeat myself. Lieutenant Phoebe MacNamara."
Phin rolled his eyes up to the white ceiling of the covered veranda. "You're a case, Swift, God knows. What are you going to do with a cop?"
"I can think of all kinds of things. She's got green eyes, and that snug little body. And she went out on that roof. Guy's sitting out on the ledge with a gun, a guy she's never met in her life, but she goes out."
"And you find that attractive?"
"I find it fascinating. And hot. You met her, right? What did you think?"
"I found her brisk and to the point, well bred and canny. And in possession of an excellent ass."
"I got her stuck in my head. Well, I think I ought to go see her, try to figure out why. You can give me a ride in, I need to pick up my car anyway."
After running a two-hour training session, Phoebe sat down at her desk. Her hair was pulled back, rolled at the nape of her neck, mostly to keep it out of her way. In addition, she thought-hoped-the style lent her some authority. A lot of the cops she trained-the male ones-didn't start out taking a woman very seriously.
They all took her seriously by the end, or they were out on their ass. She might have had an inside man in Dave to help crack the door open for her in the department. But she'd shoved the door wide, and earned her rank, her position.
Now, due to that rank and position, she had a pile of paperwork to push through. And she had to spend the afternoon in court, testifying on the circumstances of a domestic dispute that had gone south into a hostage situation.
After that, she needed to come back and finish up what she could. And after that, she needed to go by the market.
And after things settled down at home, she needed to hit the books, to prep for a lecture she was due to give on crisis negotiation.
Somewhere in there she needed to squeeze out time to balance her checkbook-long overdue-and see if there was any way she could afford a new car without robbing a bank.
She opened the first file, and got down to managing her little corner of the Savannah-Chatham PD.
"LT?"
"Mmm?" She acknowledged Sykes, one of the negotiators in her unit, without looking up.
"Guy out here wants to see you. Duncan Swift."
"Hmm?" This time she looked up with a frown. She looked through the window of her office, saw Duncan studying the squad room as if it were a foreign