started sharing about her … well … her issues. It was an open meeting, so she talked about her history of codependency, shoplifting, and her, well, her struggle with love addiction and how she had just met this hot guy on an airplane and couldn’t resist him.”
“Hmm.”
Dante noticed that Daya had just transitioned from sister to clinician, which wasn’t a good sign. “It gets weirder.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Right. So I follow her home after the meeting and trace her plates. You know how I told you about all the meth cases down here, right?”
“Please don’t tell me she’s a meth dealer!”
“What? Jesus, Daya! Do you think I’m a complete idiot?”
“You asked me to delay my diagnosis.”
Dante jumped up from the bench and walked. He was comforted to see several couples strolling with their dogs and some kids riding their bikes under the streetlights—apparently there were other humans still walking the earth. “It’s a small world down here, okay? Real small. And it turns out she lives in the town where I had my last undercover assignment.”
“The one where the sheriff’s girlfriend got taken hostage and the bad guys killed each other off?”
“Not all of them. We think there was a middleman involved, and he might be associated with another operation we’ve got under surveillance.” Dante slowed his pace of walking and talking. “But there was a little girl, too. Her name is Fern, and she was the daughter of one of the meth cooks. I removed her from the property right before the raid went down. We think she might be able to ID the middleman.”
“But what does this girl have to do with—”
“Hold on. I’m getting there.”
“Of course,” Daya said.
“So I go to where the girl is staying and guess who opens the door?”
“I have no idea.”
“Taffy. Taffy opens the door! She’s Fern’s volunteer mentor with an after-school program.”
“Wait. Taffy is the love addict with the bracelet? Fern is the girl?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Her name is Tanyalee, but her nickname is Taffy.”
Daya had no comment.
“Still there?”
“I am. So what happened with this Tanyalee Taffy person? How did she react to seeing you?”
“It wasn’t pretty.”
Daya sighed. “That’s understandable, Dante. If a woman wants to see you again after that kind of … sea-level encounter … she will make sure you don’t get away without her name and phone number.”
“Yeah, I know how it works, Daya.”
“And, if she’s even remotely committed to recovery, she knew she’d made a mistake with you and wanted to make sure she wasn’t tempted again. So what can I help you with? You said you needed advice.”
“I do.” Dante spun around on the walking path, shocked by the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “I spent a lot of time with Tanyalee yesterday, getting to know her. I had dinner with her family. I can’t stop thinking about her. I want … I think I want to…”
“I see.” Daya made a humming sound. “You have feelings for her.”
“What? Hell, no!” He noticed one of the dog walkers glance his way nervously, and he nodded to her in apology.
“Be honest with yourself, Dante.”
“It’s possible.”
“You have feelings for her, Dante. And you’re wondering whether you should stop seeing her because of her emotional instability. As your sister, I don’t want to see you get involved with someone who isn’t capable of a healthy relationship. As a psychiatrist, I have my usual advice for you: back away from the crazy chicks.”
Dante stopped in his tracks, remembering what old Garland Newberry had said. “You need to watch your back, son. Watch your wallet. Watch your car keys. Watch your heart. That girl is what they call a man-eater.”
“She’s complicated, I’ll admit it.” Dante stared up at the darkening sky. He felt a raindrop hit him right between the eyes. “But I think her heart is in the right place. I think underneath it all, she’s something special. None of us are perfect, but I think she has potential.”
“Fair enough. So let me ask you this—what did she say when you admitted you heard everything she shared at the AA meeting?”
Dante’s mind emptied. He gazed up at the sky.
“Yikes,” Daya said.
Dante heard the shrill sound of his sister’s beeper, and he knew their conversation had come to an end.
“I gotta go,” Daya said.
“I know. Thanks for listening.”
“Wait.” He could tell by her breathing that Daya was hurrying down the hallway, heading to one of her “psych consults” as they were euphemistically called. “Please be honest