He didn’t stop looking out for his clients when they were off parole. With their permission, he kept in touch.
“I’ll be in the area anyway, keeping a watch on him...” And by doing so he’d be keeping Bill off the investigative radar as much as he could. And then he was going to have to see what he could do to warn whichever detective was on the Suzie Heber case to look into whoever else in Suzie’s life could be hurting her. Abusers were like bombs with faulty timers. You never knew what might set them off, or who they could strike. And if Emma was getting involved in Suzie’s life, as a way of doing her own penance for what Emma saw as letting the woman down before...if she was going to push to the point of looking up any establishment that sold ice cream...without even considering that Bill wasn’t the time bomb...who knew what else she’d delve into, who else she might make nervous? She could inadvertently trigger the real bomb while she or Suzie was in the vicinity of the explosion and get killed.
“That’d be great.” She smiled at him again, distracting him from borrowing trouble.
Reminding himself that, ultimately, they wanted the same thing—Suzie Heber safe—he smiled back at her.
And then lost all track of time.
* * *
She stared at the man. No reason. No explanation. She just stared. When Emma realized what she was doing, she looked away immediately, her only consolation being that he’d been looking at her, too.
Which didn’t make it okay.
Work was work. Her more impulsive side was another part of her life. The two didn’t interconnect. That was an unwritten law inside her.
“So...” she finally said. “I wanted to let you know...the Lincoln situation is being handled.” His parolee would most likely not be his parolee much longer. But Luke’s wife was going to be safe. Emma was pretty confident about that.
“They had no High Risk team in the area, but Lila McDaniels Mantle, director of The Lemonade Stand, spoke with the director of the local woman’s shelter, who contacted Luke’s wife, Gina, immediately. They’ve moved Gina and her daughter into a secure residence, but are making it appear as though their home is still being lived in. When Luke shows up there, if he does, he’ll be met by a policewoman who closely resembles Gina. Assuming he shows up in the next day or two.”
“My gut tells me he will.”
Emma hardly knew Jayden, but was aware of his impressive recidivism statistics—they were the lowest in the county—and couldn’t help but admire his work ethic, since it mirrored hers.
“The shelter up north is interested in the High Risk team. I think they’re going to try to start one of their own,” she added for no particular reason other than she wanted to keep sitting there with him. She had no choice but to trust him to do his job where Bill was concerned. And had no justifiable reason not to do so.
“I’d seriously like to be more involved with this team,” he told her, adjusting his back in the chair. Slowly. Reminding her that he was nursing badly bruised ribs.
“You’re welcome to join me at our next meeting,” she told him. “It’s next Tuesday, weekly instead of biweekly or monthly since we have an active case. I’m sure the Hebers will be the top priority, so it’s fitting that you be there. You’re our main source of containment at the moment.”
What was she doing? Inviting him to participate in a group in which she was consistently active? Inviting him further into her life?
The reasoning was legitimate, she argued with herself.
“I’d like that.”
He asked for the time and place. She gave it to him. And then they were looking at each other again. Until she stopped.
He’d only eaten half his dinner. She’d finished a bit more of hers. Starting to pack up the remainder, she thought about urging him to take them home, but figured they’d been sitting out too long to be good as leftovers.
And reminded herself that he didn’t need her fawning over him. If he wanted his food, he’d grab it on the way out.
“You seeing anyone?”
She stared at him.
“Personally, I mean. Are you in a relationship?”
No. Ms. Shadow Side felt all warm and important inside her.
“Is that pertinent to our business here?” her prosecutorial side asked, maintaining eye contact with him again, probably on behalf of her lesser self.
“It’s pertinent to the fact that, unless I’m way off my mark, we seem to have something kind of relevant in common.”
The only thing they had in common was work. Personal relationships had nothing to do with work.
“What’s that?” she asked anyway. Just to know what she was dealing with.