“Just making conversation. Is she saying any new words?”
“Just the usual. She likes pumpkin pie now.”
“Hey, that’s great.” Alina, their toddler, was a notoriously picky eater. At this point, even pie was an improvement. “How was work?”
“Fine,” Gretchen mumbled.
“And anything else going on?”
“No. Why would something else be going on?”
“I don’t know. I’m tired. I got shot today.” He patted his elbow but not the stitched-up wound. The gash itself was sore.
“It’s four in the morning there, right?”
Maybe she hadn’t heard him.
“Yeah. A little after,” he said, checking his phone screen again because exhaustion was messing with his short-term memory. “Been busy.”
“Why were you out until four in the morning?”
“Wulfram’s younger sister’s wedding receptions were tonight,” Dieter explained. “We were on duty until Wulf and Rae were in their residence for the evening.”
“Yeah, Friederike. She’s pretty.”
Oh, Dieter knew better than to fall for that one about any woman, but especially one whom he spent any amount of time around. “I guess. She’s Wulf’s little sister. I’ve known her since she was ten or so. I don’t really see her that way.”
“And Wulf’s new girlfriend is pretty.”
Again, he was not going to fall into that trap. “They’re engaged. He proposed this evening.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” The fall of her voice sounded disappointed.
Jesus, what had she wanted him to say? That he’d had a threesome with Wulf and Rae?
A shiver crawled down Dieter’s spine like a snake slithering down the back of his shirt.
No.No threesomes for him, at least nothing with another guy involved. Dieter was not made that way.
He said, “She’s all right. Wulf is happy.”
“That’s good. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve got another call coming in.”
“Okay, have a good—”
But she had hung up.
That call hadn’t gone so badly. Dieter had avoided the things that pissed Gretchen off the most. Most calls were worse. Some ended with her cussing him out before she slammed the phone down.
But he still called every night.
Because he should.
Because they were married, and damn it, he wastrying.
Dieter rolled over even though he was still wearing his tuxedo pants and shirt, buried his face in the yellow comforter, and fell asleep.
An Errand to the Airport
