He thought back over their conversation on the ferry and burst out laughing.
“Are you mocking me?” she asked.
“No. I’m mocking myself. I bared my soul and you were barely holding on to your lunch. I thought you were uncomfortable talking about things like that. But you were just literally nauseous.”
“Yeah, sorry.” She fastened her seat belt. “When I’m seasick like that, it’s better if I don’t talk. I’m sorry if I didn’t seem sympathetic. I would have explained, but if I even refer to the concept of seasickness, I get sicker. I have to focus on a point on the horizon and think about something completely different. But I heard everything you said even if I didn’t react properly.”
He couldn’t stop chuckling as he steered his Audi through the city and onto the highway that led west to Vermont. “I thought you couldn’t look at me because you were repelled.”
“Of course not. I’ve worked with a number of abuse survivors. Not being believed adds an extra layer of damage. I sincerely believe Jessie was lucky to have your support. That doesn’t happen in every family.”
“I know. On the show we’ve done a number of storylines involving abuse. I know that’s not the?—”
“It’s very important.” Tina interrupted, surprising him. “Spreading awareness is so helpful. I watched those episodes and I thought, I bet they consulted with some professionals, because the topic was handled very well.”
“We did.” He’d insisted on it, because of his personal family experience. “That was when my parents changed toward Jessie, after they watched the show. They finally got it. One of my proudest moments ever. Before that, they just couldn’t believe that their old familiar friend could have such a dark side.”
She simply nodded, as if she understood completely. He didn’t want compliments or flattery over something so sensitive, and was relieved that she didn’t offer anything like that.
“What about your family?” he asked after some time had passed in silence.
“What about them?”
“You have one?” he asked dryly. “Or were you born in a police locker and assembled from pieces of evidence?”
“Cute, very cute. I have a family. They hate my job. We celebrate all the Chinese holidays and also the Jewish ones because I grew up over a deli and we thought we were assimilating. I spent my childhood being official family translator because English and Cantonese are completely different. My Cantonese sucks, by the way.”
She paused, as if testing to see if he was still interested. He was. “Why’d you become a detective?”
“In the town where I grew up, we had a very corrupt local sheriff. He had a special hostility toward Chinese immigrants, but he was just generally greedy and open to bribes. I fucking despise corruption with every cell in my body.”
The fierceness with which she said that sent a chill down his spine. “Preach.”
“The only antidote for corruption is law and order. And I’m too physical to be stuck in an office writing briefs. So I chose the first half of Law and Order. Seen every episode of every spinoff, by the way.”
He put out a hand for a high-five. “Same, babe. Same.”
Although she went along with the high-five, she shook her head. “We are not the same. I can’t even count the ways we’re not the same, but for one, when’s the last time you got told to go back to your own country?”
He heard the hurt in her voice, even though she wore a wry smile as she said it.
“Shit. Never. Sorry. What do you say when that happens?”
“Since it’s usually when I’m arresting someone, I say, ‘You have the right to remain silent and I highly recommend it.’”
God, she really was something, this badass policewoman with her bottomless well of wit and sass. Suddenly, he was really looking forward to this trip.
15
When they reached the town of Woodstock, Vermont, they got in a friendly squabble over whether it made more sense to book a hotel room first, in case they needed one, or go straight to the craft shop.
But Tina pulled rank since she didn’t want to take a chance on missing Kate Mansfield. They could always sleep in the car; she’d done it before on a case.
He obeyed and pulled into a parking space right outside the Bibs and Bobs Craft Shop.
“What’s a bib?” he muttered, as he peered up at the hand-painted sign.
“Or a bob, for that matter?”
