Nobody said anything until Lear spoke up. “We weren’t much help. Darcy thanked us and sent us back. He and the SO’s crime scene unit are on it.”
Mitch looked at John and asked hopefully, “Want me to check in with him, offer to go out there, take a look around?”
John shook his head and addressed the other two detectives.“Follow the progress of the investigation, but from a respectful distance. If Darcy wants more help from us, he’s not too proud to ask for it.”
Lear nodded, then turned and headed for his desk. Barbara Nix looked reluctant to leave the conversation on that awkward note, but she said, “Yes, sir,” then walked away.
Mitch’s temples were pulsing. He rolled his chair back to his desk, sat down in front of his computer, and stared at his screen saver—a picture of Andrew with a slobbery smile that showed off two rows of perfect baby teeth. Angela hadn’t lived to see that smile.
After a few moments, sensing that John was hovering, he tilted his head back and looked up at him. “What?”
“You all right?” John asked, speaking in an undertone.
“Don’t I look all right?”
John didn’t answer, which probably meant that, no, he didn’t look all right. This man who knew him all too well had sensed his reaction when those killings were described. John would know that he was desperate to be in the thick of the investigation.
“So you’re good?” John asked.
Through clenched teeth, he said, “I’m good.”
Still, John lingered.
“Something else?” Mitch asked.
“I spoke with Dr. Reede.”
“Ah.” Mitch planted his booted foot on the corner of his desk and swiveled his chair back and forth. “Good one, John. You get extra points for pulling a fast one.”
“Fast one?”
Mitch snuffled. “Don’t play dumb.”
John raised his hands at his sides, palms up. “You’ve gotme.”
“I understand that you had a virtual meeting with Dr. Reede.”
“I had a virtual meeting with all of them.”
“Um-huh. But wasn’t she a standout, different from the others? Distinctively, overwhelmingly, obviously different?”
He saw the instant it dawned on John what he was leading to. “You chose her, Mitch, not me.”
“Yeah, sight unseen.” He wagged his index finger. “Admit it. You winked to yourself when I texted to let you know she was my random choice. You could have given me some warning, or at least a hint of what I was walking into.”
“You make it sound like the lion’s den. She came across very well in our interview, or I would have struck her from consideration. What didn’t you like about her?”
“Are you kidding? What’s not to like?” he said expansively. “She’s a treasure. So earnest. ‘I want to help you, Mitch.’”
At his mocking tone, John gave a look around. “This isn’t the place,” he said under his breath. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”
Mitch swiveled around to take in all the eyes and ears homed in on them. “It’s okay, John. It’s hardly a secret that you forced this therapy on me. Just like my parents did when I was eight years old and my puppy got run over by a car. I didn’t want to bawl my eyes out in front of a stranger, so I suppressed my emotions. The therapy was more traumatic than watching Rascal bleed out in the middle of the street.”
John, knowing damn well there had been no such incident, looked ready to throttle him. As it was, he only glared through slitted eyes. “What happened with Dr. Reede?”
Mitch kept his expression blankly innocent. “Pardon?”
“What did you do, Mitch?”
