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“Good. I was on leave this past week. Mutually agreed upon with Vivian, but it sucked. It’s hard to be a court-ordered therapist when you’ve got a murder charge hanging over your head.” Sam grimaced. “Words I never thought I’d say.”
“And will never say again. So. My business. I’m semi-retired.”
Sam lifted his brows. “I know. You’ve been ‘semi-retired’ for as long as I’ve known you. Which really isn’t all that retired, because you put in more hours than I do with all your charitable work and the SDPD.”
Al’s lips twitched. “That I do. But I want to slow down, so something’s got to give. I don’t want to give up my charity work, so the SDPD’s got to go.”
Sam stared at him. “You’re quitting? For real?”
“Yes, but not right away. I thought I’d bring someone in to start taking over. Maybe mentor him a bit. Hand over existing cases and consult on new ones until he doesn’t need me anymore.”
Sam drew a breath, hardly daring to hope. “Who were you thinking about?”
Al laughed. “Sam, are you interested?”
“Yes,” Sam said, his pulse starting to pound. “But why now? Why me?”
“Why now? Truthfully, Baz’s heart attack got me thinking. I’ll be seventy next month. My wife is seventy-two. We have children and grandchildren. I’ve missed a lot of dinners and even a few birthdays because of my job with the SDPD. I want to enjoy my grandchildren and get back into model railroading. It’s time.”
“So why me?”
“Why not? I’ve always liked you, and Vivian can’t speak highly enough of you. And now you have a relationship with SDPD. They respect that you risked your career to warn them about Driscoll. Even Baz Constantine likes you.”
Sam chuckled. “He definitely didn’t at first, but I think he’s coming around.” Then a thought occurred. “Wait. If you’re seventy, does that mean Vivian is, too? You went to college together, didn’t you?”
He’d met Al through Vivian. His boss had introduced them, and Al had brought him into New Horizons.
Al shook his head. “Oh no. I’m not going there. You want to know how old Vivian is, you ask her yourself.”
Sam recoiled. “I don’t think so.”
“Smart man. You’d work with me at first, but I’d step back when you were comfortable. Doesn’t pay a lot and it’s not full time. You’d want to keep working with Vivian at least part time—so don’t piss her off by asking about her age. Still interested?”
Sam couldn’t stop his grin. “Yes. When do you want me to start?”
“Next week? You and Vivian talk it over. Figure out what makes sense and let me know.”
Sam made himself calm down, think of all the angles. “What if SDPD says no?”
“They might, but I don’t think so. I told Navarro I was going to ask you. He said that he’d asked you if you’d considered being a cop.”
“He was letting off steam. He wasn’t serious.”
“Maybe.” Al tilted his head. “Of course, you’d be working with McKittrick at times.”
Sam drew a deep breath, willing his expression to remain neutral, but Al chuckled.
“If you could see your face,” Al said quietly. “For what it’s worth, I wish you luck. She’s got a good heart.”
“I know,” Sam murmured. “But I’m not going to push her. She might demand a different consulting psychologist.”
Al shrugged. “Then she does. She’s not the only detective in Homicide, though. Unfortunately, there’s lots of work to do, so the others will be knocking on your door. You can think about it if you need to.”
He didn’t need to think about it. This was what he’d wanted to do for seventeen years. He’d be damn good at it. Plus, he was going to work with Kit.
She’d trusted him to keep her safe. To keep Rita safe. Maybe Kit would come to trust him with her heart as well.
Maybe.
He wouldn’t push, and he was willing to wait. She was worth it.
Sam smiled. “No need to think about it. I’m in.”
He couldn’t wait to see what came next.
Game on, Kit.
