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He seemed so perfect. Too good to be true.
As it turned out, that assessment was more accurate than I ever could have imagined.
1
JOANNA
I checked my phone, but there was still no reply from West. It was unlike him to go so long without responding. Then again, his shift at Henry’s, a bar frequented by Chicago’s finest, had begun thirty minutes ago, so it was possible he was busy.
“Everything okay?” Hanson asked from behind his computer. Our desks fronted onto each other, but I hadn’t realized he’d been paying me any attention.
“Just waiting for a message,” I told him, not keen to disclose that I was hoping to hear from my husband.
Hanson and I were too different to be friends, but we’d always treated each other politely. Something in our interactions had changed since I’d married West. It was as if he approved of me finally behaving like a woman “ought to” by getting a husband.
While he meant well, it made me feel a little icky. There was nothing wrong with being a single career woman.
My phone rang, and I answered without looking, hoping it might be West.
“Lee,” the voice on the other end said.
I deflated. It was my boss.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you and Hanson to report to my office immediately.”
“We’ll be there in a minute, sir.” I ended the call and turned to Hanson. “Thackery wants us in his office.”
Hanson grunted, and his bulldog-like face scrunched with displeasure. I got it. We were supposed to be half an hour from the end of our shift. Getting called in to talk to the boss now couldn’t be good. Unfortunately, that was just how policing rolled. Criminals didn’t wait for the most convenient times to commit crimes.
I stood, pocketed my phone and grabbed a notebook. Hanson shot the notebook a glare. He was a decent cop, but he was part of the old guard and believed that the police wasted too much time writing reports and covering our asses when we should have boots on the ground.
He liked to skirt the rules. I was known for being by-the-book. We weren’t exactly a partnership made in heaven.
We strode down the corridor that separated the Homicide Department from Missing Persons. The captain’s office was halfway along, on the right. The door was ajar, so I knocked and opened it.
“Sir?”
“Come in.”
I entered and stepped aside so Hanson could join me. Captain Thackery didn’t motion for us to sit. Instead, he tapped a few keys on the computer before raising his gray-flecked head.
“I need you to report to a crime scene near the lakefront. There’s been a woman found murdered in her apartment.”
I frowned. “You wouldn’t rather Neal take the lead?”
Detective Neal, who would be arriving anytime now to start his shift, had made it clear he liked taking on the casesin that area, and he could get nasty if other detectives encroached on his territory.
Thackery shook his head. “Neal won’t be in tonight. Bad prawns, apparently.”
Hanson and I both grimaced. Even though I didn’t like Neal, I wouldn’t wish a bout of food poisoning on anyone.
“We’ll drive over now,” I told him. “Who’s already at the scene?”
“The medical examiner is on the way, as are a team of crime scene techs. There’s a pair of beat cops keeping lookie-loos away until reinforcements arrive.”
Hanson and I took our leave. Hanson muttered under his breath as we packed our bags and hastened to the car.
