“You left your cell phone at her place,” I ventured, picking my way. Whatever Tucker and I had together, it had the potential of becoming something very good. I didn’t want to blow our chances. “I called you back, after that call about your going undercover in the first place, and I got Allison. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to make the connection.”

Tucker sighed. “I left the phone with Daisy,” he said. I could see in his eyes that he wanted me to believe him, and wasn’t sure I would. “Allison must have found it.”

It scared me, how much I longed for Tucker’s words to be true. I also knew how easy it would be to buy into the scenario because I wanted it to be that way.

“Allison didn’t want the divorce,” I said. Dangerous ground, but it had to be crossed.

“Allison instigated the divorce. She hated my job. Wanted me to go to law school.”

“Is that the whole story?”

“Of course not,” Tucker replied bluntly. “There are human beings involved. It’s complicated.”

“You’re trying to win full custody of the twins?”

“Partial custody,” Tucker clarified. “Right now, I can only see Danny and Daisy when Allison agrees.”

“Why?”

Tucker widened his eyes impatiently. “Because of my job,” he said. “Allison claimed the kids would be in deadly peril at my place, and the judge agreed.”

“So the solution is—?”

“I have to quit what I’m doing,” Tucker said quietly.

“Then you could go back to Allison. Sign up for law school. From the looks of that house, she can afford to pay the bills while you hit the books.”

“I don’t want to go to law school,” he replied, “and it’s over between Allison and me. Too much water under the bridge.”

“What kind of water, Tucker?”

The telephone rang before he could answer, and he looked relieved.

I snapped out a “Hello.”

“This is Crowley. You called?”

I told the detective about the chow mein incident.

He surprised me with, “And you’re sure the dog will be okay?”

I liked him a little better than I had before. “The vet said he’d recover. I can probably pick him up tomorrow.”

“That’s good. Now, for the official cop-speak. Don’t touch the chow mein or the box. I’ll be over as soon as possible, with an appropriate crew. I take it you’re up to speed on Mr. Bad-Ass’s current condition?”

I watched as Tucker opened the pastry box, thought twice about it, and chucked the whole works into the trash. “I talked to his girlfriend, Sheila, late last night. She was hopeful.”

“He was upgraded this morning from critical to stable,” Crowley said.

Relief hit me swiftly, and hard, like a punch to the belly. “Thank God.”