“Sure.”

He stepped out into the cold night air and crossed to his car. Getting in, he pulled out his phone and turned on the dome light, which he rarely did.

This was a special situation.

“Hello?” Sammie said after the third ring.

“Hey,” he replied. “She still up?”

Sam laughed. “What the hell’s going on? She said you were going to read to her. I told her you were working, but she wouldn’t believe me. Really dug in her heels.”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m a little late. You in her room?”

“Yup. I was trying to replace you, not too successfully.”

“Put it on speaker.”

He did the same with his cell, pulled over a copy of Goodnight Moon from his passenger seat, and asked, “You hear me, sweetheart?”

“I hear you, Daddy. Mommy didn’t believe me,” Emma said.

“I was going to surprise you both. You ready?”

Sam said, “We are.”

“You all tucked in, Emma?”

“I am, Daddy.”

“Okay. Here goes. In the great green room,” he began, “There was a telephone and a red balloon…”

Ten minutes later, he returned to the trailer to wrap up his interview with Robin Whiteman, content that tonight, at least, he’d done a little more than just chase bad guys.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lester slid back into Willy’s living room armchair, a second piece of pizza balanced on his paper plate. “If this outfit ever adopts parliamentary rule, I vote we hold all our briefings here,” he said, setting the plate on his lap and reaching for a half-empty beer bottle.

“Never happen,” Willy responded shortly.

They were keeping their voices low for Emma’s sake, although they all imagined it would take a small explosion to roust her from her slumber at the far end of the hallway.

This was very pleasant. Joe could only agree. He’d sprung for the meal, which he’d never pass along as a business expense. These were perks he kept off the books.

“That being said,” he addressed their hosts, “thank you for letting us invade your home for this.”

Willy hoisted his own slice of pie. “You’re paying for it.”

Sam gave her partner a look before replying, “It’s a pleasure, boss. Thanks for being flexible, and the meal. It’s nice not to always call on the sitter.”

“Good word to start with,” Joe picked up. “Flexibility being our operative mode right now. And things seem to be shifting as we speak.”

“Just more three-dimensional,” Sam countered. “We’d never heard about Don Kalfus before, then we got a picture of a good son and a steady boyfriend, even if he was a crook. Now we’re finding he was a little flexible himself in the fidelity department.”

“And probably smarter than I’d first guessed,” Willy admitted.

“Not so smart now,” Lester pointed out.

“Maybe just unlucky,” Willy argued. “Think of it. Your whole life is sneaking around, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, stealing from one set of strangers and selling to people who’d just as soon rip you off or trade you for a plea deal. I’d say he did okay for as long as he lasted.”