“This is my wife, Tina,” he offered, making the introduction. Tina shook their hands, smiling politely, but D.D. could read tension in the fine lines bracketing the woman’s mouth, the way she looked instinctively at her husband, as if for assurance.

“Sophie?” she whispered, the name hitching in her throat.

“No news,” Shane said softly, and he laid his hands on his wife’s shoulders in a gesture D.D. found genuinely touching. “Got some work to do here, okay? I know I said I’d put the boys to bed.…”

“It’s okay,” Tina said automatically.

“We’ll be in the front room.”

Tina nodded again. D.D. could feel her eyes on them as they followed Shane from the mudroom into the kitchen. She thought the woman still looked worried.

Off the kitchen was a small front room. Looked like it had once been a three-season porch that Lyons had finished off with windows, installing a small gas-burning stove for heat. The room was decorated Rugged Male, with a big-screen TV, two oversized brown recliners, and a plethora of sports memorabilia. The Man Cave, D.D. deduced, where the stressed-out state trooper could retreat to recover from his day.

She wondered if the wife had an equivalent Crafts Room or Day Spa, because personally, she was betting life with three boys topped eight hours on patrol any day of the week.

Room didn’t really offer seating for three, unless you counted the beanbags piled in the corner, so they stood.

“Nice home,” Bobby said, once again good cop.

Lyons shrugged. “We bought it for the location. You can’t see it right now, but the back lawn rolls down into a park, giving us plenty of green space. Great for barbecues. Essential for three boys.”

“That’s right,” D.D. spoke up. “You’re known for your cookouts. That’s how Tessa and Brian met.”

Lyons nodded, didn’t say anything. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a defensive stance, D.D. thought. Or maybe an aggressive stance, given how it bulged the muscles of his shoulders and chest.

“We talked to Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton,” Bobby commented.

Was it D.D.’s imagination, or did Lyons just tense?

“He mentioned several of the outings you’ve organized, you know—boys’ night out to Red Sox games, Foxwoods.”

Lyons nodded.

“Sounds like Brian Darby often joined.”

“If he was around,” Lyons said. Another noncommittal shrug.

“Tell us about Foxwoods,” D.D. said.

Lyons stared at her, then returned his gaze to Bobby. “Why don’t you just ask me the question.”

“All right. To your knowledge did Brian Darby have a gambling problem?”

“To my knowledge …” The trooper suddenly sighed, uncrossed his arms, shook them out. “Goddammit,” he said.

D.D. took that as a yes.

“How bad?” she asked.