Then she returned to the stall. Outside, she could hear the bathroom door opening. Footsteps as another woman entered, headed for the neighboring stall. D.D. closed her eyes, held her breath.

She felt naughty, the bad schoolgirl caught smoking in the loo.

She couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be discovered. For her to look at the stick, she needed absolute privacy.

Toilet flushing. Stall door opening. Sound of water running at the sink, then the blast from the automatic hand dryer.

Outside door opened. Outside door closed.

D.D. was alone again.

Slowly she cracked one eye. Then the other. She stared at the stick.

Pink plus sign.

Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren was officially pregnant.

She sat back down on the toilet, put her head in her hands, and wept.

Later, still sitting on the edge of the toilet, she ate the apple. The rush of sugary fruit hit her bloodstream, and suddenly, she was ravenous. She consumed half a box of Cheerios, then abandoned the bathroom in search of a protein bar, mixed nuts, potato chips, yogurt, and bananas.

When Bobby finally caught up with her, she was standing in the checkout line with her apple core, opened Cheerios box, opened pregnancy kit box, and half a dozen other groceries. The checkout girl, who sported three facial piercings and a constellation of star tattoos, was regarding her with clear disapproval.

“Where’d you go?” Bobby asked with a frown. “Thought I’d lost you.”

Then his gaze fell upon the pregnancy test kit. His eyes widened. He didn’t say another word.

D.D. handed over her credit card, accepted her grocery bags. She didn’t say a word either.

They’d just made it out to the car when her cellphone rang. She checked the caller ID—Phil from headquarters.

Work. Just what she needed.

She punched Talk, listened to what Phil had to say, and whether from his news or her feeding frenzy, she finally felt better about the day.

She put away her phone, turned back to Bobby, who stood beside his car in the snow.

“Guess what? Tessa Leoni placed a phone call while under the fine care of the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department. Nine p.m. last night, she contacted her childhood BFF, Juliana Sophia Howe.”

“Sister of the guy she shot?”

“Exactly. Now, if you were arrested for murdering your spouse, what are the odds you’d call a family member of the last person you killed?”

Bobby frowned. “Don’t like it.”

“Me either.” D.D.’s face lit up. “Let’s go get her!”

“Deal.” Bobby opened his door, then paused. “D.D.…” His gaze flickered to her grocery bags. “Happy?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “I think I am.”