“I’m not someone who gets happy.”

“Then does he make you content?”

She thought of her morning, wearing Alex’s shirt, sitting at Alex’s table. “I could spend more time with him.”

“It’s a start. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna call my wife and probably make some goo-goo noises for my daughter.”

Bobby stepped away from the table. “Can I listen in?” D.D. called after him.

“Absolutely not,” he called back.

Which was just as well, because her stomach was cramping uneasily again and she was thinking of a little bundle in blue or maybe a little bundle in pink and wondering what a little Alex or little D.D. might look like, and if she could love a child as much as Bobby obviously loved Carina, and if that love alone could be enough.

Because domestic bliss rarely worked out for female cops. Just ask Tessa Leoni.

By the time Bobby finished his call, the early evening snow had turned the roads into a snarled mess. They used lights and sirens all the way, but it still took them over forty minutes to hit Roxbury. Another five minutes to find parking, and Trooper Shane Lyons had been cooling his heels for at least a quarter of an hour by the time they entered the lobby of BPD headquarters. The burly officer stood as they walked in, still dressed in full uniform, hat pulled low on his brow, black leather gloves encasing both hands.

Bobby greeted the officer first, then D.D. An interrogation room would appear disrespectful, so D.D. found an unoccupied conference room for them to use. Lyons took a seat, removing his hat, but leaving on his coat and gloves. Apparently, he was planning on a short conversation.

Bobby offered him a Coke, which he accepted. D.D. stuck to water, while Bobby nursed a black coffee. Preliminaries settled, they got down to business.

“You didn’t seem surprised to hear from us,” D.D. started off.

Lyons shrugged, twirled his Coke can between his gloved fingers. “I knew my name would come up. Had to complete my duties as union rep, first, however, which was my primary responsibility at the scene.”

“How long have you known Trooper Leoni?” Bobby asked.

“Four years. Since she started at the barracks. I was her senior officer, overseeing her first twelve weeks of patrol.” Lyons took a sip of his soda. He appeared uncomfortable, every inch the reluctant witness.

“You worked closely with Trooper Leoni?” D.D. prodded.

“First twelve weeks, yes. But after that, no. Troopers patrol alone.”

“Socialize much?”

“Maybe once a week. On duty officers will try to meet up for coffee or breakfast. Breaks up our shifts, maintains camaraderie.” He looked at D.D. “Sometimes, the Boston cops even join us.”

“Really?” D.D. did her best to sound horrified.