Spencer began his rounds.

Lonnie was no stranger to interaction with the police. It wasn’t possible to work for Child Protective Services and not have dealings with them. The two detectives who currently sat facing her were a contrasting duo: a Black guy her own age, all twitching hands and feet, never still, lean in a sharp suit, no wedding ring but not giving out any vibe of being available. The other guy seemed more at ease: dark chinos and open-necked blue shirt, slightly overweight but not so much that it made him unattractive. But the wedding ring made that irrelevant.

“It’s not dangerous work he’s doing. That’s not why I’m asking you to do this,” Batiste was saying. “It’s just we got an operation going on, and a new face, well, it confuses things.”

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to tell him to leave his job?” said Lonnie.

“No, because that’ll be too obvious. That’ll tell his employer about me. I just need you to somehow put pressure on him to leave.”

“It’s difficult. Spen—, I mean, Mister Burnham, is no longer an active case.”

The stumble didn’t go unnoticed by either detective.

The last time Lonnie had seen Spencer had been the occasion of his signing off. She’d gripped the edge of her desk as Spencer pounded the bejesus out of her. And it had been technically great as usual. But, after they’d come, he left, and then the waiting had started, for a message to meet for a drink, maybe a call. And as time went by, her self-esteem had taken its accustomed battering.

“Why was he on your books in the first place?” asked Batiste.

“I couldn’t divulge that without a warrant.”

“Don’t you guys have criteria that have to be satisfied as to how the parent is making his money?” asked Scott. “You know, like, if this guy is making money from crime, then he could have his kid taken off him, that kind of thing?”

“Only if the means of making that money endangers the child’s safety. But that would mean telling him I know about his job.”

“Look,” said Scott after a moment. “We’re all the same here really, Miss Estevez. DPD, CPS . . . We’re paid by the same people to serve and protect. Maybe you could call the guy in on some bureaucratic pretext, then get through to him it’s a real bad idea to be working anything shady.”

Lonnie tried to think impartially. She felt more than a little resentful toward Spencer. And yet she hadn’t quite given up on him, or on the two of them. Great sex, after all, didn’t come without real connection. Maybe this opportunity could bring its own brand of leverage.