like night and day, but on a case almost a year ago, Julia Racine ended up saving O’Dell’s mother. Whatever their differences, the two women now seemed to have what he’d call a healthy tolerance of each other.
“You know my mother has lunch with Racine once a month?”
“Really? That’s nice.”
“ I don’t even have lunch with my mother once a month.”
“Maybe you should.”
O’Dell frowned at him and went back to the faxed pages. “I suppose I could just call the field office.”
Tully shook his head. For a smart woman his partner could be annoyingly stubborn.
“So what was this Begley woman seeing Dr. Patterson for?”
O’Dell looked at him over the faxed pages. “You know Gwen can’t tell me that. Patient confidentiality.”
“It might help to know how kooky she is.”
“Kooky?” Another frown. He hated when she did that, especially when it made him feel like he was being unprofessional, even when she was right.
“You know what I mean. It could help to know what she’s capable of doing. Like, for instance, is she suicidal?”
“Gwen seemed concerned that she may have gotten involved with a man. Someone she met up there. And that she might actually be in some danger.”
“She was there for how long?”
O’Dell shuffled through the pages. “She left the District last Monday, so it’s been a week.”
“How did she get involved with a man in less than a week? And you said she was there for a funeral? Who meets someone at a funeral? I can’t even pick up a woman at the Laundromat.”
She smiled at him, quite an accomplishment. O’Dell hardly ever smiled at his attempts at humor. Which meant the good mood lurked close to the surface.
“Let me know if you need any help, okay?” he offered, and now she looked at him with suspicion and he wondered, not for the first time, if Dr. Patterson had confided in O’Dell about their Boston tryst. Geez, tryst wasn’t right. That made it sound…tawdry. Tawdry wasn’t right, either. That made it sound…O’Dell was smiling at him again. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He got up to leave. Wanting her to believe his offer had been genuine, he added, “I’m serious, O’Dell. Let me know if you need any help. I mean with any of your cases, not with the backyard digging. Bad knee, remember?”
“Thanks,” she said, but there was still a bit of a smile.
Oh, yeah, she knew. She knew something.
CHAPTER 5
R. J. Tully watched O’Dell sort through some file folders stacked on her desk.
“So much for vacation,” she said, her good mood put on hold.
He thought her mood had changed because of the phone call from Dr. Patterson, but O’Dell seemed to be ignoring the fax machine behind her as it spit out page after page of details about Patterson’s missing patient. Instead of retrieving and examining those pages, O’Dell was searching for something already lost in her stacks. Perhaps a case she had planned on taking home with her to peruse during those backyard digging breaks. What was one more if she added Dr. Patterson’s?
Tully sank into the overstuffed chair O’Dell had managed to cram into her small but orderly office. It always amazed him. Their offices down in BSU—Behavorial Science Unit—were Cracker Jack boxes, yet hers included neatly stacked bookcases—not one errant hardcover squashed on top. Now that he had a closer look, he could see they were categorized. And alphabetized.
His office, on the other hand, looked like a storage closet with stacks of files and books and magazines—not necessarily each in separate piles—on his shelves, on his desk and guest chair and even on the floor. Some days he was lucky to find a path to his desk. And underneath his desk was a whole other matter. That’s where he kept a duffel bag of running shoes, shorts and socks, some of which—especially the dirty ones—never managed to stay put in the bag. Now that he thought about it, maybe that was the mysterious smell that had recently
“You know my mother has lunch with Racine once a month?”
“Really? That’s nice.”
“ I don’t even have lunch with my mother once a month.”
“Maybe you should.”
O’Dell frowned at him and went back to the faxed pages. “I suppose I could just call the field office.”
Tully shook his head. For a smart woman his partner could be annoyingly stubborn.
“So what was this Begley woman seeing Dr. Patterson for?”
O’Dell looked at him over the faxed pages. “You know Gwen can’t tell me that. Patient confidentiality.”
“It might help to know how kooky she is.”
“Kooky?” Another frown. He hated when she did that, especially when it made him feel like he was being unprofessional, even when she was right.
“You know what I mean. It could help to know what she’s capable of doing. Like, for instance, is she suicidal?”
“Gwen seemed concerned that she may have gotten involved with a man. Someone she met up there. And that she might actually be in some danger.”
“She was there for how long?”
O’Dell shuffled through the pages. “She left the District last Monday, so it’s been a week.”
“How did she get involved with a man in less than a week? And you said she was there for a funeral? Who meets someone at a funeral? I can’t even pick up a woman at the Laundromat.”
She smiled at him, quite an accomplishment. O’Dell hardly ever smiled at his attempts at humor. Which meant the good mood lurked close to the surface.
“Let me know if you need any help, okay?” he offered, and now she looked at him with suspicion and he wondered, not for the first time, if Dr. Patterson had confided in O’Dell about their Boston tryst. Geez, tryst wasn’t right. That made it sound…tawdry. Tawdry wasn’t right, either. That made it sound…O’Dell was smiling at him again. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He got up to leave. Wanting her to believe his offer had been genuine, he added, “I’m serious, O’Dell. Let me know if you need any help. I mean with any of your cases, not with the backyard digging. Bad knee, remember?”
“Thanks,” she said, but there was still a bit of a smile.
Oh, yeah, she knew. She knew something.
CHAPTER 5
R. J. Tully watched O’Dell sort through some file folders stacked on her desk.
“So much for vacation,” she said, her good mood put on hold.
He thought her mood had changed because of the phone call from Dr. Patterson, but O’Dell seemed to be ignoring the fax machine behind her as it spit out page after page of details about Patterson’s missing patient. Instead of retrieving and examining those pages, O’Dell was searching for something already lost in her stacks. Perhaps a case she had planned on taking home with her to peruse during those backyard digging breaks. What was one more if she added Dr. Patterson’s?
Tully sank into the overstuffed chair O’Dell had managed to cram into her small but orderly office. It always amazed him. Their offices down in BSU—Behavorial Science Unit—were Cracker Jack boxes, yet hers included neatly stacked bookcases—not one errant hardcover squashed on top. Now that he had a closer look, he could see they were categorized. And alphabetized.
His office, on the other hand, looked like a storage closet with stacks of files and books and magazines—not necessarily each in separate piles—on his shelves, on his desk and guest chair and even on the floor. Some days he was lucky to find a path to his desk. And underneath his desk was a whole other matter. That’s where he kept a duffel bag of running shoes, shorts and socks, some of which—especially the dirty ones—never managed to stay put in the bag. Now that he thought about it, maybe that was the mysterious smell that had recently
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