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“Fine.” Hard to promise. Chalk it up to ethical reasons. “And the second?”
“Leave me out of this, Steele.”
“How can you expect me to—”
“Nope. I’ve gone through enough grief, and I don’t want any more trouble.”
Amanda opened her mouth, and almost broke promise one by asking how he could expect her silence when he had violated the integrity of a police investigation—cold or otherwise? If she withheld this and it made it back to Malone, even as a family friend, there would be hell to pay.
“Steele? What’s it going to be?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you at my place in an hour? I assume you have the address?”
She read off the one showing in the database, and he confirmed that was right just before ending the call.
The conversation left her drained and angry. The nerve of Dennis, thinking he could call the shots in this, was maddening.
“Guessing that didn’t go well.” Trent crept around the opening of her cubicle.
“Someone’s a genius.”
“Well, the warrant paperwork’s with a judge to review.”
“There’s some good news.” She closed all the search windows and turned off her screen. Though if Malone was interested in watching her every move, he’d be able to see that she searched Dennis Bishop. If that were to happen, she technically never would have broken her promise to Dennis. It still wouldn’t exempt her from Malone’s wrath.
“Are we going somewhere?” Trent asked her.
“Yep. I’ll fill you in once we’re in the car.” She got up and passed Fred Hudson. She mumbled a brief greeting, but he didn’t bother to reply or even look at her or Trent. What is his problem?
Detective Hudson had never given her the impression of being warm and fuzzy, but a cold front had passed through. With it, Amanda got the feeling he might be why the police chief was in Malone’s office the other day. If she was right, and he had expressed some grievance about being bumped from the case, shit could be about to hit the fan.
TWENTY-NINE
It was a short drive to Lorton, but Amanda still found time to think about what they might be in for with Dennis Bishop. Would he hold the past against her? And did it matter if he did? Any discomfort was worth suffering to find out what he had told Felicity about the Chapman case.
Trent parked in the double-wide driveway of a yellow brick two-story house. The place had seen an addition, but it matched closely to the original structure.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, getting out of the car.
The front door was dark blue with shiny brass hardware. She rang the bell, and footsteps pounded toward the door.
It was flung open, and Dennis Bishop was standing there with a drooling toddler on a hip. Dennis appeared a bit frazzled, but somehow more relaxed than she’d ever known him to be when he was a detective. At first assessment, retirement from law enforcement looked good on him. He barely acknowledged her or Trent but stepped back to let them inside.
“Who is this little guy?” The child had the largest baby blues she’d ever seen, and he was watching her with avid curiosity.
“My nephew, Darren. He’s my sister’s kid.” Dennis took the child to a playpen in the living room, off the entrance, and set him in it. “Could one of you grab the door?”
“Sure.” Trent shut it and joined Amanda and Dennis.
“It’s nice that you help her out.” Amanda hadn’t meant to be insulting, but Dennis’s face scrunched in a mild scowl as if he took it that way.
“Yep, just a glorified babysitter. Not much else to do.”
What could she say to that? He obviously held remnants of a grudge. She just hoped that it wouldn’t affect his openness with her.
“Either of you want a coffee or water?” Dennis tossed a stuffed toy from a puffy chair into the playpen, barely missing his nephew’s head.
