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"That's right."
Her initial reaction was to dismiss the idea as absurd, thinking that uprooting the children might be difficult. Also, she'd miss the fieldwork. But then she realized that she'd have the chance to spread word of her kinesic analysis techniques of investigation and interrogation around the country. She was adamantly opposed to extreme interrogation techniques as both immoral and ineffective, and she was intrigued by the idea that she might have influence in changing those practices at a very high level.
And, reconsidering, as for the kids, what was wrong with exposing them to a different city, especially the nation's capital, for a few years? Maybe she could commute between the two coasts.
Peter Simesky had to laugh. "I don't have your expertise but if I'm reading your face right, you're considering it."
And then she wondered: What would Michael O'Neil think of this?
Oh, and Jon Boling too? Though as a consultant, he could live anywhere. She wouldn't do anything without talking to him first, though.
"This is completely out of left field. I never in a million years thought about anything like it."
Simesky continued, "There're too many career politicians messing up government. We need people who've lived in the trenches. They'll work for a while and go home to the back forty, take up farmin' again." A smile. "Or being cops. Is it okay to say 'cop'?"
"Not the least offensive."
Simesky slid off the bar stool, paid the check. "I've given you a lot to think about and you don't need to decide now, not with this investigation going on. Just let it sit." He stood up and shook her hand. At the doorway he paused. "That guy you mentioned? Pretty serious, huh?"
"Yep."
"Tell him he's a lucky man and, by the way, I hate him." A cherubic smile and then he was gone.
Dance finished her wine--this would be it for the evening, she decided--and returned to her room, laughing to herself. Deputy Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Kathryn Dance.
Maybe, just maybe she could get used to that.
It was now nine-thirty, hardly late, but she was exhausted. Time for yet another shower and sleep.
But that too was interrupted. Her phone rang once more and she didn't recognize the caller ID number. Let it go?
But the investigator within her decided to answer.
Just as well. It turned out that the caller was Edwin Sharp's former girlfriend.
Chapter 31
SALLY DOCKING WAS her name.
Deputy Miguel Lopez had tracked her down in Seattle and left a message to contact Dance, who now thanked her for calling.
A hesitant, melodious voice. "Like, sure."
"I'd like to talk to you about Edwin Sharp."
"Oh, Edwin? Is he okay?"
r /> Odd question.
"Yes, he is. I wonder if you could answer a few questions for me."
"I guess. But, like, what's this about?"
"You were in a relationship with him, correct?"
"Yeah, for a while. We met in February a year ago. We worked in the same mall. We started going out and moved in for a few months. It didn't work out. We broke up around Christmas. What's ... I mean, I'm kind of curious why you're asking."
Sometimes you can be too evasive and the subjects clam up. "He's been showing some inappropriate interest in someone here in California."
