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"Sure."
Boling gave a friendly nod. "See you later, Michael."
"'Night."
O'Neil said to Dance, "Overby's at eleven. See you then." He walked back to the car.
Dance put her hand on the doorknob. Released it. Turned and strode to the car before he'd gotten in. She looked up into his dark eyes; she was not a short woman but O'Neil was six inches taller.
"Anything else?" O'Neil asked.
Which was exactly the wrong thing to say.
"Actually, Michael, there is."
They rarely used each other's first names. This was a shot across the bow. "I want to know what's on your mind. And if you say 'Nothing,' I'm probably going to scream."
"Been a long day."
"That's as much of a screamer as a man saying 'Nothing.'"
"Didn't know that was a gender issue."
"You're right. But you're the one acting out here."
"Acting out."
"Yes."
"Well, if I'm pissed off, it's because this hasn't been the most successful operation on record. Losing the perp is one thing. But we also got an officer wounded down there."
"And that was unfortunate. But we didn't get him shot. He got himself shot by not being aware of his surroundings. Basic street procedures, and I'm not even a street cop. But, come on. No bullshit. Tell me."
The jaw and tongue form an obvious configuration to make the nasal occlusive sound--that is, a word beginning with the consonant n. O'Neil's face was clearly forming that, a preface to the word nothing. Instead he said, "You're making a mistake."
"Mistake?"
"Okay. The truth?"
As opposed to what? she thought and lifted an ironic eyebrow.
"The Guzman Connection, Serrano."
This surprised her. She was sure he was upset to find Jon Boling had spent the night.
"How do you mean? What about Serrano?"
"I don't like you involved, not the way you're handling it."
This was news to her. O'Neil wasn't involved in either Operation Pipeline or the subsets, the Guzman Connection and the Serrano matter.
"Why?"
"I just don't."
As if that told her anythin
g. She sighed.
