Love You More: A Novel

“Whoa—” Attorney was out of the chair. But D.D. didn’t pay any attention to him and neither did Leoni.

“What happened to your daughter?” D.D. wanted to know. “What did your husband do to her?”

Leoni was already shrugging her shoulders. “He wouldn’t tell me. I got home, went upstairs. She should’ve been in bed. Or maybe playing on the floor. But … nothing. I searched and I searched and I searched. Sophie was gone.”

“He ever hit her?” D.D. asked.

“Sometimes, he got frustrated with me. But I never saw him hit her.”

“Lonely? You’re gone all night. He’s alone with her.”

“No! You’re wrong. I would’ve known! She would’ve told me.”

“Then you tell me, Tessa. What happened to your daughter?”

“I don’t know! Dammit. She’s just a little girl. What kind of man hurts a child? What kind of man would do such a thing?”

Trooper Lyons placed his hands on her shoulders, as if trying to soothe. Trooper Leoni, however, shrugged him off. She rose to her feet, obviously agitated. The movement, however, proved too much; almost immediately, she lurched to one side.

Trooper Lyons caught her arm, lowering her carefully back to the love seat while skewering D.D. with an angry stare.

“Steady,” he said gruffly to Tessa Leoni, while continuing to glare at D.D. and Bobby.

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand,” the mother/trooper was murmuring. She didn’t look pretty or vulnerable anymore. Her face had taken on an unhealthy pallor; she looked like she was going to vomit, her hand patting the empty seat beside her. “Sophie’s so brave and adventurous. But she’s scared of the dark. Terrified. Once, when she was nearly three, she climbed into the trunk of my cruiser and it closed and she screamed and screamed and screamed. If you could’ve heard her scream. Then you would know, you’d understand.…”

Leoni turned to Trooper Lyons. She grabbed his beefy hands, peering up at him desperately. “She’s gotta be safe, right? You would keep her safe, right? You would take care of her? Bring her home. Before dark, Shane. Before dark. Please, please, I’m begging you, please.”

Lyons didn’t seem to know how to respond or handle the outburst. He remained holding Leoni’s shoulders, meaning D.D. was the one who grabbed the waste bucket and got it under the ashen-faced woman just in time. Leoni puked until she dry-heaved, then puked a little more.

“My head,” she groaned, already sagging back into the love seat.

“Hey, who’s disrupting our patient? Anyone who’s not an EMT, out!” Marla and her partner had returned. They muscled into the room, Marla giving D.D. a pointed glance. D.D. and Bobby took the hint, turning toward the adjoining kitchen.

But Leoni, of all people, grabbed D.D.’s wrist. The strength in her pale hand startled D.D., brought her up short.

“My daughter needs you,” the officer whispered, as the EMTs took her other hand and started administering the IV.

“Of course,” D.D. said stupidly.

“You must find her. Promise me!”

“We’ll do our best—”

“Promise me!”

“Okay, okay,” D.D. heard herself say. “We’ll find her. Of course. Just … get to the hospital. Take care of yourself.”

Marla and her partner moved Leoni to the backboard. The female officer was still thrashing, trying to push them away, trying to pull D.D. closer. It was hard to say. In a matter of seconds, the EMTs had her strapped down and were out the door, Trooper Lyons following stoically in her wake.

The lawyer stayed behind, holding out a card as they stepped from the sunroom back into the home. “I’m sure you understand none of that was admissible. Among other things, my client never waived her rights, and oh yes, she’s suffering from a concussion.”

Having gotten his say, the lawyer also departed, leaving D.D. and Bobby standing alone next to the kitchen. D.D. didn’t have to cover her nose anymore. She was too distracted from the interview with Officer Leoni to notice the smell.

“Is it just me,” D.D. said, “or does it look like someone took a meat mallet to Tessa Leoni’s face?”

“And yet there’s not a single cut or scrape on her hands,” Bobby provided. “No broken nails or bruised knuckles.”

“So someone beat the shit out of her, and she never lifted a hand to stop it?” D.D. asked skeptically.

“Until she shot him dead,” Bobby corrected mildly.

D.D. rolled her eyes, feeling perplexed and not liking it. Tessa Leoni’s facial injuries appeared real enough. Her fear over her daughter’s disappearance genuine. But the scene … the lack of defensive wounds, a trained officer who went first for her gun when she had an entire duty belt at her disposal, a female who’d just given such an emotional statement while studiously avoiding all eye contact …

D.D. was deeply uncomfortable with the scene, or maybe, with a fellow female officer who’d grabbed her arm and basically begged D.D. to find her missing child.

Six-year-old Sophie Leoni, who was terrified of the dark.