Love You More: A Novel

“Self-preservation,” Bobby said.

“Another fanciful story,” D.D. added harshly.

Cargill looked at her. “Not fanciful. Caught on tape. I’ve watched the video myself. Male inmate attacked the CO first, then six females rushed Tessa. She’s lucky to be alive. And you’re lucky that the shock of said events has led her to want to cooperate.”

“Cooperate,” D.D. stated. “There’s that word again. ‘Cooperate,’ to me, means to assist others. For example, she could draw us a map, perhaps one based on recalled landmarks. That would be cooperating. She could tell us how Sophie died. That would be cooperating. She could also tell us, once and for all, what happened to her husband and child, yet another form of cooperation. Somehow, she doesn’t seem to be getting it.”

Cargill shrugged. He stopped studying Bobby and D.D. and turned his attention to the deputy superintendent instead. “Like it or not, I don’t know how long my client is going to continue to want to cooperate. This morning she suffered a traumatic experience. By this afternoon, certainly by tomorrow morning, I can’t guarantee the impulse will remain. In the meantime, while my client may not feel like answering all your questions, I would imagine that the recovery of Sophie Leoni’s body would answer a great deal of them for you. You know—by supplying evidence. Or are you people still in the business of gathering evidence?”

“She goes back to jail,” Horgan said.

“Oh please.” D.D. blew out a puff of breath. “Never negotiate with terrorists.”

Cargill ignored her, attention still on Horgan. “Understood.”

“Shackled at all times.”

“Never assumed otherwise.” Short pause. “You might, however, want to coordinate with the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department. From a legal perspective, she is under their custody, meaning they may want to be the ones providing escort.”

Horgan rolled his eyes. Multiple law enforcement agencies, just what they needed.

“How long a drive to the site?” Horgan asked.

“No more than one hour.”

D.D. glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten-thirty a.m. Sun set by five-thirty. Meaning time was already of the essence. She stared at her boss, not sure what she wanted anymore. Hating to give in to a suspect’s demands, and yet … She wanted to bring Sophie home. Yearned for that small piece of closure. As if it might ease some of the ache in her heart.

“Pick her up at noon,” Horgan said abruptly. He turned to regard D.D. “Get a dog team. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Horgan, turning back to Cargill. “No runarounds. Your client cooperates, or all her existing prison privileges vanish. She’ll not only return to jail, but it’ll be hard time now. Understood?”

Cargill smiled thinly. “My client is a decorated member of law enforcement. She understands. And may I congratulate you on getting her out of jail, while she’s still alive to assist in your efforts.”

———



There were a lot of things D.D. wanted to do right now—kick, storm, rage. Given the day’s tight time frame, however, she restrained herself and contacted the Northern Massachusetts Search & Recovery Canine Team.

Like most canine teams, the Mass. group was comprised of all volunteers. They had eleven members, including Nelson Bradley and his German shepherd, Quizo, who was one of only several hundred trained cadaver dogs in the world.

D.D. needed Nelson and Quizo and she needed them now. Good news, team president Cassondra Murray agreed to have the whole crew mobilized within ninety minutes. Murray and possibly Nelson would meet the police in Boston, and follow caravan style. Other members of the team would arrive once they had a location, as they lived too far outside the city to make it downtown in a timely manner.

That worked for D.D.

“What d’ya need?” D.D. asked by phone. She hadn’t worked with a dog team in years and then it’d been a live rescue, not a body recovery. “I can get you clothing from the child, that sort of thing.”

“Not necessary.”

“ ’Cause it’s a body,” D.D. filled in.

“Nope. Doesn’t matter. Dogs are trained to identify human scent if it’s a rescue and cadaver scent if it’s a recovery. Mostly, we need you and your team to stay out of our way.”

“Okay,” D.D. drawled, a bit testily.

“One search dog equals a hundred and fifty human volunteers,” Murray recited firmly.

“Will the snow be an issue?”

“Nope. Heat makes scent rise, cold keeps it lower to the ground. As handlers, we adjust our search strategy accordingly. From our dogs’ perspectives, however, scent is scent.”

“How about time frame?”

“If the terrain’s not too difficult, dogs should be able to work two hours, then they’ll need a twenty-minute break. Depends on the conditions, of course.”

“How many dogs are you going to bring?”

“Three. Quizo’s the best, but they’re all SAR dogs.”