CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

Washington, D.C.
Detective Darren Fletcher

Fletcher and Hart had taken over one of the conference rooms and spread out the papers pertaining to the case so they could sort through all the angles and see what they were missing.

Fletcher told Hart the story about the phone call, to which the younger man whistled silently.

“I can’t believe you called Felicia for help. That took balls, man. What did she say?”

“To go fuck myself. What do you think?”

Hart stood with his hands on his hips. He looked like a disapproving schoolmarm.

“Fletch, you actually sound surprised. You call your ex-wife, a woman you haven’t spoken to outside of custodial legalities for four years, and ask her to help you break the law?”

“Jesus, man, keep your voice down. There’s nothing illegal about it. It’s a shortcut, that’s all.”

“And now you’ve alerted a civilian that you’re wanting to look into the private records of several troops. DOD will chew you up and spit you out before you can laugh at them. Nothing illegal, my ass.”

Fletcher stopped stacking papers and sat back in the chair. “Lonnie, get off my back. It was just a thought. I was trying to move things forward. I don’t see you grinding out any brilliant solutions.”

“Well, gee, sorry, Batman. I thought we were working on this together.”

“We are, Boy Wonder.” Fletcher sighed deeply. “I was just trying to play a hunch.”

“He does that, you know.” A female voice startled them both. Fletcher turned and couldn’t believe his eyes. A gorgeous blonde stood in the conference room doorway, legs up to her chin, and obviously pregnant.

His ex-wife.

“Felicia. I thought … What are you doing here? You’re … That’s …”

Hart shot him a look, went to the door and gave Felicia a hug. “Come on in. Don’t mind him, his ass is taking a vacation day, and the rest of him doesn’t know how to speak.”

Felicia laughed. “Some things never change. How are you, Lonnie?”

“Better than I deserve.”

“Good. Give Ginger my love. I hope she’s doing well.”

“She is, she is.” Hart looked to Fletcher, who took a breath and shut his mouth, then back at Felicia, who was staring at the nails on her right hand. “Listen, I was just about to go get a cup of coffee. You want anything?”

“I’m good,” Felicia answered.

“Uh, guess I am, too.” Fletcher nodded at Hart, though he wanted to cry out, No, don’t—don’t leave me alone with her. Hart went to the door, ignored the admonishing glare, instead smiling a bit at his angry partner. Fletcher had to restrain himself from shooting the man the bird. The door closed, and he was left alone with Felicia. He was going to fire whoever had let her in without calling him to say she was on her way up.

“So,” they both said at the same time.

“Sorry. You first,” Fletcher said.

“Thanks. Mind if I sit?”

“Have at it.”

She settled into a chair, barely fitting in it. He remembered how stunning he thought she was when she was pregnant with Tad—glowing and ripe with the fruit of his loins. They’d barely been able to keep their hands off each other. His balls shrank a little looking at her now, knowing that whatever was inside her was not his.

She saw him staring at her belly. “I thought I should tell you in person.”

“Flee, you don’t owe me anything.”

She smiled, almost a little sadly. “I know that. But still … Did Tad tell you I was seeing someone?”

“He might have mentioned it,” Fletcher said, coloring. Tad had mentioned it, and Fletcher had responded by getting head-over-heels shitfaced drunk and losing half his precious weekend time in bed with a vicious hangover.

“We’re getting married after the babies come.”

“Babies?”

She laughed, and Fletcher saw a little of the girl she’d been when they first met. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this. Ryan, that’s my fiancé, had a vasectomy when he was in his twenties, thinking he never wanted kids. He changed his mind and had it reversed, but there were still problems. We did in vitro. Ended up with twins. Two girls.”

She looked happy, and Fletcher was torn between raising a stink and trying his damnedest not to fuck up the fact that she was actually here and talking to him in a tone that didn’t sound like nails on a chalkboard. He stowed away all his pride, all his hurt and anger, all the animosity that had been fueling his thoughts of her for the past several years, and smiled.

“I’m really happy for you, Flee.”

“Dear God, Fletch. I think you actually mean that.”

“I do. You deserve better than me. You always have.”

She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side, as if weighing his sincerity on some sort of internal scale, then started to get to her feet.

“Let me help you,” Fletcher said, giving her a hand. She laughed ruefully, rubbing her back.

“If I’d known what a pain it is to carry two …”

They stood there staring at each other until she finally blinked and looked away, smoothing the elegant maternity dress across her belly. She always did know how to dress.

“So you came all the way down here to tell me you’re having babies and getting married?”

Felicia reached over and smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

“You think I’d come all this way just for that?” She laughed, then got serious. “I’m having lunch with Joëlle.”

His heart began to pound.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I never could resist your gentleman-in-distress act.”

“Felicia,” he started, but she put her finger to his lips.

“Thank me later, if I can talk her into doing it. I’m going to ask her to be their godmother first, soften her up a bit.”

“I owe you one. A big one.”

“And I’ll collect sometime. Right now—” she shook her head ruefully “—I just need to pee.”

Fletcher gave his ex-wife a genuine smile.

“Serves you right.”