Perfect Partners?

“You know I prefer to work alone.”

“You’re the one who put an ad in the paper. Besides, we don’t have to handle the same cases. We could work independently.”

Much as she hated to admit it, he was wearing her down. “I’ve put a lot of time and money into this business. Why should you just walk in and reap the benefits?”

“I’m prepared to buy my way in.”

“Promissory notes?”

“Cold, hard cash.”

She thought of all the things she could buy with an infusion of capital. The extra computer programs, a new camera—maybe even a van.

Then she imagined having to vet every decision with another person. Discuss approaches, divvy up new cases. She wrinkled her nose. “I like being the boss. You want in as an employee, that’s cool. But partnership is not an option.”

She waited for him to stalk out the door, certain that he would. But he just smiled. Slow and confident. Then he placed an envelope on her desk.

“I have more to contribute than money. Read that, Fox. Then let me know if you change your mind.”

CHAPTER TWO

LINDSAY WAITED FOR NATHAN to leave her office. Only once the door was firmly closed between them did she touch the manila envelope he’d left on her desk. Using a letter opener, she slit the top open and peered inside.

She’d almost expected to find the cold, hard cash he’d promised her.

Instead out slid a package of case notes. She flipped through the pages. Did he really expect to sway her with this?

The client’s name was Celia Burchard. Burchard. That sounded familiar. Lindsay leaned back in her chair, propped her feet on an overturned wastepaper basket and settled in to read.

Apparently Celia Burchard was looking to retain an investigator to assist in the defense of her mother who had been charged with the attempted murder of her husband.

Lindsay realized then where she’d heard the name before. The story had been all over the news media for most of August.

The case had caught Lindsay’s attention because of the twist on the abused-wife scenario. For once it wasn’t the husband who had attacked his wife, but the other way around.

The news quotient had been upped by the Burchards’ social status. Maurice Burchard was well-known as a Manhattan property developer and his wife was active in the arts community. The couple had a reputation for hosting amazing parties. To be invited to an event at the Burchards’ town house in the city, or their hunting lodge in the Catskills was the pinnacle of social success.

In some circles, anyway.

How had Nathan landed a client like this?

She turned a page, dismayed to see that her hand was shaking. Just a little, but the slight tremor was enough to worry her.

Aftershocks from Nathan Fisher’s visit?

She’d never imagined that she would see him again—she’d been pretty blunt when they’d said their goodbyes two years ago. Not that she’d meant what she’d said, but she’d thought a clean break would be the best—they usually were.

And now he wanted to be her partner again. What was up with that?

She knew that during their year together she’d driven him as crazy as he had driven her. He thought she was impulsive, relied on her intuition too much, didn’t follow the rules.

Yet, they had had their moments of brilliance, despite the clashing, or maybe because of the clashing. If she could put up with their different investigating styles, the possibilities were intriguing.

Nathan was a stickler for rules and procedures, but he had other, more impressive qualities. His work ethic, for one. His integrity for another. He was also smart, a wizard at gathering background research and meticulous about gathering facts and operating according to a defined plan.

Those qualities had made him a much better police officer than she had been. Which begged the biggest question of all.

Why had he quit the force?

He’d avoided the question when she’d asked. But it wouldn’t be difficult to find out the answer.

Lindsay called a friend who’d gone through basic training with her. Kate Cooper was still at the Twentieth Precinct, connected enough to give her the answers she wanted.

Kate answered the phone with a clipped “Cooper here,” then whistled when she found out who was on the line. “Fox—nice work on the Anderson case. I meant to call when I saw your name in the paper. Pretty impressive bringing down a piece of scum like that.”

“It felt good,” Lindsay admitted. “You want to give this kind of work a try? Quit the force and I’ll make room for you.”

Kate just laughed. “Got to admit I’m tempted. But do you have a health plan? Guaranteed pension?”

“What do you care about those things? You’re young and healthy.”

“Thank God, yes. But when it comes time to start a family…”

It was hard to think of coolheaded, tough Kate as a mother. “Have you met someone?”

“Not really met. More like reconnected. Remember Conner Lowery?”

“Sure.” Lowery was a detective at the NYPD and their paths had crossed a few times during her year at the precinct. He had Irish good looks and an easygoing temperament. Lindsay remembered him as competent and hardworking, though very charming.

“We’ve just moved in together.”

“Well…that’s great. I’m happy for you.” She tried to make it sound as if she really meant it, but commitment was something she ran from in her own life, so it took a leap of imagination to consider this good news.

“Thanks. We should get together for lunch or coffee. But right now I’m super busy—”

Lindsay could tell she was about to hang up. “One second. I have something else. A question. It’s about Nathan Fisher. Did he really quit?”

“You’re kidding, right? Everyone in the precinct—hell, in the city—knows about Nathan. It was so unfair what happened to him.”

“What?” Lindsay sat upright, her muscles tensing. “Tell me everything.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard about this. It’s been in all the papers.”

“I’ve been busy. I must have missed it.”

“Well, then. This story goes back several months. Nathan was on the street, busting up a drug deal and making an arrest when the perp pulled out a gun. Shots were exchanged, both guys were injured.”

This was sounding familiar. She had heard something about the story, but had never seen a name or a photograph. “That was Nathan?”