Body Of Truth by Deirdre Savoy Page B

exchange herself. She couldn’t imagine that Joanna hadn’t gone straight to Jonathan to complain, knowing that he’d worked in the 44 and probably knew Moretti. “I’m sure Joanna told you all this already.”
    â€œI like to check things out for myself.”
    â€œYou don’t trust your own sister?”
    â€œJoanna’s been more stressed than usual lately.”
    Dana snorted. “You mean hormonal.”
    For the first time, a hint of a smile tilted his lips. “You said it, I didn’t.”
    For the first time, she really looked at him. He was a handsome man in a rugged sort of way, his face a study of hard lines and stark planes. She’d always acknowledged that, the same way she knew the suit he wore camouflaged the kind of muscular body most women lost their heads over. Too bad crazy didn’t cancel out sexy as hell.
    But today he looked tired, not fatigued but strained. She could imagine the pressure on him to find Amanda Pierce’s killer. The fact that he resorted to seeking her out told her that he hadn’t much to go on.
    â€œDoes this mean you’re going to, what is it you people say? Reach out to him?”
    â€œIf you want me to.”
    She nodded, unable to bring herself to actually ask any cop for help. “The young man who was killed was one of my patients’ grandson. I’d like to know who did this to him.”
    Jonathan stood. “I’d better be going.” He pulled a card from his pocket and extended it to her. “If you think of anything else, please call me.”
    She rose to her feet and took the card. She scanned it briefly, noting it had numbers for both the precinct and his cell phone, then stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans.
    She showed him to the front door and let him out. He walked to a black car parked across the street, got in and pulled away from the curb.
    Dana shut the door and leaned her back against it. If nothing else, Jonathan’s visit had killed another hour in her day. She still had nothing to do and more than enough time to do it in. She only knew she was ready to give up on the pity party for one she’d indulged in that day. She was whole, save for a bullet wound that had mostly healed already. She was safe, she was healthy, Tim was all right. Two people had lost their lives in two days. What the hell did she have to complain about?
    The stairs leading to her bedroom were in front of her. She ascended them and went to her bedroom. She played back her tape of messages, all of which were from Joanna. Picking up the phone, she dialed her friend’s number.
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    For the second time in three days, Jonathan found himself sitting out on his fire escape, but tonight he had a purpose.
    Snowball, an all white Persian cat who sometimes joined him, sidled up to him looking for food. He’d brought two sandwiches out with him tonight. He took the ham from one of them and gave it to the cat. He didn’t mind Snowball’s company, but it was the other stray he was hoping to see tonight.
    He’d already heard about the shooting on Highland Avenue, even before Joanna had a chance to call him to complain about Moretti. He’d known that a civilian had been wounded in the process, but not that it was Dana. Hearing that Moretti had been assigned to the case signaled its lack of priority in the scheme of things, since Moretti had earned himself the nickname Lessetti by expending only enough effort on a case to keep his shield.
    When Joanna first called he’d been hesitant to do anything about it. First, he resisted the idea of looking over another cop’s shoulder. Cops had enough folks scrutinizing what they did, how they did it and how quickly it was accomplished. Plus, he knew how Moretti would take it—not as one cop reaching out to another but as an attempt to make trouble for him, which it wasn’t.
    Seeing Dana had changed his mind. He appreciated her