Page 25 of Paternal Instincts
Quaid shifted his attention between us, aware in his eerie Quaid-like way that he’d missed something important. Before hecould reverse course and analyze the conversation, I jerked the steering wheel in another direction, detouring us yet again.
“We have preliminary backgrounds on Jude, Clementine, Nixon, and Imogen. How’d it go at the house? Where’s Jordyn?”
Quaid entered the room and glanced at the corner before realizing I was seated inhischair. I earned a subtle nose wrinkle before he leaned against the doorframe instead, arms crossed. “She went home to get a few hours of sleep. We chatted with the parents, set up canvasing with the local police district, and arranged a search party to scan the area between the house and field come morning. We organized a family liaison officer to stay with the Davises and be sure Sparrow is properly taken care of, and we walked the path we believe the child took to get to his soccer game the night he vanished.
“At the Soccerplex, we discovered a slew of security cameras. We finagled a judge for a warrant, then spent over an hour locating the building manager to deliver it. He’s compiling the footage and will have it to us early tomorrow.
“Since it was getting late, Jordyn insisted we take a few hours and restart in the morning. We still need to contact friends and family members and inform them of the abduction, but considering the delicacy of the situation, Jordyn and I want to be there when the news is delivered. Making house calls at close to midnight wasn’t going to fly, so here I am, not at home in bed despite her orders.”
“Shocking.”
Quaid hated stopping for any reason when working on a case. Usually, the mere suggestion of rest ignited his fiery temper, which was typically made worse by exhaustion. Jordyn helped. She was as stubborn as my husband but put her foot down long before they worked themselves into the ground. She dictated at what point they needed rest, then made the call for them to stop, despite my husband beingher superior. Quaid respected his partner and didn’t argue anymore. Jordyn had accomplished something no other person had been able to accomplish, and I appreciated her more than she knew.
“Does this mean I can go home to my wife?” Ruiz asked, crossing his fingers on both hands.
“No. Not before you give me an update.” Quaid tugged his tie loose and pulled it over his head, discarding it on the edge of Ruiz’s desk.
“What are you doing?” Ruiz asked.
“Show me what you found.” Quaid undid a few buttons at his collar and mussed his hair as he kicked off his loafers with a sigh.
Ruiz leaned away, hands up as though to defend himself. “Whoa. Stop undressing in my office. Doyle, tell your husband to keep his pants on. This is getting weird.”
Quaid smirked. “I’m relaxing after a long day, sweetheart.” To me, he said, “Get out of my chair.”
When I complied, he dropped heavily with another sigh and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows in the same manner Ruiz often wore his shirts.
Ruiz’s discomfort mounted. Trapped in the corner of his L-shaped desk, he couldn’t back away any farther.
Quaid’s shit-eating grin grew. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You don’t like it when I show a little skin?”
“I do,” I piped up.
“Shut up, Doyle.” Ruiz pointed a finger in my direction. “Don’t encourage him.”
Quaid scooted his chair closer to Ruiz’s desk, nice and snug, invading the IT guy’s space and helping himself to the legal pad we’d spent half the night filling with notes.
“Hey, no touching.” Ruiz yanked it from Quaid’s grasp and shoved him over a few inches, glaring at me like I should do something about my unruly husband.
“What?”
“Fix this.” Ruiz dashed his gaze at an over-amused Quaid.
“Why? He’s your boy friend. If you’ve got a problem, ask him to pretty please stop. I personally like seeing his shit-stirring side.”
“Don’t you fucking start with that boyfriend crap again.”
“There’s a space, remember. Boy, space, friend. Boy friend.”
To Quaid, Ruiz said, “Are you going to let him say that?”
Quaid seemed to consider. “Boy friend. Nah, it has a nice ring to it. You’re a boy and my friend. Makes sense to me.” He held out his hand. “Can I pretty please see the papers? It’s late, and I’m tired. When I’m tired, I lose all self-control.”
“It’s true,” I added.
“I fucking hate you both.” Ruiz shoved the notepad at Quaid, but his smirk canceled his animosity. He wasn’t as pissed off as he pretended. “Now, can you please move back? I can’t breathe when you’re this close.”
Quaid scooted his chair a reasonable distance away as he silently studied our notes, a deep furrow in his brow. Under the notepad was a stack of print-offs detailing relevant information that was too dense to summarize. Quaid reviewed it all.
