Page 10 of Call Me Anytime
“A case?” the woman questions, her eyes a little unfocused as she looks between the two of us.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer politely, knowing how off-putting it can be to have a couple of police officers show up unexpectedly at your door. “Is Hannah May here, by any chance?”
“Hannah?” she asks, stepping outside and pulling the door partially closed behind her, mouth downturned in worry now. “What do you want with Hannah?”
“We’re just looking to have a quick chat with her,” I answer. “Nothing to worry about. Is she here?”
“Hannah’s here, all right, but she’s a twelve-year-old girl,” she says then, shocking the shit out of me and Shane alike.
The two of us look at one another before turning back to the woman on the stoop. “Hannah May is twelve?” I ask, and the woman nods.
“Yes. My Hannah is twelve, and I’m her mother, Sherry May. What is this about? Is she in trouble?”
My throat feels tight. I’ve told a lot of people a lot of messed-up stuff over the years, but telling this woman that we think her twelve-year-olddaughter might be working for a sex hotline somehow feels ten times worse than any of that.
Shane, sensing my discomfort, steps in for me. “Hannah May, right? That’s your daughter?”
“Yes. I just said that, didn’t I?” Sherry nods, but she pointedly moves her eyes to me. “Now, what’s going on, Tony?”
“Tony?” I ask, rubbing a hand down my jaw as I start to feel a little like I’m losing it. Interestingly enough, if you take out the sex, this is largely how I felt talking to her daughter earlier today.
“Yes. Tony DiNozzo,” Sherry says. “I think when you and Gibbs show up at my house asking questions about my daughter, I deserve answers as to why.”
“Ma’am, I’m truly sorry, but I don’t understand what’s happening right now,” I say—because seriously, what is happening? “Is Hannah May your daughter or not?”
Sherry sighs, pushing the door open behind her and waving us inside. “Come on up. Looks like we’re going to need a pot of coffee for this.”
She doesn’t wait for a response before turning and heading in the house, then up the stairwell directly across from the door, leaving us standing outside. I look over at Shane, and he offers a gallant hand toward the door. “After you, Tony.”
“You’re not funny.”
He shrugs. “I’m a little funny.”
“What in the hell is going on here?” I whisper with a shake of my head. “And why does this case feel like it keeps getting weirder and weirder?”
Shane laughs. “It’s a murder investigation, Dom. What do you want it to be? Normal?”
“Valid point,” I admit before stepping inside and heading up the stairs to follow Sherry.
Shane closes the door behind us and jogs up the stairs after me. I have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into right now, but I guesswe’re about to find out. The woman hardly looked like someone who would have me putting my hand on my holster, but it’s still always smart to be cautious.
My eyes are quick to scan the second floor once I reach the landing, assessing if there’s anyone else in the room and making note of anything that could be used against us, should shit hit the fan.
The space is open and well appointed, with a kitchen featuring a big island that showcases white quartz countertops, a dining room with a sizable wooden table and chairs that match the place’s farmhouse style, and a living room that has a TV currently blaring.
Sherry stands beside the stove, her hands busy putting on a pot of coffee.
Some kind of scuffle happens on the television, shouts and gunshots ricocheting from the speakers, and Sherry rushes into the living room to turn it off. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you take a seat while I get a few cups out for us?”
“Sure,” I agree, mostly in the name of being friendly. At this point, there’s absolutely no way I’m drinking even a sip or sitting. With how strangely this interaction has gone so far, I’d prefer not to be taken out by arsenic-laced coffee. I mean, that would have to be the most ironic way for one of the heirs of the Dunn Coffee empire to die. Grandpa Louie would force himself into a life-ending heart attack just to meet me on the other side and give me an earful ofI told you so.
“Gibbs?” Sherry questions, looking right at Shane as she sets a cup of coffee on the dining table for him. He shrugs and flashes a smile in my direction, a little too amused by this whole thing if you ask me.
“This is for you, Tony,” Sherry says, setting another cup down on the table and waving me over to take a seat.
“Sherry,” I say, grabbing her attention as I sit down beside a far-too-comfortable Shane. “We really need to speak with Hannah.”
“Hannah?” she asks, almost as though the whole conversation downstairs didn’t even happen. I briefly glance at Shane, and I swear the smart-ass is trying to smother a laugh.
