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press credentials, but he’d found that in a police station, those particular credentials would get him tossed on his ass.
    Sergeant Dunn scrutinized his identification. “Which O’Hara? We have three cops named O’Hara.”
    He didn’t know.
    Dunn sighed. “What’s it about?”
    “A cold case. Palazzolo.”
    “Sally O’Hara. Have a seat.”
    David stood, his back against the wall, and surveyed the room. A kid high on something was mouthing off to two uniformed officers as they wrestled the brat into booking. A young black couple, the woman with a tear-stained face, was reporting a break-in. “They took my mama’s wedding ring.”
    A teenage girl smacking her lips with a thick wad of gum glanced over at David and winked. He didn’t react. But if his daughter ever wore a skirt that short or dyed her hair an impossible color, she’d be in a convent.
    As if you have any say.
    Brittney made his life miserable, but Emma had grown up surprisingly normal for a girl with a selfish, conceited, childish mother and a gay father who only saw her a few weeks of the year. She was twelve, and David supposed the worst years were to come, but he cherished the limited time he could spend with her. She’d be flying to New York City to spend six weeks with him this summer. Max had already bought tickets to two of the hottest musicals, and then planned on sending him and Emma to her house in the Hamptons for three weeks. Because, as Max said, New York in August was hell on earth.
    David Kane had considered law enforcement when he was honorably discharged from the army, but he’d had enough run-ins with MPs during his ten years in the service that he decided it wasn’t the place for him. He liked rules, he liked structure, but he sometimes had issues with authority. Specifically, authority that abused its power.
    He’d considered reupping, but the last year he’d been in had been hell. Everything that could go wrong, did. David wasn’t political, but the actions of politicians and people who had no business running military ops had put him and his team at great risk, repeatedly.
    And then he’d lost his closest friend.
    Sometimes he missed the life. The Ranger motto—“Rangers lead the way”—meant something to him. Especially as part of a special reconnaissance unit, where he was used to gathering information in dangerous situations.
    Working for Maximum Exposure hardly qualified as dangerous, but he was good at it. And, surprisingly, he liked his job. Especially now that Max had adjusted to most of his security changes. Working for Max wasn’t always easy, but he respected her in ways he didn’t most people.
    A plainclothes cop approached the desk sergeant, then glanced at him. When he caught her eye, she bypassed the sergeant and made a beeline toward him. She looked like the girl-next-door type with a mess of white-blond curls that touched her shoulders and big blue eyes. If it wasn’t for her gun and badge clipped to her faded jeans, David wouldn’t have pegged O’Hara for a cop. He would have thought she was barely old enough to drink, until she got closer and saw the faint crow’s-feet framing her eyes.
    “Let’s walk.” Without waiting for an answer, O’Hara led the way outside.
    David followed. He didn’t have to ask—O’Hara knew who he was and why he was here.
    She glanced over her shoulder, but wasn’t looking at him. “Good,” she said and slowed her pace. “You can buy me coffee. But no way in hell I’m going there.” She jerked her finger to a coffee shop across the street from the precinct. “We’re walking three blocks so O’Malley doesn’t hear I was talking to you.”
    “You must know Max.”
    “I really didn’t believe she’d send anyone out here. I told her she was getting her panties in a wad, but she doesn’t take no for an answer.”
    David suppressed a smile. He could just imagine how that conversation went over with Max. “She asked me to follow up on the Palazzolo