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she’d played the career card as well as, say, Christine Messenger. Maybe she would have been made it to upper management, too.
    O’Malley’s butt hung over his stool, and he shifted as he nursed his scotch. His eyes had made him look old ever since he was a rookie, but now craggy lines dug into his forehead. At the same time, his carrot orange hair, bristly mustache, and ruddy cheeks made him appear young—even naive. O’Malley used that to his advantage. People always underestimated him.
    She slid onto a stool next to him. “Congratulations. Drinks are on me.”
    He looked up, surprise on his face. She wondered whether that was part of his shtick . Act shocked and a suspect might feel obligated to explain. And incriminate himself.
    “Thanks,” he said.
    Georgia waved a hand. “It’s the least I could do. Except I had to wait longer than I should have to buy you a round.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    She swiveled toward the bar. The bartender lifted his chin.
    “Another Dewers for him, Diet Coke for me. With lemon.”
    The bartender nodded. Georgia swiveled back. O’Malley’s face smoothed out.
    “You thought I was back on the booze?”
    He flipped up a palm.
    “You gotta have faith.” She grinned. “So, congratulations.”
    O’Malley cocked his head. “You already said that.”
    “I mean the Molly Messenger case.”
    O’Malley looked down.
    “Nice work.”
    He tossed back the rest of his drink, then clinked the empty glass on the bar. “Everyone’s a joker.”
    “What’s so funny?”
    He kept his mouth shut.
    Their drinks came. Georgia pushed his scotch towards him. “So, what’s going on? Why so tight-lipped with the press?”
    “You noticed.”
    “Hard not to notice when the force that loves to brag about itself suddenly goes quiet.”
    O’Mally wiped his sleeve across his mouth.
    “Who handled the investigation?”
    “Who do you think?”
    “Robbie Parker.”
    Parker had been her partner on the force. He’d never been a particularly thorough cop. Except when he played politics. Which, it turned out, he did better than Georgia. He’d been promoted from patrol to detective a year ago.
    “What’s the story?”
    O’Malley’s eyes bored into her. “I wasn’t here tonight. Or if I was, we never had this conversation.”
    “Just buying my former boss a drink to celebrate his promotion.”
    O’Malley nodded. “What happened was nothing. A big fat zero.”
    Georgia frowned.
    “Parker started working the case. Did all the things you’re supposed to. Went to the camp, interviewed the counselors. Canvassed neighbors and relatives. Even tried to talk to some of her friends— ’course, then he had to get the parents involved, and some of them refused, and—”
    “I get it.” Georgia cut him off. “This is the North Shore.”
    “Right. Well anyway, we got nowhere. Really. The kid just showed up.”
    “That’s crazy.”
    “God’s honest truth is whoever had her just decided to let her go.”
    “Come on, Dan. That doesn’t happen.”
    “It did here. We had people with the mother 24-7. Monitored her phone, her email, her cell. Even went downtown with her when she went to her office. No one was more surprised than us when the car pulled up at the corner and the kid jumped out.”
    “What kind of car? The TV report didn’t say.”
    “We canvassed the neighborhood again. Someone came forward. They think it was a Lexus. Their biggest fucking sedan.”
    “No plates, I guess.”
    “You guess right.”
    Georgia sipped her drink. “Weird.”
    “You’re telling me.”
    “Do you think someone was negotiating behind the scenes?”
    “It wasn’t us.”
    “Maybe the mother was working it herself.”
    “If she was, we didn’t see it. And, in any case, there’s nothing we could do. There’s no law against trying to rescue your kid.”
    “Maybe it wasn’t a kidnapping to begin with. Maybe the ex-husband just took her for an ‘extended’ visit.”
    “Don’t think so. His