Body Count by P.D. Martin

Five minutes later we’ve ordered. The waiter returns with two glasses of Chianti. The ambience is romantic, a little too romantic for my liking. Dangerous.
    I guess Marco senses it too, and we’re both silent. I can almost hear us both trying to think of a topic of conversation. Stupid, really, we’ve never had difficulty before. It’s just that I can’t seem to think straight.
    â€œSo what did you think of your first look at East Potomac Park?” Marco tries.
    â€œPretty.” I pause. “Except for the dead body.”
    â€œThat’ll always spoil a first impression.”
    We both laugh a little.
    â€œAre your folks still coming out in the spring?” he asks.
    â€œLooks that way. I’ve put in for my leave, just waiting for Rivers to approve it. I can only get a week though.”
    â€œWell, you haven’t done your time yet, not like the rest of us Bureau boys…and girls.”
    â€œNo.” I smile at his last-minute addition. Women are moving their way up the ranks of the FBI, but we’re still outnumbered by almost six to one. It can be pretty boysy. But law enforcement’s like that all over the world.
    A beat of silence again.
    â€œSo, where are you going to take your folks?”
    â€œI’ll show them around D.C. a bit, then I think we’ll go to New York and Boston for a couple of days. They’re flying in via Hawaii.” I roll my eyes. “Then L.A. to visit Dad’s family.”
    â€œDoes he miss the States?”
    â€œNot anymore. He said he did at first, but that once we were born his family was in Australia anyway.”
    â€œWe?”
    I take a sip of wine and compose myself. “I meant me. Once I was born.”
    Marco pauses and looks as though he’s going to pursue the matter. No one here knows about my brother. About what happened to him all those years ago. It’s in my file obviously, but I don’t volunteer the information. Even at home not many people know about it. I never even told Matt. Even with him I didn’t drop my final layer of defenses. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even capable of it.
    Time for a topic change.
    â€œNo doubt they’ll give me a hard time about my new job.”
    â€œAt least they’re consistent,” Marco says with a smile.
    During the Henley case I told Marco about my parents’ distaste for my chosen career. They thought I was heading along such a sensible path when I studied psychology, but I never lost sight of my ultimate ambition—to save people.
    â€œMy parents hated it when I was on the force in Melbourne and they hate it even more now that I’m thousands of miles away.”
    â€œAnd hunting serial killers.”
    â€œYeah, that too.” I smile.
    â€œYou can never please parents.” Marco shrugs.
    â€œYours too?”
    â€œOh, yeah.” He drags the words out. “My dad’s devastated I’m not following in his footsteps. But who’d want to be a politician?”
    â€œI’d have to agree with you. Is he retired?”
    â€œNot yet. He keeps promising Mom ‘next year,’ but next year never comes.”
    â€œIs your mom patient?”
    â€œShe has to be to put up with him.”
    I smile. “And you never thought about politics?”
    â€œNot really. I’ve seen what my folks have been through.”
    â€œHe’s governor somewhere, right?”
    â€œUh-huh. Governor of Massachusetts at the moment, but he had high hopes.”
    â€œTop office?”
    â€œYou got it. And when it was obvious he wasn’t going to make it, I was his second chance.” Marco takes a sip of wine. “Like I said, no pleasing parents.”
    â€œThere’s time for you yet.”
    â€œYou and my folks could be a team.”
    I laugh. “No, I think I’d have to take your side on this one.”
    Marco changes the topic. “Hawaii’s nice.”
    â€œYou’ve been