Hooked

was taken aback. “Your…your son?”
    “Not biologically, but as close as two men can be without DNA.”
    The food came fast, even by Chinese restaurant standards. Both put some from each dish onto their plates. Winokaur asked the waiter for hot chili in oil.
    “My wife and I had a son, Davey, our only child,” Harry said. “He died of leukemia when he w as six. That was almost thirty years ago. We’d lived with the prospect of his death for a couple of years―hospitals, treatments, remissions and reoccurrences―but we were still devastated when it happened. A big black hole had dug its way into our lives and there was nothing to fill it. The hole kept getting bigger; my wife and I grew further apart. One day, a social worker friend from Upstate called. He had an eight-year-old boy who’d come into the system and needed a foster home. He explained the boy’s circumstances. I listened and talked it over with my wife.”
    Tawny didn’t know why Winokaur was telling her the story, but she had an idea.
    “Linc hadn’t been abused, more like neglected. No father. Mother a drug addict and a―”
    Winokaur’s medium complexion reddened. She glanced at him. “You can say it. A prostitute.”
    He nodded. “It was one of those cases where the child had become the parent, taking care of his sick mother. At the time, the police que stioned whether she took her own life or someone helped her along, but they couldn’t prove anyone else was involved. The boy came home from school and found her, wrists slashed, blood everywhere.”
    A flash of insight nearly blinded her. Tawny’s hand froze in midair, a tofu chunk perched between her chopsticks. “In the bathtub?”
    “He did tell you.”
    She sighed as a few moments with Walsh clarified his reactions. Tough life for a little kid. “No. It was a guess.”
    Winokaur stared at her a long time before continuing. “He was a beautiful boy, on the scrawny side, angry and confused, more alone than he’d ever been. We were strangers. It took us a long time to gain his trust. He took a few detours during his teenage years, did a tour in the Marines, psychology in college. Took a lot of ribbing about the psychology from his co-workers. Linc tried to figure out all the ills in the world, tried to understand. We all know that’s not possible, but I always gave him A for effort. All in all, he turned out okay, I think.”
    Tawny learned more about Walsh in thirty seconds from Winokaur than she had from the detective in a few weeks. “He turned out fine,” Tawny said. “You should be proud.”
    “When he decided on law enforcement, I was pleased. I tried to talk him into applying to the Bureau, but he wanted to be a cop and stay in New York . He was torn between Homicide and Special Victims. Turns out he straddles both, and he’s good. I didn’t like that he’d deal with sex crimes, considering his history, but I understood. He’s helped more than a few women. Not a zealot, mind you, but he’s tried to get them out of the business.”
    “And then I came along, and he did exactly the opposite. He forced me back in it.”
    “And then you came along.” Winokaur unconsciously stirred the food on his plate, captured a bit of eggplant in the chopsticks but didn’t eat it. “He worried at first about that, but a woman was dead, and Linc wanted her killer. He can be very determined, but he rationalized it was a simple tradeoff, you for Sarah Marshall’s killer. T hen I saw he wasn’t dealing with the situation very well. He was getting in over his head. With you.”
    Tawny didn’t know what she was supposed to say― It’s a passing fancy? He’ll get over me? When he faces reality, he’ll come to his senses? Winokaur’s gaze l ingered on her, waiting for a reply. She said nothing, put the suspended tofu in her mouth, and chewed slowly.
    Winokaur returned to his lunch, but she could see he had about as much interest in eating as she did. After a few minutes, he said, “How do you feel about him?”
    Given his personal connection with Walsh, she had half expected the question. “I’m doing a job. That’s all I’ve ever done. Walsh is no different to me than any man. Than you, for instance.”
    “Excuse me for being blunt, Ms. Dell, but you’re full of shit. At the first mention of Linc’s name your cheeks turned as red as the satchel you’re carrying. Like I said, I’m a good judge of character.”
    “Then let me put it to you straight, and ease