A Love Like Yours

Assistant District Attorney David King regarded his boss with something approaching exasperation, a feeling that could easily have been mistaken for indifference, something he was good at feigning, and which in this case came in handy. District Attorney Peter Rollins didn't like being the target of exasperation, but he could handle subtle indifference with a certain grace. Just a little. —Am I boring you, David? Would you rather I tell you a joke? Judge Carson shared a great one the other night at the Governor's dinner… David grasped the subtle irony and smiled without changing his expression. "I didn't know Judge Carson had a sense of humor," he said, his voice deep and, in this case, lacking emotion. —He doesn't have one, and that alone makes the joke even funnier. —I think I'd rather not hear it. Prosecutor Rollins shrugged, seemingly unoffended by this minor slight. "You're missing out," he said, then continued, a little more seriously. "Did you read the report I sent you? The new case?" David nodded, showing interest for the first time since the conversation began. He was a man with little patience and still hadn't gotten used to the long introductions his boss used to give before discussing the topics he believed were truly important. At that moment, he fixed his dark eyes on the dull gray ones that were watching him, waiting for a response. "Yes, I read it in the car," he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Do we know how this happened? Have the police made any progress?" His boss shook his head from side to side, his earlier mockery gone. He seemed overwhelmed. —No, not yet. The officers are still working at the scene, and the forensic lab is working at full speed, according to Whalberg. —Rollins nodded at the phone on his desk in annoyance. —Or so she says. You know she's not the type to share much. David nodded thoughtfully. Susan Whalberg was the director of the Boston Forensic Investigation Department and had a well-earned reputation as an intelligent and capable woman, but not one to back down in the face of the hierarchies of her jurisdiction; that was actually one of the things she liked most about it, although she wasn't going to mention it in front of Rollins. "Susan has a good team, I'm sure they'll find something soon," he said, convinced. "And what about the boy?" "He's in the hospital. He doesn't seem to have a single scratch, but it's his emotional state that worries the police most..." Rollins shook his head from side to side, his discomfort obvious. —Do you think he might have seen what happened? "I hope not." The prosecutor sighed, his expression hardening slightly as he continued. "Who am I kidding? I'm sorry for the kid, but this will all be easier if you can tell us what happened." David didn't respond immediately; instead, he picked up the briefcase resting on the chair next to him and opened it to extract a file, which he silently reviewed. When he spoke again, his tone was even colder, and he was frowning at his boss. "Do you really expect a six-year-old boy who witnessed the brutal murder of his parents to make your job easier?" he said, without looking up. Rollins had the decency to look a little embarrassed, although that display of humanity didn't last long. "Don't get all moralistic now, okay? It's your job too," he allowed himself a small, sardonic smile. "To be more precise, it's just your job, not mine." —Don't even think… "I'm sorry, but I don't recall you having the authority to tell me what I can or can't think." David was rudely interrupted by his boss, who raised an eyebrow. "You've just been officially assigned as the prosecutor for this case, David. Congratulations; I'm sure you'll do as well as ever."