Devoted in Death (In Death, #41)

by J.D. Robb

Baxter opened his mouth, then blew out a breath. “No. He doesn’t push that easy, not anymore. It’s me. Jesus, boss, it’s me. I haven’t had a decent night sleep since—well, since we all nearly blew up. I figured it was because we all nearly blew up, but it’s not. Hell, you get used to nearly buying it somehow or another on the job. I don’t want to let the kid down.” “Then relax, you haven’t. I wondered when I hooked him to you how it would go. He needed some of the dew wiped off. And you wiped it off without taking away what makes him. You’ve trained him, Baxter, and you helped make him a damn good cop. If he doesn’t make detective this time, all it means is he’s not ready for it. If he does, and it’s more likely, I figure you’re going to ask me to assign him as your partner. And that’s what I’ll do, but I’m also going to tell you if, at some point, you want to train another, I’ll put that through. You’re better at it than I thought you’d be.” “Okay. Okay. Appreciate it. You know, I wasn’t this tied up when I went for my own detective’s shield.”

I really like Baxter and Trueheart. And I love their partnership.

Or the ploy Dahmer used—that classic had proven to do the job in all the decades following. Lone woman struggling to lift something heavy into the back of a vehicle.

That wasn't Dahmer, that was Ted Bundy