by Debra Webb
She opened the passenger-side door and got in. “Sorry I’m a little late. So—” she gazed out at his home “—you listed the house.”
Ted smiled, still feeling a little sad about the decision. “I did. Joanne says it will sell quickly. She’s already had numerous calls.”
Dorey searched his face, her smile understanding. “It’s a lovely home. I’m not surprised at the interest.”
The quiet settled around them as she fastened her seat belt. Ted started the engine and pulled away from the curb. He pushed the bittersweet past away and looked forward to the future.
“I close on the Lockwood Place town house next week.” He rested his arm on the center console and tried to relax. The next subject he intended to broach was a sensitive one. He’d been waiting for the right moment to speak with her about their future. This morning he had decided he wasn’t waiting any longer.
“I think you’ll be very happy with your choice.” She placed her hand on his. “It’s a charming place. Manageable and comfortable.”
He glanced at her and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love the outdoor fireplace. The courtyard is so private. I can imagine sitting by a roaring fire with a glass of wine.” She nodded. “Very nice.”
“If your calendar is clear next Saturday, you could help me with the artwork choice the interior decorator has prepared.”
The gesture was slow in coming, but she finally nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.” His courage slipped a bit. God knew they had a lot on their plates at the moment. Three dead, two missing. But even cops had to eat. “I thought we’d have lunch downtown today.”
“We can discuss the homicide and abduction cases.” She shrugged. “Make it official business. Apparently Agent Hadden was just as in the dark about the things Weller said to Bobbie as we were.”
No one was more annoyed at the news than Ted, but he didn’t want to talk about any of that right now. Dorey, on the other hand, always looked for a proper explanation for their time together in public. He wanted that to change. Now. “I don’t want to discuss business.”
Her hesitation lasted far too long. His chest ached with insecurity. He was far too old to feel this uncertain in the presence of the woman he loved.
She shifted in her seat so she could look at him. “What’re you saying, Ted?”
“I’ve decided to retire.”
His heart stumbled as the words echoed in the car. He had been thinking about it for months now. He hadn’t worked up the courage to take the necessary steps. It wasn’t until this moment—when she came up with a legitimate excuse for their lunch—that he made the final decision.
“Are you certain that’s what you want to do?”
Though her tone was firm, it wasn’t about her not being happy with his announcement. He knew Dorey too well. What she didn’t want was for her happiness to be the compelling reason for his decision.
“I’m certain. I want to get on with my life. I can’t do that and remain chief of police.”
“I could transfer,” she offered. “Sheriff Young could find something for me.”
Dorey had made this offer before. He would not have her sacrifice her career for his. His career had reached its pinnacle and he could retire with the knowledge he had accomplished all he could possibly hope to. He had the necessary time in grade, he was set. Dorey, on the other hand, was still climbing. She was immensely intelligent and hardworking. Hell, she was still young, just fifty-two. She had earned the right to rise in her career in the years to come. She deserved the very best and he intended to see that she achieved her heart’s desire, personally and professionally.
“Absolutely not.” He shook his head to emphasize the words. “I’m ready to retire.” The fact was he’d been ready for a while now. “I’ve made no secret that I’m considering that step. Stella says she’s ready to do the same.”
Stella Jernigan had been his administrative assistant since he took the office of chief. She had turned seventy this year. She swore she was only waiting on him to retire so she could. She claimed she couldn’t trust anyone else to take proper care of him. Ted was lucky she’d stayed on all these years.
“Why don’t we talk about it more tonight,” Dorey suggested. “You should consider what you’ll do next before making such a monumental decision.”
Her insistence on playing devil’s advocate irritated him. “I plan to fish and play golf and maybe a little volunteer work with troubled kids, but my primary focus will be on enjoying my life and my wife.”
The catch in her breath sent a thrill through him. Though he’d suggested they should make their relationship official on numerous occasions, he had never formally asked her to marry him. He supposed today was as good a time as any.
“Ted,” she said, her voice trembled just a little, “you buried your wife of forty years last month. You need to breathe a little before you decide to marry again. There are steps that need to be taken.”
“I don’t want a prenup.” She’d mentioned that before, too. “What’s mine is yours.”
“You have Bobbie to think about,” she argued. “She has always been like a daughter to you and to Sarah. Sarah would want you to ensure Bobbie benefited from the prosperity the two of you enjoyed during your marriage.”
He didn’t have an argument on that one. She was right. He hadn’t stopped to consider the full implications of not taking certain legal steps before remarrying. Of course he wanted to contribute to the financial strength of Bobbie’s future. God knew she was more alone in the world than he was. At least he had Dorey. Bobbie had no one. “I’ll draw up a new will. That’ll take care of Bobbie.”
His goddaughter would be the first one to say she wanted no part of his estate. She was fine. James had left her well cared for. That was her stock answer for every damned thing. The ache in his chest deepened. For the past forty-eight hours he’d struggled with not posting another surveillance detail on Bobbie. She reminded him often that she could take care of herself, that she should never be treated any differently than any other cop in the department. More often than not Dorey backed her up. Then he’d learned that she’d left out a significant portion of her conversation with Randolph Weller. As had LeDoux. Ted had called the bastard first thing after Dorey gave him the news. LeDoux had insisted he hadn’t been authorized to pass along that part of the conversation.
“I think drawing up a current will is a good idea,” Dorey agreed, prompting his attention back to the present.
“What about marrying me?” He braked for the intersection and set his gaze on hers. “I’m serious, Dorey. I want you to be my wife.”
“If you won’t take some time,” she reasoned, “then give me some.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?” He hadn’t intended for the words to sound so harsh.
A horn blasted behind them.
“The light’s green, Ted.”
He clamped his jaw shut to hold back his frustration. Had he misread her? How could he have been so certain and be so wrong?
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to marry you,” she said, releasing his heart from a stranglehold. “I said I need some time to consider the plan you’ve made.”
“Very well.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “My decision is made.” He had spent the past two years watching his wife die a minute at a time. Last year he’d gone to a crime scene and identified the body of his goddaughter’s husband as well as her child. Two months ago he’d buried one of his best detectives and dearest friends. Life was too short. He wasn’t going to waste a single day of whatever time he had left. “I’m retiring at the end of the year.”
If he was lucky, Dorey would agree to a wedding on some tropical island where the ugly things one human could do to another were someone else’s probl
em.
Seventeen
Gardendale Drive
12:50 p.m.
Bobbie left Devine waiting in his car in her driveway. He usually stuck to her like glue, probably a direct order from the chief. She’d used the excuse that she needed to grab a tampon and he’d smiled and said he’d wait in the car. Still, if she lingered too long he might decide avoiding the awkwardness was not as scary as angering the chief. She had to hurry.
In the spare bedroom she moved aside a couple of boxes, finding the one she wanted. She sat down on the floor and opened the box. Hanover’s insinuations would not stop eating at her. She needed to see if he was in any of the photographs from her parents’ life before she was born. This particular box held the family albums her mother and father had created. There were five albums that predated her mother’s death and only two that came after. Her father hadn’t been quite as good at putting memories onto the pages. As a teenager she’d helped him for a while, and then she’d gone off to college and the only photo albums were the ones on her laptop and cell phone.
She picked through the albums until she found the one that contained photos of her mom’s life from high school through the first couple of years of marriage. Her parents had married the day after she graduated high school. Her father, being seven years older, had already finished college and the police academy. He wore his newly issued dress blues for their wedding.
Mary Jane Fleming had been beautiful. Both her father and the chief had always said Bobbie looked just like her mother. Not in Bobbie’s opinion. Her mother was much prettier. Bobbie peered at the photos of her mother’s friends from school. There were only a few group photos. Mary Jane never attended college. She always said she’d gone straight from her parents’ home to her husband’s. From solving calculus equations and writing essays to preparing dinner and eventually changing diapers. She’d sworn that it was the best decision she’d ever made. The memories made Bobbie’s heart glad.
Her smile fading, she reached for the envelope Hanover had given her. She removed the four photos he had tucked inside. Her mother was pictured in each one, but none of her other friends were with her. The people in the photos were complete strangers to Bobbie. Looking at this piece of her mother’s past made Bobbie oddly uncomfortable. She shoved the photos back into the envelope.
Was Hanover suggesting he and her mother had a more intimate relationship than that of mere acquaintances? Her mother appeared to be older in the photos. Her hairstyle had changed since her high school days. Bobbie reviewed the photos from her parents’ first years of marriage. They’d been married almost five years before Bobbie was born. She decided those early years were the time frame in which the photos Hanover had given her were taken.
Why was her father not in any of the photos? Had Hanover taken the photos? He wasn’t pictured in any of them, either.
She made herself look at them again. The group, four women and two men, weren’t in a house or school. The place looked more like a club. One of the photos had captured part of what appeared to be a jukebox. She squinted to read a sign on the wall: Rusty Fiddle. Bobbie didn’t recognize the name. Had her mother been going out with these people while her father worked? Her dad had told her many times that his working the night shift had made their marriage pretty miserable those first few years.
Bobbie packed the albums back into the box. She tossed the photos Hanover had given her on top. She knew Hanover’s game. He was trying to unsettle her. As he had with Devine, he had succeeded.
The real question was why did an innocent man need to put them off balance?
There was only one answer.
Hanover was hiding something that might incriminate him.
A knock on her front door made her jump.
“Damn.”
She’d lost all track of time. She got to her feet, straightened her jacket and adjusted her Glock. So what if her mom had known Hanover. That didn’t mean anything. He was using the vague connection to throw Bobbie off her game. She had two missing women and at least one murderer to find.
Another knock on the door echoed as she reached it. She checked the viewfinder. Devine. She opened the door. “Sorry. It took longer than I expected.”
“I don’t mean to rush you,” he apologized, “but the lieutenant says the Parker boy’s aunt needs to see us as soon as possible.”
Sage Parker was tucked away with a security detail at the Renaissance Hotel downtown. If they were lucky the boy had remembered something that would help their case. “Let’s roll.”
Bobbie set the security system and locked up. They could use a break and she damned sure needed something to take her mind off Hanover and his innuendoes. Maybe she would discuss his insinuations about her mother with Nick. Hanover hadn’t stated they had a relationship and the pictures could have been taken by anyone, but it was in all the things he didn’t say...the way he looked at Bobbie and the tone of his voice.
Mark Hanover wanted her to believe he knew something she didn’t.
Renaissance Hotel
2:15 p.m.
Two FBI agents and one MPD officer, all females, waited outside the suite where Sage Parker and his aunt were sequestered. Chairs and a table had been provided for their comfort. The officer stepped forward as Bobbie and Devine approached.
“Ma’am,” Officer Springer, according to her name tag, acknowledged Bobbie and then nodded to Devine. “Mrs. Lowery asked that you come in alone, Detective Gentry.”
Bobbie glanced at Devine. “No problem.” She had explained to her partner how the boy had reacted whenever a man came into his hospital room. Obviously that fear hadn’t subsided.
Devine gave a nod. “Why don’t I stand in for you, Springer, while you have a break.”
One of the agents stepped forward. “I’ll need to see your ID, Detective.”
Bobbie showed her badge and while Devine and Springer chatted, she knocked on the door. Marla Lowery opened it and welcomed her inside. The living area of the suite was spacious and well appointed. A television inside an armoire was set to a channel that displayed the security detail outside the door.
“They wanted me to be able to see whatever was going on outside the door.” She gestured to the television. “If I see anything that concerns me I’m supposed to call 9-1-1.”
“Standard procedure. Try not to be overly concerned.” Bobbie looked around, didn’t see the boy.
“Any news about Fern?”
The hopeful expression on Marla’s face made Bobbie wish she had better news. “Nothing yet, but we’re doing all we can.”
Marla nodded, her hopeful expression shifting to one of despair. “Agent Hadden said the same thing when he came by this morning.”
Bobbie understood that time was moving incredibly slowly to Marla. Her family and home were in Nashville. Maybe they would catch a break today. “I was told Sage wanted to speak with me.”
“He’s in his room playing video games.” Marla indicated the bedroom on the left. The suite had two, one on either side of the living area. “I’ve been talking to him and trying to help him see that the sooner we figure out who hurt his family, the sooner this person can be caught and his sister can be found.”
Bobbie appreciated the aunt’s efforts. “Has he remembered something?” They should be so lucky.
Marla made a face. “He won’t tell me. He insisted he had to speak with you. I’ll get him for you.”
Bobbie sat down on the sofa while Marla spoke softly to the boy in the other room. The sound of his video game hushed and then the two of them joined Bobbie. Sage offered a quick smile and a vague wave.
Bobbie patted the sofa next to her. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to, Sage.”
He glanced at his aunt. She picked up on the cue. “I need to call my daughters and see how everything’s goin
g.”
When she’d disappeared into the other bedroom, Sage looked up at Bobbie. “I dreamed about...that night.”
Bobbie gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I know this is really hard.”
He stared at his hands, one of the game controllers still clasped there. “I miss them.”
Bobbie resisted the urge to drape her arm around his shoulders. He might not appreciate the gesture. “I sure missed my mom after she died. I was about your age.”
He exhaled a big breath. “How long does it last?” He looked up at her again.
“A while,” she admitted. “I wish I could tell you it’s fast, but it’s not. At first it’s really hard every day, all day.”
“Nights are the worst,” he said. “I can play my games and do my homework and not think about it in the daytime, but when I try to go to sleep it all comes back.”
“Eventually, it won’t hurt as much. You won’t think about it as much.” Bobbie was halfway through the next school year after her mother died when she realized she didn’t think about her every minute of every day. That realization, too, had come with some measure of sadness. “You’ll do other things. Make new memories.”
He nodded. “I have to make all new friends. New teachers.” He exhaled another big breath. “A new family with three more girls. One was bad enough.”
Bobbie laughed. “I’ll bet your sister is your hero.”
He peeked up at her, his eyes glistening. “Sometimes.”
“I know she can’t wait to give you a big hug. She loves you. Your parents loved you very much. Never forget that.”
He nodded, his face clouded with sadness.
“Did you remember something you wanted to tell me?”
Sage looked around the room as if he wanted to be sure no one was listening. His gaze stumbled on the television screen where Devine and the agents were standing around making small talk.
When the boy sat silently staring at the screen, Bobbie offered, “Would you like me to turn that off or close the door to your aunt’s room?”