Olivia really wanted to know the answer, but with Rick’s unwillingness to share anything personal, she might never know. She trailed him into a room with cream walls, thick crown molding, and a coffered ceiling. Two very formal camelback sofas faced each other in the center of the room, a long glass table between them.
“Please take a seat.” Grace gestured at the sofa facing three sets of French doors to the outside. “You can see the gardens from here.”
Olivia sank into the plump cushion, but before Rick could sit, a chubby woman bustled into the room carrying a tray. She had frizzy short hair, reading glasses near the tip of a wide nose, and remnants of red lipstick. She wore a white uniform with a striped apron over the top. She bounced across the space and stopped in front of Rick. “Upton wanted to bring the tea up, but I had to lay my eyes on our little Ricky.”
“Yolanda!” Rick’s rigid expression melted into a smile of warm affection.
Olivia was shocked at his soft response, but even more shocked that the big hulk of a man allowed Yolanda to get away with calling him Ricky.
He took the tray from her to set it on the coffee table. “It’s good to see you.”
Yolanda held out her arms. “Come here and give me some sugar.”
Rick didn’t hesitate but put his arms around her and gave her a fierce hug. Olivia saw his contented smile, and for the first time since she’d met him—which, granted, hadn’t been very long—he seemed at peace.
Yolanda eventually pushed back and touched Rick’s cheek. “Seventeen years is too long, Ricky. Your mama has about expired waiting for you to visit.”
Guilt spread across Rick’s face, but he didn’t respond. Olivia could hardly imagine what was going through his head, what with returning home after a seventeen-year absence and doing so with her as his audience.
“Let’s have some of Yolanda’s famous tea,” Grace said, further proving she was appropriately named.
“I need to get back to the kitchen anyway,” Yolanda said. “I’m making all of your favorites while you’re here. Tonight it’s pulled pork, collards, spaghetti salad, and my candy apple pie.”
“My tastes might have changed a bit.”
She waved a hand. “Nonsense. You grew up on my down-home cooking, and no one ever loses a taste for the solid food that’ll put meat on your bones.”
She faced Olivia and stood with her hands on her hips. “Where are your manners, Ricky?”
“Sorry.” He introduced Olivia.
Yolanda’s eyebrow shot up. “A doctor. Now aren’t you improving in your taste in women?”
“No, wait. I’m not his…his woman,” Olivia said.
“We’re colleagues,” Rick explained, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Start doing some fancy talking with this one, Ricky. I can tell she’s a keeper.”
“We’re just colleagues,” Rick said again.
“Um-hum.” She winked at Olivia, then waddled out the door and closed it behind her.
Grace poured tall glasses of tea over ice. “Yolanda’s been with us for so long she’s like one of the family.”
“Not like family. She is family.” Rick sat on the sofa next to Olivia, his face wearing that adamant expression she often found there. If the comment bothered Grace, she didn’t show it, but handed a lovely crystal glass to Olivia.
“Thank you.” Olivia smiled at Grace. “Unlike Rick here, I love my tea sweet. The sweeter the better.”
“Then you’ll love Yo’s tea,” Rick said. “She can fatten up a person just by looking at them.”
“You and your mother haven’t succumbed.”
“Thanks to our gym, which you’re all welcome to use while you’re here. Rick can show you where it is.” Grace passed a glass to Rick, her hand jerking back when they touched fingers.
From the look of things, the strain wasn’t from a small rift, but an all-out family feud.
“And I got away before my metabolism slowed down.” He took a long drink of the tea.
Olivia waited for him to grimace, but he took another drink, so she figured he was sending a message to his mother.
Grace took her tea and sat on the edge of the other sofa, her posture perfect. “Will your team arrive in time for dinner?”
“Depends on what they uncover at the crime scene. We’ll have to play it by ear.”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, sounding sincere. “I know you don’t know how many people to plan for and that puts you and Yo in a tough place, but our work is very unpredictable.”
“Don’t worry about it. It sounds like you love your job.”
“I do.”
“At least now I don’t have to worry about you being deployed to war zones.” Her voice caught, and she made a production of taking a sip of the tea.
“Will Dad be home for dinner?”
“Unfortunately, he’s out of town on business.”
Olivia saw Rick’s posture visibly relax.
“He’ll be home tomorrow, though.”
His shoulders firmed again. Perhaps not noticeably to his mother, but Olivia could spot nonverbal cues others missed, and Rick had been tossing them out since they’d arrived as if lobbing grenades in a war zone.
His phone chimed, and he quickly looked at it before frowning. “I have some work to do, and Olivia could probably use a rest before her sister and the kids arrive. So if you don’t mind, we’ll go to our rooms.”
He was right. She would be happy to rest, but she didn’t want to leave Grace with a crestfallen look on her face. She and Rick set down their glasses at the same time and came to their feet. Olivia took another long drink, then added her glass to the tray.
Rick crossed over to his mother and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I am glad to see you, Mom. I don’t know how to…what to…” He glanced at Olivia, then back at his mom. “We can talk later.”
“Of course we can.” She pressed her hand over Rick’s but quickly let go. A genuine smile claimed her face, her dimples, like Rick’s, showing.
He faced Olivia. Raw, unfettered pain darkened his eyes, and she gasped. At her response he erased the pain with the blank expression he seemed able to call up at a moment’s notice. “I know you’ll want to spend the night at the guesthouse, but I’ve asked Mom to set aside a room for you here so we can keep a better eye on you during the day.”
Grace peered at Olivia. “Let me show you to your room.”
Olivia nodded, but wished they could all stay in the drawing room so she could use her counseling skills to help them eliminate the awkward formality between them and find the words they both wanted to say.
Grace stepped out of the room, and Rick shouldered his computer case. He gestured for Olivia to precede him. She caught his gaze and held it, and a million things were transmitted in his look of vulnerability.
It hit her then. Hard. She didn’t want to help him as a psychologist. She wanted to help him because she was starting to develop feelings for him. How had she let that happen so quickly? She knew better and had to be careful not to fall for him. That thought scared her almost as much as the bullet outside her office that had nearly taken her life.
Chapter 13
Rick wouldn’t let the butler carry up their suitcases, so he grabbed them as his mother led the way up the winding staircase, and he tried to remember how it felt to live in this mausoleum of a house. All that came to mind were the daily, sometimes hourly fights with his dad and the unhappiness they’d brought. Not only for him, but his mother suffered with each argument, too.
And now, if Olivia’s look a few moments ago had meant anything, she was feeling the ongoing tension. His fault, of course. His mother had been open and welcoming. He’d been a jerk, and he’d hurt his mom. Maybe that was what he was trying to do. To pay her back for all the years she’d hurt him when she’d taken his father’s side even though it wasn’t in Rick’s best interest. Still, rudeness like that wasn’t reflective of the man he tried to be.
She paused in front of him and gestured at the opulent foyer below. “It takes a lot of commitment to your cause to want to leave this luxury to serve your country.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, and he appreciated her keeping her tone down so his mother didn’t hear.
“We all have to do our part for our country,” he replied, but when he caught sight of his father’s portrait on the ancestors’ wall, Rick knew his statement was a lie. Not everyone did their part. His father and his cronies didn’t. They were too busy socking away money.
Olivia met his gaze. “Still, I’m impressed with your sacrifice.”
Rick’s heart puffed up under her compliment. Stop it. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. He’d decided that at eighteen when he’d given up on his parents and walked out the front door. He’d lived without needing approval ever since. So why suddenly care about what a woman he didn’t really know thought about him?
“Are you two coming?” His mother peered down on them from the top of the stairs.
Rick nodded, and his mother led them to a guestroom she’d painted a soft green and furnished with a king-size four-poster bed sitting on a large wool rug. She’d been so excited to purchase the bed after the house construction was finished. She loved to decorate. Could spend hours or days on it. He liked things to be nice, but he hated ostentatious displays of wealth and could only think of how the money could have been better used.
“What a lovely room.” Olivia went to the window to look outside.
“I’m so glad you like it.” His mother preened. “I’ll leave you to get settled, and I’ll let you know when your sister arrives.”
Olivia turned. “Thank you so much for letting all of us disrupt your life.”
“It will be nice to have the house filled with people, and of course, having children around is always a treat.”
She headed for the door and stopped near Rick. “Dinner will be at seven. It’s just a casual thing, so come when you like.”
“Thank you.” Olivia offered another smile.
Rick was thankful for her kindness, as he doubted his mother got many genuine smiles in her life. He needed to make an effort to be a better son while he stayed with her.
The moment the door closed Olivia faced him. “Why are we here?”
“I told you. It’s the safest place for you right now.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of safe places for me. You’re clearly uncomfortable here and haven’t been back for seventeen years, so why choose it?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“And now?”
“Now I’ll go to my room so you can rest.”
She arched a brow. He’d disappointed her, too. He honestly wanted to tell her about his past, to explain, but he didn’t want to be analyzed by her—by anyone. He turned to leave.
“Your mother seems nice,” Olivia called after him.
“She is,” he replied, not willing to take the bait.
“And yet you don’t talk to her.”
His steps faltered, and he looked over his shoulder. “And I don’t talk about her either. My room is three doors down on the left. Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise I’ll see you when your sister arrives, and I’ll help them get settled in the guesthouse.”
He stepped into the hallway and firmly closed the door. His mother stood at the end of the hall, her eyebrow raised. He forced out a smile and headed in the other direction before she started asking questions, too.
In case she considered following him, he quickly entered his room and closed the door. Look at him. A grown man and he was running away from his mother as he had as a kid when she’d disappointed him.
He ran his gaze over his teenage room, waiting for the space decorated in navy blue and taupe to evoke any feeling within, but he was numb. He slid his gaze to his football trophies, sitting on built-in shelves right where he’d left them. He’d loved football. Loved the concept of team that had been missing in his family. But he still felt empty. No emotions. Nothing. No, that wasn’t quite true. Bitter bile rose up in his throat at the thought of the teenager who’d desperately wanted love from his dad. To be seen for who he was and what he wanted in life, not what his father wanted.
Enough. Self-pity never got him anywhere. Forget the past. He’d done it for years. He was an adult, for crying out loud. He didn’t need to let a visit to this place entice him into wallowing in self-pity over his childhood.
He went to his desk under the window looking over the backyard. Right. Backyard. More like groomed park. His computer hadn’t survived the damage from when he’d dropped it, but Kaci already had a new replacement for him. He put it on the desk and turned it on. His phone rang, and when he saw Brynn’s name, he grabbed it in hopes she had a lead.
“What’s up?” He tried to sound casual, but he heard the tension lingering in his own voice.
“I struck out on lifting a fingerprint on the receipt. I did recover DNA from both the receipt and the doc’s purse. No match in the database, but the two profiles match.”
“So our shooter and Olivia’s attacker are the same guy, and he did go to McDonald’s. Just not one close by.”
“We really need to get the locals moving on the expanded search.”
“Agreed.” He thanked her, then hung up and texted Max to push the locals on the videos. He moved to his e-mail, the first one from Kaci. She’d enhanced the park video and run the suspect through facial recognition to no avail. She attached several images of the park suspect she’d sharpened and enlarged and also included the surveillance video from Chick-fil-A that she’d received after Max had served a warrant.
Rick started with the shot of the guy in the park that was now precise enough to show his camos weren’t regulation. Rick sent the picture to his phone so he could show it to Olivia later, and then moved on to the shadow on the shooter’s arm, now clear enough to prove Olivia’s theory that he had a tattoo there that matched Griffin’s tat. This guy had to be connected to Griffin. Rick switched to the boot photo. The Marine Corps emblem of eagle, globe, and anchor was embossed on the heels of boots that Rick recognized as the marines’ authorized Belleville 590 hot-weather boot.
With the guy not wearing an official uniform, even with official Marine Corps boots, Rick wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that this guy was a marine. The boot could have been bought online, but Rick had to admit that with the tattoo connection to Griffin, the guy in the video was most likely a fellow marine.
Rick started the Chick-fil-A surveillance video. The parking lot camera caught Griffin heading inside, and a few minutes later a guy wearing jeans and a camo jacket hopped down from the cab of an older flatbed truck. The license plates were too low for the camera to record, but “GMC” was displayed in large letters on the grille, and it appeared to be a two-ton model. This guy also wore tan boots, but only a flash of them were visible as his feet dropped to the pavement out of camera range.
He shifted his jacket, giving Rick a glimpse of a holster and handgun on his left side. So the guy was carrying. Could be trailing Griffin, too. He strolled toward the restaurant and rubbed the back of his left arm over his mouth. He revealed a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. Excitement over the lead building, Rick froze the screen to zoom in.
Semper fi. Really? The guy had a Semper fi tattoo? Meant odds were good that he was a marine. Had one of their own stolen the weapon that had killed Griffin? A weapon that would likely be used against marines in the future?
Angry, Rick slammed a fist on the desktop with baseball cards displayed under a layer of glass. He wanted to punch the wall, too, but he started the video playing instead. The camera caught a clear shot of the guy’s face.
“What the…” Rick zoomed in, then his mouth fell open.
The man in the camo jacket, the guy facing him on the camera, wasn’t the man in the park video. Was he the shooter’s accomplice, confirming tha
t two men really were in on the smart-bullet theft, as Erickson had claimed? If so, that meant not one but two men could possess the lethal ordnance and end a life with every pull of the trigger.
* * *
Rick chased Olivia’s nephew Wylie, then picked him up and swung him around. The four-year-old’s giggles rang through the air, and Rick let go of the investigation for a moment to laugh along with the redheaded, freckle-faced boy. He didn’t take after his mother in appearance. Rick had only caught a quick look at Dianna when she’d entered the guesthouse, but her haggard expression and the dark circles under her eyes told him she was stressed out. Wylie didn’t look like his baby sister either, so Rick figured the boy resembled his wayward father.
Rick twirled the child one last time. Wylie giggled again, his mouth splitting into a big smile, his eyes going wide. Rick didn’t remember such childhood fun, and he doubted that such joyous laughter had ever been heard on this property.
He couldn’t resist hugging the boy one more time before setting him down. He raced across the lawn as fast as his chubby legs could carry him, tumbled onto the grass, then picked himself up and took off again.
Rick’s heart lifted with rare joy. “Seems like he never stops.”
“Only when he sleeps. Even then, he’s a wiggler.” Olivia peered up at him. “You’re so good with Wiley. Do you have a lot of experience with kids?”
“Me? No.”
“So no brothers and sisters?”
“None. Not even cousins.” He worked hard to keep the loneliness that his secluded childhood had brought from his tone. His lost son came to mind, and he forced himself to ignore the thought, as he was already facing way too much turmoil from being here. He turned his thoughts to his friend Levi and his son instead.
Levi was still an active-duty sniper, but had served as Rick’s spotter for the last five years of Rick’s military career. Rick had texted his buddy from the plane and learned Levi was deployed but due back later in the week to visit his family before heading back to Camp Pendleton in California, where he was stationed. Three years was too long not to see a guy he’d basically been connected at the hip with for five years. If the team completed its mission before Levi’s return, Rick might ask for a few days off.
Kill Shot Page 13