“What?”
“I don’t know…I guess…I thought we connected and there was something going on between us.”
He watched her as if trying to decide what to say. “I can’t deny I’m very attracted to you.”
“So it’s just a physical attraction?” she asked, hating that she needed to know the answer to that question.
“No.”
Her heart warmed at his admission. At the same time, it cooled at the implication. “Then how can you not trust me?”
“I just can’t.” He folded muscled arms over his broad chest, resembling a solid wall that would never budge. “Can we leave it at that?”
“I don’t want to, but you’ve proven how unwilling you are to talk about your life or your emotions, so I know I won’t change your mind.” An ache from his attitude added to her distress from the break-in and tears pricked again, but these were angry tears. Frustrated tears. She wished he would open up, but in reality she was too tired and emotional to continue this discussion right now.
She was far better off focusing on the implications of the computer theft. “This also means someone has my clients’ files and their contact information. I protected my computer with a password and protected the individual files, too. If they crack the main password and actually get into my computer, they shouldn’t be able to get into the files.”
“You didn’t use ‘password’ or ‘123,’ did you?”
She shook her head. “The identity theft taught me the value of using strong passwords—it was one of several reasons the bank cited as to why they weren’t responsible for replacing most of the stolen money. Now I always create random ones.”
She paused to meet his gaze head-on. “And before you accuse me of involvement in the break-in to stymie the investigation, I back up my files to an external drive every Friday and take it to my safe-deposit box. That drive holds the records we’re looking for, plus my schedule for the dates in question.”
Rick’s scowl eased. “Assuming you’re telling me the truth, which I think you are, not only can we retrieve your files, but it shows that you had nothing to gain by the computer theft.”
He smiled. The charm she’d been powerless to resist replaced his intensity. Thankfully, footsteps sounded in the hallway, snapping the moment between them, and she let her brain take over for her heart.
She was such a fool. How could she be attracted to a man who believed her capable of consorting with a murderer? She studied human nature for a living, for goodness’ sake, and yet here she was falling for him. Ridiculous. She needed to shrug off her crazy interest in him. Concentrate on the investigation and prove that she had nothing to do with the killer. Study her records. Find that link between Ace and Cesar so the killer could be found. That was where she needed to put her focus. Only there.
“The sooner we get a look at your files, the better,” he said, echoing her thoughts.
She glanced at her watch. “The bank doesn’t open until nine thirty.”
“So much for our early start. I’ll give Brynn a call to take over here so we can leave as soon as possible.”
Olivia nodded, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was drive for four hours with a man who not only didn’t trust her, but believed she could be a criminal.
* * *
Mobile County, Alabama
12:15 p.m.
Rick glanced in the rearview mirror. He’d done so for hours to make sure no one was tailing them. He was eager to get to Mobile, so he kept the speedometer hovering over the speed limit. Due to the break-in, he’d already had to change his appointment time with Detective Skinner, and Rick didn’t want the guy to get mad over another change. Or maybe his lead foot was all about his conversation with Olivia. An attempt to lessen the time he was alone with her. She’d made it clear that she wanted him to open up, and shrinks couldn’t resist a challenge when they saw one. He had a messy life, ripe for analyzing. Complicated issues with his parents. With Traci’s loss. The loss of his child. Things he planned to keep to himself.
As if sensing he was thinking about her, she closed the computer, stretched her arms overhead, and yawned. “I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep tonight. These late nights with Natalie are exhausting.”
She leaned her seat back and crossed her legs. She was wearing white capris and a black striped knit shirt with sensible flat black shoes. He couldn’t help but compare her to Traci, who had been the polar opposite of Olivia. Traci had loved to wear flashy clothes and draw attention. He’d found it attractive when he was younger, but now? Now he preferred Olivia’s modesty, which left far more to the imagination. A simple kiss with her would send his senses reeling. The very reason he shouldn’t be alone in a car with her.
“It was nice of your mother to stay with Dianna tonight,” Olivia continued, totally unaware of his wayward thoughts.
“It was at that,” he replied. “Surprised me.”
“Why’s that? She seemed eager enough to help.”
“I’ve never seen her with babies, so I didn’t know she liked them. When I asked her to help, I figured she’d hire someone.”
“But she had you, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, as I can’t imagine it at all, but you were once a baby.”
He glanced at her to find her grinning, and despite his best effort, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling along with her, bringing Cal to mind. Since he and Tara married, he’d been annoying with all the smiling, driving the rest of the team nuts, especially Rick. There was no way he was acting the same way, was there? If he was, he needed to stop it now. He wouldn’t have Max pull him off lead, and he sure wouldn’t let himself fall for Olivia.
“Your mother seems very warm and compassionate,” Olivia continued. “I’ll bet she was a good mother.”
“She’s warm and compassionate,” he replied and left it at that.
“But not a good mother?”
He shrugged and focused on the road, hoping Olivia would give up.
“Oh no you don’t.” She grabbed his arm. “No clamming up. You owe me from last night when I changed the subject, and you knew talking about your life would be the payment.”
“I thought you’d forget about that.”
“I won’t, so you might as well tell me now and get it over with.” She let go of his arm, but swiveled to face him.
He had no clue how to have a conversation with her that he’d only ever had with Traci and Levi. Better to try to avoid it again. “I’m not used to talking about my family.”
“You’re not used to talking about much other than the job, from what I can see. And even then it’s like pulling teeth to get you to talk.”
“Good point,” he said, and continued to hope she’d drop the subject.
She didn’t speak, but he felt her focus on him. He felt her disappointment, too. Either he could drive for their final hour with her gaze burning holes in his side, or he could answer. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Maybe it would help if you pretended you were on a scope, dialing in your target and putting everything else aside to focus on only one thing and start there.”
“What?” He shot a quick look at her, his suspicions running rampant and telling him he was right in not trusting her. “Who taught you about dialing in a target?”
“My sniper clients said it all the time.” She eyed him. “What? You still think I partnered with the shooter who took Ace out?”
That was exactly what he’d thought. “I’m sorry, but I never hear anyone but shooters talking about dialing in a scope, so when you said it…I…my mind went there.”
“I wish it didn’t. I wish it said, ‘I can trust you and not jump to conclusions.’”
“Honestly”—he met her gaze—“I wish it did, too.”
“So why can’t it?”
“We had that discussion at the office.”
“No, I had that discussion, but you clammed up.”
“I didn’t promise to talk about
that.”
She sighed. “You’re right. You didn’t. So let’s move on. I won’t use any terminology that will set you off, and we can stick to your family. Tell me about your mother.”
He didn’t think it was a good deal, but he tried to be a man of honor and that meant honoring his promises. “She was a great mother when I was a little kid. But when my dad started advancing in his career, she got caught up in making a name for them in top social circles. She was out of the house all the time. Luncheons. Fund-raisers. Dinner parties. I spent most of my time with Yo. Except Sunday mornings when we all attended church, I never really spent time with both of my parents. Not even holidays.”
He shook his head. “Mom’s a believer, but Dad went to church because it looked good to the public. He kept trying to get me to think like him—humor Mom and not buy into the whole church thing. Then, when I got old enough to develop a worldview, his need to keep raking in money no matter the consequences bothered me.”
The memories hit hard, and he paused to take a cleansing breath. “We started arguing about it all the time. I was at fault, too. I did things to get under his skin. Started attending church more often. Joined the youth group. Funny thing is, what started out as rebellion ended up being good for me. I became a believer. That’s when Dad really lost it. Forbid me from going to any church events outside our Sunday-morning service. And you know what? All this time my mom went along with what he wanted. Even when he said I couldn’t go to church.”
“What did you do?”
Olivia’s attention remained fixed on him, but he couldn’t look at her or he might lose it. “I went anyway and lied about it. Didn’t even tell Mom because she kept siding with Dad. She never considered me in her decisions, and took his side on everything to keep up appearances at all costs.”
“Parents need to present a united front.”
He shot her a look then. “Even when your father breaks your jaw? Should your mother support that?”
“Your father hit you?”
“A fierce jab to the nose and uppercut to the jaw on my eighteenth birthday. I asked Mom to intervene. To take me to the ER and have him arrested. She refused. After all, we couldn’t ruin the social giant Fredrick Cannon’s reputation with an allegation of abuse. So I left home that evening. Haven’t spent a night under their roof until last night.”
“Not that there’s an excuse for him hitting you, but why did he do it?”
Flashes from the altercation came racing back, and Rick tightened his hold on the wheel. “He’d made a development deal that displaced two hundred low-income families who would likely end up homeless. All to line his pockets, when we had more than enough money. I couldn’t stomach his greed anymore. So I told him my life would count for something, and I was enlisting in the marines.”
“And he didn’t like that.”
“I don’t think the fact that I was going away bothered him, but it wasn’t socially acceptable for the son of a powerful businessman to enlist in the service. It would embarrass him.”
“But service to our country is honorable.”
“Sure, maybe if I’d gone to college first and gone in as an officer. But a grunt? No way.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t care. I wanted to make a difference, and I couldn’t do it living with them. So I stood up to him, and that’s when he went off on me.”
“So this is why there’s such a rift between you all?”
He nodded.
“I’m not at all condoning either of their actions, but don’t you think it’s time to put it behind you?”
“It’s so far in the rearview that I don’t even think about it anymore.”
“Except when you’re with your parents.”
“Apart from last night, that hasn’t happened since the day I left. Won’t happen again once we leave town, so it’s not an issue.”
“It’s still eating away at you.”
He looked at her. “I’m not forgiving them, so don’t even try to convince me to do so. There’s nothing you can say that will erase their betrayal.”
She held up her hands and faced the window.
Right. He’d disappointed her. Of course he had. He’d been doing it all along, and that’s why he didn’t want to talk about his life. She couldn’t understand his position. Plus she was a shrink. Wanted to fix things. Meddle. Not that it mattered. She could sit there for the rest of the drive and not say a word, and he wouldn’t reconsider. Not now. Not ever. Besides, the two of them needed to stick to the investigation.
He grasped for the first thing that came to mind and gestured at his computer. “I have to admit I was surprised that you’re having a hard time remembering information on former clients.”
“I doubt I’ll ever forget an actual client,” she said, not looking at him. “But my caseload prevents me from remembering all the details.”
Thankfully, she readily moved on with him, and he’d keep the discussion going, as that was far better than having the air filled with her disappointment. “How many clients do you have?”
“Typically I have about forty active clients at one time. Since I don’t see them all every week, I have about twenty-five appointments in a week.”
“More than I thought.” Had he rushed to judgment when he’d thought not remembering former clients meant she was bad at her job or hiding something?
“I know a few psychologists who see forty people a week.” She shook her head. “I don’t see how they can handle that many clients. If they aren’t putting in extremely long hours, it’s irresponsible. Even then, that many appointments, plus the record keeping and billing, would take a toll on the doctor, and that can’t be good for their clients.”
“Did Cesar suffer from PTSD, too?”
She nodded.
“How long does a typical PTSD client see you?”
That question must have piqued her interest, as she glanced at him. “Typical treatment with cognitive behavioral therapy, if there is such a thing as typical, lasts for three to six months. That’s the most common treatment, but other therapies can take longer. And some PTSD clients have other mental health issues, so their treatment could last for one to two years. Or even longer, as was the situation with Ace.”
“So in the time since you’ve seen Cesar, you’ve had hundreds of clients.”
Her eyebrow quirked up. “Why all the questions about my client load?”
“Honestly?”
She nodded.
“Like I said, I was surprised that you didn’t remember the details of treating Cesar. I thought maybe you were withholding information or maybe you didn’t really care about your clients.”
She swiveled in her seat, her gaze never leaving him. “And you think I’m doing that because I’m guilty of something to do with Ace’s death?”
“I did, yes.” She opened her mouth, and he held up a hand. “I don’t believe you fired the rifle, but until we figure out the shooter’s identity, we can’t completely rule out that you’re involved with him.”
“What you’re saying is, I will remain a suspect until the real shooter is caught.”
He nodded. “I hope you understand that it’s not personal.”
“Not personal! Seriously. It’s very personal.” She crossed her arms and looked away.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts and phrase his words carefully. “I want to believe in you. I’m trying, but I’ve been through too much in life to take things at face value.”
She met his gaze again. “That’s a sad way to live. A very sad way, and one of these days, you’ll wake up and wish you hadn’t built a wall around yourself. That you’d lived the faith you profess and believed the best of people. Loved them like Jesus, because love always expects the best in others.”
Her disappointed tone left his gut aching. She was likely right. He was too jaded. For as long as he could remember, he’d expected the worst in others. And as she’d said, if he didn’t change, he’d live a very lonely life. Problem was, he couldn’t
find a way to forgive his parents, and as long as he was unwilling to try, she would be powerless to help him, no matter her willingness to try.
Chapter 17
Mobile, Alabama
2:30 p.m.
Detective Skinner was an earnest-looking guy with mounds of case files stacked on his desk. Rick hoped his investigation would also close Santos’s murder investigation, thereby lessening Skinner’s heavy workload.
He gestured at a metal side chair by his desk and plopped a folder in front of Rick. “Your copy of our records. I don’t have the time to review each page with you. So I’ll give you an overview, then we’ll visit the scene. You can read the file on your own time and call if you have questions.”
Rick took out his notebook and pen. “Before we start, mind telling me why you used ViCAP before you had time to run down all the possible leads? It’s often a last resort.”
“This one is odd.”
“In what way?”
“For starters, we don’t get many long gun killings in the city. And as far as I know, we’ve never had a large-caliber shooting from such a distance. Couple that with the slug being removed from the fence, and I knew we had something else going on.” He steepled his fingers. “Seems I’m right, as the entry brought a fed running to my door within twenty-four hours.”
The guy was looking awful smug, but Rick wouldn’t comment. “Go ahead and give me that overview.”
“Dispatch received a 911 call from a bread truck driver on his morning route. He passed the deceased lying on the street, but thought nothing of it. Not with the high homeless population in that part of town. He made three deliveries, then doubled back to another stop at the end of the block near the deceased. That’s when he noticed that Santos was nicely dressed, so he went over to investigate and, upon discovering he was dead, called 911.”
“You check out the delivery schedule to confirm the driver’s story?”
He gave Rick a well-duh look. “I caught the case at seven a.m. on Friday morning, and the ME placed time of death two hours prior.”
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