And maybe the biggest question was, why hadn’t Dad been willing to move so he could keep both of his children with him?
Yeah, she had her issues.
The silence had become prolonged. Her fault. She sifted through possibilities and went with, “So, are you seeing anyone right now?”
“Not seriously,” he admitted. “What about you?”
“No.” She wasn’t sure she could do serious. That was one of those issues. “I date, but...” She shrugged.
“Job?”
Keep it light. “I don’t have much staying power.” She was one dissertation away from her PhD in American History, but once that was approved, she’d be looking for a position at a university where she’d be put on a tenure track and maybe never leave. The idea made her shiver. The reasons for her procrastination on polishing the blasted dissertation and presenting it were not subtle.
Nor relevant, she reminded herself. This was a visit, that’s all. Whether she could come up with any information to help track her mother’s murderer or not, this wasn’t home anymore. She’d get to know Ric, but not too well. His turn to visit her next. Somewhere, anywhere, besides the city and house that were bound to keep haunting her.
At the sight of a bright green highway sign that said Leclaire, Gabby leaned forward, stretching out the seat belt.
“Four exits?”
“It’s grown.” Ric put on the turn signal and worked his way two lanes to the right, finally leaving the freeway.
“Oh, I made a reservation at the Wilmont,” she said. “I don’t think it’s that far from the house.”
He braked at a red light and turned to stare at her. “What? You’re not staying with me?”
“I... I thought it might be more comfortable for both of us not to be thrown together quite that much.”
“Is it the house? Or me?”
Oh, heavens, she’d already hurt his feelings.
“Mostly the house, but...a little bit of both. I don’t know you. Every time I think I start to, you lash out at me.” She swallowed. Pride kept her voice even. “I thought some space would make sense.”
“Fine.” He accelerated hard enough to press her back in her seat. “I’ll give you all the space you want.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“You think?”
Of course, he was. She should have told him in advance. But why would he imagine she’d cheerfully go home with him to her childhood bedroom? Hang out in the kitchen, when he had to guess she’d look like a kid playing hopscotch to be sure she didn’t step on the place where Mom’s body had lain, or plant a foot in the pools of blood?
He hadn’t been home. He hadn’t seen Mom’s body at all. Probably not even the blood. So what did he know?
She clamped her jaw shut, gripped the seat belt crossing her chest and didn’t say a word.
* * *
JACK HELD BACK until Tuesday, then called Ric. As if they were good enough friends. “Just wanted to say I hope the reunion is going well.” He made it casual. “I kept thinking about you and Gabby.”
“It’s...not going so well.” Ric sounded strange. “I shouldn’t have assumed she’d want to stay with me, but I did. I didn’t take it well when she asked me to drop her at a hotel.”
“You blew up at her?”
“Not that bad.” Ric sighed. “We had a really awkward dinner at the restaurant in the hotel. I haven’t talked to her today.”
“Where’s she staying?” He caught himself. “I mean, she’s here in town, right?”
“Oh, sure. The Wilmont. I know I need to talk to her, but how are we supposed to get to be friends if all we do is have a few restaurant meals?”
That was a really good question. “You know snow is being forecast.”
“Why didn’t she come when the leaves were changing and the weather was dry and crisp?”
Another good question. “Did she have a winter break from a job?” Like her job teaching at a community college? The one he shouldn’t know about?
Except, come to think of it, this was mid-November. Thanksgiving was next week, which made it too early for school breaks.
“Maybe.” Ric’s tone eased. “Yeah, that’s probably it, but she didn’t sound enthusiastic about what she’s been doing. She didn’t say she’d quit, but I wonder.”
“Yeah? Where’s she been living?”
“Oh, New Hampshire. Concord Community College. Actually, that’s the second—no, third—college where she’s taught since she finished grad school. Supposedly she’s working on her dissertation, but she didn’t seem all that interested in talking about it.”
“She say how long she plans to stay here?”
“I was careful not to push it.” Ric grunted. “It was like a really bad first date. You know, when conversation never takes off. Except in our case, there’s this history. I kept looking at her and thinking, she’s my little sister. I used to pull her pigtail or steal this stuffed hippopotamus she wouldn’t go to bed without. Only... I can’t make the two pictures merge.”
Part of Jack sympathized, and part of him was afraid Gabby Ortiz would decide to leave town before he had a chance to talk to her at all. This might be his only chance.
“There’s a lot of years in between,” he pointed out. “Me, I was picturing this little girl with plump cheeks who always wore pink scooting up and down the sidewalk on that plastic tricycle. Like she was waiting for you.”
“I think she was.”
“Listen, I was off today, just stayed home because the weather stinks. How about if I take the two of you out? Fancy, if you think she’d like that, but we could just go for pizza and beer. Maybe having someone else with you would lower the pressure.”
“You’d do that?” Ric sounded surprised, and for good reason, considering they were more acquaintances these days than friends.
“Why not? I think what happened to your mother was one of the reasons I went into law enforcement. What Gabby saw back then—” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her, all grown up.”
“Man, if you mean that, it would be great. That is, if she’s okay with it. I can’t think of any of her friends who are still around here, but even the couple guys who were at my house the most often are long gone. Not that she probably remembers them anyway.”
“Why don’t you check with her?” Jack suggested, sounding a lot more casual than he felt.
“I’ll do that and get back to you.”
If she said no? Jack fully intended to find a plan B.
CHAPTER TWO
“All right. What’s this about?” Chief Keller asked brusquely.
Jack’s sergeant had walked up to the office with him, having given his provisional approval for the request. But he decided they needed permission from above. As soon as Jack had firmed plans for dinner with Ric and Gabby this evening, he’d driven straight to the station.
Now, Sergeant Rutkowski stayed silent, leaving Jack to say, “I’d like permission to open a cold case.”
Dean Keller had risen through the ranks and was respected within the department. Since Jack rarely had anything to do with the chief, he couldn’t claim to know him, or guess how he’d react to an upstart detective thinking he could accomplish something his predecessors hadn’t. Solving Colleen Ortiz’s high-profile murder. Leclaire Police Department’s failure to make an arrest had been a black mark in the eyes of the public.
Keller studied Jack keenly. “What’s your interest?”
“I read about it when I first came on board,” Jack said. He hesitated, then admitted, “My father was an initial suspect in Mrs. Ortiz’s murder. He talked about it.”
The chief’s expression changed. “Cowan.” Then, more slowly, “Brian Cowan. I remember the name. I was a patrol officer at the time. Does your father still live locally?”
“No,
he’s in Bend, Oregon.”
“What would he think of this idea?”
Jack had no idea. Dad had long since resigned himself to his many losses in a way Jack wasn’t willing to do. “I didn’t discuss it with him. I have to believe he’d be glad if Mrs. Ortiz’s murderer was arrested.”
Keller’s gaze shifted to Sergeant Rutkowski. “What do you think?”
“He’s got a chance that may not come along again. Cowan has a hell of a closure rate. You know that. I’d have chosen him to take something like this on.” He shrugged. “The timing is good. Major crime usually drops when people are stuck at home because of snow or ice.”
“What’s this ‘chance’?” the chief asked sharply.
Jack answered, “You may recall that Mrs. Ortiz’s daughter witnessed the killing.”
“Good God, she was a toddler! From what I heard, her testimony—if you can even call it that—was worthless.”
“She was four and a half. Actually, closer to five. Kids are pretty verbal by that age.” They sure as hell knew their colors. Gabriella Ortiz had insisted the man had worn all blue. “They start learning to read. She was traumatized. I’m hoping that she remembers something she was afraid to say then, or as a young child didn’t understand but now does.”
“If so, why hasn’t she come to us?”
“Again, the event was pretty traumatic. She may have been encouraged to block out what she did remember, especially if it was giving her nightmares.”
“And this woman lives...where? Are you expecting the department to fund your travels?”
“No, sir.” He knew how tight the budget was. “I happened to learn that Ms. Ortiz is here in Leclaire for a visit. Her brother still lives here.”
“Huh.” Chief Keller leaned back in his desk chair, rubbed a hand over his jaw and brooded for a minute. “Can you keep this reasonably quiet?”
“I can’t control Gabrielle Ortiz or her brother, Ric, should they decide to go to the press. I think that’s pretty unlikely, though.” He decided not to mention that Ric had been hot to reopen the case for years. Since he wouldn’t know Jack was reopening it, at least for the time being, Jack didn’t see a problem. “Ric and I went to high school together, both played football and baseball. I happened to run into him a week or so ago, and that’s when he told me about his sister’s visit. I figure it’s at least worth sitting down with her.”
The sergeant didn’t say anything. Jack stayed physically relaxed, despite the determination that simmered at a near boil. Had to appear intrigued but dispassionate. He was curious, that’s all.
“Okay,” Keller said. “We may have to cut you off if we get too busy or if it’s obvious you aren’t getting anywhere, but we’d all like to see this one closed. It’s worth a try.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jack rose from the chair, nodded and walked out, waiting in the outer office for the sergeant, who’d paused to exchange a few words with the chief.
Both men nodded at Chief Keller’s assistant and continued to the elevator together. Jack pushed the button. While they waited, Rutkowski said, “Didn’t expect a problem. I really hope you get somewhere with her.”
“I do, too,” Jack said with complete sincerity—and no intention of admitting that he was making the initial approach to Gabby Ortiz as neighborhood kid grown up, a casual friend of her brother’s, not as a homicide detective with his eye on her as a witness.
Testing the waters, that’s all. Going with his instinct, which said that a woman who’d refused to come back to town for twenty-five years wouldn’t immediately open up to an investigator who demanded she mine her most painful memories.
Even when he did tell her he was reopening the case, he could claim he’d just decided to do it. That he’d had an ulterior motive all along...well, why would she ever have to find that out?
* * *
RIC HAD SUGGESTED an Italian restaurant only six blocks from Gabby’s hotel. Of course he offered to pick her up, but the Wilmont offered free Uber service within downtown, so she said she’d meet them there.
Them.
Having arrived before the two men and been seated in a booth, Gabby let herself wonder why Ric was bringing someone else. It didn’t sound like this Jack Cowan was a really close friend, but she did remember the name. She even thought she could picture him, a tall boy with ruffled brown hair that must have had some curl. Later, though, Dad had sent her articles from the local newspaper about the successes of both Ric’s high school baseball and football teams. Ric had pitched, Jack had been the first baseman. On the football field, Jack was the quarterback who’d led the team to a state championship, Ric his favorite wide receiver. Gabby had hungrily studied the couple photos of her brother, but only one photo of Jack Cowan lingered in her memory. They’d been seniors the year their football team went all the way, so she would have been...thirteen. No, probably fourteen. Definitely boy crazy. She’d thought Jack’s broad, triumphant grin was sexy. She’d thought he was sexy. The idea was laughable now, given how skinny he’d undoubtedly been, how immature.
Still...having him here might ease the tension between her and Ric, who’d had more expectations of her than she could handle. Wow, if he had any idea she intended to try to do what he’d long demanded of her, he’d turn into a bulldozer and drive her nuts.
Sipping her glass of water, she was facing the door when Ric and another man walked in. A group of three women at a nearby table turned their heads in unison. Gabby didn’t blame them. She felt appreciation for a fine sight.
Ric was really good-looking, his Latino heritage showing in near-black hair and dark eyes. The height came from Mom’s side of the family. Jack Cowan had a craggier face, not as obviously handsome, but there was something elementally male in that big, broad-shouldered body and the saunter that seemed unconscious.
She lifted a hand, Ric spotted her and said something to his friend, who looked straight at her and changed his path between tables. She wasn’t sure his eyes ever left hers until... He arrived at the booth, he stood looking down at her.
His medium brown hair, cut short, was still unruly, and his eyes were a bright blue.
Then he grinned. “I’d never have recognized you.”
“You remember me?”
“Yeah, you had that pink tricycle you’d pedal up and down the sidewalk.”
Gabby wrinkled her nose at him. She’d loved all things pink at that age, had even thrown a temper tantrum if Mom wanted her to wear any other color, except occasionally purple.
“No more pink,” he added.
To her puzzlement, he kept standing there, his assessment unexpectedly...thorough. After a moment, he glanced toward the front of the restaurant, then the nearby hall leading to the restrooms and kitchen. Her brother raised his eyebrows, edged by him and sat beside her.
At last, Jack sat, too, but slid all the way across and relaxed against the wall, half-facing them and half-facing the room. “A pitcher?” he suggested, lifting a hand for an approaching waiter.
“Gabby?” her brother asked.
“That’s fine.” She didn’t love beer, but wine and pizza would be ridiculous. And, really, she wasn’t much of a drinker at all. Great-Aunt Isabel hadn’t approved of “spirits.”
Jack Cowan went back to studying her as Ric ordered the pitcher. “You look good,” he said after a minute.
Something about the intensity in his gaze unsettled her—or maybe it was her reaction to him. “Did you expect terrible?”
He laughed. “I guess that was rude. I just expected...” He hesitated. “Chubby cheeks.”
Oh, lord—she’d been plump back then, to put it kindly. Mom said she had chipmunk cheeks. In pictures where she was beaming, her eyes ended up squinty in that fat face. She’d expected to grow up with chubby cheeks, like the women on Dad’s side of the family. Instead, she had apparently acquired her mother’s fine bon
es and ivory skin. Not Mom’s height, though, or warm brown hair; nope, Gabby’s was black, thick and stubbornly straight.
One side of Jack’s mouth turned up. “You and Ric look like brother and sister.”
“Except for the foot difference in height.” Her brother just couldn’t help rubbing it in. “Not to mention some actual muscles.”
She lifted her chin. “I exercise. I just don’t admire myself in mirrors while I sculpt unnecessary muscles.”
Jack gave a crack of laughter, and even Ric grinned.
“Sharp-tongued little thing,” he observed.
Amusement still lingering on his face, Jack said, “I like that in a woman.”
She was terribly afraid her cheeks heated.
They settled down to choosing a pizza, a giant one. The men considered ordering two, but she reminded them that she, at least, wouldn’t be taking any leftovers. Irritation crossed Ric’s face. Jack’s eyes flickered as he took that in. He was exceptionally observant, she couldn’t help thinking.
Once the pitcher arrived and he’d poured glasses of beer for all three of them, he said, “Ric tells me you’re a college professor.”
“Well...halfway. I’ve been taking lecturer positions at two-year colleges while I work on my dissertation. My chances of getting on at a good four-year school are zilch until I have the PhD.”
“History?”
“Yes. One of those majors that does not lead to sky-high salaries.”
He laughed again. She really liked what that laugh did to his face. “We have that in common. I’m a cop.”
She froze, the glass almost to her lips. A cop? Why hadn’t Ric told her? Pulling herself together, she took a sip of beer to give herself a moment. Was he someone she could talk to, if she got to that point?
“Yeah? Did you get a degree in criminology?” She congratulated herself on sounding no more than pleasantly interested.
“I did. Went to Portland State. My dad moved to Oregon my senior year in high school. I stayed here with a friend’s family until I graduated.”
“And came back once you had your degree?”
Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 39