His big shoulders moved. “It’s home.”
Her brother didn’t seem to recognize any awkwardness. Sounding smug, he said, “I’ll bet I outearn you both.”
She stuck out her tongue.
Jack grimaced. “Safe to say.”
A mechanical engineer, her brother worked for a company known for their specialty tools. He hadn’t told Gabby how much he made, but it had to be plenty—certainly enough for him to have bought a different house.
But, no, Ric had gone to Washington State University here in Eastern Washington, and was now on his second job in Spokane, an easy commute from Leclaire. None of that was chance. Of course, Dad had kept him, and this was his home, as it was Jack Cowan’s. And Ric and she had experienced Mom’s murder and the aftermath in completely different ways.
Which reminded her... “Are you with Leclaire PD?” she asked Jack. Seeing his nod, she asked, “What do you do with the department?”
“Started out at the bottom, took the detective exam a few years back and I’m now assigned to major crimes. I wrapped up an ugly home invasion and rape case just recently, for example.”
Ric hoisted his glass. “I read about that. I didn’t realize you were the investigator.”
“I was.”
“That must be...hard,” she murmured. “I mean, seeing what you do.”
* * *
SEEING WHAT SHE HAD. That had to be what she was thinking.
“Sometimes,” he agreed, his gaze holding hers even as he braced himself. Lying on the job was often necessary, but lying to this woman...
I am on the job, he reminded himself, still not happy about looking into her eyes and saying, Nope, I barely remember your mother’s murder. And you? A witness? Wow, nobody told me.
No, she wouldn’t buy that.
“You know about our mother,” she said flatly.
“Yeah, I do.” He tried to make his tone gentle as he picked his way through the minefield. “Ric and I were friends, teammates. How could I not? In fact, I told Ric the other day, I think what happened to your mom and your family is part of what motivated me to consider law enforcement for a career. Becoming a detective was always my goal. People forget that a murder sends out ripples of pain. Family and friends becomes victims, too, in a sense. I can’t claim to understand, but even as a kid I could see it happening to your family.”
She swallowed and looked away. After a moment, she nodded. “Can we not talk about it?”
“Always your solution,” her brother mumbled.
“This isn’t exactly the time or place,” she snapped.
Her green-gold eyes already held Jack’s attention. Now a flare of pain or anger or both accentuated the gold.
Damn. He hadn’t anticipated his attraction to this woman—the woman he intended to deceive and, eventually, press for every painful memory she’d buried.
And he couldn’t kid himself. He wouldn’t be doing it for her. He wanted to shame every person who’d ever looked with doubt at his father.
Because his own family had been broken by Colleen Ortiz’s murder, too. And if Gabby remembered anything, she owed all the other people who’d been hurt to lay it out in the light of day.
But she was right. This wasn’t the moment for that. Instead, Jack set out to tamp down the tension between sister and brother.
“My fault the subject came up. Hey, I hope that’s our pizza. I’m starved.”
“Because you slaved all day?” Ric mocked him, apparently willing to go along.
“Yeah, that was me.”
Once the pizza was in front of them and Ric was handing out plates, Jack continued, “Lounged on my couch in sweats and watched a Seahawks game I missed.” True as far as it went.
The beautiful woman sitting on the other side of the booth looked askance at him. “But you must know how it came out.”
“Well, sure.” He let her take a slice, then dished up a bigger one for himself. “But I wanted to see more than the highlights.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I follow the NFL. But it’s no fun once you know who has won or lost.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re a fan of the—” He couldn’t even say it.
“The Patriots? Of course I am. I live in New England.”
Making a strangled sound, he fell back in pretended anguish.
Her brother laughed. “I should have warned you.”
They moved on to talking and arguing about a dozen topics while devouring the pizza. Well, she stopped after two slices, but he and Ric took care of the rest. Nobody would be taking any home.
Ric insisted on handling the bill, smirking as he reminded them of their relative poverty. As they walked out, he offered her a ride back to the hotel, but she shook her head with a smile and held up her phone.
“I already sent for the Uber.”
Ric zipped up his coat, pulled on gloves and started down the sidewalk. Zipping up his own parka, Jack raised his brows.
“You lied.”
“I didn’t... How do you know?” she demanded, her indignation obvious.
“I was walking behind you.”
“Hmph. Well, I’m going to do it right now.”
“Why don’t you let me drop you? My car is only half a block away.”
Her teeth closed on her lower lip as she hesitated, then finally nodded. “Thanks. I’m at the Wilmont.”
“Ric told me.”
“He’s mad.”
“He told me that, too.”
They set out down the sidewalk together, Jack shortening his steps. She probably wasn’t more than five foot two or three inches at the most. At least she’d come dressed for the weather, probably not surprising for someone accustomed to Vermont winters. No, wait—currently New Hampshire. Couldn’t be much different.
With half a dozen restaurants and upscale bars in a two-block span, there was quite a bit of pedestrian traffic, enough that he laid a hand on Gabby’s back briefly when a group spilling out of a door engulfed them.
He unlocked his Tahoe from a distance away, then opened the passenger door and hovered behind her until she’d climbed up to the seat before going around to his side. As he started the engine and turned down the fan until the heat cranked up, he said, “It’s early here for such crap weather.”
“It’s been cold in New Hampshire, too.”
Interesting she hadn’t said “back home” or the like. After pulling out into traffic, he asked how long she planned to stay.
“I...haven’t decided. I guess it depends how things go with Ric.”
“What about your job?” Her timing was definitely odd, whether her college was on a quarter or semester system.
She stole a sidelong look. “I haven’t told Ric yet, but I quit after the fall quarter. They’d only offered me two classes for winter quarter. It depends on enrollment, you see. Being part-time means no benefits—”
“And no living wage.”
“Right. So I figured this was a good time to make myself finish the damn dissertation.”
He found himself smiling. “Don’t you have to present it in person? I hope you summon a little more enthusiasm than that for the profs.”
Gabby had a great laugh, a ripple of humor that felt like fingertips dancing over his chest. “I’ll try.”
The hotel was coming up. Give it a shot.
“Listen,” he said, “I’ve enjoyed myself tonight. I don’t know if you’re reserving all your time for Ric, but if not... I’d like to take you out. Say, dinner tomorrow.” Or the next day. Any day.
“Oh.”
He glided to the curb and braked. A doorman appeared in the gilt-trimmed glass doors into the hotel. Time was running out.
“I’d like that.” She sounded shy. “Tomorrow would be great.”
His tri
umph was mixed with a hint of guilt—but he’d take what he could get anyway.
CHAPTER THREE
“Someone tried to break into my house last night.”
Phone to his ear, Jack straightened abruptly in his desk chair in the detective bullpen. “What the hell?”
Fellow detectives at neighboring desks were on the phone—probably on hold—hammering on their computer keyboards or huddled in conversation. None of them even turned their head at his exclamation.
Ric Ortiz said, “You heard me. I mean, sure, the neighborhood has an occasional break-in, the kind where the TV and iPod get stolen. But at night? When chances are good a resident is home?”
“Were you parked in the driveway?”
“Garage.”
“What happened?”
“Pure luck,” Ric said grimly. “A neighbor was coming home, saw the motion-activated floodlight was on in back. The guy probably heard the car engine and the sound of the garage door opening. Could be, it even sounded like it was at my house. Anyway, Chuck saw a dark figure running between my house and the one to the north and up the sidewalk. He called 9-1-1.”
“So you did report it.”
“Oh, yeah. For what good that did. Officer pretty much shrugged and said it happens. He drove around a little bit, but of course the guy was long gone.”
“It does happen,” Jack said automatically, even though he was disturbed. For one thing, he’d grown up in that part of town, about a mile from the Ortiz home. But more than that...
“You told many people your sister’s back in Leclaire?” he asked.
The silence suggested surprise...or that Ric had been thinking the same, however subliminally.
“Quite a few,” he said after a minute. “No reason not to tell my friends and some of the neighbors who were here then. I ran into Mr. Corcoran, too—remember him?”
High school principal. Of course Jack remembered him. Corcoran was now the district superintendent.
“And I guess I’ve seen a few of Mom and Dad’s friends,” Ric added.
In other words, word would have spread like wildfire among those who remembered the brutal crime.
“Does anybody know she’s not staying with you?”
This silence was different. It was followed by a curse. “No,” Ric said. “You don’t really think—”
“I actually don’t.” Truth. “It was probably a dumb teenager after some electronics or cash. Dark house, thought he could sneak in and out unseen. I’m just being paranoid. Occupational hazard.”
“I can see how you’d get like that.” Ric sounded relieved.
“All the same...” He hesitated. “If you haven’t told anyone where she’s staying, don’t.”
“I haven’t wanted to admit she’s not staying at the house.” Gabby’s brother sighed. “Yeah, okay. Should I tell her what happened?”
Jack mulled that over. “Ah...why don’t you let me.”
“You have her number?”
“I do.” Whether this was a good idea or bad, he had no clue, but if he didn’t tell her brother, Gabby would. “I’m actually having dinner with her tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
Ric muttered something Jack didn’t catch. Probably just as well. Then, “Gabby has made it pretty clear I don’t have anything to say about her life.”
“She’s here in town. To see you. Don’t knock it.”
After a few more grumbly sounds, Ric said, “She is my sister. Watch it with her,” and ended the call.
Jack set down his phone to brood for a minute before focusing again on his current investigation.
Not twenty minutes later, his sergeant stopped by his desk. “What are you working on?”
Jack tore his eyes off his computer monitor to focus on Rutkowski. “The large equipment stolen from the WKB construction site.”
It was the dollar amount attached to the bulldozer, forklift and other equipment that had resulted in the theft being bumped up to his caseload.
The sergeant scowled. “Has to be an inside job. Or even an insurance scam.”
“I agree.” He nodded toward his computer. “I’m looking into the contractor’s finances right now.”
A short nod expressed approval. “Get any start on the Ortiz murder?”
Jack glanced around but saw no sign anyone had heard the name. And after Ric had told so many people about Gabby’s return, keeping this investigation quiet probably wouldn’t fly. Still, he’d rather try.
“Had a casual meeting yesterday. Because I was friends with her brother, I was able to get away with not telling her yet what I’m planning. Figured if she’s comfortable with me, she’d be more likely to open up later.”
“You going to be able to separate her from the brother?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Keep me informed.”
“There’s no urgency, is there?”
Rutkowski shrugged. “Chief asked.”
Watching the sergeant walk across the squad room to his office, Jack wasn’t pleased to have caught Chief Keller’s interest and attention. He’d hoped to keep this investigation low-key.
He would keep the investigation low-key, he vowed. This was his idea, he’d been given the go-ahead, and it was unlikely anyone in the command structure would second-guess him. If they did...he’d fight back.
Satisfied, he returned his attention to the credit report he’d been studying.
* * *
TWO BLOCKS AWAY from the house, Gabby realized how fast she was breathing. She didn’t have the excuse of having run across town. Nope, she’d driven.
She braked at the corner, glad there was no other traffic. She’d decided this morning to rent a car rather than rely entirely on taxis or Ubers—or her brother. This gave her the freedom to drive around the town of which she had only hazy memories, and to start exploring her childhood without pressure from anyone else.
A department store downtown in a tall granite building accented with elaborately carved flat stones was definitely familiar. It had been a Macy’s. Mom had loved to browse there more than actually make purchases. Target now occupied the building—not quite the same thing.
She recognized a burger place with a drive-through that wasn’t part of a chain, too. Yes, they’d gone there once in a while as a big treat. Her family hadn’t had a lot of money.
Otherwise, not much looked familiar. That was partly because the town had changed drastically in twenty-five years, and partly because she’d been so young when she left. A four-year-old didn’t pay much attention to landmarks or stores. She pictured herself in the cart at a grocery store, begging for something she desperately wanted, but had no idea what that had been, whether Mom had bought it or what store it was then.
As she’d driven past the stores, no memories had upset her, so she’d felt confident about going by the house. She’d pictured it—but chances were good it had been painted half a dozen times at least, Dad or Ric might have built a new front porch, added a bay window or who knew what. She might not even recognize it.
Except, here she sat at a stop sign, on the verge of chickening out. She could do this another day, or wait and have Ric take her.
No, not that, because he’d want her to go inside, and she wasn’t ready for that.
Okay, Jack. He’d probably be willing to drive by with her.
No, damn it. Gabby refused to depend on someone else—especially a man she hardly knew—to do something so...ordinary. She was stronger than that. She didn’t even have to think about what happened to Mom, not yet. Just scope out the home where she’d spent hours at a time playing in the front yard or riding that plastic trike up and down the sidewalk until she knew every crack, every tree that overhung it.
She could do this.
She lifted her foot and let the car roll across the intersection. Yes, the neig
hborhood was familiar. Houses all dated to the same era, 1940s at a guess. Some were boxy, a few a classier bungalow-style with porches that went all the way across the front and square pillars supporting the roof and arched trimming. Several homes on this block had picket fences, as, she saw ahead, did ones in the next block.
Her block.
These were nice family homes. A few might be rented, but all were so well kept, she guessed they were mostly owner occupied. Lawns were brown, of course, the grass probably crisp from the well-below-freezing temperatures. Big old trees, maples and cherries and oaks, looked sculptural with no leaves.
This cross street had no stop sign. Lucky there wasn’t any other traffic, or kids out riding bikes, because her gaze had locked on a house halfway down the block on the left.
The Ortiz home was one of the plain farmhouse-style ones. If Dad or Ric had done any remodeling, it didn’t show from the outside. The picket fence almost had to have been replaced at some point, but it looked identical, painted white. The arbor over the gated walk from the sidewalk was draped with thick thorny stems of a climbing rose bush. The blooms, she knew, were a deep pink, and fragrant.
Her heart was pounding so hard, once she braked at the curb across the street from her childhood home, she pressed the heel of her hand hard against her chest.
A memory superimposed itself over the reality. Her pink plastic tricycle sat in the driveway near a bike that lay on its side, a helmet slung over the handlebars. Daddy got mad at both of them if he had to get out of his car to move bikes out of the way before he could drive into the garage. He ’specially got annoyed at Ric, who was old enough to know better.
Why was she across the street looking at the house? Mommy said never to cross. Never to step into the street. Gabby was always supposed to stay in sight of the front windows, too. She was big enough to look for traffic before she started back across, but too late. Mommy burst out the front door.
Whimpering, Gabby sloughed off the memory and saw that the front door was painted red, just like it always had been even though the house had been white trimmed with black.
It still was.
The anger she felt at her brother swelled until she felt as if it would split her skin. Was Ric nuts? Did he think if he didn’t change a single thing, time would magically replay itself? Well, even if it did, he hadn’t been there to change a single thing.
Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 40