by Chris Taylor
Franklin’s curled up on the sofa, salty tears long dried on his cheeks. He’s suffering just as badly as me. He loved them with everything that he was.
I’m glad I was able to reassure him that Sabrina loved him till the end; that she didn’t blame him for his hurtful accusation. It brought him a measure of comfort—and after all, it was the truth.
* * *
Dani sipped from her Coke and for the first time in a decade, wished it were something stronger. What she wouldn’t give for the blissful numbness a bottle of scotch would bring. But that was the wish of old Dani, a woman she never wanted to be again; a woman she no longer recognized inside her. And she was glad.
She’d come a long way since the car wreck that was her childhood. If it hadn’t been for Sabrina’s love and encouragement, Dani might still be living that life. Drinking every night to obliterate the memories; picking up strangers and inviting them home. She was lucky she hadn’t picked up some awful STD, or worse.
It was bad enough she’d been arrested for prostitution. Twice. She didn’t blame the police officers. One of them, at least, was merely doing their job. In fact, she ought to be grateful for their intervention. She’d been sixteen and more or less living on the streets. Her parents had long since given up caring—if they’d ever cared at all.
Try as she might, she couldn’t summon a single memory of feeling loved and cherished by her mom and dad. The only person who’d loved her was Sabrina and now Dani’s beautiful, gentle sister was dead.
Dani’s chest tightened painfully and tears burned behind her eyes. She thought she was done crying. Over the past five days, she’d shed enough tears to flood Sydney Harbour. She didn’t think she had any left. And yet, they kept coming.
Franklin sat at the other end of the modular sofa. Apart from a couple of phone calls he’d taken in another room, he’d stayed mostly in the same spot, curled up in fetal position or bent over with his head between his knees. She watched as he tugged out a monogrammed handkerchief and delicately blew his nose. A knock sounded on the door, startling her. Her gaze flew to Franklin.
He grimaced. “It’s probably the detective. I spoke to him earlier.”
Butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She quickly looked away and tried to tell herself her reaction was merely because the officer might have news, rather than because she was coming face to face with the man again.
She’d been taken aback to see him at the funeral. She hadn’t given any thought to the fact he might come. And then he was there, beside the grave, offering condolences and asking questions—questions that had annoyed the hell out of her.
She guessed she ought to be grateful he was doing all that he could to solve the crimes, even if they were in the middle of burying their loved ones and he still seemed fixed on the possibility that the killer was close to home.
“He’s come for my clothes,” Franklin muttered, hoisting himself off the couch. “I’m assuming he’s checking for blood.”
Dani blinked to clear her thoughts and then frowned in confusion. “Why would he need to do that? I get that spouses are always the first suspects, but he can’t honestly believe you capable of murdering your wife and child?”
“Stranger things have happened, Dani,” Franklin replied quietly. “You see it on the news all the time.”
“Yes, but not to your family. That kind of thing doesn’t happen to you.”
Franklin shrugged and headed across the open concept living and dining room. He opened the door to the detective. Dani heard the officer greet her brother-in-law, his voice deep and solemn.
“Mr Cook, thank you for seeing me.”
Dani stood and made her way over to the men. She nodded to the detective.
“Ms Porter, it’s nice to see you again,” he said quietly.
A lock of his black hair had fallen across his eyes, lending him a boyish air, but there was nothing immature about the chiseled jawline, the broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and the long legs that put him at least a head above her. Despite the gravity of the situation, her stomach clenched with nerves that had nothing to do with the reasons for his visit.
When his eyes suddenly widened and his nostrils flared, Dani realized she’d been staring. A blush raced across her face, heating her cheeks. She hurriedly averted her gaze.
“I’ll go and fetch those clothes for you,” Franklin said, seeming oblivious to the silent exchange.
Detective Craigdon nodded and cleared his throat. “Thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you, especially today, but time is of the essence. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Franklin agreed. “I’m happy to do whatever I can to help you find the person responsible. I just hope it’s soon.”
“We’re all hoping for that, Mr Cook. I want you to know, we’re doing everything that we can.”
The detective glanced down. His attention was drawn to the white bandage that covered Franklin’s right hand.
“Tell me again how you cut yourself, Mr Cook. I’m afraid with all that was happening that day, I’ve forgotten what you said.”
Dani waited for Franklin to reply. She’d noticed the bandage earlier in the week, but hadn’t gotten around to asking him about it.
“It was stupid,” Franklin replied with a wry smile. “I was chopping vegetables and trying to watch the National Basketball League game on TV. The knife slipped and I cut my hand.” He grimaced and offered another slight smile. “Like I said, stupid.”
“Who was playing?” the detective asked, his tone only mildly curious.
“Playing?” Franklin asked.
“Yes, you said you were watching a basketball game. I was wondering who was playing.”
Franklin flushed under the detective’s perusal. He frowned and averted his gaze. Dani stared at him. He was talking about a game that had happened less than a week ago. Surely he could remember?
“Um… I… I think it was the Sydney Kings and the Perth Wildcats. Yes, that’s right. Sabrina follows the NBL. She used to play in high school. She just loves Josh Childress. The Kings were way out in front. She was ecstatic.”
The detective regarded Franklin closely, but seemed satisfied by his answer. With his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, he wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows that framed the spectacular view of Sydney Harbour.
Night had softly fallen, catching Dani unawares. A thousand golden lights twinkled in the distance from yachts and houseboats and tall buildings on the other side of the harbor. A ferry passed far below them, lit up like a Christmas tree, reminding her that the festive season wasn’t far away. She wondered fleetingly about its occupants, all heading home after a busy, uneventful day. She wished she were one of them.
The detective stared out the window at the darkness far below. “Did you go to the emergency department for treatment?” he asked, keeping his back to them.
Franklin cleared his throat and moved to lean against the couch. “Sabrina wanted me to, but I brushed off her concerns. I didn’t think it was too bad, but a couple of days later, I was in agony. The cut was infected.” He grimaced. “I should have listened to Sabrina. She always knew best.”
His voice broke and Dani was flooded with another wave of sadness. She still couldn’t believe her sister and baby niece were gone and that she’d never see their beloved faces again.
“When did you cut your hand?” the detective asked, turning to face them. His gaze remained fixed on Franklin.
Franklin frowned. “I guess it must have been Friday or Saturday afternoon. I’d gone into the office on Sunday to get a head start on the week. I was there until late.”
“I met you on the Monday,” Detective Craigdon murmured. “The wound looked pretty fresh back then. Certainly not infected.”
Franklin flushed. “Then it must have happened on Saturday.”
The detective stilled. He stared at Franklin. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Franklin hurriedly r
eplied, his gaze fixed on some point above Dani’s head. “It was Saturday. I remember now. Sabrina had suggested we order take-out, but I’d already started to cook.”
The detective moved with panther-like grace, his large strides eating up the distance as he crossed the living room and came to a halt near Franklin. Dani held her breath. There was something about the man that commanded attention.
“You know,” he said to no one in particular, “I’m a pretty big fan of the NBL and in particular, the Sydney Kings. When I’m not working, I try hard to catch their games.”
Franklin offered a nervous smile. Dani tensed. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but all of a sudden, the air around them was charged.
“I’ve never known them to play on a Saturday afternoon.”
The quiet statement fell from the detective’s lips as if they were of no consequence, but disquiet stirred in Dani’s stomach. She stared at Franklin.
Franklin chuckled, as if in amusement, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. The detective’s expression remained grim.
“How about you find those clothes for me?” the detective murmured, his voice laced with steel.
Franklin offered a jerky nod and headed straight toward the corridor that led to the bedrooms. The detective turned to her and all of a sudden, her chest tightened so much, she wasn’t sure if she could breathe.
He was even better looking than she’d remembered. A dark stubble shadowed his cheeks, thicker than the last time, as if he hadn’t shaved all week. She wondered if he was growing a beard or if he simply hadn’t found the time. His eyes studied her, a clear and honest blue that contrasted with the golden tan of his skin. His black hair gleamed under the myriad of downlights.
“Your brother-in-law tells me you’re staying with him for a while.”
His words broke the spell that had held her enthralled for an infinitesimal moment. She blinked and regathered her thoughts.
“Yes. I… We… We didn’t want to be alone. At least, not tonight. I live by myself in North Sydney. Franklin’s…also alone.”
The detective eyed her curiously. “You and Franklin get along well.”
It wasn’t a question. Dani stared at him, trying to see if there was anything behind his statement, but his eyes revealed nothing.
“Yes, I guess we do. He adored my sister as much as I did. I guess I love him for that alone.”
The detective raised one silky, dark eyebrow. “You love him?”
She blushed. “Not like that, Detective. Franklin’s the brother I never had. He met Sabrina when she was still in her final year of high school. I’m only two years older.”
The detective nodded. “You’ve known him a long time.”
“Yes.”
“And are you a Sydney Kings fan, too?”
She smiled sadly, beset with memories. “No. Sabrina was the one who loved following the NBL. I’m more of a football girl.”
The same dark eyebrow arched in amusement. “Who’s your team?”
“The Melbourne Storm.”
His face flooded with surprise. A smile played around his lips. “Traitor.”
“Hey,” she protested, smiling back at him. “Just because I live in Sydney, doesn’t mean I can’t barrack for an interstate team.”
He shook his head. Humor glinted in his eyes. “Uh, oh. Don’t try and justify your decision. Nothing you say can will make it any better. You barrack for Melbourne. Our arch-rival. It’s nothing short of a betrayal.”
“They’re on the top of the table,” she shot back.
“They were caught cheating a couple of seasons ago.”
She narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance. “They exceeded the salary cap. It’s not exactly cheating.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, so there are degrees of deceit, are there?”
She chuckled and the sound of it shocked her. She hadn’t laughed since he’d brought her the awful news. Their gazes caught and held. Time stood still. Dani’s breath halted in her chest. A second later, her heartbeat took off at a gallop.
He stood so close she could see the tiny, dark flecks in his eyes. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the whiskers on his chin. The faint smell of male cologne wafted in the air, crisp and cool and masculine. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
“Here you go.”
Franklin appeared beside them carrying an armful of clothing and Dani jumped like she’d been burned. Heat crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. She moved away, stumbling in her haste to put some distance between her and the detective.
“Thanks,” the detective replied calmly and accepted Franklin’s bundle.
Franklin flashed him a look filled with derision. “What, you’re not going to ask me if these are the same clothes I wore the day my wife and daughter were murdered?”
Detective Craigdon’s gaze narrowed on her brother-in-law’s. “Do you want me to?”
Franklin shrugged, as if what the detective did or didn’t do no longer mattered. “Suit yourself.”
Dani frowned, bewildered by Franklin’s attitude. Why was he going out of his way to antagonize the detective? They needed the officer to be totally committed to finding Sabrina and Marnie’s killer. He’d hardly feel inclined to go the extra mile if Franklin treated him like a second-class citizen.
She shot her brother-in-law a questioning look and was irritated when he ignored her. She’d been just as affected as he was by the deaths of his wife and baby. They were her family, too. It was only right that he acknowledge that.
“Are we done?” Franklin asked, his tone not in the least repentant.
Dani glared at him again, but the detective appeared unaffected by her brother-in-law’s rudeness.
“Not quite. I still haven’t received a copy of those paternity tests. You were meant to send them in.”
Franklin’s tone lost some of its edge. “I… I’m not sure what happened to them. I remember bringing them home from the office, but it was the same day Sabrina and Marnie were murdered. At the time, I had much more important matters to deal with. I must have put them down somewhere, but I’m not sure where. As soon as I find them, I’ll give you a copy.”
“You do that,” the officer replied, giving Franklin a hard look. “We’re done. For now.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jett threw the squad car into gear and headed out into the traffic, his thoughts on the two people he’d just left behind. While he continued to warm toward Danielle Porter, her brother-in-law was a different matter.
After interviewing the man on the day of the murders and observing him at the funeral, Jett had been convinced the man didn’t have anything to do with the awful events that had taken place in his luxurious condominium and was nothing more than a man grieving deeply for the tragic loss of his family. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
A few moments ago, Cook had come across as surly and belligerent, not at all like the broken and desolate man in evidence earlier in the day. Okay, he’d just buried his wife and baby. It was enough to put anyone in a churlish mood. Jett couldn’t imagine what that would feel like and he hoped he never had to experience it, but he wondered now if Franklin’s devastation had been nothing more than an act. Had it all been for show? Put on for the cameras? And what was with the paternity results? Had he really misplaced them, like he claimed?
Jett glanced at the clothes on the front seat, now contained in a clear plastic evidence bag. Large, dark stains were visible on the pale blue business shirt. It was more difficult to ascertain if the charcoal-gray suit was similarly marked, but the lab would be able to tell. The stains that were visible appeared to be blood stains, but their existence didn’t get Jett excited. He’d noticed them during his initial interview with Franklin, when Jett and Lane had first attended the crime scene and Franklin had told him that he’d gotten covered in blood while trying to haul his wife out of the bath. It was a reasonable explanation and could be the truth. Proper analysis would tell them for sure.
Pulling cl
ose to the curb outside the State Crime Command headquarters, he killed the engine and leaned back against the seat with a heavy sigh. For all the hours he’d spent on the investigation, he had nothing to show for his efforts. Kevin Thompson had looked like a promising suspect, but Jett’s suspicions had gone off him for now. Call him an idiot, but he believed Kevin’s protestations of innocence. No doubt his work clothing would tell the tale.
Franklin Cook, on the other hand, was an enigma. Jett didn’t want to admit his growing dislike for the guy had more than a little do with the obvious love and respect Danielle had for him. The jury was still out on whether she felt more than sisterly affection for her brother-in-law, despite her assurances to the contrary. And if that were so, Jett could understand her attraction.
Cook was a prominent, wealthy lawyer. Some women would probably find him attractive—if they were into the brown-haired, brown-eyed, glasses-wearing office type who looked like they didn’t get enough sun. He wasn’t Jett’s idea of sexy, but then again, Jett wasn’t a woman.
With an impatient growl in the back of his throat, he threw off his seatbelt. Why the hell was he wasting his thoughts on such stupidity? It was late and he was tired. He couldn’t care less if women found Franklin Cook attractive. Reaching across the gear stick, he retrieved the bag of clothes. Opening the car door, he climbed out and made his way up to his office. He’d drop off the evidence, check his emails and head for home. He’d be thankful to finally put the day behind him.
* * *
Franklin stared out through the plate glass window that formed the back wall of the living room. The place was in darkness. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was way past late. Dani had retired to the guest room hours ago. She’d shuddered as she’d passed Marnie’s room and had steadfastly refused to use the bathroom where her sister had been found, but the small sounds she’d made as she’d prepared for bed, in what was known fondly as “Dani’s room,” had stopped some time ago and he assumed she’d finally succumbed to sleep.