by Geri Krotow
“Hey.”
“Hi. Is this an okay time to call you?”
“Anytime you call is okay with me, ma’am.”
“Cut it out, Detective, or I’ll have to call the police.”
“At your service, ma’am.”
Her laughter would have warmed him to his toes if it hadn’t stopped at his groin.
“I want to thank you for the flowers you sent. And for being here for me this past year.”
“It was my privilege, sweetheart.”
“Seriously, Cole. You’ve hung in there with me when other men would have fled.”
“Their loss.”
“The kids and I would like you to come for dinner.”
Kids. Anita. Anita and her kids.
“When?”
* * *
HE STAYED LATE to finish the other paperwork he’d neglected since taking on the Forsyth case. Working into the evening used to be de rigueur for him, but ever since Anita had welcomed him into her bed he preferred other things to sitting at his desk.
If he got one more file moved into his out box, he was going to call Anita and see if he could stop by and say hi. He never did that when the kids were up; they were both careful to keep their relationship in the background.
Until now... She’d asked him to dinner with the kids. This weekend. His thoughts drifted back to how soft Anita’s breast felt in his hand.
“Hey, boss, you have a call on line three.” Molly Abernathy, the department’s admin assistant, spoke from his doorway. He blinked away the memory of Anita.
“You should’ve gone home hours ago.”
“I like the quiet. It gives me a chance to take care of the mess you guys make all day long.” She smiled at him. Petite with shoulder-length black hair, she was the hot single gal on staff everyone wanted to date.
Except Cole. She wasn’t his type.
“Something tells me you’re just being nice to us.”
She laughed. “Actually, I’m using the time to study. I’m back in school.”
“Good for you! What’re you studying?”
“Paralegal.”
“Shoot me now, Molly. The last thing we need around here is another legal anything.”
“It’ll be a while before you can lump me in with that group. Are you going to take the call?”
He frowned. “Who is it?”
“Some woman, said it was important.”
“Then I guess I’d better do my job.”
“See you in the morning.”
He waved at Molly as he picked up the receiver.
“Ramsey.”
“Is this Detective Ramsey?” Anxious female, probably somewhere between thirty and forty years old.
“Yes.”
“I’m Opal Doyle. I knew Dottie Forsyth and I think I may be able to tell you some things you’d be interested in hearing.”
Bingo. The crack they’d hoped for.
“Where do you live?” He checked caller ID. It listed a business on the highway in front of the Air Station.
“I live in Oak Harbor, but I’m calling you from work. I own the coffee shack by the base.”
So far, so good. She wasn’t lying about where she was.
“I’ll need to speak with you in person, Ms. Doyle. Are you available tomorrow?”
“Sure, but I think we should meet sooner.”
Cole rubbed his temple and kept his voice level. “Why is that?”
“I believe I know who killed Dottie.”
“Stay put in your shop, Ms. Doyle. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He hung up the phone. His gut told him this gal was nuts, that Drew was smart to figure it out. He looked at his watch.
Shit.
It was later than he thought.
No chance of stopping by Anita’s for a good-night kiss.
* * *
THE KOFFEE HUT was one of several drive-through coffee shops on the island. Cole knew each and every one and had a special place in his heart for the ones that opened early and closed late.
He saw the light spilling from the business window but the counter was clear of its usual accoutrements—glass canisters stuffed with chocolate-covered espresso beans, madeleine cookies, sugar-free peppermint sticks. The sliding glass window looked as if it was locked tight, and the closed sign indicated that the shop would open with fresh brew at 0500. Just in time for the flight jocks to get a cup on their way to another mission.
He walked up to the service window and peered in. A blonde woman dressed in a pink hoodie and blue jeans had her back to him, working at a kitchen counter.
Poor judgment on her part to have the place all lit up, showing that she was alone in the trailer. He tapped on the window and she turned around, staring out at him. He waited for her eyes to adjust, to see him clearly as he stood under her motion-detector light.
She unlocked the window and slid it open.
“You’re Detective Ramsey?”
“Yes. Ms. Doyle?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, it’s me. I needed to speak with you immediately.”
“So you said. Do you mind coming out of your trailer and talking to me?”
“Oh, no problem. I’d have you come in here but it gets cramped real fast.” She shut the window, locked it and disappeared from view. He heard the back door to the trailer slam, followed by her footsteps on the gravel parking lot.
When she turned the corner of the weathered trailer, he was struck by her diminutive stature. She couldn’t be much over five feet, but her voice had projected the air of someone bigger, taller. He’d bet money she was the youngest of several siblings.
“Thanks for coming out here on such short notice, Detective.”
“It’s my job. Can you tell me exactly how you knew Dottie Forsyth?”
“She used to come by my shop, every morning, seven-thirty on the dot.” She giggled. “No pun intended.”
He refrained from comment.
“She always ordered her latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg.”
“Where was she going?”
“Why, to the physical therapist’s. Drew’s place. At least on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. A lot of seniors come out here in the morning to get themselves going for the day.” She shrugged. “I used to work at the PT clinic. When I first moved here, years ago.”
“Is that where you met Dottie?”
“Oh, no, I knew her from here, from my coffee stand. I might have met her at the clinic, but I can’t say I remember it.”
“Why do you think you know who killed her?”
He liked to catch the people he interviewed off guard. Get them comfortable, let them talk then go in for the kill. No pun intended.
“Well, I’m a neighbor of Drew’s. I knew him before I worked for him, actually.”
“Hmm.”
“He’s as solid as they come, Detective.” She waved her hands. “He’s divorced but his ex-wife went missing, and when she came back, she— Never mind that now. Although it is relevant. It does tie together.”
“What ties together?”
“The reason she killed her.”
“Her? You mean Ms. Forsyth?”
“Yes, of course. It’s pretty clear that Gwen killed her. She had a grudge against Drew ever since that squadron party three years ago, when he went home with the wife of one of her colleagues. Why they stayed together for so long afterward is what I didn’t understand until I got to know Drew better. He’s a healer, which is why he went into physical therapy. He’s a caring man and he didn’t want to let her down so hard. But their marriage hadn’t been good for a long time.”
Cole knew people. And he knew as clear as day that Opal Doyle was trying to give Drew a way out
, at least in her view. She had the serious hots for the guy. Serious enough to murder Dottie Forsyth?
“That’s not a very strong motive for murder.” He was used to playing it cool, keeping up a neutral front.
“She’s different. You know who I’m talking about, right? She’s the one they say survived for six months in the jungle, over in Asia.”
He nodded.
“People don’t go through that kind of thing and come back normal. Besides, how do we even know she was really lost all that time? Maybe she shacked up with a local.”
Cole was surprised his crazy radar hadn’t pegged Opal the minute she’d said word one on the phone. Because this woman was definitely off.
Just looking at her didn’t reveal anything. She dressed and acted like he’d expect of a woman who ran a drive-through coffee place. Professional, comfortable clothing. It was her words, the wild look in her eyes, that bothered him. Nothing like the serenity he saw when he looked into Anita’s eyes.
Anita was different. Self-contained. Unpretentious. Responsible and deeply caring. Whether in gym clothes or her scrubs, she exuded an air of competence and vibrant femininity.
Anita.
Stay on task, Detective.
“Do you have anything else you need to tell me?”
“I saw her, right after Dottie was killed.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. She was in her house, in sweats. As if she’d come home and showered after she did it.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
Opal looked at a random point to one side. After a long moment, she slowly shook her head.
“No, that’s it.”
“Thanks very much for your time, Ms. Doyle. It takes a lot of courage to come forward with this kind of information.”
“I’m only doing what’s right. Drew is innocent. Are you going to arrest his ex now?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AFTER PERHAPS THE most uninhibited night of their entire relationship, Gwen was quiet on the way home, and she noticed that Drew didn’t say much, either. What was there to say, when they’d had such a wonderful time but still faced an uncertain future?
She wanted to blame him for the ache in her chest but it was her own doing. She’d allowed Drew back in—she’d let her love for him out of its locked box. Letting him go was going to be infinitely more painful now.
They opted to stay on the highway instead of waiting for a ferry, and were at Ro and Miles’s home by early afternoon.
“Your cheeks are awfully rosy, Gwen.” Ro poured them each a cup of hot tea while Drew stayed out on the deck with Miles, drinking coffee. They’d stopped by to pick up Nappie on their drive home.
“It’s your house—you always keep it so warm. Nappie’s never going to want to leave, not after a sleepover with Beau.”
“Nice change of subject.”
Beau was the Labrador retriever Ro and Miles had rescued around the same time they’d fallen in love. Beau was such an important part of their family that he’d actually been at their wedding.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Drew and I were over ages ago.”
“Uh-huh.”
“These last months together, even with all the horrible things going on, have given us a chance to get the closure we never had before. Living under the same roof hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be.”
“So what happened last night?” Ro looked out at the deck. “Quick. Once they come back in, you won’t be able to tell me anything good.”
* * *
“WE’VE GOTTEN TO know each other well, Drew. You fixed up my aches and pains from that stupid accident.” Miles was talking about a motorcycle accident he’d sustained a year ago. It hadn’t caused any serious injuries, but since he’d lost his leg in the war, he was prone to more aches and pains in his other leg, the side he’d landed on in the crash.
“You were already in great shape. I didn’t do anything but show you the exercises.”
“I don’t mean the actual PT, Drew. I mean the long talks we had.”
“Hmph.”
“You’ve been through too much, man. Too much to give it all up now.”
Drew stared at Miles. Miles was the only person on earth to whom he’d confessed his deepest thoughts when Gwen had gone missing—that he’d never stopped loving her, that he’d agreed to the divorce because he believed she was better off without him. Because her career came first.
“I’m not giving anything up, Miles, since I don’t have anything with Gwen. She doesn’t deserve the mess my life is in. Last night, yesterday, was our goodbye.”
Bullshit.
“It’s not that easy, Drew. Do you still love her?”
“Whether I love her or not isn’t the issue. Even if it was a perfect world and we did figure out we still loved each other and wanted to make a go of it—none of that matters. I no longer have anything to offer a woman, much less a mother and child.”
“I never took you for the type to throw yourself a pity party.”
“It’s not self-pity, Miles, it’s reality. I could end up in jail before the clinic tragedy shakes out.”
“You’re not going to jail.”
“At the very least I’m losing my business. And if I lose my license to practice, I won’t be able to work as a PT. I have no idea what the hell I’d do.”
“I’m not trying to push you to make a decision you’re not ready to. I know what it’s like to feel you don’t have a lot to offer someone—trust me.” Miles looked up at the sky, as if gathering his thoughts.
It’d taken Miles a long time to feel comfortable asking a woman out on a date after he’d lost his leg, even longer to convince Ro, who, like Gwen, had been hard-core navy.
“The difference is that you had your life together when you realized you loved Ro. Mine’s fallen apart.”
“Drew, one thing that getting through the war taught me is that nothing will work itself out for me unless I do the footwork.” Miles grinned. “Get it, footwork? I had to do it with one foot.”
“Funny.”
“If I’d given up on myself or Ro, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. She would’ve taken the next orders out of here and found some other guy.”
“Gwen isn’t Ro.”
“No, but they’re cut from the same cloth. Both Academy grads, both women who’ve made it in a man’s world. Ro is tough as nails—I don’t have to say that about Gwen. You already know it.”
“So your point is?”
“My point is that Gwen doesn’t need you to take care of her. She needs you to take care of yourself, and if she’s the one for you, you need to put yourself first for once and go for it.”
“You realize I’m under suspicion for murder, right?”
“I thought my life was over when an IED took my dog and my leg. Someone or something else had a bigger plan for me.”
Drew flinched. Miles rarely if ever talked about the wartime event that had taken his leg. He’d nearly bled out before his Special Forces team was able to reach him. Miles had fought his rescuers because he didn’t want to leave his bomb-sniffing dog’s corpse behind.
Miles wouldn’t be sharing any of this unless he thought it could help Drew.
Maybe it’s time to listen to someone else.
“Point taken.”
* * *
GWEN DIDN’T TELL Ro about the details of her night with Drew. They’d never exchanged such intimacies, even when they were younger and dating midshipmen at the Academy—they used to call it the “ick” factor. Gossiping about men was fine as long as it didn’t cross over into “ick,” becoming TMI—Too Much Information.
She did, however, admit to Ro that she still had feelings for Drew.
“But it d
oesn’t matter,” she went on. “He’s made it clear that he’s moved on, and expects me to do the same. Not every man and woman who love each other are supposed to make it as a couple. It’s not realistic. Besides, I don’t see myself married again, Ro. It’s not how I want to live my life.”
“Love isn’t a realistic emotion, Gwen. Marriage is the most unrealistic commitment out there if you take it at face value. Promise yourself to one person only for the rest of your life? Crazy.” Ro warmed up their tea with more from her blue ceramic pot. “I know you need to prove you can make it on your own, no dependency on anyone else. But that isn’t how life works, Gwen. Didn’t you learn that when you rescued Pax? He wouldn’t have made it without you.”
Gwen felt as though her heart was jumping in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Even if Drew and I had a chance to redo it, or more likely, start over from scratch, this wouldn’t be the time.”
“There is no perfect time, Gwen! Didn’t almost dying teach you anything?” Ro put her arm around Gwen’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You need someone to help you when Pax gets here, sis. He is going to get here. I feel it in my bones.”
Gwen leaned her head against Ro. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Ro patted her back and reached for her tea. “Drew needs someone he can rely on to help him through this ugly mess at the clinic. I can’t believe he’ll be charged with murder, not without more conclusive evidence from the autopsy report. But he’ll probably get sued, maybe even lose his practice. He needs you, Gwen. No one else knows him like you do.”
Gwen gripped the dainty teacup to keep her hands from shaking. Anxiety had plagued her since they’d started back home. The closer they got to Whidbey, the more reality cut into the brief reverie she’d shared with Drew.
She shook her head. “It’s ironic that I wanted to surprise Drew with an outing to take his mind off the clinic, and it ends up being another major complication for both of us. Neither of us needs a serious relationship right now, even if we’ve known each other forever.”
Even if you admit to yourself that you’re in love with him.
“Let go of who you think you’re supposed to be, Gwen. Go with it. Just do the next indicated task.”
“Like plebe summer?”