“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, what would be your type, then?”
She thought about it for a moment.
Emily said, “My point exactly. You’re not exactly the best at opening up to people. Not that it isn’t understandable, given your family history and everything, but maybe he’s worth a chance.”
CHAPTER TEN
Parked for over an hour outside the Stevens Youth Shelter on Thursday, Cullen Fraser kept his eye on the front door until Nicole Bosko finally appeared just after six p.m. A gust of wind tossed her hair around her face and she reached up to brush it away before starting down the steps. When she spotted the car, she hesitated a moment, then stepped forward.
Cullen reached over and opened the door. “Want a ride?” he said, adding when she made no move, “I wanted to update you on the investigation.”
Raising her eyebrows, she got in and put her handbag on her lap. She was wearing dark jeans and an oversized coffee-colored sweater. She looked like a million bucks, her skin soft and flawless, her hair silky. His stomach clenched.
He cleared his throat. “Everything okay between us?”
Eyes narrowed, she said, “What do you mean?”
She obviously wasn’t going to make it easy, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. “I’m talking about the other day.”
“You already apologized. Let’s just forget about it, okay?” She stared straight ahead. “I thought you wanted to update me on your investigation.”
“I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”
“I’m not going to report you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Can you just drive me home?”
Being reported hadn’t been his worry so much as correcting her impression he was a total jerk. Which he had been. But he wasn’t. Usually.
He pulled into traffic, drove to the end of the block, and hung a right. “Thank you, but I also wanted to say I’m not an asshole.”
“What about obnoxious? I distinctly remember calling you an obnoxious asshole. Are you admitting to being obnoxious?” The barest hint of amusement lit her eyes.
“I always thought they were one and the same.”
This time, the spark in her eyes was accompanied by a slight smile on those luscious lips. “I suppose you’re right.”
His heart did a little flip and he wanted to touch her so badly it hurt, to trace his hand up her arm and across her face. What was up with that? He was acting like lovesick schoolboy.
He said, “By the way, I know about the runaway.”
She tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“Michelle. The girl you were with the day you ran from me.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, I’m not here about her. I have no interest in bringing her in, if that’s what you’re worried about. But if you’d told me you were worried about her, instead of just complaining about police harassment in general, we would have saved a whole lot of trouble.”
Relief relaxed her face. “I couldn’t risk it; I wasn’t sure how you or your partner would react. I know he’s not a Riverton cop. I guess I thought there might be pressure. Besides, it’s kind of a murky area, legally speaking.”
“How is she doing?”
“She’s all right. She’s actually been moved to foster care while some more permanent arrangement is set up. Apparently, there’s an aunt she…” She let the sentence drop off, as if she realized she’d already told him too much.
“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. I don’t want to see kids sent back into bad homes no matter who their fathers are. I’m glad to hear things are working out.”
For a minute, neither of them said anything. He got the feeling she didn’t do small talk, and he wasn’t so great at it, either. There was a tension in the car, like weird currents pulling in different ways.
They were coming up to her street when she said, “Do you have any leads yet?”
“We’re following up on several things.” Not quite a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. He just didn’t want to tell her the chances of solving this cold case were slim. That they’d spent hours checking up on her father and even more time trying to track the elusive mystery man who had apparently been Lisa Bosko’s one-time lover.
“Like what?”
“Two other women went missing at the same time as your mother. One of the bodies was recovered two weeks after she went missing, in a park. The other woman’s body was never found.”
She paled. “Was anybody ever charged?”
He shook his head. “The woman whose body was found died of a single bullet wound. She was thirty-eight, divorced. Police suspected her boyfriend but they couldn’t prove anything and he was never charged. He’s in prison in California serving life for murdering two pharmacists in a drugstore robbery.”
“Do you think there’s a connection with my mother?”
“It’s too early to say. We’re checking his alibi for the time your mother went missing and he’s being interviewed in prison tomorrow. I’ll fill you in when I find out how that went.”
She shivered. “I realize it’s not your fault, but it doesn’t sound hopeful, does it?”
He pinched his lips together, debating whether to come straight with her. “Cold cases can be difficult but there’s still hope. I was pulled off the case this week for two days to look into another homicide.”
“The university student?”
He nodded. On Tuesday, a fourth-year chemistry student who sold marijuana to help fund his education had been murdered during a drug deal. This morning, they’d charged one of his clients, another university student, with murder.
She said, “But you’re still working on my mother’s case?”
“When I can, yes. I won’t give up.”
She inhaled shakily. “Thank you.”
A minute later, he pulled up in front of her apartment building.
“Thank you.” She was about to open the door, then turned to him. “Would you like to come up for coffee? Or a sandwich? That’s all I can offer. I don’t have anything planned for supper. There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
Even though he knew this was strictly professional, his heart did that funny flip again. Signs suggested a thawing of her attitude toward him. “Why don’t we just go somewhere so you don’t have to bother?”
She studied him a moment, then shook her head. “I was out last night and to tell you the truth, I don’t feel up to it. Plus, I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“A sandwich is fine.”
Inside, he made coffee while she made ham and cheese sandwiches. They sat in the living room, balancing plates on their laps. The room had been decorated on the cheap, but it felt warm and welcoming.
She said, “Did you know my mother used to work for Allan Spidell?”
“The guy who owns the grocery stores?”
“She worked as his bookkeeper for a couple of years. He was at the memorial last week, but he didn’t stay long. He’s a big guy, sort of stocky, tall.”
“I remember. Was that his son you were talking to?”
“Jason Spidell, yes. We have a history.” She took a bite of her sandwich. “Anyway, about his father, he mentioned he was a friend of my mother’s. And Jason told me his dad and my father had a falling out.”
“What it was about?”
“I think it goes back to when Jason and I were teenagers. We got in trouble.”
“Jason led you down a wayward path?”
“Not at all. I led myself. We stole a motorboat and went for a joyride. We’d both been drinking. We crashed. The boat was totaled. Jason was driving, but I was a willing participant in the ride. He didn’t force me.”
“But neither of you was hurt, which is the main thing, as the cliché goes.” That she hadn’t been hurt suddenly cheered him.
“The thing is, Jason’s father made sure Jason got off scot-free, whereas my father’d had enough of my hijinks and was more than happy to let the ju
dge send me to detention.”
“Doesn’t sound fair.”
She thought for a moment. “In the end, my father might have done me a favor. Jason ended up doing a stint in jail.”
“What for?”
“He got in a fight in a restaurant and smashed a chair over somebody’s head. I don’t know any more details. It was a few years back and I think he’s doing okay these days.” She took a sip of coffee, set the mug down on the table. “But I didn’t ask you up here to talk about me or Jason. I just wanted to fill you in on Allan Spidell. Maybe the trouble between him and my father started when Jason and I got into trouble, because my father thought Jason should have had the book thrown at him. But maybe it started earlier.”
Cullen made a mental note to pay Spidell a visit. “You mean back to when your mother was alive and working for Allan Spidell?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it? I just thought you might want to check it out.”
He nodded and she got up, picked up the dirty plates, and carried them into the kitchen. When she came back, she said, “Regardless of what you think of me, I’ve put those days behind me.”
He bristled. “How do you know what I think of you?”
“You’re right. That was unfair.” She sat down. “And you? Can I ask why you became a cop?”
“A lot of reasons. But when I was a teenager—mostly obeying the law, by the way—a friend’s older sister went missing. She was in high school, working part time at a hardware store. She finished her shift, said good-bye to her coworkers, walked out into the parking lot, and was never heard from again. Three years later, her father died of a heart attack. He went to his grave not knowing what happened to his daughter.”
He could still picture her, tall and skinny, nicknamed Ginger because of her red hair, smart as a whip, focused on school. A face he’d never forget.
Tears stained her eyes. “I’m sorry. But from what I’ve been reading there are lots of those stories.”
A sudden heaviness weighed on his chest. It was true. In many cases, families never got answers. He wanted desperately to find answers for Nicole, but would he be able to? He looked away, unsure of what to say.
She wiped her eyes. “In some ways I think I would have been better off not knowing my mother was dead.”
Despair darkening her eyes, she slumped forward and put her face in her hands and he had no trouble picturing the little girl in her, the one who had waited many years for her mother to come back before finally giving up. All the while raised by a father, already overworked, who was forced to raise two young daughters by himself.
Her stumbling along the way to adulthood wasn’t hard to understand.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Allan Spidell’s horse ranch was about twenty-five miles east of Riverton, near a small town called Taunton Lake. Nicky had always thought the name odd, since there was no lake within miles of the town. There was a river¸ the Sutton, which the road met up with five miles outside of Taunton Lake. Slow and brackish, the river resembled a dark rope uncoiled across the green farm fields.
Just before the town limits, Nicky drove past a new subdivision, where half a dozen houses were under construction in a treeless field, then spotted the Spidell ranch on a hill in the distance. Allan Spidell had once joked he’d built on the hill so he could see his enemies coming, but she suspected it had more to do with a desire to display his wealth.
She turned off the road onto a long gravel driveway that curved back and forth as it mounted the hill. The house, built thirty years ago, was in the style of a traditional farmhouse, although with exaggerated columns and a curved front entry that someone must have thought a good idea at the time.
Jason answered the door. “Nicky, surprised to see you.” He stepped aside, grinned. “Surprised but delighted.”
They walked into the kitchen, where a woman who couldn’t have been much older than Nicky sat at a stool at an oversized island.
Jason said, “Nicky, have you met Melanie? The new Mrs. Spidell?” The smirk accompanying the introduction suggested they weren’t best of friends, but you could never be sure with Jason. She supposed he lived here, which shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise.
Standing, Melanie shook her hand. “I’m sorry about your mother.” The way that she said it made it sound like she wasn’t just being polite.
“Thank you. Had you met my mother?” Melanie would have been quite young, but it was possible.
“No, but Allan talked about her and I’ve been paying attention to the news. And I lost my mother when I was quite young. The circumstances weren’t as tragic, but still.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” On closer look, Nicky realized Melanie was older than she had first appeared, maybe in her mid- to late-thirties. She had little lines between her brows and crow’s feet around her eyes, suggesting she smiled a lot. She had a healthy, tanned complexion, as if she spent a lot of time outdoors, and jeans and a chambray shirt reinforced that impression.
Melanie said, “Have you had lunch?”
Nicky declined. The kitchen had been updated in the decade since she’d been here, and it had dark wood cabinets, sleek appliances, and miles of granite countertop.
Melanie sat back down at the island, tucked into a half-eaten sandwich.
Jason cleared his throat. “Have you come to see me?”
Melanie rolled her eyes and Nicky realized she hadn’t been wrong about the tension. These two did not get along.
She smiled at Melanie, warming to the third Mrs. Spidell. “I came to see your husband, actually. Is he here?”
“Let me call him. He shouldn’t be too far away.” Melanie picked up a cell phone off the counter. He must have answered the phone, because she explained the reason for the call, listened for a moment, and hung up. “He’s at the stables. You’ll have to drive. Just follow the road for a minute and you’ll see it on the right.”
Jason was leaning against a wall. “Do you want me to take you?”
Thanking her, Nicky turned to Jason. “I should be able to find it.”
The stable was a big timber-frame structure a few minutes’ drive down the lane. It looked new and expensive, with cedar siding and a silver metal roof. A riding ring out front looked new, too.
She parked behind a pickup truck at the side of the lane, just past a gate leading to a large fenced field where five horses grazed. A chestnut foal with a black tail peeked from behind its mother’s dark flanks.
Walking up to the stable’s set of heavy double doors, she used both hands to roll one to the side and entered. The smell of cedar, mixed with the sweet smell of hay and manure, filled the air. Beams crisscrossed the high vaulted ceiling. She called out but heard no answer so walked up the wide center aisle. A dozen stalls, six on each side, stood empty.
About to call out again, she heard a noise. Whipping her head around, she saw Allan Spidell standing in the shadows, watching her. Carrying a saddle on his arm, he must have just come out of the tack room.
“You scared me,” she said, her hand at her chest.
“Hello there.” Allan Spidell put the saddle on a rack, then walked over to shake her hand. He wore a thick gold necklace with a horseshoe pendant and as he got closer, she picked up the sour smell of alcohol on his breath.
She looked around. “This looks new.”
“We’ve been doing a lot of work. We just finished this barn in the spring. Last year we put in a half-mile training track and the year before we added another pond.”
“Impressive.” If he had money worries, they weren’t in evidence here.
“Melanie, my wife—did you meet Melanie?—she’s been around horses her whole life. She’s giving riding lessons and we’re going to start boarding.”
Nicky smiled. He spoke with some pride, his chest thrust out and his chin high. Again, she was aware of a kind of brutish power. He’d always struck her as a man who wouldn’t let anything get in the way of what he wanted.
He said, “Was th
ere something you wanted to see me about? If it’s horse-related, you’ve come to the right place.” He chuckled.
“I just came to talk about my mother, to see what else you can tell me about her.”
“You’re the spitting image of her, I can tell you that much.” He ran his hand along the side board of a stall. “I was fond of her. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay very long after the service.”
“Jason says you and my dad don’t get along.”
“True, unfortunately. But what can you do?” He shrugged.
She prodded. “Was it to do with what happened with Jason and me?”
He nodded.
She said, “You’d think it would all be water under the bridge by now.”
“With your father, it’s never water under bridge. Never will be.” Shrugging again, he took off the ball cap on his head, slapped it against his thigh, and then put it back on. “I’m too old to worry about getting along with your father.”
“Did you ever date my mother?”
He stiffened, instantly defensive. “What makes you ask that?”
She shrugged, tried to act casual. “Just curious. I was young when my mom disappeared. I’m just trying to find out more about her.”
He relaxed. “We were friends throughout school, your mother, me, your Uncle Steve and a few others, but we drifted apart when we graduated from high school. Her friendship with me never crossed the line. Not by choice on my part, I might add. Your mother had her heart set on somebody else.” He picked up a broom, swept around the front of a stall. “Then your mom came back to Riverton, after college, and your father swept her off her feet.”
“How’d she come to work for you?”
“She applied for a bookkeeping job.”
“Did you hire her personally?”
He nodded. “But it wasn’t any kind of nepotism. She was the most qualified candidate. Your mother was very smart.”
“Why’d she quit?”
Frowning, he chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’m not sure. It wasn’t long before she took off.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, what everybody thought at the time was her taking off. Maybe a month or two. She wouldn’t say. I thought maybe she just wanted to spend more time at home. I thought she enjoyed the job, but there was nothing I could do to change her mind.”
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