Cold Case Reopened

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She raised her head to peer at him. At the strong, straight line of his jaw, stubbled with his evening beard. “I can’t stop thinking about all that’s happened. All we still have to do.”

  He shifted until they were almost eye-to-eye. Until his nose bumped hers and his breath warmed her lips. His body was hard beside hers. Strong. The body of a warrior with the scars to prove it, she realized, noticing the shine of old scars along his shoulder and upper arm.

  She raised her hand and ran the tips of her fingers along it, her gaze on those injuries before skipping up to meet his.

  “Shrapnel from an IED. Kandahar province.”

  He said it matter-of-factly, but there was no missing the tension that crept into his body.

  “Did you lose anyone?” she said and stroked her hand across the scars, wanting to soothe him the way he had her so often in the last few days.

  “We avoided the worst of the blast and didn’t lose anyone. Didn’t lose anyone on my tours of duty and brought everyone home,” he said, pride evident in his tone.

  She had no doubt his leadership was part of the reason. That kind of leadership would have been coveted anywhere, which made her wonder why he had chosen Regina.

  “Was Regina home for you?” she asked, wanting to know more about the man who was unexpectedly becoming a part of her life. A man who was tempting her at a time when she needed to be focused on only one thing: finding her sister.

  He nodded. “I grew up in Regina, and my parents lived here until they moved to Florida. It’s a safe place that I want to keep safe so I can raise my kids here.”

  Kids. She wondered if there had ever been anyone he’d wanted to have his children and the question escaped her before common sense could silence her.

  “No one special,” he said. “Before now,” he quickly added and locked his steely gray gaze on her. He cradled her cheek and traced the outline of her lips with his thumb.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath trapped in her chest. The rough pad of his finger was a powerful caress and jolted her core alive.

  “Jax,” she eked out past the knot in her throat.

  “Relax, Rhea. It’s too soon, and we have too much to do,” he said and tempered his touch, releasing her gaze and shifting his hand to the back of her skull to draw her close. He massaged her head tenderly, easing past the charged moment. Bringing some peace as her mind traveled from thoughts of the past and Selene to those of a happier future. One possibly spent exploring whatever was going on with Jackson. Maybe kids. Maybe a little shop along the quaint street in Regina. A Matt-free Selene finally doing what she loved.

  Rhea’s light snore and the softness of her body along his confirmed she had fallen asleep. It brought a smile and relief to Jackson.

  It had been a difficult day and night with all that had happened. Tomorrow would be no less stressful.

  Even though they had picked up clothing from Rhea’s apartment that hopefully had enough of Selene’s scent to examine the bonfire ashes, unless Matt consented they’d have to wait for a search warrant. Regardless of that, he’d done enough research to recreate the bonfire Matt had kept going all night.

  Hopefully that recreation would provide the information they could use to either charge Matt or get the search warrant they needed.

  And if not...

  Jackson refused to consider that possibility. One way or another, he’d find out what had happened to Selene that fateful fall night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jackson examined the circle of pavers that his friend Declan had recreated from the crime scene photos. A large pile of wood sat a few feet away, ready for a fire.

  “What do you think?” Declan said, arms crossed as he also scoped out his work and shot a quick look at Rhea.

  “It looks like Matt’s firepit,” Rhea said and strolled around the circle, likewise scrutinizing Declan’s work. “Thank you so much.”

  “Anything for my friend Jax,” Declan said and clapped Jackson on the back, making him wince from the force of the blow.

  “Easy, dude,” Jackson warned and eyeballed Rhea, hoping she hadn’t caught his pain, but she had.

  “Sorry, dude. I forgot,” Declan said. He gestured toward the back of his restaurant. “I’m going to go get the hog, okay?”

  Jackson forced a smile. “That would be great, and thanks again for helping us with this. Let me know what I owe you—”

  “No way, dude. I owe you big time,” Declan said, raising his hands to stop Jackson from insisting on his request.

  “Well, thanks,” he said and watched as his friend returned to his building to fetch the pig carcass they were going to cremate.

  “You okay?” she asked. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she gently skimmed her hand from his upper arm to the middle of his back, as if trying to soothe his pain.

  He nodded, his lips tight against both the slight sting that lingered from his friend’s exuberance and admitting weakness to Rhea. “I’m okay. I still have pain sometimes from the shrapnel damage.”

  Turning into him, she surrounded him with her arms and hugged him, providing comfort and peace he hadn’t felt in quite some time. Not since before Afghanistan.

  The moment was shattered as Declan and one of his workers returned, arms wrapped around a large hog that roughly weighed the same as Selene. They wrestled the carcass to the center of the firepit and dropped it. It landed with a thud, kicking up dirt. Making Rhea jump with the sound.

  He returned her embrace, hugging her close. Peering at her, he said, “Are you ready to do this?”

  She shook her head. “No, but there’s no choice is there? Not if we want to know if Matt did this to Selene.”

  Before he could warn Rhea not to get her hopes up, she was in action, making a pile of brush and kindling above the hog. As she started to expertly stack the logs, he joined her and said, “I see you’ve built campfires before.”

  “Selene and I were Girl Scouts. We started a lot of campfires in our day,” she said, adding more wood to the tipi atop the hog.

  He helped her, adding logs and tinder until the body of the pig was almost completely covered.

  Jackson stepped back, hands on his hips as he scrutinized their prospective campfire. Rhea joined him, staring at the pile and then up at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s ready.” He reached into his pocket for the box of matches and, once the match was lit, tossed it into the tinder material. The first hint of flame quickly flared into more. Smoke came from the pile along with the crackle and snap of wood igniting. The fire had taken.

  Satisfied, he headed to the trunk of the police cruiser where he’d stowed two portable camping chairs. Rhea and he set them up several feet away from the campfire. The heat quickly built from the intensity of the flames, but they still had to keep it going for several hours, much like Matt had done the night of Selene’s disappearance.

  Rhea was silent as they sat there, staring into the flames as they consumed the pig. The smell of the meat roasting was awkward. While there was no denying it was pork, it made her wonder...

  No, better not to wonder, she told herself.

  Jackson shifted from his chair to add more logs and keep the fire going. It had barely been an hour, but the greedy flames were quickly eating up the wood on the pile, as well as the carcass beneath the ash and embers. Because of that, Jackson walked over to an area with wood waiting to be split, grabbed an ax and went to work.

  He swung the heavy ax with ease the same way he had chopped with the machete the day before. He was clearly a man used to physical labor, despite the injuries that still seemed to bother him. Over and over he swung the ax, the thunk of it hitting the log loud in the quiet of late morning.

  Feeling guilty, she rose and went over to collect the split wood and add it to the pile by the fire. Tossing more logs into the firepit as we
ll to keep the flames going.

  The physical labor helped to keep her mind off what was happening in the firepit, but it also whet her hunger. Especially as Declan’s restaurant opened for lunch service and the smokers that they’d loaded up that morning were opened, spewing the tasty smells of barbecued meats into the air.

  Almost as if he’d read her mind, Declan exited from the back of the restaurant with a large tray loaded with food and drinks. He brought it over and placed it on a stump by their chairs. “I thought you might be hungry by now.”

  “Thank you. That was very thoughtful,” she replied.

  Declan did a side glance at the firepit as Jackson approached. “I know this is a tough thing for you.”

  She nodded. “It is, but your help has really made it easier.”

  Declan shrugged. “Like I said before. Anything for Jax...and for you since...well, you and Jax.” He stopped, clearly uncertain and possibly uneasy as Jackson returned from splitting logs.

  With a laugh, Jackson wagged his head. “Deck, you always manage to talk too much.”

  “And before I stick my foot in my mouth even deeper, I’m going,” he said as he jerked a thumb in the direction of the restaurant and backed away.

  Rhea smiled at the friendly and jovial exchange between the two. “I guess you’ve known each other a long time.”

  Jackson chuckled, sat and reached for one of the plates that Declan had brought out. “You might say that. We grew up together, but then I went off to college and Deck stayed to help his family with the restaurant.”

  “Have they had it for long?” The building was well-kept and had that look of age that hinted at permanence.

  “A few generations.” Jackson took a big bite of the brisket sandwich Declan had provided.

  “Where did you go to college?” she asked, wanting to know more about the man who was intriguing her on so many levels.

  “Annapolis,” was his one-word answer around a mouthful of pulled pork.

  She picked up her own sandwich, grateful it was beef and not pork. She nibbled the burnt ends, murmuring her approval. “Delicious.”

  With a nod, Jackson took another big bite. After swallowing, he said, “His pops taught him well, and Deck really upped his game. He’s won quite a number of competitions over the years.”

  Rhea admired the pride that Jackson had in his friend, as well as the fact that they had been friends for so long. Much like the permanence of the restaurant, it spoke to Jackson’s character and the fact that he was a man you could count on. But then again, he’d more than proved that over the last few days.

  “You were a Marine?” she said, resuming her earlier quest for information.

  “I am a Marine. Once a Marine always a Marine,” he said with a smile.

  Yet more proof of his ability to commit. “And then you came home and became a cop?”

  With a small shrug, he swallowed the last of his sandwich. “I wanted to serve, and it seemed like the best place to do it.”

  In a town the size of Regina, she imagined crime was usually limited to minor incidents, which was why Selene’s case had been such a big deal at the time. “It must be pretty quiet in Regina for the most part.”

  He placed his plate back on the tray and did another shift of his shoulders. “It is. Problems with people partying too much. Noise complaints. Shoplifting. Occasionally a burglary or assault.”

  “Cat up a tree,” she teased, imagining him dealing with a dowager and her felonious feline.

  Jackson laughed as she’d intended. “More like bear up a tree. Those suckers can really climb,” he said, but then he grew a little more serious. “I like it. I like dealing with people. Solving problems. If I become chief...”

  There was something in the way his voice trailed off that warned there was an issue there.

  “Are you next in line?” she asked, wondering about his hesitation.

  “I was...am,” he said with a little more confidence, but she sensed his concern. When he shot her a hurried, almost furtive glance, she realized she was the cause of that worry.

  “Your chief was going to blow me off, wasn’t he?”

  “Let’s just say he wasn’t sure there was enough evidence to reopen the case.” Jackson rose and tossed more wood on the bonfire before returning to his chair.

  He was in major avoidance-mode, but she wasn’t going to give up until she had her answer. “But you decided differently, and he didn’t like that.”

  Heaving a sigh, he nailed her with his gray gaze, now almost charcoal with his upset. “You know you would have made a great interrogator.”

  She met his gaze. “I suspect you think I’m more like a Grand Inquisitor. But I don’t give up, which is why we’re sitting here, trying to cremate a hog.”

  “It is,” he admitted with a slight dip of his head.

  “But that put you in hot water. Maybe even enough to affect you becoming chief?” She hated that she might be the reason Jackson’s career was at risk.

  His demeanor was deadly serious as he said, “If it gets to the truth of what happened to Selene, it’s worth it, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  “And you remember your promise, right?” he pressed, turning the tables on her.

  She remembered, as much as she might not like accepting that Selene was truly gone. “I do, Jax. I remember it every time we hit another brick wall.”

  Jackson nodded and worried that today’s experiment would turn into another disappointment for Rhea. With that in mind, he said, “I reached out to people who might know more about cremating bodies.”

  She tilted her head and focused on him, her gaze both questioning and challenging. “Does that mean you don’t think this is going to prove anything?”

  He hesitated, but had to be truthful. Especially since he’d already kept his problems with the chief secret. “It may prove something you don’t want.”

  “Which is?” she urged and gripped the arms of the seat with hands white with pressure.

  Gesturing with his hands, he mimicked the path of the flames in the bonfire. “With those low paver walls, we’re getting a lot of flames, but the energy of the fire is being expended upward.”

  A deep furrow marred her brow. “What does that change?”

  He once again used his hands to illustrate what he’d learned. “If the fire was contained, like in a barrel or a pit with higher sides, you’d get more heat in a concentrated area.”

  Her eyes opened wider and she nodded, getting what he was saying. “We may not have enough heat to cremate...”

  She couldn’t finish, and he didn’t push on that point. “Bingo.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone. He opened up his digital notebook with the crime scene photos of Matt’s bonfire. Leaning close to Rhea, he held the phone so she could see, although he suspected they were tattooed on her brain.

  “There’s a lot of ash here, but nothing else.”

  “He could have taken away anything that was left.”

  He couldn’t deny that. “He could possible remove larger bits of bones, but getting rid of other—”

  “What other?” she countered.

  “Body residues. Teeth,” he said, but she held a hand up to stop him, the sheen of tears glistening in her gaze.

  “I don’t want to upset you—”

  She cut him off again with a quick wave of her hand. “I get it, Jax.”

  He had no doubt she did, but just in case, he reviewed what Matt had done that night. “He started a bonfire and went up to the ridge location.”

  “Supposedly. He could have also followed Selene to Regina.”

  Jackson drilled back to the pages in his digital notebook on the timelines Rhea had worked out. Analyzing them, he said, “He could have. It’s only about forty-five minutes to Regina, and the neighbo
rs say he was gone for a few hours.”

  Losing some of her earlier upset, Rhea jumped right into helping him work through the materials. “We have two witnesses who place an SUV near Selene’s car.”

  With a nod, he ran a finger across his screen, scrolling through the notes and then thought out loud. “Let’s say he and Selene did fight. She storms off. He’s pissed and needs to literally burn off his anger. He starts the bonfire. But he’s still really pissed at Selene and needs to do something about that.”

  Rhea joined in. “He goes after her to give her a piece of his mind. There’s really only one way to Denver, and it runs right through Regina. He finds her. They fight again and something happens.”

  Jackson wagged his head. “But it’s possible Selene took longer to get to the lake than everyone originally thought. We’ll have to investigate that. But let’s assume he ran into Selene right away. Why not just toss her body in the lake?”

  “We’d find Selene right away in the lake, wouldn’t we?”

  Jackson immediately knew where she was going. “Which is why you think she may still be alive. Because otherwise we’d have found her body in the lake.” He paused for a moment and then quickly added, “Unless the spillway was open to keep the lake levels in check.”

  She whipped out her phone, and her elegant fingers danced over the smartphone screen. With a satisfied dip of her head, she held it up for him to see a report she’d obtained.

  He’d only done a quick glance at it before, but now he took her phone, used his thumb and forefinger to zoom the image. Rhea had filed a Freedom of Information Act request to obtain information on spillway activity from the department that managed it.

  “Spillway was closed that night and for days after. If Matt put Selene in the lake—”

  “Or if she killed herself—which she didn’t—we would have found her body,” Rhea finished.

  The crackle and thump of logs collapsing in the fire drew his attention. Embers shot up and danced in the air as more wood fell in the center of the pit. “Time for more logs.”