by Linda Warren
The man looked up with a scowl. “How did you get in here? We’re not open. José!” he shouted to the boy. “Lock that damn door!” And then the man trained his eyes on Cole. “And you can leave before he locks it.”
Cole pulled out his badge and introduced himself.
“What do you want?”
“Answers.” Cole placed his badge back into his pocket.
“Fresh out of those.”
Cole looked around at the empty club. “I could come back with a team of cops to search this place, or we can make it simple. Your choice.”
“What do you want to know?” The man wasn’t taking any chances on cops searching the club.
“Do you know Joel Briggs?”
“You mean the football player? Yeah, I know who he is.”
“Does he come in here?”
The man shook his head. “I’ve never seen him in here.”
“Are you sure?”
“A lot of men come in here. I can’t be positive, but I think if Joel Briggs came in, I would notice him.”
Another dead end. Or the man could be lying. Cole wasn’t giving up.
“Do you know Allan Hernandez?”
“No, I’ve never heard of him.”
“Think a little harder.”
The man shook his head. “No, sorry, never heard of the man.”
Cole leaned on the bar. “You know, if you’re lying to me, I will be back, and I won’t be alone.” He strolled toward the door.
“Mr., Mr....” The Mexican boy ran toward him as the man at the bar disappeared into a back room.
Cole stopped and stared at the boy.
“Is Allan in trouble?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You’re a cop, and you’re looking for him. He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do nothing wrong.”
“You know Allan?”
“Yeah, he got me this job.”
The break he was looking for—just a tiny detail. “Allan is a customer here?”
“Yes. He just comes in to drink and look at the pretty girls. He doesn’t do nothing wrong.”
“I see. How often does he come in?”
The boy shrugged. “Couple times a week.”
Another lie. He thanked the boy and assured him Allan wasn’t in any trouble. Not yet. Not until Cole got his hands on him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT TOOK COLE less than ten minutes to drive to the sporting goods store. He retrieved a big pad and pen from his briefcase and marched inside. He walked through the store to Allan’s office in the back. The door was partially open, and when he kicked it with his foot, it banged against the wall.
Allan jumped in his seat and carefully laid the cell he was holding on his desk. Obviously José had called.
Cole placed the pad in front of him. “I want the truth this time.”
Allan got to his feet. “I had to lie. If my wife found out, she would leave me.”
Cole poked the pad. “Write down what happened the night someone broke your jaw. Every detail.”
“Will my wife find out?”
“If you don’t tell me the truth in writing, I will personally pay her a visit.” He was bluffing, but Allan didn’t know that.
Allan sat down and began to write. Cole patiently waited. It was a tiny break, but it was a good one. It proved Briggs was violent and had a temper, which would help in a custody hearing. But it didn’t prove Briggs had done anything to Brooke. This was just the tip of the iceberg, though—a tiny piece of a big puzzle that he had to put together. The more he investigated, the clearer the picture became. He had to keep poking to get to the truth.
When Allan finished writing, he ripped off the page and handed it to Cole.
“So that was your first night at the bar?”
“Yes, that happened just like I told you. The bouncers weren’t at the door, and I just walked in. Joel was bragging how he was a better player than the ones on the TV screen, and after too many drinks I said, ‘I’ve seen you play, and you’re not that great.’ That’s when he hit me. I woke up in the ER and he was there.”
“Briggs was in the ER being treated?”
“No. He came to see me and he apologized. He said he was sorry he lost his temper, and he asked that I not mention his name. He gets TV commercials and stuff like that, and his income would suffer.”
“And you agreed?”
“Yeah. He’s a celebrity, and I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“He assaulted you. That’s a crime, and he should be punished for that.”
Allan shook his head. “I’m done, and I’m not bringing charges against anyone. Besides, he kind of made up for that by buying stuff from the store, and he got me into Deuces. After my jaw healed, he cleared it with the manager and I can come in any time I want.”
“So Briggs has power at Deuces?”
Allen shrugged. “I guess.”
“Did you ever see Brooke Bennett in the club?”
“Yeah. She’s a waitress, and everyone knows she’s Joel’s girlfriend. She’s beautiful and the guys like her. They’re always giving her big tips.”
“Had she worked there for long?”
“No, at first she just came in with Briggs to get a drink and visit with people and leave. I guess it was about six months later I noticed her waiting tables. I didn’t understand that. If she was Joel’s girlfriend, why would she have to work at that job? But I didn’t ask.”
Another piece to the puzzle.
“Briggs was okay with other guys touching her?”
“I don’t know. He never stayed around that long.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’d come in, and he would sit at the bar while she got into her outfit and went to work. It would get busy. I’d look around, and he was gone. I never knew where he went.”
“But Brooke was still there?”
“Yeah.”
Another piece fit perfectly into the picture. Briggs was in the back room gambling while Brooke was working. That had to be the answer. Briggs was a gambler. He probably was addicted. Cole had to be sure, though.
Back in his truck, he went over every detail. If Briggs was violent and a gambler, Grace had a good chance of keeping Zoe. Cole had Heather and Allan’s statements, but he still needed more. He didn’t want to get Grace’s hopes up until he was positive she could keep Zoe.
He stretched his shoulders and realized it was almost six o’clock. He had to check on his grandpa and see how things were going with Grace and Zoe. For the first time in a long time that’s where he wanted to go—home.
* * *
GRACE WAS BUSY trying to keep up with a cantankerous old man. It annoyed her that he seemed to have more energy than her. All day they worked on preparing food for Thanksgiving, and Grace was exhausted. She’d never dreamed this much work went into a meal. And it was only for two people.
Zoe rolled into the kitchen in her walker mumbling. Grace squatted in front of her. “What’s wrong, smooches?”
“Ah, she was playing with Rascal, and he got tired and retreated to his bed. She wants to keep playing.”
“She’s tired, too,” Grace replied. “She’s been chasing him all day.”
Grace was about to take her out of the walker when she heard the back door open. It had to be Cole. Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t believe how excited she was to see him.
Cole appeared in the doorway, and Zoe immediately rolled over to him and held up her hands. Cole lifted her and patted her back. “Are you fussy?”
Was he talking baby talk? A smile touched her face.
Mr. Walt took her from Cole. “She’s just tired. I’ll rock her for a little while.”
“Mr. Walt, it’s after supper and I don’t want her to go sleep just yet.”
“You can’t stop a
baby when she wants to sleep.”
Grace sighed.
“That bad, huh?”
“I haven’t killed him yet, but I’ve come close a couple of times.”
Cole grinned, and she knew he didn’t do that often. He looked around at the kitchen. “Looks like y’all been busy.”
She followed his glance to all the pots and pans and dishes in the sink and along the counter. It was a mess. “I will get everything cleaned up for tomorrow, but it takes a lot to get everything ready to cook. The bird is in the refrigerator. I’ve never stuffed so much butter up a bird’s butt and under its skin in my whole life. Mr. Walt says we have to take it out early so it’s room temperature when we put it in the oven. That’s on my checklist.”
“Grandma always worked for days to get ready for Thanksgiving.”
“Tell me about it. I sliced and diced and deboned until I was dizzy. Mr. Walt says there have to be chicken pieces in the dressing and gravy. Never heard of that. Giblets, too. Really never heard that. And hard-boiled eggs in the dressing and gravy. Seriously.” She took a long breath. “I really don’t know what I’m doing. I think Mr. Walt is pulling my leg most of the time.”
He smiled that smile again, and it made her light-headed, which she was sure had nothing to do with tiredness. “That’s the way my grandmother made it.”
“The corn and green beans are easy because your grandmother canned them and I’ll have to just heat them, but I really don’t get the sweet potatoes recipe. I peeled them like Mr. Walt told me, and then I cut them in half and then again. I lightly boiled them and put them on a plate, and they’re in the refrigerator. Tomorrow Mr. Walt wants me to roll them in sugar and fry them. Truly have never heard of this. I told him he’s the one who’s going to do the frying.”
“I’m sure he will.”
She leaned against the counter for a moment, forgetting what was upmost in her mind. “Please tell me after this long day that you have good news.”
She listened as he told her about the bar, a man named Hernandez and Briggs. “So you have more proof he’s violent?”
“Yes. He broke a man’s jaw, but Briggs got him to lie. I sent the information to Gabe, and he’ll try to get a hearing just as soon as he can. It’s information that will help you, but we really need something else. I’m waiting to hear from Amber, but I don’t think we’ll ever be able to prove that Briggs pushed Brooke down the stairs. I’m hoping, at least, that we can get enough information to secure Zoe’s future.”
Unable to resist, she hugged him around the waist. She expected him to be stiff, unyielding, but he actually returned the hug. Stepping back, she looked into his beautiful blue eyes, feeling warm all over. “Thank you.”
His hand reached out toward her face. “You have flour in your hair.”
“Oh.” She brushed at her hair. “I just finished the pies. I’m sure I have flour all over myself.”
He glanced at the pies cooling on a rack. “Grandma always did them in advance, too. Did you use her recipes?”
“I sure did.”
“Her pies were the best I’ve ever eaten. I don’t know what she put in them, but they’re just good. Grandpa probably wouldn’t eat the pie if you didn’t make it by her recipe.”
“Oh, yes, he pointed that out.” She picked up the index card with “Cora’s Pumpkin Pie” on it. It had food stains from years of use. She then reached for the pumpkin can on the counter. “It’s the same as the recipe on the can.”
His eyes narrowed. “No—”
“Compare them, Detective.”
He took them from her hands and glanced from one to the other, disbelief etched on his face. “This can’t be right.” He looked up. “It must be in the crust, then. Did you use her pie crust recipe? It’s flaky and out of this world. I never tasted pie crust like it before.”
She picked up the card with “Cora’s Pie Crust” and handed it to him. Then she picked up the Crisco can. “It’s the same as the one on the Crisco can.”
He shook his head. “Something’s wrong. Did you tell my grandpa this?”
“No, but I figured you were strong enough to take it.”
He frowned. If she had known it would upset him, she would never have said anything. She just thought it was amusing. She should’ve kept the amusing part to herself.
“Do you know what you’re feeling when you eat your grandmother’s cooking, her pies?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“It’s the love she put into everything she cooked for you. That’s what you feel.”
His frown eased into a blank stare, and then he shook his head again. “You’re making my head hurt.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.
She checked to make sure Mr. Walt and Zoe were okay and then followed Cole to his bedroom. The hall light was on, but his room was in darkness. She could see him sitting on the side of the bed. She sat down beside him.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“As a child I waited and waited for a sign that my grandmother loved me, that she actually knew I was alive and not Jamie. And all the time... Looking back, I can see I was fixated on the bad stuff, but there really were some good times. Before Thanksgiving she would make this big chocolate cake. I love chocolate cake. I thought she made it from scratch, but who knows—it probably was from a box. It didn’t matter. She made it for me, and it was delicious. She would say, ‘Eat all you want, Cole. It’s your birthday.’ Even though I knew it wasn’t my birthday, I soaked up all those good vibes. She’d call me by my name. Then she would kiss the top of my head. I’d forgotten that.”
“She loved you the only way she could in her grief,” Grace said.
“When Bo and I decided to join the Army, Grandpa said I had to tell her. She threw a fit and screamed, saying I couldn’t go, that I would get killed and she would never see me again. She begged me not to leave, but I went anyway. That is something I will always regret.” He took a long breath and ran his hands up his face. “Every time I came home on leave, she would have a chocolate cake waiting, and I had to take chocolate chip cookies with me when I left. That was my grandma. She cooked. Even though they weren’t her own recipes, she cooked them better than anyone.”
“Yes, she did,” Grace replied, linking her arm through his. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” He gazed at her through the darkness, and she could feel the warmth of his eyes. “I think I’m going to have to start calling you Amazing Grace.”
“You do and I’ll smack you.”
“Have you ever smacked anyone?”
“No, but there’s always a first time.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Cole?”
“Hmm?”
“I really like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“But you have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah. There’s that.”
The silence hung between them like a curtain that needed to be pushed aside, but he made no effort to do so. And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
Rascal barked in the living room, and Grace got to her feet. “Zoe’s awake, and I have to give her a bath and put her to bed.” She walked out of the room, feeling something she couldn’t explain.
She was getting too close. She cared too much about him, and she didn’t want to upend his life, so she had to back away from her feelings. Besides, she had too much on her plate to get involved with anyone. He’d been too nice to her for her to do otherwise.
* * *
COLE WOKE UP at five and could hear voices in the kitchen. Grace was already up. She and Grandpa were getting an early start. He went to the bathroom, shaved and took a shower. In his bedroom he put on jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the kitchen.
At Grace’s door, he stopped. Zoe was in her bed, sitting up and playing with
something. She wasn’t crying. Unable to walk away, he stepped into the room. Zoe crawled to the rails and pulled herself up. She smiled at him, and he could see her two bottom teeth.
“Do you want out of there?” He had to stop talking baby talk. Jeez, that was annoying.
She held up her arms, and he lifted her out of the bed. He patted her back and then made his way to the kitchen.
Grandpa was at the stove, and Grace had her hands in some dough. Flour stained her blouse, and there was a smudge on her face and in her hair.
She glared at him. “Did you wake her up?”
“Nope.”
“You have to feed her,” she told him. “I’m busy making yeast rolls.”
Feed her? Was Grace serious?
Grace nodded toward the counter. “Her cereal is there. Mix it with milk and zap it in the microwave.” He followed the instructions and had to go around Grandpa to put it in the microwave, but soon he had the bowl in front of Zoe with a cup of coffee for himself. It was easy-peasy for a thirty-four-year-old man. She opened her mouth every time for a spoonful. Afterward, he took her into the living room to give her a bottle, mainly to get away from the two cooking fiends in the kitchen.
He sat in his grandmother’s chair for the first time in years. He could almost feel her kissing the top of his head and saying, “You be good, Jamie.” And he would say, “I’m not Jamie, Grandma.” She would reply, “You be good, too, Cole.”
Memories, the tearstains on his heart. But the thought didn’t hurt like it used to. He glanced toward Grace in the kitchen, where she was punching down dough with her fist. Amazing Grace. She’d opened his heart. His mind. And now he was able to see a grieving old woman for who she really was—his grandmother, who’d loved him the best way she could.
Zoe fell asleep on his shoulder, and he put her back in her bed. Grace said she’d sleep about an hour. He went back to the kitchen to try to help before he had to leave for Austin, but soon realized he was more in the way than helping.
It was time to get ready for Thanksgiving dinner with Stephanie’s parents. He changed into slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt. He sat on the bed and paused, looking down at his boots. What was wrong with boots? He wore them everywhere. Staying true to himself, he slipped them on.