by Carolina Mac
Jesse propped pillows up behind his back and sat up. “Nope. We’re just watching her sleep.”
“She’s our little miracle, Jesse. Just when your life was at an all-time low, you got the best gift anyone could give you.”
“You’re so right, Bobby. I have a reason to live.”
ANNIE PACED back and forth in front of the long row of arched windows in the master suite, guilt ripping through her veins like surges of poison. She had warded off all of Race’s advances, even though she loved him madly and had since the day they’d met. She’d tried to wait until her divorce from Jesse was final. Race said Jesse was gone—moved out—and it didn’t make sense to wait, but it did to her, and that’s what mattered. She had to live with herself.
Last night, after the funeral and seeing Blaine in the wretched state he was in, she had caved. Race had been sweet and sympathetic. She needed comfort and Race had supplied it.
Sitting at the oak pedestal table in the moonlight while Race slept, she texted Blaine.
“No matter what, sweetheart, I love you and you can always come home.”
Ten minutes passed as she stared at the screen waiting for an answer. When none came, she went back to bed and cried herself to sleep.
IN THE PARK, BLAINE heard his cell signal a message, but he ignored it and trudged on through the darkness towards the scene. He was almost there when his phone chirped again—this time a call. The Governor’s private number.
“Yes, sir. I’m here. Any special reason you want me on this one?”
“Definitely, son. This is the second woman raped and killed in that park and the second one that worked here in the Capitol building. I don’t want any hint of a serial in the news and I made my views plain to the Chief. Told him flat out I was putting the best criminologist we’ve got on it and he could thank me later.”
Blaine smiled. “How did you get the ID on the victim so quickly to know she worked for the state?”
“I have my ways.”
“Uh huh. You do, sir. Give me a few hours to get organized and I’ll get back to you.”
“Keep me in the loop, son.”
Lights had been set up and the medical examiner and his assistant were with the victim when Blaine approached the scene. The crime scene techs were hovering, waiting their turn, as were the D’s from homicide.
“Detective Lopez,” Blaine stuck out his hand. “Haven’t seen you for a couple of months.”
“Blacky, nice to have you on board. Where are the troops?”
“Not far behind, I hope. I didn’t call Jesse. I’ll let him sleep until morning.”
“How’s he doing anyway? Heard he’s had a bad time of it. Couldn’t believe his heart was so bad, he looks so strong.”
“He’s a bit better than he was.” Now that he left Annie and moved back home. “He hates not working.”
“Yeah,” said Lopez, “he’s a bit of a bulldog.”
“What have you got so far?” Blaine pulled out his notebook.
“The victim is Eve Partout. Thirty-one years old. Office job—works for the state.” He moved towards the body. “Let’s see if Mort has anything to tell us.”
The victim was lying off to the side of the bike path, naked on the lower half, her pants and underwear tossed close to her bike, a bright yellow bandana knotted tightly around her throat. Her long blonde hair, half covering her face, was tangled and embedded with dirt, leaves and twigs. She’d obviously rolled and struggled with her attacker, fighting for her life.
“Hey, boss,” said Travis. “What have we got?”
Blaine turned as his crew caught up. “Not much so far.”
The ME spoke up. “By the body temp, she’s only been dead for a couple hours.”
“Who found her?” Blaine asked Lopez.
Lopez pointed at his partner. “Nielsen has him on that bench over there. Kid in training for a bike race.”
“No one around when he found her?”
“Nope. The park is pretty much deserted after ten.”
“Security?” asked Travis.
“Uh huh,” said Lopez. “Patrols, I’ve got uniforms getting names and shift times.”
“Good,” said Blaine. “Notification?”
“You and me, buddy. Ready for it?”
“Yep,” said Blaine, “let’s see what the hubby was doing tonight.”
“Want Red and Bluebellee on the park, boss?” asked Farrell. “Me and Trav can go fetch them.”
Blaine nodded. “Yep, I do. Enright, stay with Nielsen and the scene. Take notes.” To the boys, “If you see Jesse when y’all are picking up the dogs, fill him in.” They turned to leave. “When y’all come back, pick up coffee and breakfast.”
“Yeah, boss,” said Farrell. “I hear ya.”
BLAINE FOLLOWED LOPEZ on route one to the other side of the lake. Traffic was light in the middle of the night and the trip only took a few minutes. The victim and her husband lived in one of the new townhouse complexes that had sprung up all along the east side of Lady Bird Lake. Close to recreation, but not too far for the downtown commute.
They parked out front and Blaine checked his watch. Four forty-five. Still full dark. The street lights were on. Hadn’t the husband missed his wife? What the hell? Maybe he had gone to sleep when she went out for her ride and was none the wiser. That must be it.
“Ready?” asked Lopez, his finger hovering close to the bell.
“Hate this part,” said Blaine.
“Worst part of the job and it never gets easier.” Lopez rang the bell and they waited. No response. Normal if the guy was sound asleep. He tried again, held the bell down longer, and this time there was shuffling inside the door.
The door opened and a sleepy-eyed Hispanic wearing only boxers said, “Forget your key, Evey?”
“Mr. Partout,” said Lopez, “I’m from Austin PD, and this is Blaine Blackmore-Powell. May we come in?”
The husband grabbed for his black hair and tugged on it. “What happened to my wife? Where is she?” he shouted. He took a step back and crashed into the hall table.
Guy Partout was short, stocky and muscular. Washboard abs. In good shape.
Lopez pointed to the living room to the left of the entrance. “We should sit down.”
“Sit down?” His voice had gone up two octaves. “Do I need to get dressed? Is she in the hospital?” He paced back and forth in his bare feet.
“We’ll tell you what we need to tell you,” said Lopez, “then we’ll wait while you get dressed.”
He grabbed for his black hair again. “Okay, okay. Just tell me.” He pointed to the sofa and Lopez sat down.
Blaine remained standing and waited for Lopez to say the words.
“Your wife was riding her bike in Zilker Park and she was attacked, sir. I’m afraid she’s dead.”
Mr. Partout shook his head. “No, Evey isn’t dead. She’ll be back in a minute. This can’t be happening.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, sir,” said Lopez. “Is there someone you can call?”
“Call?” He slumped down into a chair and all the life seemed to drain out of him. “Where’s my dog?”
“Your dog, sir?” asked Lopez.
“She was giving the dog a run, the way she does every night. Where’s Crockett? Why didn’t he protect her?”
“There was no sign of a dog, sir,” said Lopez. “What kind was he?”
“Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Big guy. Dark brown.”
Blaine wrote it down. Missing dog. “Could I have something belonging to your dog, sir? A toy or an extra leash?”
“Sure, I guess so,” mumbled Mr. Partout. He left the room for a moment and returned with a chew toy and a plaid bandana. “Please find him.”
“We’d appreciate it if you’d come downtown and identify your wife’s body.”
“Oh, fuck.” He buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do that. How in hell do you think I’ll survive that?”
“I’m sorry sir,” said Lopez. “If it
will help at all, I’ll drive you and bring you back.”
JESSE WOKE WITH a start when the baby cried beside him. “Is it time for you to wake up, little girl? I haven’t memorized the schedule yet.”
Tyler burst into the room from his bedroom next door. “Why is she crying? Is there something wrong with her?”
“I think it’s time for her to get up.”
Tyler chuckled. “Why? Does she go to the barn for chores?” He finished buttoning his shirt.
“Funny guy. I think she eats now.”
Tyler squinted, and checked the time on Jesse’s clock. “At five thirty?”
“I forget what the schedule said. Could be.”
“Where’s the diapers?”
“Oh, yeah, that might be it. She might be wet.”
Tyler turned on the light and rummaged through Charity’s pile of stuff in the corner of Jesse’s room. “Here’s a package of Pampers.”
“Can you remember how Wendy did it?” asked Jesse. He reached over, picked Charity up and rocked her, trying to stop the wailing.
“No, can you?”
“She’s wet clean through her blanket,” said Jesse making a face. “Wake Brian up.”
Tyler took off down the hall.
BLAINE AND LOPEZ parted ways at the victim’s townhouse. Lopez took a distraught Mr. Partout to the morgue to identify his wife and Blaine headed back to the park to see if the dogs had picked up anything at the scene.
“Would have been better if Red could have had that yellow bandana,” said Farrell, “or a minute with the victim’s clothes. “At least a clue to start on.”
“The killer had to touch the bandana at some point,” said Travis. “He definitely touched her clothes.”
“Maybe he wore gloves,” said Enright.
“Anything from the witness?” asked Blaine.
Enright shook his head. “The park was deserted. That’s when he likes to train—nobody in front of him and he goes like the wind.”
“Try again with these.” Blaine handed Travis the dog’s necktie, and he gave Farrell the toy.”
“This is a dog toy, boss,” said Farrell.
“Yep,” said Blaine, “the husband said his wife was biking with a big Chesapeake Bay on a leash running beside her. Find the dog.”
“You bet,” said Farrell. “What’s his name?”
“Crockett.”
Farrell repeated the name, then turned his head and pointed. “That’s your caffeine and taco on the bench.”
“Thanks, bro. I’m desperate.”
TYLER AND PAUL were at the barn feeding the horses. Jesse sat in the kitchen with Charity on his knee and Molly, the housekeeper, supervised his bottle feeding technique while she made breakfast.
“She should be having some Pablum before the morning bottle and at supper time,” said Molly. “She’s six weeks old.”
“How do you know this stuff?” asked Jesse. “I guess I should memorize everything Lacey wrote down.”
“Everybody knows that.” She smiled. “Maybe not cowboys.”
“I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“You’re doing okay, Mr. Quantrall. You’ve been a daddy less than twenty-four hours.”
“True.” His phone rang on his belt and he wondered how he could answer it.”
“Here, let me take her for you.”
“Thanks, Molly.” Jesse got to his feet and took the call in the great room. “Hey, Blacky, what’s up?”
“New case.” Blaine recapped for him. “I’m picking up the murder book on the first one. I thought you might have time to go over it with me.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” Jesse chuckled. “I’m tied up for the next twenty-one years.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I have a daughter, Blacky. A baby girl.” He gave Blaine the details on Lacey Vincent.
“Holy Hellfires, I can’t believe what you’re telling me. Does Annie know?”
“Nope. No need for her to know. I can take care of my own baby.”
“You can?” Blaine sounded doubtful.
“I’ve learned a ton of stuff already. When can you come and see her?”
“I’ll bring the murder book and my laptop over tomorrow and we’ll work in your study.”
“Good plan. Stay for Sunday dinner.”
“Yep, can do.”
RACE TOOK TWO Lone Stars from the Sub-Zero and joined Annie in the family room where she was playing a game with Jackson. He fetched a glass from the china cabinet and poured Annie’s beer for her.
Things are finally starting to go my way, now that I’m back in Annie’s bed and we’re a couple again. I won’t let anything mess us up this time.
Annie gave him a smile. “Thanks, sugar, that was nice.”
“We should talk, girl. You’re not yourself.”
Annie’s smile vanished from her face. “Missing Blaine, I guess. Doesn’t seem the same without him here.”
Jackson looked up. “I miss my brother too, Mommy. Is he ever coming home?”
“I don’t know the answer to that.”
Race sat in the wing chair closest to the fireplace and picked up his big black cat. He stroked her fur while he tried to figure out what to do.
Don’t want that kid back here at the ranch, but I don’t want Annie moping over him neither. I’ll think of something.
CHAPTER THREE
Sunday, December 3rd.
BLAINE STOOD on the back porch of the old house thinking, smoking, and staring at the carriage house. Could it be saved, or should he tear it down and build a new garage? The cupola perched on the roof was listing to the left and the next big storm would rip it right off. There was plenty of room on the property for a double garage—nothing like the postage stamp lots they built tract houses on these days. Would a new garage fit in with the vintage look? Or should he keep going on the restoration theme and try to patch up the old building?
Shouldn’t be thinking about another project. Too soon. The house won’t be finished for months.
He needed to keep his mind occupied. If he let his thoughts wander towards Annie, he couldn’t function. She made it harder for him constantly sending him messages.
Jesus, when had he ever felt worse?
Today was Sunday. He should take some time and reorganize his life. How long had it been since he’d had a fuckin date? He shook his head, butted out his smoke in the ashtray Mrs. Flores had put outside for him and went back inside.
“I made your breakfast,” she called to him in Spanish.
“Gracias.” He didn’t think he was hungry when he sat down at the table, but managed to eat every bite. Every time he cleaned up his plate Mrs. Flores smiled at him. No doubt about it, she was a fantastic cook.
He chatted to her a little about the carriage house and the fencing people he had hired for the yard. They would remove the ugly chain link that had served a purpose fifty years ago, and replace it with a five-foot high wooden fence.
She was concerned about the workmen trampling the flower beds even though it was December, and nothing was blooming. She argued against every project he started and worried incessantly about the cost. The only reason he broached the fencing subject was because the men were starting the following day and he hadn’t told her.
She shrugged and held up her hands in surrender.
Blaine laughed and then they both did. It relieved the tension.
Mrs. Flores began clearing the table and Blaine’s cell cut through the quiet. He checked the screen. Homicide. “Good morning, Detective. Y’all working on a Sunday?”
“Because of you, Blacky, I expect… at least I’m blaming you to my wife. Richardson has pulled strings like he is so fond of doing and an autopsy of Mrs. Partout is scheduled for eleven this morning.”
“Uh huh. I didn’t expect it so soon, but okay. I’ll see you there.” He checked in with Travis and Farrell and told them he’d be in touch after the autopsy. He was scrolling to Enright’s number to keep him in the loop wh
en Enright called.
“Anything going on today?”
“The autopsy is at eleven, but I can handle it alone. Get some sleep.”
“Don’t sleep much anymore. Want company at the morgue?”
“Sure, why not? Meet me there.”
That guy is at loose ends.
Jesse was next. He answered on the second ring. “What’s up, Blacky? Need me for something?”
“Nope, the autopsy of our victim has moved to the head of the line. I’ll drive out to your place after I’m finished at the morgue.”
“Scott tossing his weight around?”
“Yep. He is. How are things in babyland?”
“Great. Can’t wait until you see her. She’s amazing.”
“You sound hyped.”
“How could I not be? And you think I’m hyped—wait until you see Tyler.”
Blaine chuckled.
Jesse hasn’t sounded this happy in a long time.
RACE WOKE EARLY and slipped out of bed. He’d never been happier. Finally, Annie had accepted him back into her life and into her bed and he was there to stay. It had been a long, tough road back, and even though some parts of the journey he would never remember, he recalled enough to know this was where he belonged. With his woman and his son.
He picked up his clothes from the chair beside the bed and dressed in the ensuite, so he wouldn’t wake her. As he passed through the kitchen, he started the coffee then went outside onto the porch to smoke. Should have grabbed a jacket. It was cool this morning. He’d wear one when he went into the city.
Pyewacket had followed him outside and she jumped into his lap. “You shouldn’t be outside, girl. You might get lost.”
She purred as Race cuddled her and stroked her thick black fur.
“You’re right to be happy. This is gonna be a great day.”
BLAINE AND ENRIGHT went for coffee with Lopez after the autopsy. They took a table near the back, away from the noisy crowd lined up for Sunday lattes.
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” said Lopez. “Did I miss anything, Blacky?”
Blaine shook his head. “I was hoping for one piece of evidence—even something small.”