Out of the corner of his eye, Jarrett saw Jess stiffen, but he fixed an easy smile on his face and nodded. “Funny how that happens, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter how smart or successful you are. Some of us are just prone to forgetting things.”
The woman laughed again. “You can say that again. Donovan Smith, of all people, losing things.” She shook her head. “I told him when he got to the party last week that he needed to put it somewhere he wouldn’t forget. I even suggested he walk it back out to his car. But he wouldn’t hear of it. Insisted that he wouldn’t forget.” She smiled. “And here you are, picking it up.”
Jarrett laughed along with her. He wasn’t about to correct her mistaken assumptions, not if it would provide him with more information.
The front door swung open and a little boy appeared on the front steps, clad only in a pair of pajama bottoms. His face was red, and it became clear pretty quickly that he was crying.
The woman immediately straightened. “Carson, what’s wrong?”
The boy held up a slightly bloody finger. “I have a boo-boo,” he wailed.
The woman glanced at Jarrett and then Jess, an apologetic look on her face. Based on her reaction, Jarrett was under the distinct impression that she wasn’t terribly concerned about the mishap, and he almost chuckled as he remembered all of the minor injuries he’d sustained—and lived through—when he was little.
“I’m sorry,” she told them. “Let me take care of him, and then I can grab the jacket. You can wait here, if you like.” She was already speed-walking toward the door.
“We’re actually here to see Bill,” Jarrett called out.
The woman didn’t even turn around. “He’s out back. In the backyard.”
She picked up the boy and carried him inside.
Jarrett clapped his hands. “And there we go.”
Jess was staring at him with a look of frank admiration. He hated to admit it, but it did weird things to his stomach.
He could get used to that look.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“How did you do that?”
“How did I do what?”
“Get all that information.”
Jarrett just smiled and motioned for Jess to follow him into the backyard. “There’s a secret to reporting that a lot of people don’t know. Or maybe they know but they don’t follow.”
“What’s that?” Jess asked.
“That it’s just as important to listen as it is to ask questions.” He winked. “Because a lot of times, you’ll get a hell of a lot more information that way.”
It was true, and it was something he’d learned time and time again during his years as a reporter. Sure, asking questions would get answers, and it was a vital part of getting information. But Jarrett knew that, when given the chance, most people liked to talk. About themselves, about things they knew.
His job was simply to listen, to perhaps guide, and to remember or record what people told him.
The woman who was gardening had assumed they were on the property to retrieve an item left behind. Jarrett hadn’t corrected her and because of that, he now knew that someone named Donovan Smith had been at the same party Katie had attended on the night she disappeared.
Which meant they had one more clue to track down, to follow up on.
They followed the flagstone path that led away from the front of the house, winding along the side and then opening up onto a large flagstone patio in the backyard. A sea of green grass awaited them, looking freshly fertilized and mowed. Just beyond the grass was the sweeping view of the river. Jarrett didn’t know if the trees had been purposely cleared or if there just weren’t any that grew there, because the view of the gently rushing water was virtually unobstructed. And it was magnificent.
Bill Lewis wasn’t hard to find. He was standing at the other side of the yard, his back to them as he surveyed a half-built rock retaining wall. There was a flatbed trailer parked nearby, loaded with massive river rocks. Jarrett squinted, finally noticing the earbuds lodged in Bill’s ears. No wonder he hadn’t turned around.
“He doesn’t know we’re here,” Jess whispered.
“He will in a minute.”
Jarrett strolled toward him, his hands shoved in his pockets. His intention was to look as casual, as low-key as possible, so as not to raise any immediate alarm on Bill’s behalf.
It worked.
Bill turned around to grab another boulder, and his eyes landed on Jarrett and Jessica. He didn’t tense up, and he didn’t look defensive, which Jarrett took as good signs.
Jarrett took his hand out of his pocket and offered a small wave.
Bill nodded and pulled the earbuds from his ears.
He was probably in his early forties, with buzzed brown hair that reminded Jarrett of a fresh Army recruit. He was wearing basketball shorts and a sleeveless red T-shirt that showed off the muscles he was using to physically transport each boulder into place.
Jarrett was reluctantly impressed.
“What can I do for you?” Bill asked as he wiped his hands on the front of his shorts.
Jarrett quickly sifted through his options. He could lie, which was never his go-to. He could feign ignorance and just let Bill talk, but the fact that the man had just asked a straightforward question didn’t leave much wiggle room.
So Jarrett decided to go with the truth.
“We’re here from Aspen Falls,” he said. “From the Aspen Falls Daily.”
Bill’s expression clouded. “The paper?”
Jarrett nodded. “We’re doing a story on Katie Simmons and were hoping to get a little information from you.”
The shift was subtle but Jarrett noticed it. The way Bill’s posture straightened, the way his brow furrowed. The way he darted a glance at Jess and then Jarrett, his Adam’s apple bobbing a couple of times as he did so.
“What kind of information?” he asked cautiously.
Jarrett tried to keep his expression neutral. Once in a while, he got a hard ass, someone who didn’t want to talk, who absolutely wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information.
A guy he’d be forced to ask questions of.
“We understand she was at a party here the night before she was found.”
Bill gave him a slight nod.
Jarrett waited, giving the man time to respond.
He said nothing.
“Did you notice anything unusual about her that night?”
Bill pursed his lips. “No.”
“Did she seem upset in any way? Out of sorts?”
“No.”
Jarrett exchanged glances with Jess. She was watching with what could only be described as a helpless expression.
“She left the party, correct?”
Bill nodded.
“You saw her leave?”
“No.” Bill’s response was clipped.
“No?” Jarrett tried his old standby, repeating the last word in hopes that he would elaborate.
He did. “We said goodbye, but I didn’t see her out or watch her go.”
Jarrett made a mental note of this. “So you don’t know if anyone followed her?”
Bill stared at him. “What are you insinuating? It’s my understanding that it was a horrible accident.”
“Yes, of course,” Jarrett said smoothly. “But if she was upset about something, perhaps that affected her in some way…”
Bill set his hands on his hips. “I don’t know anything else,” he said, his tone indicating a note of finality. “And I’m not talking to a bunch of reporters about this.”
Jessica cleared her throat and both men looked at her. “We aren’t reporters,” she said. “He is.” She jerked a thumb at Jarrett. “I’m with AFPD.”
Bill shrank back a little and Jarrett resisted the urge to smile. Jess had surprised the both of them.
“Is there anyone who might have wanted Katie dead?” Jess asked.
Bill’s eyes widened but he didn’t offer a response.
Jar
rett watched as Jess narrowed her eyes. “Because the evidence we’re finding suggests foul play.”
17
Saturday, June 30
10:20 am
Jessica hated lying.
But she also hated when people were evasive.
And that was exactly what she was watching unfold with Bill Lewis.
He wasn’t answering a single question, and it was beginning to piss her off.
She could tell, too, that he knew something. She didn’t know what, but there was something he wasn’t saying.
She had zero reason to believe that there was evidence suggesting Katie Simmons’s death had been the result of foul play.
But there was no way Bill Lewis would know that. And if it meant he spilled a little dirt because of what she’d just said, then it would have been worth it.
Except he didn’t.
Instead, as soon as the words were out of Jessica’s mouth, the man exploded.
His face turned an alarming shade of red and his mouth contorted into an angry scowl.
“I don’t have to answer your questions,” he growled.
Jess shot a glance in Jarrett’s direction.
“It’s a fair question,” Jarrett reasoned. “You were her boss, right? Maybe she’d mentioned something to you…?”
“Leave!” Bill Lewis was yelling now, shaking his fist angrily in the air.
Jess and Jarrett exchanged another look.
“Dammit, you need to leave. Now.” Bill’s face was dark with rage. “You are trespassing.”
Jessica was ready to flash her badge, to tell him she had every right to be there to question him. But then she remembered. She wasn’t there in any official capacity. In fact, she was pretty sure Kellan would have her ass if he knew that she’d stepped foot on that property and started interrogating this man.
“If you don’t get the hell out of here, I’m calling the police—my police,” he threatened.
Jarrett apparently took the man at his word because he grabbed Jess’s arm, startling her, and steered her out of the backyard and back toward the street. The woman they’d encountered when they’d first arrived was nowhere to be seen, her gardening tools and flowerbed abandoned.
Jess jerked the door open and sat down. Her heart was still hammering, the result of the adrenaline pumping through her body mingling with the sobering realization that she had definitely stepped out of bounds.
Jarrett slammed his own door shut and then swiveled so he was fully facing her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had more evidence?” he demanded.
She couldn’t tell if he was excited or upset by the false revelation.
Perhaps it was a little bit of both.
“I don’t,” she admitted.
His brow wrinkled. “What? But you just said—”
“I know.” She nodded. “I lied.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Nothing’s come back from forensics yet,” she explained. “At least not that I’ve heard. But it usually takes a while, and I don’t know that there’d be a rush on it since the consensus seems to be that her death was accidental.”
Jarrett’s features relaxed into a smile. “You lied?”
She nodded again, the heaviness of what she’d done sitting like an elephant on her chest.
Jarrett’s smile turned into an explosive grin. “Holy shit, you did good!”
Before she could register what was happening, he reached his arms out and enveloped her in a hug.
She couldn’t breathe.
Not because his grip was too tight—no, it was exactly right—but because her heart felt like it had stopped beating the moment her chest touched his and his bare arms made contact with her own bare skin. Even through the fabric separating them, she could feel how firm his chest was, could imagine the taut muscles that lay underneath the thin T-shirt material he wore.
She shifted in his arms, pressing her chest more firmly against his, and she heard him suck in his breath, a deep hiss that launched the butterflies in her stomach.
All thoughts of what had just happened in Bill Lewis’s yard evaporated.
All she could think of was this.
Him.
But then the moment was over. Jarrett quickly extricated himself, but not before he slid his hands down her arms, causing her to draw a sharp breath, too.
He smiled at her, and it was the same easy smile he usually gave her, but there was something different in his eyes. A hunger, a fire that made her swallow convulsively.
She blinked and then shifted her gaze to the dashboard. Anything to break the spell she felt like she was under.
“How exactly did I do good?” she asked. She couldn’t see anything good about what she’d just done. She’d acted impulsively, pulling her cop card when she wasn’t on duty, she wasn’t in her jurisdiction, and she most definitely wasn’t acting on behalf of her department.
She didn’t know if it was her words or her demeanor that sent Jarrett a hint to cool the charged atmosphere between them, but that was how he reacted.
He repositioned himself behind the steering wheel, his gaze a little less intimate, his smile still warm but just slightly detached. “You scared him,” Jarrett told her.
“Scared him?” Jess shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I pissed him off is what I did.”
“Well yeah, that, too.” Jarrett’s eyes lit with amusement. “But he wouldn’t have reacted that way if he wasn’t scared by what you said. And if he’s scared, that means there’s something he knows. Something he knows but isn’t telling us.”
Jess had thought the same thing. “So now what?”
It was the wrong question to ask. She knew what she should be doing. Going back home and washing her hands of the whole thing.
This wasn’t her case.
She shouldn’t be involved.
She should do what she always did: play by the book. Do what she was supposed to do. Not rock the boat. Because that would be the fastest way to get what she wanted.
If she even knew what she wanted.
Because that was the question, wasn’t it? That was the question she’d been struggling with for months now.
Jarrett jammed the key into the ignition and the engine hummed to life. He turned to look at her. “Now what?” he asked, repeating her question. “Well, we need to find out what really happened at that party. Which means we need to find other people who attended.”
She knew exactly where he was going with this.
“People like Donovan Smith?”
18
Saturday, June 30
11:00 am
“So, Donovan Smith.”
“Yes, Donovan Smith,” Jarrett said.
He glanced at Jess, and told himself for what felt like the hundredth time to stop thinking about the impulsive hug he’d just laid on her a mere twenty minutes earlier.
But it was hard. Her scent still lingered, a delicious mix of lotion or perfume or something, and he could still feel her in his arms, her breasts pressed against his chest, her heart hammering against his. Her sharp intake of breath, and the feel of it as it blew across his skin.
They were seated in a tiny Mexican taco shop now, tucked in a nondescript strip mall off the main drag in St. Cloud, a few miles away from Bill Lewis’s house. The place didn’t look like anything special on the outside—or on the inside, come to think of it. But Jarrett had learned a few months ago that they made the best Mexican food this side of the Rockies, and had made it a point to eat there whenever he made his way up to the city.
Jess picked up her second rolled taco and bit into it. The paper boat had been filled with three of them, loaded with cheese and covered with a generous dollop of guacamole, and she’d inhaled the first one in three bites. He didn’t blame her. He’d ordered those before and knew how good they were.
She sucked down a long swallow of soda. “What do we know about this guy?”
“Nothing yet,” Jarrett admitted. He took a bite
of his own lunch, a massive burrito stuffed with carne asada and French fries. An odd combination, but with the sour cream, cheese and guacamole added inside an enormous handmade tortilla, he’d decided it was pretty much the best meal he’d ever eaten.
“It’s too bad we don’t have any other names,” he said. “Other people to look into.”
Jess just nodded, and he got the sense that she was still feeling a little uneasy about what had happened at Bill Lewis’s house. Jarrett had been thrilled that she’d said something to throw the man off-guard, but it looked like the confrontation had unnerved her a little.
He wished they could have gotten more out of him before he’d blown a gasket, but he’d determined almost immediately that Bill wasn’t going to spill much. He’d been tight-lipped with all of the questions Jarrett had asked, and the only name they had was because of the conversation they’d had with Bill’s wife before they ventured into the backyard.
Lack of information wasn’t going to dissuade Jarrett, though. He was a reporter, and he was used to striking out on his own, armed with the smallest, most obscure details and leads. It was up to him to dig, to make connections, to see if he could literally make something out of nothing.
And he was more than prepared to try to do that with this story, too.
He set the remainder of his burrito down and fished his phone out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Jess asked.
“I’m looking up Donovan Smith.”
She glanced at his half-eaten lunch. “Are you already done?”
“Hardly,” he said with a grin. “Just taking a breather.”
He typed in Donovan Smith’s name and the results came back instantaneously.
He sat up a little straighter in the bench seat.
Jess, who was sitting across from him, must have noticed because she said, “What? What did you find?”
Jarrett read the results quickly. “You’ll never believe it.”
“What?” She sounded impatient now, and Jarrett bit back a smile.
“He’s the owner of Superior Metals,” Jarrett told her. “They have four locations, apparently, so it’s like a chain, I guess.”
Dire Straits Page 11
