I separated the sports section and the comics from the daily paper for myself and handed the rest to Stanley. He carefully folded the newspaper in half and tucked it under his arm.
“If anyone calls …” he trailed off as he walked out the office door.
“I know, I know,” I chuckled after him. “You’re not on the can.”
In light of newly discovered evidence, Julia had arranged for all charges against Landon Tauer to be dropped. He could have still been charged with involuntary manslaughter or at least evidence tampering, but it appeared as though the D.A.’s office no longer wanted anything to do with the case. Sarah would contact Michael Bloom’s parents to let them know what had happened to their son, and two pending criminal cases would be cleared from the boards.
After Landon’s release from jail and the Petersik family’s acceptance of what had happened to their daughter, the rhythm of our work days in Cold Case had returned to normal. We waited for tips that might allow us to take a second look at an unsolved crime, we kept an eye on active investigations that might be tangentially connected to a case that had gone cold. We looked for the long shots. But at least now I felt like we had a few more allies in the Homicide Division and the Crime Lab. It wasn’t just Stanley, Sarah, and me against the world.
My cell phone, which I typically stored out of sight in my office desk, buzzed to life and rattled around the inside of the metal desk drawer. I pulled the phone from its cubby. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach when I glanced at my caller ID.
I hadn’t spoken to David Addams, my former colleague in the Embarrass police force since Julia had lost legal custody of her ailing mother. It might have been inappropriate, but I had asked David to keep an eye on her parents and to let me know if anything happened to her mother that Julia might be able to draw on to wrestle away guardianship from her estranged father.
Addams could have been calling to catch up or to give me hell about something, but my instincts told me this wasn’t a friendly call. My phone only seemed to ring when there was bad news to report. I had expected the worst when my mom had called a few weeks prior, but my gut told me somehow that David Addams wasn’t calling me from the Mall of America.
“Hello?” I answered the call.
“Miller, hey. It’s Addams. Uh, David Addams,” he said unsure. “From Embarrass.” His voice was quiet and somewhat muffled. I wondered about the phone connection. Embarrass’ cellular reliability could be, well, unreliable.
“Hey, buddy,” I replied, trying to maintain a positive attitude despite the uncomfortable twisting in my stomach. “What’s up?”
“Listen, I don’t know if you and Julia Desjardin are still a thing or not, and I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but I wanted to give you a heads up.” He paused, as though bracing himself. “Julia’s dad was found dead in his home.”
My throat constricted with the unexpected news. “What? How?” I managed to choke out.
“It, like, just happened—or, we just found out,” he continued in that same hushed tone. “The nurse who comes in periodically to check on Mrs. Desjardin found him. And Cassidy, it’s too early to tell, but I don’t think he died of natural causes.”
I gripped my phone tighter. “Jesus. Is Mrs. Desjardin alright?”
“Yeah. Luckily they had the nurse service checking in on her, otherwise who knows how long it would have been until someone found him.”
“Are you thinking he was murdered?” I grimaced.
“I can’t really talk about it right now,” he seemed to whisper. “I’m probably breaking all kinds of cop ethics and laws right now by calling you. And you may have heard, but we no longer have a hot-shot city prosecutor who can defend me.”
Another question entered my head. My stomach doubled in knots. “Does Julia know?”
“The Chief just called her,” he confirmed. “It why I’m calling; I thought you might appreciate a little heads up so you weren’t totally blindsided. Julia’s not exactly … easy.”
“Yeah. Fuck,” I exhaled. “Thanks, Addams.”
“Sure thing. Tell Julia I’m sorry, yeah? Her dad was a giant douchebag for scamming the city, but …” He trailed off, like he didn’t know what else to say.
I didn’t know what else to say either or how to finish his thought. So instead I thanked him again for the information and hung up.
My hands shook as I pressed the button on my phone to call Julia. I let it ring a few times before hanging up and trying again. I was on my third attempt when Stanley strolled through the office door with the morning paper still neatly tucked under his arm.
“Stanley, I’ve got to go,” I announced. I grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair.
Stanley inspected me with interest. “Is everything okay?”
“No.”
I knew he was expecting me to elaborate, but this wasn’t my news to share. My priority was getting to Julia, not gossiping with my co-worker.
+ + +
Julia’s black Mercedes wasn’t in the parking lot adjacent to the public defender office, and it wasn’t in her parking spot at the apartment. It hadn’t been at the bar where we’d first met either. Beyond those three spaces, I didn’t know where she might be.
An uneasy feeling took residence in my stomach as I walked towards her office building. I’d asked her to marry me, and yet I didn’t know her go-to spots when she was upset. In Embarrass it had been her family’s cottage by a lake, but in the Twin Cities, I was directionless.
I’d never visited her office so early in the day. Typically I only came over after hours when she and maybe Alice, the office manager, were the only ones left. I walked in to a whirlwind of activity. The lobby area was filled with clients or potential clients, I didn’t know which. The typical stale coffee scent had been replaced by the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans.
Alice stood at the reception desk as the gatekeeper of the chaos. At that moment she had the office phone pressed to her ear. I wanted to be patient and wait for her to hang up with whomever she was talking to, but I felt like a ticking bomb. I had to find Julia.
“Alice—hey,” I tried to cut in.
She held up a single finger to stop me, and I had no choice but to wait for her to finish.
“Yes, I understand that,” she said to whomever was on the phone. “But we have a bit of a waitlist for Ms. Desjardin at the moment.” She grinned, but it was more like a grimace, to let me know she saw me still waiting on her.
“No, I don’t think the judge will delay your trial until she’s free. Yes, I’m sorry, too. But our offices provide quality defense from any of our many other—.” She stopped as she was cut off by the person on the phone. “No? Okay, well I can appreciate your position. Best of luck.”
“Hi, Cassidy. Sorry,” Alice breathed as she hung up the phone. “It’s a bit of a zoo today. News coverage of your girl’s court victory has really boosted our profile.”
I forced a smile to my lips. “Is she in?”
“No. She left a little while ago.”
“Oh.” I scratched my neck. “Did she—did she say where she was going?” I didn’t want to let on that anything was wrong. Julia was highly private and I wasn’t sure if she’d shared the news of her father’s unexpected death with her office assistant. It wasn’t my place to do so in her stead.
“She—.” Alice stopped and bit her lip. It was clear she knew something, but was withholding information. I admired her dedication and loyalty to Julia, but now was not the time for a stalemate.
The office phone began to ring again. Alice’s eyes darted from the phone to my face and back to the ringing phone again.
“I’m worried about her, Alice. There’s been an emergency, and she’s not answering her phone. Any information you have.” I wasn’t above begging.
Sensing I wasn’t going to give up, Alice caved. “She might be at Jake’s?” she offered.
“Jake’s?” My voice strained on the syllable. She’d never mentioned anyone by
that name before. Just another thing to add to the growing list of things I didn’t know about the woman I wanted to marry.
Alice answered the office phone and cradled it between her ear and her shoulder. “It’s a neighborhood bar. It’s a total dive.”
It didn’t sound at all like the kind of establishment where Julia might frequent, but I’d run out of leads. “Thanks for the tip.”
A neon red sign hanging on the outside of the building announced the name of the bar. The cream brick structure looked as though it had been there for centuries; the faded remnants of old advertisements were barely visible on the exterior. It was early—too early even for day drinking—so I was surprised the front door opened when I tugged on the handle.
My nostrils flared upon entering the bar. The air was tainted with cigarette smoke despite the city-wide anti-smoking ordinances. I stood just within the doorway and scanned the empty bar. I spied a solo bartender, washing glassware behind the bar, but the tables and stools were vacant. It definitely didn’t look like the kind of place Julia Desjardin would willingly frequent, but her black Mercedes was parked on the street out front.
The crisp crack of billiard balls alerted me to the back corner of the bar. A woman in an impeccably tailored suit began to rack the pool balls. Her beautiful face was deep in concentration as she organized the multi-colored solids and stripes into the holding triangle.
I quietly stalked through the bar, maneuvering past tables and chairs as I made my way to the pool tables in the back. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
Julia’s eyes lifted from the green felt to meet my stare. She’d always had the best poker face. Her features were impassive, her eyes flicking to my face.
“I must have forgotten it at the office.”
She resumed arranging the billiard balls before retrieving a pool stick from a stand against the wall.
I watched her lean over the table and take aim. Her stick connected with the white cue ball, which collided with the tightly arranged colored balls, which ricocheted across the billiard table.
“How are you?” I didn’t know how to approach the situation. Julia and her father had a complicated history.
She didn’t ask me how I’d found her, but that wasn’t important. I would always find her. She also didn’t ask how I’d learned that her father was dead. But those were all questions for another day.
She slowly righted herself. “Do you play?” she posed, ignoring my question with one of her own.
I shrugged. “Not very well.”
The next-door neighbors had had a pool table in their basement that I’d gotten to play on when they invited my family over to watch Vikings games. But that had been two decades ago.
She handed me her pool stick. “Your shot.”
My fingers curved around the contours of the pool cue. I grabbed a cube of blue chalk and applied it to the end of the stick. I wasn’t going to demand that she confront her emotions. If she wanted to delay reality for a while, I was content to hang in that limbo with her.
I walked around the table and lined up my opening shot. I felt the heat of Julia’s body press against the back of my thighs and backside. Her soft breasts pressed against my back as she curled her body over mine. I stiffened momentarily at her proximity and flicked my eyes in the direction of the bartender who appeared disinterested in our activities.
“Advice.” Her warm breath tickled the back of my ear. “Shoot through the white ball.”
When I didn’t take the shot, her arm wrapped around my midsection and her hand traveled lower. She ran her fingers along the front zipper of my dress pants. She cupped me and the heel of her palm pressed against my clit through my dress pants and underwear.
My eyes shuttered as a wave of arousal flooded over me. I felt the lump forming in my throat. The bar was empty with the exception of the bartender, but I still wasn’t an exhibitionist. But I also couldn’t help how my body responded to hers.
Only the realization of her flicking open the top button of my pants had me crashing back to reality. Her hand was probably hidden from sight, shielded by our bodies and the pool table, but we were still in public.
“Not here,” I said in a low tone. “Not like this.”
Julia ignored my quiet warning. Her insistent hand found the space necessary to slide under the front of my underwear. The tips of her outstretched fingers sought out my clit, gave me a rough rub, and continued on to the collecting dampness between my thighs.
My legs wobbled as her fingers bisected my pussy. The pool cue fell from my hands and clattered noisily against the sides of the green-felted table. Julia pressed her face between my shoulder blades and her hand stilled between my legs. I didn’t know what was happening until I felt her body rocking silently against mine.
She was crying.
Gently, I fished her hand out of my underwear. She put up no resistance this time. I quickly re-buttoned the top of my pants and turned to face her.
“Elliott,” Julia called out in a cool, clear voice. “Could you give us a minute?”
I didn’t know to whom she was speaking, but I assumed it was the bartender, since we were the only people in the bar.
I looked to her with too many unanswered questions. Who was Elliott? Why was she at this bar? How did she have such control over her emotions?
Julia leaned against the pool table, slightly sitting on its edge. “Elliott’s a former client of mine,” she revealed, answering one of my unspoken questions. “His family owns the bar. It’s close to my office, so I come here sometimes to think.”
I nodded, but kept quiet. She had much more talking and explaining to do.
Julia tilted her chin and stared up at the ceiling. I heard her long exhale. “I have to go back. There’s so much to do. The funeral to plan. His assets to settle. My mother—.” The words caught in her throat. “My mother—.” She tried again without success.
I grabbed onto her hand. “I know.”
Her father had been her mother’s legal caretaker. With his passing, that responsibility now fell to her. I could only imagine the tumultuous thoughts ricocheting around in her head and how they might be affecting her heart.
I held her hand more tightly. “It’s going to be okay.” I had no idea if it actually was. “You don’t have to take this on alone. You said it yourself—I’m due a vacation, right?” I tried to make light of the situation since the alternative terrified me.
I didn’t know if it was my words or if it was the reality of the situation that finally broke her. The walls she’d so carefully constructed and maintained began to crumble. The erectness of her posture slumped. Her shoulders curved forward. Tears tumbled down her pale cheeks faster than she could wipe away.
“Cassidy.” My name sounded like a strangled cry coming from her lips. “My dad is dead.”
I’d only ever heard her refer to William Desjardin with the formal ‘father.’ I nearly collapsed myself at her word choice. She looked so lost and little and young. Words failed me, so I pulled her to me and her face went to my shoulder.
Her body seemed to fold in on itself, like she couldn’t bear to take up any space. Her pain was contained, however; she swallowed down any verbal evidence of remorse. I pressed my lips to the side of her head and remained there until she eventually pulled away.
Julia wiped under her eyes even though her makeup had magically stayed in place. “How did you know?” she asked.
Her question lacked specifics, so I answered them all.
“David Addams called me. I went to your office to find you; Alice thought you might be here.”
She nodded, lips tight. I could tell she hated that so many people already knew. It was probably, literally, front page news by now. Embarrass wasn’t a place for secrets.
“I should apologize for trying to fuck you on a pool table,” she said, slipping into a more formal tone. Her shoulders straightened and she flicked at her raven hair. “I’m not practiced at these kinds of things.”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t think anyone is.”
I watched with great remorse as those fortress walls began to reassemble around her. For a brief moment they had started to wobble and fall, but that weakness had only been temporary. She tugged at the bottom hem of her suit jacket and rearranged the collar of her blouse as if checking on her body armor. Even her lipstick was still in its place.
I hadn’t wanted or expected her to be a blubbering mess, but I also knew firsthand the damage that holding in so many unchecked emotions could do. But I couldn’t force her to grieve. I couldn’t even make her tell me how she felt. No one could make Julia do anything she didn’t want to do; she would deal with her father’s death on her own terms.
EPILOGUE
William Desjardin was dead. I’d said the statement over and over again in my head. I was familiar with death, but that didn’t mean I was at ease with it. The sudden permanency of it would be forever startling. You would never see that person again, never get to talk to them or ask them questions. They’d never tell you another joke or share another secret. They were just gone. One minute my buddies were laughing and celebrating after a successful directive, the next, they’d been obliterated by an undetected IED as if they’d never existed in the first place.
My parents hadn’t raised me to be religious, and the concept of an afterlife had never caught on during any of my tours abroad. Plenty of Marines carried religious paraphernalia with them—a holy book, a rosary, a picture of their god—but just as many carried a lucky rabbit’s foot or some other good-luck charm. I considered them all the same.
Julia’s suitcase was packed in the trunk of her Mercedes. I’d watched her fill the luggage with meticulously folded blouses and pencil skirts. The more outfits she packed, the more I wondered if she planned on coming back. The postal mail had been put on hold. She’d asked a neighbor to keep an eye on the apartment and to water her houseplants in her absence.
I’d been surprised she hadn’t put up more of a fight when I insisted that I come along with her to Embarrass. I didn’t own proper luggage, so she’d let me borrow one of her suitcases.
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