“We’ve heard worse,” Axelrod assured her.
“I lost most of the conversation after that,” she continued, “but I can tell you that the other woman says ‘anyone else.’ I can’t hear the bartender’s response, as someone next to the phone’s microphone started laughing really loudly.” She lifted her shoulders. “Unless your sound technician can clear it up, I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”
They thanked her for her time, and Jesse waited until she’d gone to discuss what they’d learned. “We can put it through the digital translator,” he said “see if we get anything different, or can get a little more, but based on what she said it coincides with Ms. Montgomery’s explanation. She went there to find out if someone from the police department had been in there asking about her.”
Gannon snorted. “And she just happened to speak Russian? I interviewed that bartender. She speaks perfectly good English. Why would the Montgomery woman choose to talk to her in Russian unless she had something to hide?”
“The bar was crowded,” Brian said. “Maybe she didn’t want people to know she was asking about a police matter.”
“So why not go when the bar’s less crowded? Why bother asking at all, unless you’re worried that one of your buddies might have contradicted your story, revealing that hey, yeah, this chick was in the bar after all. Meeting her boyfriend or her whatever, Losevsky.”
“Losevsky wasn’t her boyfriend,” Brian said tightly.
Gannon shifted his gaze Brian’s direction, raised his brows. “And you know that positively? You didn’t even know she could speak Russian. I doubt she’s gonna broadcast to an FBI agent that she’s fucking a criminal.”
Brian’s bruised hand clenched in his lap, and despite the fact that Jesse wanted to smash his own fist in Gannon’s face, he had to acknowledge that the man had a point. “So we investigate further.”
“How about we just ask her?”
“You did,” Jesse reminded the other man. “She said she didn’t know him.”
“So we ask her again in a more formal setting. Like down at the Barracks. In an interview room.”
Brian spoke up. “There’s no evidence to support the supposition that she was lying about knowing Losevsky.”
“Except for the fact that she was at the Shady Lady – an establishment she claimed not to frequent – talking to the bartender in freaking Russian in an attempt to cover her sweet ass!”
“Nick,” Axelrod said, grabbing his partner’s arm to pull him back down into his chair. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” the other man shot some disbelief at this partner. “While we let these two derail the investigation because one of them has a previous relationship with the suspect and one of them wants to get in her pants.”
Brian shoved to his feet, and Jesse stifled the urge to do the same. “I’d like to remind you,” he addressed Gannon “that I am the lead in this investigation. A position which both your boss and mine agreed upon. As such, I’m going to make the call if and when Ms. Montgomery needs to be brought in for formal questioning. Detective Axelrod, if you and Agent Parker will excuse me, I’d like to speak with Detective Gannon alone for just a moment.”
Gannon stared at Jesse across the table, ignoring the murmured words from his partner before he filed out in front of Brian. Brian shot Jesse a look as he closed the door, but Jesse ignored it in much the same fashion.
“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out,” Gannon said.
“I have several things to say, and I’ll get to them in good time. First, you may want to reconsider casting stones at Agent Parker when your own house is one big plate glass window.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Mike McGrath, in case my prison metaphor sailed over your head earlier. Which I don’t think it did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to the crack about soap on a rope.”
Gannon’s eyes narrowed. “You think the idea of a cop getting raped in prison is funny?”
“No, but nor do I think the idea of that same cop attempting to rape a woman is amusing. You complain about Parker’s bias, but a little digging was all it took for me to find out that you and McGrath used to be fast friends.”
“So?”
“So, you’ve seemed to have it in for Jillian Montgomery since the moment her card was discovered among Losevsky’s effects. I thought maybe I was imagining it at first, or that you were simply a bit overzealous, given the gruesome and dramatic nature of the man’s death, but then I began to suspect there was something more to it. Namely your friendship with Mike McGrath.”
“That has no bearing on this investigation.”
Jesse slowly nodded. “You know, I’d like to believe that. I’d like to believe that you are, in fact, a professional, capable of separating your personal feelings from the job at hand. Or at least separating them enough so that they don’t cloud your judgment. It’s not always easy to do, and if you feel that you can’t be objective with regards to Ms. Montgomery, I’ll understand if you want to ask your lieutenant to reassign you.”
Gannon snorted, and then leaned across the table. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, see, threatening was what happened to Ms. Montgomery when she attempted to report your friend McGrath for domestic violence. In fact, it went well beyond threats to harassment, assault, attempted gang rape – egregious acts of petty revenge by a violent, sociopathic bully.”
When Gannon remained silent, his reddening face the only indication of his rising anger, Jesse continued. “Surely you don’t think she had it coming, do you?”
“She was a nosy bitch. Tried to ruin his relationship, his career.”
“It seems to me that he ruined his own relationship, his own career by beating up on women and then shooting another cop.”
“That was an accident.”
“Did his fists also accidentally connect with his girlfriend’s face? With Ms. Montgomery’s? That’s some piss poor motor control.”
“You know nothing about it.”
“Sadly, I know all too much about it. And what I know sickens me. You know what else sickens me? Seeing an innocent animal butchered, wrapped up like a fruit cake and left on a woman’s porch. A woman who just happens to have earned the ire of your friend McGrath. And an animal, interestingly enough, that hit you in the head just the other night.”
Much like Brian had done, Gannon shoved away from the table. Made himself large. “Are you implying that I had something to do with that?”
“I don’t know.” Jesse paused. “Did you?”
“You’re an asshole, Wellington.”
“Maybe,” Jesse admitted. “But one thing I’m not is a dirty cop.”
“Fuck you,” he said in a tight voice.
“Not even if you bought me a steak dinner.” Jesse tossed a paper onto the table, and Gannon glared at him before picking it up.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the lab results from the toothpick I found behind Ms. Montgomery’s house the other day, beneath her basement window.”
Gannon’s head jerked up.
“Seems like the DNA matches that from the toothpick I pulled from the trashcan at the garage last week.”
Seeing that he’d made his point, Jesse leaned across the table. “You’d better hope that you don’t have one speck of filth clinging to you, Detective. Because if I find out you had anything to do with that threat against Ms. Montgomery, I will personally take you down.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JILLIAN reduced the color saturation in the background of the photograph she was currently editing. Her subject – a vibrant high school senior named Bethany – perched on the tailgate of an old blue pickup truck surrounded by a field of high grass. Since the girl was obviously the focal point, the hue of the grass needed to fade out so as not to draw your eye and detract. Jillian toggled the targeted adjustment tool slider to the left and leaned back, considered. Then toggled it a
little more.
There. Perfect. Bethany’s crisp white dress, honey blonde hair stood out like spots of sunshine against the dark truck, the faded grass. The red cowboy boots gave the image a sort of patriotic, vintage feel, which suited this daughter of an Air Force colonel right down to the ground.
Jillian closed her eyes. If only real life were so easy to edit. To basically flip a switch and create the picture you wanted.
Or erase the one you didn’t.
“Hey.”
Startled, her heart skipped a beat as she looked up. “Oh.”
Jesse tucked his tongue in his cheek. “About as enthusiastic a greeting as I expected. May I?” he nodded to the seat across from Jillian.
Jillian was tempted to tell him that he could just take his kiss-you-against-the-wall-and-then-bail-without-saying-goodbye-or calling-for two-days ass right back out the door, but didn’t want to be petty.
Or to let him know that his behavior had affected her in the least.
“Be my guest.”
He slid onto the bench seat, glanced around at the high wooden walls surrounding the booth, which was tucked next to the bar in the manner of an Irish snug. “Looks like a nice quiet place to work.”
She’d come to Parker’s on the Park – Katie’s restaurant – as she had for the past two days. She couldn’t stand to be home, or even in her studio in the converted garage. The space felt… tainted. It was something she was going to have to get over, but she knew from experience that it would take time.
“It is quiet at this time of year, as long as I come between the lunch and dinner rush. The restaurant is getting so popular though, that I probably won’t be able to use it as my backup office for too much longer.”
“I know Brian is pretty proud.”
Brian. Who’d been very… guarded in his communication with her since the other night, as if a gulf of mistrust had formed between them. It made her both nervous and sad.
“How’s your head?”
“A little tender,” she admitted. “Though no more signs of brain injury. I… look, this is embarrassing, but I’m just going to say it. Thank you for taking care of me the other night. I’m sorry I threw up on you.”
One corner of his mouth tugged up. “As I recall, you threw up on the floor, not me.”
“And you wiped it up with your shirt. So that’s two I owe you.”
His smile faded. “You don’t owe me anything. In fact,” he rested his forearms on the table, leaned in. “I’d like to apologize. My behavior was… more aggressive than it should have been. I was out of line.”
“Oh.” Jillian wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Yes, he’d taken her by surprise when he’d pinned her to the wall and…
She cleared her throat. “It’s not like I was resisting.”
Something hot, possessive flared in his eyes just as a basket of warm cheese straws with spicy avocado dip appeared on the table between them.
Jillian looked up to see Katie, beaming at Jesse.
“How nice to see you again,” she said. “This is your first time here, isn’t it?”
“Ah, Katie. Hi. I’ve been meaning to get over this way since Brian mentioned you opened, but yeah, this is the first time I’ve managed it.”
“Well, then please accept this with my compliments. Our signature appetizer.”
“I would say that’s not necessary, but I never turn down food, especially if it’s half as good as your French toast.”
“Oh, it’s better than half. What’s your poison? It’s almost happy hour,” she reminded him. “We have some excellent craft beers. You look like a dark lager type.”
He smiled. “Should I be concerned that I’m so easily read?”
“No, I’m just damn good. Bo,” she called out over her shoulder. “Bring this gentleman a pilsner of the Black, please.” She finally turned her attention to Jillian. “You’re still on pain meds, so you’ll have to stick with your tea. And eat some of those cheese straws so that I don’t have to keep hovering over you. Having you pass out in the middle of my restaurant is bad for business. I do hope y’all will consider staying for dinner,” she smiled guilelessly as she returned her attention to Jesse.
“Ah…” he glanced at Jillian. “Sounds good?”
“Of course it does,” Katie agreed, taking the pilsner that the bartender slid toward her and placing it in front of Jesse. “Enjoy. And just let Bo here know when you’re ready to eat.”
She sailed away, and Jillian waited several beats before meeting Jesse’s gaze. He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t recall her being so…”
“Dictatorial?” Jillian filled in. “She’s usually not, unless it involves food and what she feels you should be eating, how much you should be eating, or who you should be eating with. She’s the real life soup nazi, except instead of no soup for you, it’s eat these cheese straws.”
He grinned, and then picked up a cheese straw, bit in. “Good,” he concluded. “Very good. As far as dictatorial edicts go, I have to say that eat these cheese straws is better than off with their heads.”
“That would be completely counterproductive to her dietary agenda,” Jillian explained as she bit into her own cheese straw. “Headless people can’t eat.”
“Excellent point.”
Jesse took a drink of his beer, studying her over the rim. “We’ve covered your physical wellbeing, but how are you doing, emotionally? I know it was a pretty bad shock.”
Jillian started to say that she was fine, but the fact was, she wasn’t. “I think the worst part is the guilt,” she admitted. “Someone killed that poor animal as a means of hurting me. It’s difficult to get past that.”
“I would tell you the blame lies with the perpetrator, not you, but I think you already know that. You told Brian you think it was McGrath. That he put one of his friends up to it.”
“He had a parole hearing last month. I testified. It seems obvious to me that it’s payback.”
Jesse nodded. “It makes sense. But for the sake of argument, can you think of anyone else who would possibly want to hurt you? Or threaten you?”
Her heartbeat picked up. “Like who?”
“Exes are always good candidates for that sort of thing.”
“Brian told you I was married.”
Jesse tilted his head. “Is that something you’d prefer I didn’t know?”
“No. It’s not like it’s a secret. A mistake, yes, but not something I’m going to hide. It was after… Mike’s trial,” she admitted. “I just wanted to get out of Savannah. I went home – which is a small town in the North Georgia Mountains, called Ellijay. I stayed with my aunt for a while. I also bumped into Cooper Montgomery, who was a friend from high school. We dated a few times, and though there was no real spark there for me, he seemed safe. I craved safety at that point.”
“So you married him.”
She sighed. “I knew it was a mistake, even as I was saying ‘I do.’ My aunt knew it was a mistake, Katie – I think even Cooper knew it, too. But he’d had a crush on me when we were seniors, and so he thought I was what he wanted. Turns out we were both wrong. I wasn’t what he wanted, and he wasn’t safe.”
Jesse’s gaze sharpened. “He hurt you?”
“No, nothing like that. So if you’re thinking he had something to do with, with the package the other night, you’re wrong. He’s not vindictive, or mean. But safety… I’m learning that it’s mostly an illusion. That’s why you can’t live your life hiding in your comfort zone, or not taking risks. Because even when you do, bad things still happen.”
“True. Although sometimes you can take the kind of risk that almost guarantees something bad will happen. Jillian.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “When you went to the Shady Lady, was there… anyone else there who you feel might have some reason to want to hurt you?”
Jillian froze, completely unable to form a credible answer, but then something caught Jesse’s attention. He muttered a heartfelt “Shit.”
&nb
sp; Jillian followed his gaze, saw a tall, dapper and extraordinarily handsome man leaning on the bar, aiming a sexy smile at an expensive-looking blonde.
Then he glanced their direction and his smile changed. “Jesse,” he said, face alight with recognition.
He strolled over to the table, clapped Jesse on the shoulder, and then turned his attention to Jillian. “Jack Wellington.” He offered his hand, eyes narrowing thoughtfully when Jillian took it.
“You look familiar,” he said. “Were you in my law office today?”
“AND how,” Jack said, while pouring three fingers of whisky into his glass. “Was I supposed to know that you were working rather than simply on a date? With a very attractive woman I might add. Naturally I was delighted by the prospect of the end of your recent dry spell.”
Jesse turned away from Jack’s office window to glare at his older brother, whose stone gray eyes danced with amusement.
“It’s not like she can Google you now that she knows I’m your brother and have your federal ID pop up. You keep your information locked down. But I’m curious as to how you managed to get that cozy with her – and the two of you looked awfully cozy – all without her figuring out who you actually are. Rather devious of you, Agent Wellington. You have skills, little brother, of which I was previously unaware.”
“Knock it off with that little brother bullshit.”
“You are younger.” Jack lifted his glass of whisky. “And it works so well to get a rise out of you.”
Restless, Jesse crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from Jack’s mammoth desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head felt like an army of elves was mining his skull with pickaxes.
He’d been forced to forgo Katie’s suggestion of dinner because there was no way to graciously tell Jack to get lost without looking like an asshole. Probably for the best.
No, definitely for the best. He’d been pushing his luck anyway, tracking Jillian down, using his need to apologize for his unprofessional conduct as – let’s be honest – an excuse to see her again. And she didn’t even know he’d been unprofessional. Because she didn’t know what he actually did for a living.
The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set Page 11
