They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, with Blaine casting occasional glances at his girlfriend and Lucas’s gaze drifting to the window, watching the cars lumber past, all of them coated with weeks’ worth of salt and dirt. The temperatures had been too cold to contemplate car washes, and every vehicle on the road looked the same muted shade of…grime.
“So, I’m working on a case,” Lucas finally said.
Blaine nodded. “Yeah, something about a high school kid, right?”
Lucas hadn’t given him much in the way of detail when he’d asked to meet up. He didn’t need to; he knew Blaine would come. That part was a given. Getting information out of him might be another story, though. They were friends, good friends even, but Blaine was a by-the-book kind of guy, especially when it came to procedural stuff. Even though he and Blaine had worked on the force for a few years together, Lucas knew their friendship was no guarantee that a free exchange of information was on the agenda.
Which was totally fair, Lucas reminded himself. They weren’t on the same team anymore. The same side, sure—they both wanted to help people and solve crimes. But their approach and who they worked for were different. Blaine followed the rules and reported to his superiors. Lucas had no problem operating in shades of gray and ultimately worked for himself, and whatever client hired him.
“What do you know about Noah Dans?” Lucas asked.
Blaine swallowed a piece of muffin and washed it down with a generous gulp of coffee. “Dans?”
Lucas nodded.
“The suicide?”
“Yeah.”
Blaine stared into his coffee. “Not much.” He shrugged. “Kid hung himself in his bedroom. Parents were out of town. St. Paul, I think. Mom found him late the next morning.”
“Did you respond to the call?”
“No.” Blaine gave his friend a curious stare. “Why?”
Lucas ignored the question. “You hear if a note was recovered?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Tox screen came back clean?”
Blaine’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”
Lucas bit back a sigh. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of his friend unless he gave him a little something.
“His sister has some questions about his death,” he said. “She asked me to look into it.”
“Why you? Why didn’t she ask for the autopsy report?” Blaine picked up his coffee but didn’t drink it, just cradled it in his hands. “Or speak to the responding officer?”
“I’m sort of doing that for her, aren’t I?” Lucas pointed out.
Blaine’s brow furrowed. “I just told you I wasn’t the responding officer. And besides, you know that info is private.”
“I know,” Lucas admitted. “But I also know you could give me a little something if you wanted to.”
Blaine’s frown was impossible to miss.
“Tox screen came back clean,” he finally said.
“Oh?” Lucas leaned toward his friend. “I thought you weren’t involved in the case.”
“I wasn’t,” Blaine clipped. “But there were some bad drugs circulating. I asked for the tox results to make sure this kid wasn’t another victim.”
His answer made sense, but there was something off in Blaine’s demeanor, something Lucas couldn’t quite place. He was visibly uneasy about discussing Noah, and Lucas didn’t know why.
“You okay, man?” he asked.
Blaine avoided Lucas’s gaze. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said evenly. “You tell me.”
Blaine blew out a breath. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You asked me about a suicide, I told you what I know. End of story.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. Blaine wasn’t just uneasy. He was pissed.
Lucas tried hard to stem his own irritation. Something was up with his friend. And he was going to figure out what it was.
He opened his mouth, intent on giving Blaine the third degree, when his phone buzzed.
With a frustrated huff, he yanked it out of his pocket.
Alaina’s name flashed across the screen, and he immediately conjured up an image of her beautiful face.
Blaine watched, a little warily it seemed, as Lucas answered the call.
“McGowan,” he said.
“Lucas.” Alaina’s voice was soft, slightly breathy, and it made his heart hiccup. He liked the way she said his name, the way it rolled off her tongue. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing her voice. “Are you available right now?”
Lucas glanced at the man sitting across the table. “I’m sort of in the middle of something.” He paused. If it were up to him, he’d go right to her, but he wasn’t done with Blaine and the weird twist in conversation that he wanted to get to the bottom of. “Can you give me a half hour or so?”
“No.”
He was taken aback by the sudden firmness in her voice.
“No?” he repeated.
She made a noise, something between a cough and a sniffle. “I’m at the house. I…I think I found something.”
He stiffened, alerted by what sounded like genuine distress. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He stole another look at Blaine. His friend was still holding his coffee, and his knee was bouncing up and down like a jackhammer.
Lucas wanted to press him, wanted to figure out why the hell he was acting so weird.
But he’d heard the urgency in Alaina’s voice.
It had been impossible to miss.
And he was already beginning to realize just how hard it would be to ever say no to her.
“I’m on my way.”
13
Wednesday, March 21st
2:25pm
“Mr. McGowan.”
Alaina’s mother beat her to the door.
Alaina watched as he tipped his head in greeting. “Your daughter asked me to come over.”
His eyes found hers as she hurried to the door. He gave her a tentative smile.
“I can take it from here, Mother,” she said, pushing her way between the two of them.
Her mother pursed her lips. “Why is he back here?”
“I…I asked him to come.” Alaina grabbed Lucas’s hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and the feel of her warm fingers threaded through his—and her immediate, almost electric response—took her by surprise.
“Why?” her mother asked. Her own fingers were wrapped around her necklace, worrying the pearls as one might finger a rosary.
“I need to talk to him.”
“About what?”
Alaina tugged him toward the basement door. “Just…things.”
She vaulted down the stairs and she heard him behind her, taking the steps with hard footfalls.
Halfway down, she let go of his hand, inadvertently throwing him off balance. She turned to look at him and saw him stumble, reaching for the banister for support. His leg slid out from under him, and he let out a groan as his other knee absorbed the full weight of his body.
“You okay?” She glanced at his legs.
He bit his lip and nodded.
She heard him hobbling behind her as she headed toward Noah’s room.
“Seriously? Are you hurt?” She stole another look at his legs.
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
She hesitated for a moment, hurt warring with irritation at his clipped response. She pursed her lips, saying nothing as she crossed the threshold. Lucas followed her.
There were three yearbooks on the bed, all of them open to a double-page spread.
“You found something in the yearbooks?” he asked.
“Yes.” Alaina shook her head. “I mean, no.”
He rubbed his knee as he moved closer. “Which one is it?”
“I hate to ask again, but are you sure you’re okay?” She frowned, watching as he gently massaged his leg.
“I’m fine,” he said shortly. He
was scowling, and she didn’t know if it was because of his knee or something else.
She bit her lip at the sting of his words.
He must’ve noticed, because his expression immediately softened. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s my leg. Old injury.”
She was immediately concerned. “Do you need anything? Ice or something?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” His smile was tight, almost painful, and she wished there was something she could do to help. But it was clear that he didn’t want any, and pushing the issue would only irritate him.
“You said you found something,” Lucas said. “Something important. Something in the yearbooks?”
“No,” she said. “I found a couple names, but I could’ve given you those over the phone.”
He cocked his head. “Okay…so why am I here, then?”
Alaina pointed to the window. “Look at that.”
He stepped closer, leaning toward the window, bringing his body nearer to hers in the process. She couldn’t help but breathe in his scent.
It was becoming so familiar. Heady. Intoxicating.
“Has the lock always been broken?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
He looked at her. “Were these pictures knocked over?”
She nodded.
“And the dirt?”
It was her turn to frown. “What dirt?”
“The dirt on the ledge. Looks more like sand.”
“Sand?” She squinted and leaned in to get a better look.
“From the plows,” he said. “The sand and gravel they throw down with the salt.”
Alaina couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed that.
“Did you touch anything?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.” He unzipped his jacket and reached into an interior pocket, producing a pair of latex gloves.
“You always carry gloves?”
“Yes.” His expression was dead serious. “The last thing I want to do is contaminate a scene.”
Alaina nodded. Of course.
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassed that she hadn’t considered that. At least she hadn’t been dumb enough to touch anything when she first noticed the knocked-over frames and broken lock.
Lucas reached out and touched the dirt and gravel. He rubbed a few grains between his fingers.
“Definitely from the plows and trucks,” he said. “Especially considering the time of year. There isn’t any exposed ground.”
“How did it get there?” Alaina asked.
“It was probably on someone’s shoe.”
“Shoe?” Alaina stared at him. “Why would it be in the window?”
Lucas didn’t answer. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed out of the bedroom. She followed him as he marched up the stairs and toward the front door. She couldn’t help but notice that he was now walking with a slight limp, and she felt horrible that she might’ve played a role in causing it.
He slipped into his boots and opened the front door. Alaina was right behind him, struggling to get her own shoes on. She didn’t even grab her coat as she joined him outside.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
She wasn’t sure if Lucas didn’t hear her or if he was simply choosing not to respond. Her boots disappeared in the thick blanket of snow and she trudged her way through, trying to catch up. A soft breeze stole through her sweater, sending a shiver through her.
Lucas finally slowed, allowing her to catch up with him. He was close to Noah’s window, about ten feet away, crouched down to inspect something.
Alaina stopped. “What are you looking for?”
“Prints,” he said without looking up.
“Like of boots? Shoes?”
He nodded.
She glanced around the yard. The front was littered with them, along with small patches of yellow snow. Harry, Noah’s dog, had always been particular about his toileting habits, and he always used the same stretch of yard in the front of the house to take care of his needs. Because of this, the snow in the front yard was crisscrossed with boot prints and paw prints. But the side and back yard were another story.
She examined the snow, noted the subtle shape of prints.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
“Those are prints,” she murmured.
“Sure are.” Lucas leaned closer, his face just a few inches from the snow.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something identifiable,” he said. “A pattern, a design, anything.”
Her pulse quickened. “What do you see?”
He sighed and looked up at her. “Nothing useful,” he said flatly.
“Why not?” She frowned.
“The prints are too old.” He straightened back to a standing position, grabbing his knee as he did so. “We’ve gotten a little bit of snow since the prints were formed, and with blowing and drifting and a little bit of melt thrown in…well, these are more outlines of prints than anything else. Indentations.”
Her hope deflated. “So they aren’t helpful?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Lucas said. He picked his way carefully toward Noah’s window, creating a clear path that left the existing prints undisturbed. “We know someone was out here. We just don’t know who.”
Alaina folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself. The wind had picked up on this side of the house, and her hair whipped against her cheeks.
“You guys stayed out front with the dog?” Lucas asked.
“As far as I know,” she said. “Harry only liked the front yard.”
Lucas nodded. “And where is he now? I didn’t see him in the house.”
“He lives with me.”
Lucas raised his eyebrows.
“I… My mother wasn’t in any condition to look after him,” she said. “So I took him.”
“I didn’t see him when I was at your place.”
“He was probably asleep.” She made a face. “He’s not much of a guard dog. Just a friendly old mutt.”
Lucas nodded again and then turned his attention back to the snow.
Alaina’s teeth chattered. “Who do you think it was, then? Who made the prints?”
“It could’ve been a kid in the neighborhood,” he offered. “The mailman. Anyone, really.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. “So I guess this is a dead end.”
Lucas squinted at her. The sun was like a spotlight on his face, warming his complexion, reflecting bits of gold in his brown eyes. Alaina’s pulse quickened again, but for a different reason this time.
“Not necessarily,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers. “There are footprints that we can’t identify, which sucks as far as trying to figure out who might’ve been out here. But we have something else.” He smiled. “A broken window lock. And dirt on the window ledge.”
She swallowed, allowing her mind to assemble the pieces he was putting together for her.
“There’s an awful lot of evidence to suggest someone came through that bedroom window,” Lucas said. “The question is, who?”
14
Thursday, March 22nd
2:55pm
There were two people Lucas was waiting to talk to.
Hannah Sears and Jack Whitman.
Not because he thought they might’ve been the ones lurking outside of Noah’s window, but because they were the two names Alaina had identified in her brother’s yearbooks. Two people who had left written notes that hinted at something more than just a casual acquaintance.
Two people who were inside the high school, which was where Lucas was currently parked.
After discovering the footprints, he and Alaina had gone back inside the house and she’d quickly filled him in on what she’d found in the yearbooks. She looked disappointed that she’d only found two names, but at that point, Lucas was grateful for any and all leads.
“Don’t touch anything,” he’d told her after they’d retu
rned to the front porch.
She’d kicked her boots against the concrete step, trying to dislodge the snow. “I won’t.”
“Make sure your mom doesn’t, either.”
“She can’t even go downstairs,” Alaina reminded him. “She sure as hell won’t be going into his room.”
Lucas nodded.
“Are you going to dust for prints or something?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
He bit back a smile. She said it so hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure she’d used the correct terminology.
“Maybe,” he told her. “I’d just like to preserve the scene as much as possible. Just in case.”
Her expression clouded, and he’d immediately felt bad. He was used to detaching himself from crimes and investigations: to him, the bedroom was quickly becoming the scene of a potential crime. He still wasn’t convinced anything had happened, but there were some odd clues that weren’t adding up. Sure, Noah could’ve had a friend or girlfriend sneak into his room. Hell, he might’ve even locked himself out of the house at some point and broken in through his bedroom window. Those were all viable possibilities.
No, he amended. Those were all likely possibilities. But, as a former police officer, he was the last person who would discount the idea that something else had occurred. Something criminal. However, his choice of words—the ‘scene’—probably conjured up far different images for Alaina. This was her brother’s bedroom, not some abandoned warehouse or back alley.
The school bell sounded and Lucas blinked. Shit. He’d intended to be at the doors waiting. He knew what the two kids looked like, thanks to yearbook photos and a quick glance at social media profile pics, but he had no idea if or where he’d find them in the halls of the building. It was a little like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but he didn’t have much else to go on, especially since he couldn’t get his hands on school schedules. He knew Jerry, the building supervisor, would be inside, but he’d already indicated that he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of sharing info about the kids.
Lucas had briefly entertained asking Blaine for help with this but quickly nixed that idea, too. He’d been less than receptive to discussing the case when they’d met at Lulu’s and had even shown a little aggression, which was not like the Blaine he knew. Lucas made a mental note to touch base with his friend soon, not about the case, but simply because he was concerned about him. They were friends—better than friends, actually. If Lucas wanted to get all sentimental, he’d say Blaine was the closest thing he had to a brother. And he was pretty sure Blaine felt the same way about him. Blaine had Nate, of course, but his grumpy-ass half-brother never acted like one.
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