“You have no idea how much I hope you’re wrong,” Holly replied. “No offense.”
“None taken. But James just doesn’t fit into what your UNSUB is looking for. I read that he came from a home where his folks were married for over thirty years until his mom passed away. Doesn’t sound like a man with a psychotic need for a close knit family.”
“Maybe not, but no one knows what goes on behind closed doors, and the fact that James is such a pervert and sicko leads me to think that his family didn’t compare too well with the Beaver’s.”
Brooke laughed. “True, true. Our man does indeed have an incessant need for this family that he can’t seem to find.”
Brooke put her glasses back on, uncrossed her legs, and stood, gathering her papers together and shoving them in an alligator briefcase.
“Before you go, Detective, can I ask you something?”
Holly didn’t like the sound of that. “Sure.”
“I know that you’re aware of my relationship with Chad, and I hope that you’re okay with it. I know how close you are to each other.”
Holly had never seen the always put-together doctor so uneasy. It was a bit enjoyable. “I do know, and, yes, he’s like a little brother.”
“I care a great deal for him.”
“That’s wonderful. I hope it works out,” Holly replied.
Brooke locked her briefcase. “I just wanted you to know that.”
Holly nodded. “So you’ll call me if you come up with anything else?”
“Sure will.”
As Holly left Brooke’s office, that distrust she’d felt about Chad earlier in the day resurfaced with Brooke’s words. Why was there so much concern for her feelings? What were they hiding? Or was she being paranoid? And if so, why did she feel like that about someone who she had known and trusted for years?
She rubbed her eyes and thought about how nice it would be to finally climb in bed that evening. However, as tired as she was, could she really sleep? Her partner and his girlfriend were weirding her out, not to mention that she may or may not have found her killer. If it was James, where the hell was he? And, God forbid, would he strike again before she brought him in on Monday?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Gunter poured himself a glass of crisp chardonnay and set it down on the table next to him. He walked back into his kitchen—all stainless steel and white—to take his warm bread out of the oven. This was all a part of his nightly ritual. He was a traditional man, and a romantic one at that. If a wife had been here with him, she would know that. He would rectify that soon enough. The park had not borne fruit yesterday. C’est la vie.
He turned up his oven to 375 degrees and took out the bread, replacing it with a pan of shrimp scampi. His mother had been a good cook and a good teacher, but she had never shown true love and appreciation for his father. As a child, Gunter had felt so very sorry for her and had loved her with everything he possibly could.
He missed her.
Gunter sat down in his recliner and took a sip of his wine, appreciating its complex bouquet, and then reached for the newspaper. He flipped through world events and soon turned to the metro section. There it was on the first page. The Family Man Strikes Again. “The family man.” Now that had a nice ring to it. He went on to read the article, which was concerned quite a bit more about Shannon and Sara than himself. That wasn’t what he expected. What a wonderful mother Shannon had been . . . how devoted to Sara.
Ha! If she’d been so fucking devoted, the kid would still be alive and they would still be a family.
It hurt his heart, though, to read about Sara and how wonderful she was. He felt his face burn at the thought of what Shannon had made him do to them.
“Bitch,” he muttered.
As he continued reading the story, something else caught his eye even more than their off-base psychoanalysis of who he was—because Gunter was as sane as the rest of the men in America. In fact, probably more so. Definitely more so. At least he was trying to be a good daddy—the best daddy. What about all of the dead beats out there? He was a responsible man. What about all those men who up and leave their wives and children? That wasn’t his style. Yes, the analysis of him offered by the media and the police was off base, and the woman detective behind the investigation . . . Who was she, this Detective Holly Jennings? Holly Jennings. The name bothered him. Where did he know her from? Did he know her? “I need a wife to keep me organized. Help me remember all of the things that I forget.”
He reached the bottom of the article where it said how distraught and devastated Sara’s father was. “Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have ever left, huh, Dad?”
Gunter folded up the paper, went back into the kitchen with his wine, and finished it while waiting for the timer to go off. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and he didn’t have to work. He wished he did. It had been slow going this week, and he was a little pissed off about it. He really wanted another family. Desperately. He didn’t care to have his turkey day alone. Maybe he would go out and find some of his friends.
He thought about his whore and how she’d jump at the chance to be with him tomorrow. But she wasn’t returning his phone calls, which was so unlike her. She better be a good girl. She knew too much, and this scared him somewhat, but he knew deep down she wouldn’t talk. She was loyal—completely and totally. Always had been.
Besides, maybe by tomorrow night he’d have the perfect match, and he wouldn’t have to spend his holiday alone after all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Holly was edgy because the DNA evidence hadn’t come back by the end of the workday on Wednesday, nor was there a trace of the elusive Mr. James and his cohort. The only thing taking the edge off of the day was Chloe dancing around to music from her iPod while Holly blended cream cheese, sugar and pumpkin into her one desert specialty—pumpkin cheesecake. Well, any cheesecake really. She changed the flavor depending on the occasion, but that’s where her dessert skills ended.
They were to head to Brendan’s house in a couple of hours, and that would be another wonderful distraction to keep her mind off of the case. There was something about that man that was getting to her, and after seeing him with Petie yesterday, it was getting harder to deny her growing attraction.
She finished mixing the cheesecake, put it in a Pyrex dish, then into the fridge to chill. Next she checked her e-mail and smiled when she saw that her dad had written in reply to her message. He went on and on about the amazing sun and ocean, and how he wished that she and Chloe were with them. He wrote a bit about her sister Beth and her two kids and her husband, who was the manager at the Hilton Waikiki. She smiled, wishing that she, too, could be there. Sooner or later, she would have to get over this fear of flying.
Her dad did get serious with her at the end of the letter. I don’t like the sound of this case you’re on. Something about it bothers me, and my cop instinct wants you to really watch your back on this one. I’m still searching my brain, but something about this killer reminds me of someone or something from the past, or at least it provokes a déjà vu type thing in me. I’ll figure it out, but in the meantime, stay careful.
The words sent an icy chill down her spine. What could he possibly be talking about? What did her case remind him of? She’d have to call him later. She knew it was still early in Hawaii, and she was running late leaving for Brendan’s. She’d promised him an early arrival when she had called to ask about Petie last night. At least the dog was doing well.
She quickly showered and dressed, taking more care than usual to choose her wardrobe, selecting a coral v-neck cashmere sweater her mom had given her last Christmas, adding a nice pair of black slacks that fit a bit more snugly than any she would wear to work. She even went so far as to apply eyeliner and mascara, which she rarely bothered with.
Chloe appeared around the corner. “Wow, Mommy, you look so pretty.” She stood there, hands on her hips, wearing her favorite dress and tights and black patent leather shoes.
“You look d
ownright beautiful! Look at you! And you picked it out all by yourself.”
“I thought it would be a good idea to dress nice on Thanksgiving cause it is a special occasion.”
“Yes, it is. What do you say we take off?”
Chloe nodded and began to help her mother gather their things for the visit to Brendan’s house, excited about seeing him and his girls.
Holly couldn’t deny that she, too, was excited. And more than a bit nervous. She knew that was silly. They were just friends getting together for Thanksgiving. Christ, who was she kidding? She liked Brendan O’Neil because he made her laugh, which got her mind off of more serious issues. He was also smart, interesting, and, yeah, so damn handsome that it made her blush just thinking about him.
“You ready?” she asked Chloe, when they reached Brendan’s house.
“I’m ready, Mom. Heck, Maddie is my best friend. Are you ready?” A precocious smile spread across her child’s face, and Holly had to laugh. Damn, kids were so smart and intuitive.
“Yes, ma’am I think I am.”
They climbed the front porch steps, and before they could even knock, the door opened wide, revealing a very happy Maddie who said, “I was watching for you. I’m so glad you’re here! My daddy is making a mess out of the kitchen, and my sister is laughing at him.”
“Guess we arrived in time then,” Holly said.
The girls headed straight for Maddie’s room, already talking about who was going to have what Barbie today, and where Barbie and her pals might be off and running to on such a special day.
Holly took a deep breath, steadying herself, and headed into the kitchen. Maddie had not been exaggerating when she’d said that her dad had made a mess of things. “Wow!” she said looking around and seeing open boxes of various ingredients, fruit slices on a cutting board, and an open flour bag that looked as if its contents had sprayed out across the counter, some of it adorning Brendan’s face.
“I said I was a good cook, I didn’t say I was a clean and organized cook,” Brendan said while mixing the dressing.
Holly put the cheesecake in the fridge. “What can I do?”
Brendan looked helpless, as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Hi, Ms. Jennings.” Megan was perched on a corner stool, a book in her hand.
“Hi, Meg, and please call me Holly.”
“She isn’t really reading that book a’tall. She’s over there peering above it, watching me and giggling under her breath, and for that I’m gonna make her clean this kitchen.”
“Oh, Dad!”
“Yep, now get started.”
“Geez!” she protested, but stood up and grabbed a sponge out of the sink. “See what I have to put up with?”
Holly laughed and patted Meg on the shoulders.
“I’ve got something to show you, Holly,” Brendan said. “Follow me.”
They walked down the hall and into Brendan’s bedroom. Holly felt uneasy being in his room, but knew it was nothing other than jangled nerves. His room was nice, comfortable and clean. He was a man with a sense of his own style, as everything had a Hawaiian theme to it. “Funny, my folks are in Hawaii right now.”
“Oh, God, I love it there. I surf, you know?”
“No, really?”
“Oh, yeah. Used to surf in the frigid waters back home, but once I moved to America and tried the waters here, well, you can imagine my delight. Then I visited Hawaii, the big island specifically, and I totally fell in love with it. The girls and I go every summer for two weeks. We have a grand old time.”
“Sounds like it. Surfing, huh? You’re just full of surprises.”
“I suppose I am, yes. It’s truly a spiritual thing, though unless you actually do it, it’s difficult to understand. It’s a good thing that the ocean is so cold in Ireland, or I probably would’ve never gone to school. Now it’s my children who keep me in line, you know?”
“I do. So what’s this surprise?”
“It’s over here.” Brendan walked her across the room to where an animal crate stood against the French doors. “There’s a friend of yours in there.”
Holly bent down and looked in, seeing two small eyes peer out at her and a slightly wagging tail on the end of a small body. “Petie! Can I?” She motioned to the latch.
“Of course, but be careful. He’s got a broken leg. He’s well hydrated and the shock has worn off, although I’m sure he’s got himself a nasty hangover today.”
“Oh, come here little guy.” Holly carefully took the dog out of the crate and stroked his silky fur, cradling him in her arms. He licked her face.
“He likes you. But can you blame him?”
“So he’s going to be all right?”
“Yep. I’m assuming he needs a home. I’d keep him, but I’ve got my hands full with the lab and the three cats that come and go as if I’m simply a feed store and good for an occasional scratch behind the ears. Since they’ve detected Petie’s scent, they’ve been none too happy with me.” He pointed to the three fur balls lying on the bed and eyeing them suspiciously. “Oh, please, be nice. None of you have any manners. Disgusting lot, you are!”
“I guess he will need a home. I certainly wouldn’t want to leave him here to combat those three. It’s a wonder your big dog hasn’t been eaten alive.”
“He’s got good sense. He knows who the bosses are around here. Well, you gonna take him home?”
“Me?”
“You.”
“Oh, please, Mom, can we?” They wheeled around to see Maddie and Chloe standing in the doorway.
“I’m feeling as if I’ve been shanghaied here.”
“Mom, pleeeeze.”
“And you’re going to walk him, play with him, feed him, and I say . . .” she held up her forefinger. “Clean up after him?”
Chloe nodded her head emphatically. “I promise, cross my heart.” She made the motion with her fingers.
“Sure, all right. He can come home with us.”
Chloe squealed with delight and Maddie giggled. They were a sight. Holly still wasn’t completely sold on the idea of having a dog around, even if he was a good dog. She was gone an awful lot, and Chloe had school. She feared that Petie wouldn’t get the attention he craved. Oh, well, the dog was theirs now, and maybe he would be a catalyst in helping her make it home on time each evening.
After making the decision to keep Petie, the girls knew better than to play with him because of his injuries, so they went back into Maddie’s room. Brendan and Holly headed for the kitchen to find that Meg had done a good job of cleaning up.
“What got into you, girl? I think we’ll have to have company far more often,” Brendan said.
“It is Thanksgiving. And Holly is pretty cool. She’s worth cleaning the kitchen for,” Meg said.
“Thanks, Meg.” Holly was pleased that the teenager was so warm to her. “Hey, I wanted to ask you if you do any babysitting? I frequently need to work later than expected, and Chloe needs someone I can depend on to take care of her.”
“I babysit Maddie all the time. It’d be nice to get paid for it.” She gave her dad a dirty look.
“Ah, now that’s what family is for.”
“Of course, I would pay you. You could also rummage through my police procedural books and some stuff I have on crime scene investigating.”
“Yeah. I’d be down with that,” Meg replied.
“Great.”
The rest of the afternoon went as pleasantly and smoothly, except for when Brendan accidentally dropped the gravy bowl on the floor. However, his dog, Whiskey, quickly came to his rescue by lapping it up, which sent the girls into giggles. In fact, the day went so well that Holly hated to see it coming to an end. Stomachs full and dishes loaded to wash, Holly thought it was probably time to exit.
“We should get out of your hair. I need to get Chloe to bed, and I’m sure you’re tired.”
“Nah, don’t go. Have a drink with me,” Brendan said.
Holly wanted to, but she kn
ew if she stayed any longer she might not leave at all. The hell with it. “What ya drinking?” She heard the flirtation in her voice, and it embarrassed her. Keep this in check. He’s a nice man, a good friend. Our daughters are in the same class. That’s it. Sure!
“A little Grand Marnier sound good?” He raised his brows and flashed that smile again, outlined by his dimples.
“Grand.” She giggled at her own pun. “The glasses, are they in the china cabinet?”
“Yep. I’ll get the booze.”
She took two snifters out of the cabinet. She could hear the little girls playing in Maddie’s room and couldn’t help but think of Sara McKay and Mark Collins. They should be laughing, too. Playing, hanging out with their families and friends. She tried to shake the thought. The last thing she wanted to think about right now was the case and what she thought William James had done to the victims. The more she thought about that slime ball and his perverted tastes, the more certain she was that he was their killer, regardless of Brooke’s analysis. Come Monday morning, William James would be behind bars. That was, if he hadn’t already skipped town.
“Holly, you find the glasses?” Brendan asked from the kitchen.
“I did.” She came back into the kitchen. One of the cats twined itself through her legs, tripping her and causing her to lose her balance. The glasses slipped out of her hands, crashing onto the floor, but Brendan caught her before she could do a face plant onto the tile floor. “Oh, damn. I’m sorry.” She looked up at Brendan. His gaze met hers.
“I’m not.” His face came closer.
He was just about to kiss her when Holly heard, “Hey Dad? Kate is on the phone and wants to know if I can go to the movies with her older brother and her? Oops, did I interrupt something?” There stood Meg, phone in hand, looking a bit shocked, yet equally amused.
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