by Lucy Quinn
Cookie nodded then turned to Rain, who had been listening, but judging by the perplexed look on her face, she wasn’t following. “Whoever’s hand this is,” she explained to her mother, “was dead when they cut it off. But he hadn’t been that way for long.”
Rain turned pale. “So they killed him and then cut off his hand?”
“Probably, yeah.” Cookie frowned. “Which means we’ve got another murder to investigate.”
She could only guess what Dylan would have to say about that.
“What about IDing the vic?” Cookie asked. “Any hope of pulling his fingerprints?”
“Hmm, unlikely,” Jared beckoned her over.
Rain shrank back, but Cookie didn’t. She’d seen dead bodies before, and things way more grisly than an unattached hand. Sidling up beside Jared, she did her best to ignore him glancing surreptitiously up at her chest. She didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy. One cheap thrill for the lab geek wouldn’t hurt anything, right?
Jared pulled the adjustable arm of the magnifying lens across the table and positioned it over the hand’s forefinger and thumb. “Take a look.”
Cookie leaned in, squinting. “Something’s wrong with the prints,” she said after a second. Water damage was one thing, but the hand didn’t look particularly wrinkly, nor did it have that loose, saggy look of flesh that had been soaking for too long. But where the fingerprints should have been, there was only the faintest remains of the identifying lines. “Deliberate, you think?”
“Almost certainly,” the medical examiner replied, his face turning bright red as he tried turning toward her and nearly got a face-full of boob. “I’ll run some tests, though. I might still be able to get something. DNA for sure, but sometimes it’s possible to reconstruct fingerprints.”
“Great. Let me know what you find.” She squeezed his shoulder and noticed the muscle harden as he flexed for her. “Thanks, Jared. You’re the best.”
That made him blush even more. “Happy to help,” he managed to stammer out.
“Come on, Mom, let’s go,” Cookie said, and Rain nodded.
“It was so nice meeting you,” Rain gushed at Jared, who had regained enough composure to smile back at her.
“An absolute pleasure, Mrs. James,” he assured her.
“Oh, it’s Miss Forest,” Rain was quick to point out, waggling the fingers of her left hand so he could see the lack of a ring. “I’m one-hundred-percent available. And you can call me Rain.”
Cookie latched an arm through her mother’s and dragged her out before she could put any more moves on the hapless ME.
“He’s a cutie,” Rain stage-whispered as the morgue doors swung shut behind them. “A little nerdy, but sweet. And I bet he’d appreciate a real woman.”
“He’s less than half your age, Mom,” Cookie pointed out as their feet pounded when they climbed the stairs. “And he works with dead bodies all day. Imagine the small talk you’d get from that.” She had nothing against Jared, actually, but she didn’t want to see him get sucked into her mother’s web. That way lay madness. And since she might have to work with him again, if there was any fallout from a failed romance with Rain, she’d be the one bearing the brunt of it. Better to nip any ideas in the bud now, while she still could.
“You never let me have any fun,” Rain claimed, sticking out her lower lip just like a petulant toddler.
“Hey, I let you come to a sheriff’s station with me. Isn’t this fun?” Cookie replied as they reached the main level of the building. “If you behave, I’ll see if I can get you a toy badge.” Just then she spotted Sheriff Watkins through the glass. “Hang on, I need to talk to someone while we’re here.”
“What, in there?” Rain shrank back, a look of defiance on her face as Cookie steered them toward the rest of the office. “Maybe I should wait outside.”
Cookie didn’t have the patience for her mother’s nonsense. “You’re straight and sober right now, right?” she demanded. Her mother could only nod. “Then you’re fine. Just keep your mouth shut and we’ll be in and out in no time.” She pushed the heavy door open and led the way.
The Hancock sheriff’s office wasn’t exactly huge, and there were only a few people on staff, so it was no surprise that the sheriff noticed them right away. She smiled and headed toward them, intersecting their path right by the front desk.
“Cookie, hello!” As always, Sheriff Watkins reminded her of somebody’s grandma—short, stout, graying, and smiling, but with that hint of sternness behind it that invariably kept you inline. “I wasn’t expecting you, was I?” Then she turned toward Rain and offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Sheriff Watkins, nice to meet you.”
“This is my mother, Rain Forest,” Cookie explained, wincing like she did every time she had to use her mother’s full name. Well, current full name. Her real name was Mary Arlene Jamison. Her mother had argued that if they were going into hiding she wanted a name that represented her inner spirit, whatever that meant. Cookie had been in no position to disagree seeing as how she’d gone from Charlene Jamison to Cookie James herself. But her mother, being her mother, had to take it ten steps further. Rather than choosing a nice normal name, and the same last name as Cookie, she’d decided to reinvent herself completely. And thus Rain Forest was born. Not that the hippie moniker didn’t suit her, but Cookie felt ridiculous using it.
“A pleasure,” the sheriff said as they shook.
“Same here,” Rain replied, clearly on her best behavior. “Cookie’s told me so much about you, about how nice you’ve been to her, and how warm and friendly you all have been.” She was laying it on a bit thick, no doubt going for the sweet, older-lady vibe.
“Glad to hear it,” she replied. “Your daughter’s been a real asset around here, helped us out a bunch of times already.”
Cookie let out some tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Last time she’d been in in the office, the sheriff had told her she needed to get fingerprinted. She’d been deputized to help with the Dickie Dungworth case, and it was standard protocol. The only problem was, checking her prints would come back with her real name and the fact that she’d been FBI and had walked out of the job. Hunter had come to her rescue by telling Watkins that Cookie couldn’t be fingerprinted, but that he’d cleared her. He’d implied that she’d been his CI back in Philly, not realizing that this would suggest she’d been a lowlife, an addict, or worse. He’d promised Cookie that he’d correct any misapprehensions and make it clear that she’d been a respectable citizen who’d risked her own life to help bring someone to justice. Judging by the warmth of Watkins’s tone, he’d made good on his promise.
Which meant that Cookie didn’t have to worry about having her cover blown. “That’s actually kind of why I’m here,” she said. “Do you have a minute to talk in private?”
“Of course.” Her face became stern, and it was impressive how Watkins could go from grandmotherly to tough professional cop in a heartbeat. “Why don’t we step into my office?”
“Sounds great. Mom, wait right here, okay?” Cookie said.
Rain pressed her lips together in a thin line, clearly not pleased, but she nodded anyway.
Cookie almost laughed. Maybe it was a little cruel to leave Rain standing around in a sheriff’s office, but at least she knew her mother couldn’t get up to any trouble there.
Watkins led the way back to her office, which was glass-walled like the rest of the station so that she could see what was going on throughout the entire place from her desk. The Sheriff perched on the edge of that desk to face Cookie. “What’s this all about?” she asked, all business.
“Did Deputy Swan call you?” Cookie asked. When the sheriff shook her head, Cookie launched into a short explanation of what had happened so far—the lobster trap, the drugs, the package, the hand. “Dr. Delgado is running tests on the hand now,” she concluded, “and Hunter’s already on his way out, since drug trafficking makes it a federal case.” Of course, it could just as easily fall
under DEA jurisdiction, or shared between them now that there was a probable murder as well, but that would be up to Hunter and Watkins to decide. Like most agents, Hunter didn’t like having to share with the other agencies if he could avoid it. Cookie knew he’d push to keep it strictly FBI and local law, and she had the feeling Watkins would go along with his decision.
“Oh, Agent O’Neil is coming back? That’s very nice.” Watkins’s hand went to her bun, probably without conscious thought, and Cookie did her best not to smile. The sheriff had a very obvious crush on Hunter, which was sweet and utterly unrequited. It didn’t interfere with her job at all, however, as she continued, “Since you’re already on the case, why don’t I just deputize you again, in order to keep everything nice and legal?”
“That would be great,” Cookie replied. Knowing that she had the legal authority to make arrests would definitely put her more at ease. Although as Watkins swore her in and handed her a deputy’s badge, Cookie could practically hear Dylan in her head.
Just couldn’t stay away, could you?
Cookie fingered the sharp edges of her new badge as she pushed his voice out of her head. It wasn’t her fault drugs had washed up on the shore, or that a hand had shown up at her house. Was it?
“Keep me posted,” Watkins instructed as they exited her office and retraced their steps to where Rain waited. “And be careful. Sounds like whoever’s behind this is serious and not likely to stop at half-measures.”
“Got it.” Cookie nodded as she steered her mother toward the doors. “Thanks.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rain called back as they left, lifting a hand in farewell. “Is she still watching us?” she whispered to Cookie once they were outside.
“No, Mom,” Cookie replied, not even bothering to glance back. There was no doubt Sheriff Watkins had better things to do than watch them go. “You’re fine. Relax.”
“Whew! She reminded me of a bulldog, that woman,” Rain said, a small shudder running through her. “I half-expected her to sniff me for drugs.”
“Why would she do that?” Cookie asked, eyeing her mother. “She wouldn’t have found any, right?” When her mother didn’t reply, she stopped and glared at Rain. “Right?”
Sheepishly, Rain stuck a hand in her pocket and pulled out a lollipop. An oddly green-shaded lollipop. Cookie couldn’t believe it. She’d seen those before. Rain and her friend Winter had cooked them up using pot they’d bought off Stone Harris. “Mom!” she cried, then stopped, glanced around, and lowered her voice. “You brought a pot lolly to a police station?”
“Well, I didn’t know that’s where we were going,” her mother snapped back. “And it was only in case of emergencies.”
Cookie sighed and shook her head. “Next time, leave the drugs at home, okay? Or better yet, get rid of them. Geez, you’re a menace,” she said, already knowing there was no changing Rain. She’d given up on that one long ago.
“I’ll just leave them in my underwear drawer,” her mother said with a smirk. “I could invite Jared over and have a little treasure hunt. There’s nothing like a sexy man putting his hands all over my unmentionables.” She smiled, her concerns magically vanishing in the wake of her lust haze. “So, where to next?”
10
“Next?” Cookie frowned at her mother as they strolled past a collection of commercial offices. A light, salt-scented breeze blew off the bay. “What do you mean, next? This isn’t the start of the ‘Cookie and Rain Adventure Hour’. You asked to go with me to drop off the severed hand, you did, and now it’s back to the inn with you.”
Two women, who were both dressed in capris and matching sweater sets, paused and turned to stare at Cookie when she uttered the words severed hand. Their eyes were wide as their mouths gaped.
Cookie gave them a wan smile and kept walking. Secret Seal Isle might be so small that everybody knew everybody else’s business, but Hancock was practically a teeming metropolis by comparison, and she was confident most of the people who saw her now would never see her again. There was no reason to stop an explain.
Besides, she had bigger problems. Namely, her mother, who was now pouting and stamping her foot in a mock tantrum. “You promised I could come with you,” Rain declared. Cookie was shocked that her lower lip didn’t tremble as she said it.
“For this one errand,” Cookie corrected. “Which you did. And that’s done. The end.”
“But what about the rest of the case?” Rain asked. “Are you really going to shut me out of it just like that? After the shock I’ve had? The terror I endured?” She pressed, really laying it on thick. Unbelievable. And her eyes were actually welling up with tears. How the hell does she do that on command, Cookie wondered. She’d never been able to tear up for effect. She only cried when it was damned inconvenient, but Rain could turn it on and off like a trained actress. Which probably shouldn’t have been that big a surprise, seeing as how her mother had been putting on one performance after another her entire life.
“You’re fine, Mom,” Cookie pointed out. “You’re clearly over it. What is it you’re really after here?” She set her hands on her hips. “Spill.”
Her mother did her best to hold the hurt look, but finally sighed and dropped it, the shattered expression sliding off her face like water off a duck’s back. “I’m bored, okay?” she answered. “We don’t have any guests, I don’t really know anybody on the island—well, okay, I know a few people, but most of them are busy during the day. And besides, all they want to talk about are lobsters and fishing and each other. I’m going stir-crazy.” She beamed up at Cookie, and for once it looked genuine. “This is fun. Mother-daughter bonding and solving crime at the same time. How cool is that?”
Cookie started to reply, then stopped. She’d wanted to go into law enforcement ever since she was a kid, and although Rain had tried to talk her out of it initially, once she saw that Cookie was serious, she’d supported her dreams. She’d always done her best to provide Cookie with whatever she needed to succeed. But she’d never taken an active involvement in her career, mainly because she had such an innate aversion for officers, agents, and anything revolving around the law. This was the first time that Rain had ever been interested in what Cookie did or one of her cases. Sure, Rain didn’t know all the details. And sure, it had almost literally been dumped in her lap, so she was already involved, sort of. Even so, it actually was kind of nice to not have Rain turning up her nose and saying, ‘Oh, you’re working,’ and shut out anything more.
So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let Rain tag along for a little while?
“All right,” Cookie said finally. “You really want to help me with this?”
Rain nodded eagerly. She was practically vibrating she was so excited. And Cookie thought it looked like the real deal.
“Fine. But,” Cookie warned, “you follow my lead, got it?”
“Got it!” A huge grin stretched across Rain’s face, and she lunged forward to wrap Cookie in a tight hug. “Thank you, sweetie! This is going to be so much fun.”
Already, Cookie was starting to second-guess her decision, but she soldiered on. “It isn’t all fun and games,” she told her as she peeled her mother’s surprisingly strong arms off herself. “You know what most cop shows and detective movies never show you? That ninety percent of the work is in the research.”
“Research?” Rain made a face, but quickly wiped it away when she saw Cookie’s frown. “Right, research. What are we researching? I’m on it.” She pulled out her phone and held it up, clearly ready to Google the hell out of something.
Cookie laughed. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d rather read my results on a screen I can actually see,” she answered. She put her hand on her mother’s shoulder and steered her farther down the street. “Come on.” Fortunately Hancock was still small enough that they could get to her planned destination by foot, since they’d gotten rid of their car when they’d first arrived on Secret Seal Isle. The occasional cab zoomed by, as well, but it was a nice mo
rning, clear and bright, so Cookie figured they might as well get some exercise. And maybe the trek would keep her mom occupied for a bit.
“Can we at least have code names?” Rain asked as they started to walk again. “I’ll be Sexy Mama. You can be”—she pursed her lips, thinking—“oh, Back-talking Offspring. Or, no, Mama’s Girl. Perfect!” Rain giggled.
Cookie wondered if, now that she’d been deputized again, she could shoot her mother and get away with it. Nothing serious, just a flesh wound, something to slow her down so Cookie could make a clean getaway.
“Here?” Rain stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at the large, handsome stone building in front of them. Then she turned and scowled at Cookie, like this was some big joke on her. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Cookie answered. “You wanted to see how this works? Well, welcome to the dazzling world of investigation.” She put a hand on her mother’s back, right between the shoulder blades, and gave her a gentle but firm push. “Now, in we go.”
Rain’s thundercloud expression did not abate as she grudgingly let herself be propelled up the steps and into the Hancock Public Library. The scent of dust and old paper, as well as the quiet of the space, was like music to Cookie’s senses. As she’d hoped, the library had several computers set aside for public use. In fact, it had an entire room of them, a nice big sunny room with bay windows taking up much of the far wall. The computers were arranged in little clusters, three to a group, so that even if you looked around you wouldn’t be able to see more than one or two other screens. There didn’t seem to be a sign-up sheet, or a time limit. Instead there was a notice posted on the wall near the entrance. Please be considerate of other users—keep the volume down, and if others are waiting, do not dawdle. It was perfect.
