by Debra Webb
“If his claims prove true,” Wesley said with obvious reluctance, “he wants probation for his daughter. To keep this business out of the media, his wish may very well be granted.”
Jess downed the rest of her wine, a stall tactic to prevent speaking before thinking. The wine didn’t do a thing to slow down her building outrage. “You’re telling me that his daughter’s charges, which include kidnapping me, will likely be lessened to basically nothing if you can verify his claims.” That stunk like three-day-old roadkill in the middle of August.
Wesley refilled her glass. “You’re aware of the way these things work, Jess. You have to give to get.”
Yes, she was all too aware. “Seems incredible that our own people can create this sort of a predicament. And we don’t ever want to believe that evil can be working right alongside us. We walk around assuming the best of everyone until the knife is plunged into our back.”
Like the idea that someone in the Birmingham Police Department had rigged a bomb in her borrowed car. She glanced at her door. Not to mention broke into her place and left that message.
Wesley hummed a sound of agreement. “That’s the part of this job that gets to me the most. To know that one of us is capable of selling out to that kind of monster.”
Jess knew better than to ask any questions. So far he hadn’t mentioned the incident with the car. Her guess was Burnett hadn’t shared. She didn’t plan to either. “Just make sure Lopez gives you enough to get the bastard.”
Wesley held up his glass. “To getting the bad guys.”
“Hear, hear.” Jess bumped his glass and took a long drink.
“I’ve realized many things the past few days, Jess.”
She tangled her chopsticks in the lo mein. “Such as.”
“I’ve missed you.” When she looked up he was staring at her. “One day, when we have some time, we need to talk about that.”
“Wesley.” Her stomach knotted with the mix of emotions his words evoked. “I’ve missed you, too.” It was the truth. She wasn’t going to lie. She might never see him again. She had made a promise to herself not to take another moment for granted and she intended to keep that promise. “But I’m happy with my life here just as it is.”
That part was the truth, too. She was happy. For the first time in a long while.
Silence lingered for a bit.
“It’s Burnett, isn’t it?” he asked at last.
She’d expected that one. “It’s far more complicated than that.” She couldn’t explain to him what she didn’t fully understand herself. “Burnett and I have a history that’s difficult to define. My happiness at the moment is about a lot more than him.”
A smile spread across Wesley’s lips. She had always loved his smile.
“Good for you, Jess.”
She cared for Wesley. Respected and admired him. His approval meant a lot to her. She hoped that, moving forward, they could be friends. Somehow after taking their vows they had lost that ability.
Dinner went by too fast. Jess enjoyed the meal and the conversation more than any they had shared as a married couple. When they’d cleaned up and she’d walked with him to the landing outside her door, a feeling of uncertainty and just a pinch of regret lingered.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“You’d better be.” She hugged her arms around herself. She wished the feeling of uncertainty or restlessness would go away. Would she never see him again? Did she want to?
He leaned down, and for a fraction of a second she couldn’t breathe. Wesley kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “If you ever change your mind you know how to find me.”
And then he took his leave before she could say a word.
Jess watched him drive away and she wondered if their marriage had been her last chance at having the traditional life—the picket fence and the kids.
The need to talk to Dan rushed through her. Would they… could they ever have that? Maybe. She just didn’t know. They’d made that deal about turning sixty but what if one or the other met someone else before then? That was one worry she just didn’t have time for.
She downed the last of her wine. Besides, what did she need with traditional?
She had the unexpected, the unusual. Her gaze settled on the one window in her landlord’s home that poured light into the darkness. Oh yes. She had the unexpected, the unusual, and the peculiar.
What else could a girl want?
Jess turned to go back inside and the lovely stemmed glass Wesley had brought as her housewarming gift slipped out of her hand. She crouched and caught it just before it hit and shattered on the wooden deck floor.
“Oh good grief.” She was tired. Too tired to be entertaining. And having three glasses of wine. Glass firmly in hand, she prepared to push to her feet. Spots on the wood stopped her.
Jess reached down and touched the specks. Red and dried. Not paint. Mr. Louis had been using white paint. Had the spots been there and she just hadn’t noticed? She thought of the bloody message that had been left for her on that photo.
What if her intruder had come back? The new locks had obviously kept him out but maybe he left her a message on the… door?
Jess glanced toward her landlord’s house and then at the door to her rented space. Would he have thought cleaning up the mess was the proper thing to do? Without ever mentioning it to her? That was ridiculous.
“You’re getting paranoid, Jess.”
She went inside and closed the door, taking care to lock it. She washed her glass and placed it on the counter next to the others. Now what? She could better organize her new stock of dry and canned goods in the cabinets.
“Forget it!” She couldn’t ignore the spots.
She dug around in the take-out containers and got one of the chopsticks. After washing it thoroughly, she went back out to her landing and scraped up a specimen of the red spot. There were evidence collection bags in her car, but if she went down to her car the cop doing her surveillance would report that to Burnett. He was already going to get an earful about Wesley’s late-night visit.
She was going to hear about that. Especially if that chaste kiss was mentioned.
Really all she needed was something plastic and clean. After fishing around in her bag for a whole minute she found a Tampax. She removed the packaging and tucked her specimen inside. Might not be sterile but it was clean.
“That works.” She stored the package in the zipper compartment of her bag and then dusted her hands together. First thing tomorrow morning she’d hit up Ricky Vernon at the lab for a favor.
Two brisk knocks on her door made her jump.
It was past ten o’clock. Who in the world…?
Jess stamped toward the door. “Burnett, if that’s you checking up on me, I’m going to be…” She checked the window.
Sylvia Baron?
“What the hell?” Jess opened the door. “You have news on my vic?” The woman couldn’t call with news on the case? Why the heck was she working so late anyway? Surely Burnett hadn’t recruited her to check up on Jess, too.
Baron adopted an offended expression. “Hello to you, too, Harris.” She thrust a large bag at Jess. “That’s for you.” She pushed her way inside and surveyed the space. “So this is your new place.”
Jess closed and locked the door. “Sorry about the yelling.” No way she missed Jess’s tirade. “I was expecting to find Burnett at the door.”
Baron turned to her, her eyebrows arched in skepticism. “Does Chief of Police Burnett make a habit of stopping by at this hour?”
Jess pretended to be mesmerized by the can opener beneath all the fancy yellow paper stuffed in the bag. “Thank you for the gift.” She flashed a smile as she deposited the bag on the table. “Do you make it a habit of stopping by to have refreshments with your ex-husband’s wife on the day she’s murdered?”
Baron’s gaze narrowed. “I told you she called me but we never had that meeting.” Baron folded her arms over her chest and cranked up her hau
ghty meter. “Did you forget to write it down?”
Jess ignored her dig. “Someone came to Gabrielle’s house after eight o’clock Sunday night. Someone she knew.” She matched Baron’s stance. “If it wasn’t you, then who?”
“How would I know? You’re the hotshot cop, why haven’t you figured it out?”
Again, Jess ignored her potshot. “You want coffee?” The woman was here, they might as well accomplish something.
“It’s not instant, is it?” Baron sent a suspect glance toward Jess’s new coffeemaker.
Jess rolled her eyes. “No.” She gave her nifty carousel a spin. “What’s your pleasure?”
Coffee blends selected and cups brewed, they moved to the steps. It was far too nice to stay cooped up inside, especially with no sofa. The oppressive heat had subsided, taking the worst of the humidity with it.
“We’re not dealing with a gangbanger,” Baron said what they both already knew after a lengthy silence. “Burnett tells me there’s still nothing in her background that would suggest an enemy out for revenge.”
“It’s not the husband,” Jess said. She wasn’t even going to pretend to believe otherwise.
Baron turned and stared at her profile.
“I know she called you and was worried about him, but I think it’s about something he was involved in. I just have to find out what that something is.”
Baron made a rather rude harrumphing sound. “Larry Grayson is all about work. That’s what he does. That’s all he does.”
Was that resentment she heard in the assistant coroner’s voice? “Then it has to be related to his work. Whatever it was,” Jess argued. “Gabrielle was scared and needed someone to talk to. Maybe she called you because she thought you had experienced the same problem when you were married to him.”
Baron shrugged. “I considered that possibility.”
Another patch of silence elapsed between them. Someone had to say something. “Everyone she knew loved her,” Jess said. “Doesn’t look like she had any enemies.”
“I know,” Baron admitted. “Clearly she was the saint everyone says she was.”
More of what sounded like resentment dripped from her voice. Jess turned to her. “That doesn’t lessen who you are.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jess regretted having said them. She and Sylvia Baron weren’t friends. They barely knew each other and Jess wasn’t sure she even liked the woman. She was reasonably certain the woman didn’t like her.
“I know that, too.” Baron’s hands started to shake and she set her coffee cup on the step between her feet so she could clasp them together. “I just keep thinking that if I had made time for her… she would still be alive.” She turned to Jess. “I was wrong to do that, you know. And she’s dead.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “And maybe that little boy, too. I stood by and did nothing and now…”
God knew Jess had never been a hugger. Never. But this lady needed a hug and somehow they were alike in ways that Jess wanted to deny and, for whatever the reason, some force of nature had ensured their paths crossed at this time in their lives. Jess put down her cup and patted Sylvia Baron on the back, tried to think of something clever and comforting to say. Baron’s shoulders shook and Jess had to hug her. There was no denying the instinct.
The embrace lasted all of three seconds before, as if they’d both taken a big mental step back at the same time, they drew apart.
Jess cleared her throat.
Baron swiped gingerly at her eyes. “Well, that was awkward.”
“We all have our moments.”
They talked a while longer. Around midnight Baron decided it was time to go home.
“Wait.” Jess’s gaze dropped to the wooden deck. “I need a favor.” What were friends for if not to help each other out?
While Baron grumbled, Jess dashed inside and retrieved the specimen from the spots on her floorboards. She offered it to the assistant coroner. “Can you tell me if that’s paint or blood or what?”
Baron took the Tampax packaging between two fingers as if she feared contamination. “Seriously?”
“I didn’t have any plastic bags so I tore the packaging off a new one.” Jess pointed to the couple of spots on the floorboards in front of her door. “Paint or what?”
“I’ll take it home and package it properly and then run the necessary tests in the morning.”
“I appreciate that.” The weight of the day suddenly crashed down and Jess couldn’t remember when she had been this tired.
Baron sniffed the specimen, then frowned. “But I can tell you right now that it’s not paint.”
Deep inside, where her guest couldn’t see, Jess trembled just a little.
“It’s blood.”
Caldwell Avenue, Thursday, August 5, 9:01 a.m.
Sarah Riley perched on her worn sofa, her hands twisted with worry, her back ramrod straight.
Jess and Harper had arrived at her town house half an hour ago, but since Sarah was at home alone with two children, an eight-month-old and a fifteen-month-old, she’d had to get the babies situated before she could talk. During that time Jess had studied the framed photos around the living room. She’d also come to realize several things about Sarah. Her home, though not exactly filled with top-of-the-line furnishings, was absolutely spotless. Even with two babies there was not a speck of visible dust or a smudge anywhere to be found.
“I appreciate you making time for us,” Jess said. “Your interview was the last one on my list of close friends and family members.” She gave her a broad smile. “I’m so glad you have a few minutes now.”
Sarah nodded, the move stiff. “With taking care of little Gary and the girls and helping Larry with the memorial arrangements… it’s been hard. But Gabrielle’s mother is here now and she’s caring for Gary at her house.”
The memorial service was at five today. Jess intended to be there. “Lieutenant Grayson is fortunate to have a good friend like you.”
A brief smile touched Sarah’s lips. “I’ve scheduled professional cleaners to get started on the cleanup at Larry’s house since the scene was released.” She diverted her gaze from Jess’s. “Jack and I thought it was the least we could do. Someone who knows the family should be there overseeing.”
Sarah Riley had wide gray eyes and dark hair. She wasn’t as big as a minute and hardly seemed old enough to be a nurse and a mother twice over. She was also very nervous. Maintaining eye contact was a problem for her. She wrung her hands repeatedly. Smoothed the skirt of her dress every time she seemed to realize she was wringing her hands. A woman married to a cop, a detective at that, should know the drill when it came to times like this.
“Your husband works all the time,” Jess empathized. “It’s a miracle you have a minute to yourself.” She glanced at the younger woman’s nicely manicured nails. Her hair was styled. Makeup perfect. And the sundress she wore fit well, showed off her small curves, and was really quite flattering.
Sarah stretched her lips into a smile that was as fake as any Jess had seen. “Jack likes me to have a spa day every other week. He says I deserve to look and feel nice. It makes him happy, too. He’s always looking out for me, making sure the children and I have everything we need.”
“You have a thoughtful husband. He works hard to take care of his family.”
Sarah nodded, but she looked away again, stared at her hands. Maybe not such a nice husband, Jess decided.
“I imagine with him gone so much,” Jess said, fishing, “that you have to take care of all the shopping and oversee the maintenance around here as well.”
“That’s my job. It wouldn’t be right for him to work all those hours and then come home to more work.” She shook her head adamantly. “He gives me his lists and I take care of it.”
Jess thought as much. Time to move on. Making Sarah Riley suspicious wasn’t on today’s agenda. “You and Gabrielle were close friends?”
“Very close friends,” Sarah asserted. “We started out working together and
the next thing we knew we were having babies together.” She blinked at tears that looked genuine. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Losing her has left a huge hole in my world.”
“I understand,” Jess said gently. “You and your husband had lunch with the Graysons on Sunday, is that right?”
Sarah nodded. “We did that a couple of times a month. Sometimes we would host the cookout. Other times they would.”
“Did you hear from Gabrielle that night?”
Sarah moved her head side to side in a no, then abruptly stopped. “I take that back. I called her a couple of times. At lunch we talked about taking a vacation together next spring. I couldn’t remember the dates she mentioned so I gave her a call. Two times.”
“Have you taken a vacation together before?”
“Several times. We enjoy—enjoyed—a lot of the same leisure activities. We both loved the beach and finding restaurants we’ve never been to before. And with the children, we usually kept it simple.”
“Were you aware of any problems between Gabrielle and her husband?”
Sarah’s jaw dropped as if she found the question shocking. “No way. Wherever you got that idea, it is completely untrue. Those two were crazy in love. They couldn’t have had any big issues. I would’ve known. For sure.”
Jess cleared her throat. “I hate to be a bother, but may I have a glass of water?”
Sarah blinked, startled by the unexpected change in topic. “Sure.”
She stood, the move slow and stiff as if she were sore. She walked to the kitchen and Jess went right behind her. Sarah pretended not to pay attention to her following but Jess spotted her having a look from the corner of her eye. She really was quite nervous and visibly stiff. Had she hurt her back lifting and running after not two but three kids?
Like the living room, the kitchen sparkled. Jess was reasonably sure she’d never encountered a kitchen this clean. Not one where two kids lived anyway. She watched as Sarah reached into a cupboard and retrieved a glass. The glasses in the cupboard were stored in perfect rows. OCD for sure.
Sarah filled the glass from the tap. “Here you go.”
