by Terry Odell
“And which one didn’t, either because he wasn’t there or because he was careful.” Cole opened the folder. Inside were copies of the pictures he’d taken, pictures of the Mustang, plus blowups of fingerprints. He was no expert, but he could see where the prints matched. “What happens next?”
“I’ve already informed Kovak. He said they’d bring in all three boys, question them.”
“With their parents,” Cole muttered. He thought about Alma Evans. “The parents will demand a lawyer be present. Not to mention that by now, the three of them have concocted a story to explain it all.”
“Ye of little faith.” Conner hiked a hip onto the edge of his desk. “Kovak and Detweiler know their jobs, and how to get to the truth. Even as we speak, I’ll bet one of them is following leads, questioning teachers and peers, gathering information, baiting their interrogation traps.”
“Wonder if they’ll let me sit in,” Cole said.
“I don’t see why not. It’s good training, and the kids know who you are. Makes it harder to lie when there’s a witness standing beside you. If they say no, the detectives will be recording it, so you can watch after the fact.”
“You know when this is taking place?” Cole asked.
“Nope. I’m a lab geek. I deal with the evidence, report my findings. The rest is out of my hands.”
Cole thanked Connor, went to the briefing room where Nolan was wrapping up announcements. If he asked, would she pull strings with Kovak to let him observe the interrogations?
Heads turned as Chief Laughlin entered the briefing room.
“Chief. Do you want to address the troops?” Nolan asked.
“If you’re finished,” he said. “It’ll be brief.”
“The floor is yours.” Nolan moved aside and Laughlin marched to the lectern.
“Pine Hills is our city, and you’re all here because you believe in making it safe for everyone.” He peered over his glasses, his lips curving with a hint of a smile. “Even though some of you became cops because you like the guns.”
Snickers rippled throughout the room.
“That being said,” the chief continued, all levity gone, “we’ve had recent incidents that bother me deeply. I want each of you to know that I—we—will not stand for any kind of discriminatory action at any level. You are all aware, are you not, of a recent attack on a high school student.”
Laughlin paused, swept his gaze across the room. Heads nodded in agreement. “I’m appalled to learn that this attack was prompted by nothing other than the youth’s sexual orientation, something, sadly, he’d felt necessary to conceal from his parents. However, due to counseling at the high school, he, as the terminology goes, came out to his parents and identified his attackers as three of his classmates. They are being dealt with, as are their parents.”
Cole figured this meant he wasn’t going to be privy to any interrogation techniques, but the good—much better—news was that they’d caught these creeps.
“While this case may be wrapped up,” the chief continued, “I want each of you to pay special attention to anything remotely resembling bullying. I—we—will not tolerate this in Pine Hills, the same way we do not tolerate religious or racial persecution. Any one of our citizens who puts so much as a toenail outside legal boundaries is to be reminded of the law in a polite, yet firm manner. I will be discussing this with the town council to see if there are any programs we can instigate to help educate the public.”
Cole wondered what Vance Ebersold would think of that.
The chief peered around the room again. “Questions?”
Head shakes.
“Very well. You’re doing good work out there. Keep it up.” The chief left, and Nolan dismissed the shift.
Cole headed for his apartment and called his sister.
“Hey, big brother. To what do I owe the honor of a call? It’s not my birthday, Christmas or Easter.” A pause. “It’s not Mom or Dad, is it? They’re all right, aren’t they?”
Cole chuckled. “Everything’s fine. Just wanted to touch base, say hi. How’s work, how’s Nan?”
“Fine to both. We’re thinking of a baby.”
Cole snapped his mouth closed. “Wow. Fantastic.”
“We’d thought about in vitro, but couldn’t decide on a donor or who would carry it. And about hiring a surrogate, but had the same donor issue. We decided there are already plenty of kids in the world who need a home, so it’s the adoption route.”
A smile spread across Cole’s face, radiating a warm glow throughout his body. “That’s fantastic. Have you told Mom and Dad yet? Takes the I want a grandchild burden off me.”
“No, and if you breathe a word, I’ll personally—no, Nan and I will both come down and do you grievous bodily harm. Operative word—thinking. We’re saving the news until we get further into the process—like do we want an infant or an older kid—rather than get Mom and Dad’s hopes up and have to disappoint.” She paused. “What about you? Found anyone for the I want a grandchild deal?”
Cole’s thoughts shot to Morgan and Austin. “Not yet.”
“That sounded more like a maybe to me.”
“It’s...complicated.”
“Isn’t it always? Good to hear from you, but I’ve got to get back to work. There’s a client I need to keep happy.”
Cole disconnected and stared into nothingness for a good, long time.
Chapter 36
THE NEXT MORNING, MORGAN went upstairs, tapped gently on Austin’s door.
“I’m up,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.
Last night, after he’d expressed his grief, she’d had him share happy memories he’d had with his mother, told him those were the things he should remember. That life wasn’t always fair, that it didn’t always make sense, that it was okay to be sad, but you had to keep moving forward.
“That’s what my dad always said,” she’d told him. “‘Look through the windshield, not the rearview mirror.’ When I inherited this house, I thought it would be the perfect time to move forward. I call it my New Life on Elm Street, and I wanted you here with me. I wanted you to want to come here, and I wanted it to be with your mother’s blessing.”
“Maybe she’s blessing us from heaven,” Austin said. “I like it here so far.”
“I’m sure she is,” Morgan said with a smile.
She’d sat with him until he’d fallen back to sleep, with Bailey watching over him. She wondered if her parents were blessing her from heaven, too.
Now, downstairs, Morgan folded the couch bedding, looking forward to sleeping in a real bed tonight. Tom said construction materials would be delivered before noon, and he’d be by to supervise.
She strode to the foot of the staircase. “Austin. Get moving. We have a lot to do today.”
The boy thumped down the steps, Bailey at his heels. Morgan smiled at the way the two had bonded, feeling a twinge of jealousy that she’d been relegated to second fiddle once Austin had shown up.
Fur therapy.
By five that evening, Morgan had taken the pruning shears to her to-do beanstalk. Bailey had been checked out at the clinic. The vet was impressed with the way he was healing and had removed the bandages.
They’d spent two hours at the Detweilers’. Morgan had spent the time listening, making mental notes, and offering a few suggestions about dynamics and flow on the ride home.
“How come you don’t give me lessons?” Austin asked. “You know a lot.”
She’d never told Austin about her life as a child prodigy. “I’m looking for someone who can give you the best lessons. I’m okay helping you practice, but you need someone to help you grow.”
Austin had—thank goodness—accepted her response. Morgan braced herself for the day she’d have to reveal her past.
While they were gone, Tom had supervised the delivery of his construction materials, and repairs were underway. She and Austin had returned in time for his bedroom furniture delivery, and the crew was willing to move Morga
n’s bed to the master bedroom. Tom had pulled back a corner of the ratty carpet and discovered hardwood floors, well preserved by having been covered, so he and his crew had ripped the carpeting out, and disposed of it in the Dumpster. After giving the floor a thorough cleaning, removing the last vestiges of Cole’s drywall repair, she stood back and admired the results. She was truly on her way to a new home.
“More furniture and other stuff’s coming tomorrow and Thursday,” she told Austin. “We don’t have a kitchen set yet, so we’ll have to eat picnic style, but we can test the new stove. And the washing machine. I’ll bet you have some not-so-clean clothes, since you had to pack in a hurry.”
As they gathered clothes for the machine, Morgan decided she’d use a portion of her newly transferred funds to take Austin clothes shopping. Not that she had a clue what the kids here wore to school. She’d let him pick everything out. If he was comfortable, he should be fine. At least his clothes wouldn’t have holes, stains, or be faded beyond recognition.
She and Austin dined on burgers and fries—okay, the fries were frozen and all she had to do was heat them in the oven—but it was close enough to a home-cooked meal. She poured them each a glass of juice and they toasted the successful day.
“Is Momma going to have a funeral?” Austin asked. “She used to go to them for people at church.”
Morgan set her glass down. “Do you want her to? Did your momma ever say anything about what she’d like if she died?”
Austin shook his head. “I’ve never been to a real funeral, only seen them on TV. Usually, everyone is crying. I don’t think Momma would like people crying about her. But it seems like you’re supposed to have one. Otherwise, what would happen to her?”
Morgan filled her lungs. “My mom and dad died when I was a little older than you.”
“At the same time?” Austin asked.
Morgan nodded. “It was an accident. They were on vacation in France, and were driving on a winding mountain road. It was raining, and the road was slick. My dad lost control of the car and it went off the road and down the mountain.”
His eyes widened. “You weren’t there, were you?”
“No, I was at home. We had a funeral, and it helped me say goodbye. If you’d like, I can check with people in Dublin and see what I can do.”
He gave a solemn nod. “I think it’s important.”
Church. Why hadn’t it occurred to her to ask Austin whether they went to church? Surely the pastor or somebody in the congregation would be able to help. What about Mrs. Jackson’s coworkers?
She’d been putting herself in Austin’s shoes, thinking of herself as a child, with a dearth of people she could call friends. Austin’s life wasn’t like hers.
“Then I’ll try. First thing tomorrow.”
TUESDAY AT LAST. END of shift, end of work week. Cole signed out and moseyed to the locker room. The Ebersold case was in the hands of the legal system, along with Alma Evans and the Grossjeans. Mr. Grossjean was stable, and, from what Cole heard, was drawing up a new will. Cole would love to know what the man was going to do with his money now. And how much he had. Must have been significant to initiate such a cat fight.
Cole’s phone buzzed a text as he was changing out of his uniform. He smiled when the display showed Morgan’s name.
Need to talk. Call when you can.
The Snoopy-dance his heart had begun at seeing Morgan’s name turned into an elephant’s trudge. Need to talk rarely had a good ending.
He finished dressing, then went to his car before making the call.
“You need something?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re off for three days, right?”
“Starting right now, in fact.”
“This is a huge favor, so please, don’t feel like you have to agree.”
Cole braced himself. Morgan, who preferred doing things herself, was admitting she needed a favor. A huge one. He’d say yes, no matter what. “Name it.”
He listened as she explained having to go to Dublin for funeral arrangements, that Austin needed closure, but she didn’t want to put the house repairs on hold or reschedule all her deliveries.
“And there’s Bailey. He likes you. Per the trust, I can’t stay away long, although I’m willing to restart the clock if that’s what it takes. It’s only been a little over a week.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to stay at your house while you’re gone?” Cole asked, shocked.
“Yes, please. You said you were going to be working for Tom on your days off, so I thought you might already be here some of the time anyway.”
“Of course I’ll stay. Friends do that for each other.”
He realized that because he’d be there when she wasn’t, it shouldn’t impact her shot at being Austin’s guardian.
“That’s fantastic,” she said. “I really appreciate it. I’ll try to make it up to you.”
“No strings, Morgan. I’m happy to help. When do you want me there?”
A slightly longer than normal pause.
“Um ... we have a flight out at six-forty-five.”
She’d known he’d say yes. Did she have a plan B? He was plan A—or was he? Had she called someone else first? Mattered not. She asked, he said yes.
The trudging elephants in his chest broke into a ballet right out of Fantasia. Or were those hippos? Didn’t matter. Dancing beat trudging.
“The crew will be working until five,” she said. “If you get here after we leave, I’ll make sure they know to expect you.”
No way was she getting away without him seeing her. “I’ll come right over. I can get the rest of my stuff later.”
He darted into the station, grabbed his emergency toiletries from his locker, and gave his teeth a quick brushing. He’d have skipped the onions on his burger if he’d known Morgan would call.
Morgan’s front yard was filled with stacks of construction materials. The edge of her sofa protruded from the Dumpster, along with a rolled up carpet. The whine of a power saw and the harsh reports of a nail gun filled the air. The scent of sawdust permeated his nostrils.
Sounds and smells of his youth.
Morgan came to the door to greet him, using a leg to keep Bailey from running out. Cole maneuvered his way past the two of them, and she closed the door. One large bag and two carry-ons sat in the entry.
“Thanks for doing this.” Morgan stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
“Not a problem. Glad to help out.” He bent down to scratch Bailey’s head.
“There’s a key and instructions in the top kitchen drawer, left side of the stove,” she said.
“Got it.”
“Austin. Time to go,” she called.
“Already?” Cole’s tone reflected his disappointment.
An apologetic smile crossed her face. “I checked the traffic cams. An accident has things slowed down.”
“Be safe,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders.
Her eyes half closed, her tongue swept over her lips.
Clumping footfalls on the stairs shattered the moment.
“I’m ready,” Austin said. “Hi, Mr. Patton.” The boy breezed by and crouched beside Bailey. “You be a good dog for Mr. Patton, okay, boy?”
“We’ll get along great,” Cole said. “You have a good trip, and we’ll be here when you get back.”
Morgan reached for the handle of the large suitcase.
Cole intercepted her hand, allowing his to linger against hers. “I’ve got it.” He hefted the bag, which barely weighed more than the case itself would have.
He gave her a questioning look.
“As long as we’re going back, I’m returning the luggage Austin borrowed,” Morgan said.
Glad she hadn’t been preparing for a lengthier stay, Cole carried the bag to the garage and raised the heavy door.
“I’m getting an electric opener soon,” Morgan said.
Making sure he kept his tone light, he said, “Might think
about replacing the entire door with a newer model. Metal. Won’t be so heavy.”
“Good idea. I’ll keep that in mind.”
No defiant comeback. Good. Progress?
“Let me know you arrived safely,” he said.
With a quick nod, she and Austin climbed into the car. He waved them off, watched them drive away, and went inside.
The crew was finishing up for the day. “Need any help?” Cole asked.
“You’re not scheduled until tomorrow,” Tom said.
Cole shrugged. “Dog-sitting while they’re gone. Don’t mind being useful.”
“Getting debris into the Dumpster is always helpful.”
Of course. Scut jobs, as expected.
“We’ll be here at eight tomorrow,” Tom said. “Plan is to redo the front porch first. If you want to start demo before then, your call.”
Demo work. That’s what Tom would have him do tomorrow anyway. “Sure thing.”
Once he’d cleared up scraps of baseboard, he checked Morgan’s instructions. Primarily a list of delivery schedules. He guessed one of them would be a new couch, or she wouldn’t have disposed of it already. Fence construction was due to start tomorrow. A note saying sheets were clean on both beds, to take his pick. An entire page devoted to Bailey’s schedule, his likes and dislikes.
“You’ve got her trained already, don’t you, fella?”
Bailey tilted his head and thumped his tail in apparent agreement.
Cole took in the living and dining areas, bare except for canvas drop cloths covering the floor. He went to his apartment, filled his carry-on with essentials and took advantage of the remaining daylight to get a head start on tomorrow. It helped that the porch was in crappy shape, so pulling it apart wouldn’t take long.
According to the plans, only the support posts would remain. They were going to replace the entire porch, not just the damaged boards. Nothing like demo work to get rid of frustrations.
Cole grabbed his tools. Once he’d ripped out the steps, he carried the old boards to the Dumpster, then gave the supports a once over. If they’d need to be reinforced with concrete, Tom would want to know.
