Leann Sweeney - Pushing Up Bluebonnets

"You're describing what JoLynn did," I said half to myself. I looked at Cooper. "We're back to that."

"Yup, we are. Let's read through everything before we act on our assumption that JoLynn was a con artist. She's sure not fleeing to Mexico in the near future, so we have time to figure this out."

"There's something about her, Cooper. I mean, I haven't had a real conversation with her, but from what I saw on her face in the hospital, from what Roberta said, from what the relatives told Kate and me, this girl was vulnerable and sweet and—"

"Abby, we need to shelve the emotions and search for the facts. Do you have a highlighter handy? There's plenty of names in these stories, people we can check on to see if they ever met Jolynn or Dugan and lost money to either of them. I want to make the names stand out and then make a list."

I got up and scrounged in the built-in kitchen-desk drawer until I found a couple of highlighters—both bright pink.

Cooper held his up for inspection. "My favorite color."

"I promise never to mention you touched something pink ."

He grinned as we divided the printout pile.

I soon lost track of time reading the stories, many of them, like Cooper had said, strikingly similar to what happened to Katarina Richter. Every family with someone missing. The missing. I'd never considered them before this case, never thought what it meant to lose touch so completely with someone you loved, to be left without answers. True, my biological parents had been missing from my life and I'd learned my mother was dead. But I had never known her. These accounts of personal loss were far different from my own.

Since Cooper hadn't said a word, either, just moved his marker across name after name, we were both a little startled when Jeff came in through the back door.

Cooper stood and they shook hands.

"Good to see you again," Jeff said. He went to the counter, grabbed a paper towel, spit out his gum and tossed it in the trash. "It's Miller time. Join me?"

"Sounds good."

Jeff looked at me. "Chardonnay or beer?"

"Wine mellows me far better than beer and after the stuff I've been reading, I could use mellowing."

The beer was Corona, not Miller, and the wine came from World Market—a discounted bottle from Napa Valley. We all sat at the kitchen table, and Cooper and I told Jeff everything we'd learned today.

When we were finished, Jeff looked at Cooper. "You think Dugan's killer jumped Abby last night?"

I hadn't even considered that possibility and a chill raced up my arms.

"I've given it some thought," Cooper said, "but I didn't want to bring it up yet. Abby's looked a little green around the gills several times today." Cooper eyed me with concern. "Sort of like you look now."

"I am perfectly fine ." I slugged down what remained in my wineglass like a cowboy who'd bellied up to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila. Hell, maybe I could use a shot of tequila. The thought of Aunt Caroline and me being followed around in a grocery store by a murderer . . . damn. "Aunt Caroline was with me in that grocery store when I saw the guy. Maybe he followed me to her house when I drove her home. Maybe he—"

Jeff placed his hand over mine. "He wasn't interested in your aunt, hon. He wanted to scare you. I've already made arrangements for you to give his description to our sketch artist tomorrow. Turns out those surveillance cameras in the garage weren't operative."

"They're broken?" I said.

Cooper snickered. "Seventy percent of the time, surveillance cameras are a joke. Either they're shut off, out of tape or produce such poor-quality pictures that they're useless."

"Did I really want to know that?" I closed my eyes, but decided I was done being afraid. Past experience— like being followed, being held hostage, little things like that—had planted seeds of fear, but I was pulling those weeds out of my brain this minute. Amazing what the mind can do, because I grinned, feeling the anxiety recede almost at once. "A sketch artist. Good. I can't wait to see my garage man again, if only on paper."

"What I still don't get," Cooper said, "is why your assailant clearly protected you from further harm after he warned you off the case."

"That's got me buffaloed, too," Jeff said.

"Okay, let's backtrack so I can get this straight," I said. "You two believe that the parking garage guy knew about Dugan, too? I mean, we know Dugan and JoLynn were connected. But maybe this guy didn't. Maybe his warning was all about her ."

Jeff nodded. "I agree. That's why I've asked DeShay to mention chloroform to the ME. If garage guy used chloroform on both you and Dugan, that answers your question. The evidence would still be circumstantial— bad guy warns you off your investigation into JoLynn's past and uses chloroform. Then chloroform is used on Kent Dugan to subdue him before he gets tossed in the bayou. But how many turds are using chloroform these days?"

"Okay. Now I understand," I said.

"Being Friday, bodies have been piling up at the ME's office, so DeShay has to wait for Dugan's turn. But his first question to whoever performs the autopsy will be about chloroform."

I shook my head, feeling a little overwhelmed by all this information. "There are still so many unanswered questions."

"You're good at pulling things together, hon. Between you, Cooper and DeShay, you've got a dream team."

Jeff was definitely getting lucky tonight, and obviously understood my smile because he winked at me.

Then I heard Kate at the back door—I knew it was her because Webster was barking his excited head off. When they came in, she released him from his leash. First he sniffed Cooper, then slobbered a few kisses on Jeff and me. Greetings accomplished, he bounded off to find his best friend, Diva. A little hide-and-seek was in order.

"Kate," I said, "this is Chief Cooper Boyd, the police officer I've been working with from Pineview PD."

Their mutual smiles as he took her hand warmed my heart a little. At least she wasn't looking all sad and wary. Maybe she was coming out of her funk.

He said, "Please, no Officer or Chief anything. It's Cooper."

"Abby says you're former FBI," she said. "I have this secret wish to be a profiler, but I'm not sure I could take dealing with so much evil day in and day out."

Jeff and I exchanged confused glances and I wanted to say, "She wants to be a profiler? When did that happen?" But then I thought about the guy who'd sent her into her tailspin, how she'd never seen through him, despite all her training and experience as a psychologist. Maybe she'd decided profiling skills might save her from falling for idiots in the future.

Kate went to the fridge and took out the bottle of chardonnay. "I need to catch up with the three of you. I see Cooper needs a refill." She nodded at his empty beer bottle.

Not long after, Loreen dropped Doris off and we ordered our pizzas. Jeff nixed the double pepperoni Doris begged for and we went veggie all the way to support his effort to keep her diet as healthy as possible. Kate and Cooper, of course, loved this idea.

The movie Doris chose was Happy Feet , but I was glad to see that Cooper and Kate weren't the least bit interested in the DVD. They remained in quiet conversation through both run-throughs, Webster and Diva cuddled together nearby.

What a nice ending to an awful week, I thought, as Doris asked Jeff and me for a third replay.

I met with the police sketch artist Saturday morning, and we worked together re-creating the man I'd seen in the supermarket and again in the parking garage. The eyes were his most striking feature and she did such an accurate drawing I actually got goose bumps when I studied her final product. She said Jeff would be picking up the sketch later today, and my guess was she'd done this as a favor, since I doubted she worked on Saturdays. Jeff had many friends in the department who'd do anything for him. But then, so would I.