Allison Brennan - Cutting Edge

“Thank you.”

“Watching your face is thanks enough,” he said.

She didn’t quite know how to take the comment. Duke just grinned at her.

Sandy returned with a petite Asian girl named Summer. “Summer worked Sunday from opening until two,” Sandy said.

The girl looked at the picture with interest. “I remember him. He used his Starbucks card. It was one I hadn’t seen for a long time, two people in a car with a dog.”

Nora showed the card through the clear plastic evidence bag. “Like this?”

She frowned. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

Sandy was also concerned. “Do I need to call the regional manager?”

“No, this isn’t related to your business, but the owner of this card was murdered the day he came in here, and we’re retracing his steps.”

Summer put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no, that’s horrible.”

“The receipt shows that he ordered two drinks and pastries. Do you recall who he was with?”

“He came in alone, ordered the drinks, and went outside to the patio. We had our Sunday morning special, buy one, get one half off. He went out on the patio and I was at the register, so I couldn’t see him from my position, but about twenty minutes later we had a lull and I went out to wipe down tables. He was sitting with a girl.”

“A girl? What did she look like?”

She shrugged. “Brown hair, round face, very pretty.”

“Would you recognize her if you saw her?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I think she’s been in here a couple times, but not recently, and maybe I’m wrong? I’m good with faces, but I tend to remember those who come in regularly.”

“Anything that stood out about her? Height, weight, a mole or anything else?”

“Not really. She was on the skinny side, but kind of turn-your-head gorgeous. She had big round eyes, I remember now. I think one of the guys was talking about her eyes. I wish I could help, but really, it’s just a vague memory.”

“You’ve done great,” Nora said. “How long were they here?”

“They were still there when I came back inside, and then gone next time I went out to straighten up, but that was at least thirty minutes later.”

Nora looked at the receipt. Russ Larkin bought the coffee just after ten in the morning. Approximately 10:30 a.m., Summer went out and saw him talking to an attractive brunette. By 11 a.m., they were gone.

“How did they act together?” Nora asked. “Friendly? Romantic? Upset?”

“I guess friendly. They weren’t laughing or fighting or anything, just having a conversation. Low-key.”

“Thank you for your time.” Nora handed her a card. “If you see the girl, or remember anything else, please call me as soon as you can.”

“I will.”

As Nora and Duke left, she said, “I’m going to have Sara Ralston follow up with the male staff, see if anyone has something more to add to Summer’s statement.”

In the car, Duke climbed in the passenger seat and held up two sandwiches. “Turkey or cheese and avocado?”

“You don’t look like a cheese and avocado guy,” Nora said, taking that sandwich. They’d parked under a shade tree and Nora rolled down the windows. A warm breeze tamed the sun.

“I wasn’t sure if you were a vegetarian or not.”

“No, but I love cheese and avocado.” She unwrapped her sandwich. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“You haven’t eaten all day. It has to be messing with your thought process. When I’m hungry, I can’t concentrate.”

“Does the pretty brunette ring any bells?” she asked Duke.

“No. I don’t know Russ that well.”

“He had an overnight bag.”

“Possibly-but he could have that with him all the time. I have an emergency kit in my car.”

“You do?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m a first responder. A requirement of my position.” She paused. “And sort of habit. We often moved when I was growing up, usually on the spur of the moment. Sometimes because my mother just felt like it, other times because we had to. I was used to traveling light and keeping what was important to me in my pack at all times.” And my bag with me at all times, too .

“That’s hard.”

“I was a verifiable bag lady.” She laughed humorlessly. “I grew up more or less homeless, not because my mom couldn’t work, but because she refused to. She did odd jobs here and there, but there were times when we lived in a place, usually with a group of people. She also had a scam going from county to county claiming to be a victim of domestic violence, so we could get a place for a couple weeks, she’d get a temporary job, and when she had enough money to split, we were off again on the next ‘adventure’ as she called it. Mostly she stole what she wanted and never felt a moment of guilt. I hated it.”

She put down the second half of her sandwich, her face flushed. “I can’t believe I told you all that.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Nora was angry with herself. She had sounded bitter, but she wasn’t. She’d come to terms with her past, and maybe that’s why she could speak of it to a virtual stranger. No, she was deceiving herself. While she’d accepted her past, it wasn’t something she discussed with anyone … just Duke. She felt comfortable with him, and she wanted him to know, to understand who she was. But here? Now? It wasn’t the place or the time.

“That was highly inappropriate.” She started the car. “I’ll attribute it to hunger.”

Duke took her hand and squeezed until she looked at him.

“Thank you for telling me.”

She smiled.

Yeah, she was glad she’d told him.

Duke watched Nora as they headed back toward Sacramento. Even as she expertly maneuvered the vehicle, he saw that she was lost in thought. Thinking about the past? About her cases? About this case? Maybe everything.

Up until their parents were killed, the Rogans had led a charmed life. They hadn’t been wealthy their entire life, but right before the twins were born, Duke’s parents, Paul and Sheila, ended up with a patent for law enforcement and military gear that went big.

Still, even before that change of fate, the Rogans always had a home. Duke was born and raised in the same house he still lived in. When they had the money, they remodeled the hundred-year-old farm-style house in Rancho Cordova. The area was known for tract homes and lower-income families, but the Rogans had a five-acre parcel that butted against the American River. He hadn’t wanted to move after the plane crash to avoid uprooting Sean when he desperately needed stability. And now? It was comfortable. It wouldn’t occur to him to move anywhere else.

The house had long been a gathering spot. J.T. and Jax Caruso had practically lived there, since their parents were divorced and neither cared much about what their kids did. The kids from the neighborhood had always come by after school; Sheila had always said it was better to come to her house than to get in trouble on the streets. She had fed the neighborhood, monitored potential problems, and always listened.

That was what Duke missed the most about his mom.

She’d always had time for him and his brothers and sister. Even when she was working, even when she had outside commitments, she listened. She rarely offered advice unless directly asked, but she’d always ask one or two questions that guided you to the right answer. His dad was more cut-and-dried, right-and-wrong, but he, too, believed that family was everything, and as long as the Rogans were together, they could handle anything.

Their deaths left such a gaping void that the family split apart. Duke never understood how it had happened. Duke had been back from his months fighting Kane’s wars in Central America for less than a year when their parents died. Kane returned and tried to be the patriarch, but it was not in his blood. He handled grief differently from most people, Duke supposed. So the responsibilities fell to Duke, and too soon the twins left the country to run their own security business and Kane turned over the business he started with J.T. Caruso to Duke, and returned to Central America. And Duke and Sean kept the house up, though it was far too big for the two of them.