Brian Freeman - Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7)

‘Yes,’ she murmured, wondering where he was going with this story. ‘Awful thing.’

‘Cindy was there. The wrong place at the right time. She saved a girl’s life and probably others, tackling Klayman the way she did. And you know what? I was angry with her. I was glad that girl was alive, but I was furious. I felt like she had put our lives in jeopardy by risking her own. It was stupid of me. Selfish.’

‘Hardly,’ Serena said softly, holding back tears herself.

‘I’ve thought about that day a lot ever since.’

‘Of course.’

‘I think Cindy knew what was happening to her. That’s why she did it. That’s why she took the risk in the mall. Steve Garske told me later there would have been symptoms. Warning signs. And she did nothing. She let months go by, until it was too late.’

‘Don’t lay that burden on her, Jonny,’ Serena said. ‘It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t yours. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.’

He didn’t reply.

She realized that she’d missed something important all these years. This wasn’t just about grief and loss for him. It was about anger, too. He was mad at Cindy for dying. For leaving him alone.

It was strange. For the first time, she saw Cindy not through Jonny’s eyes, but through her own. She’d put Cindy on a pedestal for years, but that wasn’t fair to either of them. Cindy was a woman, like her. Strong and afraid. Full of goodness and mistakes. If Cindy were alive now, Serena wouldn’t be in this bed, but Cindy was gone.

Life followed its own twisting path.

‘Nine years is a long time for a gun to stay out of circulation,’ she said.

‘Janine knows where it’s been,’ Jonny insisted.

‘Does she? Or do you not want to accept the possibility that you were wrong about her?’

‘I’m not wrong.’

Serena spoke softly. ‘If this is really about you and Cindy—’

‘It’s not,’ he snapped. ‘I know you think losing Cindy is clouding my judgment, but it’s not. I didn’t make a mistake back then. I’ve been wrong about plenty of things in my life, but not about Janine Snow.’

A poster of Guy Fieri stared down at Maggie from the wall of the Duluth Grill. The punk-haired host from the Food Network had profiled the restaurant on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives , and since then, tourists had swarmed the place, grabbing most of the tables. Even so, the Grill was still a hangout for the Duluth Police, and the servers all knew Maggie. They always found her a booth near the window.

She dug her fork into a cinnamon roll that was twice the size of her fist. To wash down the sweetness, she took a slug of coffee from an artsy Duluth Grill mug. With her mouth full, she checked her watch.

Nathan Skinner was late.

She wolfed down the pastry while she read the News-Tribune . When her plate was empty, Nathan still hadn’t arrived, and she began to get impatient. She moved on to her third coffee refill. Her bacon and eggs replaced the cinnamon roll, and she nibbled at the bacon while she devoured the paper’s editorial page.

Finally, she heard a familiar laugh near the front door.

After all these years, Nathan was still a star to Duluthians who were old enough to remember his championship season. He couldn’t walk through a restaurant without being grilled about decades-old college hockey games. She wondered if it annoyed him or if he relished reliving his glory days on the ice.

Nathan slid into the booth across from her. He had the same masculine grin. ‘Maggie,’ he said.

‘Hello, Nathan.’

‘Long time.’

He hadn’t changed much physically. He was shaving his head, and Maggie guessed it was because he was losing his blond hair. His punched-down face looked baby-smooth, enough to make her wonder if he’d had a nip and tuck. His blue eyes still twinkled with male magnetism, and he kept in shape. His career prospects had obviously improved, because he was dressed better than in the old days, in form-fitting khakis and a yellow silk shirt. He looked like a Republican heading for the golf course, not a washed-up security guard.

‘What have you been up to?’ Maggie asked.

‘I run a business now.’

‘Yeah? What kind of business?’

‘It’s sort of like a corporate dating service. I help entrepreneurs in the northland find venture capitalists who have money.’

‘Interesting career change,’ Maggie said. ‘How’d you get into that?’

‘A college buddy helped me out. Said he didn’t want to see God-given talent like mine go to waste. I’d like to say it’s all about spreadsheets and ROI, but really, my end is mostly about cigars, luxury boxes, and hook-ups. I know how to schmooze people. I talk the talk.’

Nathan grinned again, and Maggie didn’t doubt that he’d found his niche. He was still in a fraternity, selling to other frat boys.

‘Nice to see you doing well,’ she said without enthusiasm.

‘Probably not as well as you are. Your husband left you a pile of money after he got shot, didn’t he? Condo over the Sheraton next to all those hospital docs? Pretty nice for a cop.’

‘You’re well informed,’ Maggie said, but she wasn’t surprised. Two winters ago, her husband Eric had been murdered. It was the biggest news story in the city. She’d been the prime suspect. And when she was cleared, she’d sold Eric’s sporting goods business and banked several million dollars.

‘Well, that’s part of my job. I keep track of where the money goes in town. Eric was on my radar, so now you are, too. If you’re looking for investments, you should call me. I can get you in on the ground level of some exciting projects.’

Nathan was smooth. He’d left the rivalry between them far behind. At least on the outside.

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Maggie said.

‘I’m sorry about you and Stride, by the way. You guys flamed out, huh?’ She couldn’t hide her annoyance, and he said: ‘Cops talk, Maggie. You know that.’

She did know that, but she hated being the subject of office gossip. She felt her face grow hot.

‘Hey, I wasn’t trying to poke the bear,’ he went on. ‘Seriously. I’m sure it was tough on you.’

‘What, do you watch Dr. Phil now, Nathan?’

He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ve spent enough time on the down side of life to know it sucks.’

‘Fine, it sucks,’ Maggie said. ‘Move on. You’re not my therapist.’

‘Are you still holding a grudge against me? Come on, we’re both too old for that now. People really do like me, Maggie. I know that may be hard for you to believe. Actually, you might like me, too, if you gave me a chance. I’ve changed.’

‘What’s the old saying about leopards?’ she asked.

He grinned and shook his head. ‘No, really. I’ll be the first to admit, I was a pig in my misspent youth. Racist. Sexist. You name it. I was angry at the world and blamed everybody but myself. But time mellows people. Even me.’

‘Well, let’s light up some weed and sing Arlo Guthrie songs, Nathan. Since we’re being so mellow.’

‘Come on. You think I can do business with the attitudes I had back then? It doesn’t work that way. The economy is diverse. The world is diverse. So am I. My wife’s Hispanic. I met her on a trip to Guatemala. I even speak respectable Spanish these days. So if you want the old Nathan Skinner? No más .’

Maggie wondered whether to believe him. In her own experience, people didn’t change. They just became more of who they really were, for better or worse. She knew that was true of herself, too.

‘Actually, I do need the old Nathan Skinner for a few minutes,’ Maggie told him. ‘The guy who spouted racial obscenities at Wisconsin cops and cheated with Janine Snow. That guy.’