Lynette Eason - Christmas Cover-Up

“So I want to know, out of all the houses in Spartanburg, what made you pick mine?”

“I told you, Detective, it was empty and looked like an easy hit. I thought I’d be in and out before anyone got home. End of story.”

She leaned in. “Oh, no. I think there’s a lot more to that story than you’re telling, and we’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied you’ve given me quite a few more details. Why did you ask about my laptop? Is there something on there you’re interested in?”

For a brief second, Wray looked startled, a deer caught in the headlights, then he sneered and leaned forward, the tic alongside his mouth betraying his emotion. “Look, lady—”

“That’s ‘detective.’”

“Detective,” Wray sneered. His face cleared, the tic stopped. “There’s nothing else to tell. I needed some cash for a hit. Your house looked ripe.”

Katie studied him. “You’re not a junkie.”

He lifted a brow and shrugged. “I didn’t say the hit was for me.”

She slammed a hand on the table and he jumped. “Quit playing me! What were you doing in my house?”

* * *

Jordan shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. If he didn’t, the temptation to burst into the investigation room and wrap his fingers around Wray’s throat might just be too much for him.

He slid a glance at Gregory Lee, Katie’s partner. The man had come when he’d heard the call over his radio. Jordan said, “She holds her own, doesn’t she?”

“She’s sharp. Can spot a lie a mile away. Only you know as well as I do she shouldn’t be in there questioning him.”

“I know. You going to get in there and tell her to get out?”

“In a minute or two.”

Jordan smothered a smile. Gregory was a good partner. He stood about two inches over six feet, and Jordan knew he’d just celebrated his thirty-third birthday, because one of Katie’s excuses for not meeting with him last week was because she had a birthday party to attend for her partner.

“You have any thoughts on why Wray would have been in Katie’s house?”

Lee shook his head. “No.”

“Any cases y’all are working bring anything to mind?”

Gregory finally looked at him. “Nothing in particular. Why? You don’t think this was a random thing?”

“Do you?”

Gregory shrugged. “Cops don’t have any special protection when it comes to a breaking and entering.”

“I know. It just seems...odd. He breaks into her house at five-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. That’s about the time a lot of people are coming home from work. Why risk being spotted by a neighbor or the homeowner walking in on him...like Katie did.”

“Good questions.” Gregory eyed him. “Why don’t you pass those on to Katie?”

“She’ll think of them.”

Katie looked up and scratched her nose.

Gregory said, “That’s my cue.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s not pushing. She’s going to let me push the guy.” He shot Jordan a look. “Guess I’ll get to ask those questions.” He slipped from the observation room and soon was in the interrogation room. Katie pressed the file into his hands and within seconds joined Jordan. “You look tired,” he said.

“Tired and frustrated.”

Jordan nodded. “I understand. But just one question.”

“What’s that?”

“If Wray didn’t pick your home by accident, then what was the reason behind the break-in?”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Unfortunately, Gregory didn’t get anything else out of Mr. Wray, either, and they left with more questions than answers.

On the way to the car, she asked, “What are your plans tonight?”

“I’m going to stop at my parents’ house, then head home. I need to go over some notes.”

She cocked her head. “Do you work all the time?”

Jordan flashed her a tight smile. “Of course. Don’t you?”

She blew out a short laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.” She paused and bit her lip.

“What is it?”

Katie sighed. “Are you going to tell your parents we’re working together?”

Jordan pressed his lips together as he pondered that question. “I don’t know.”

She nodded, her eyes troubled. Jordan found himself wanting to soothe the agitation there. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that it would be all right. He swallowed hard and resisted the desire to act on those feelings.

He pictured that day in the morgue. Looking down at his brother’s face. Surrounded by his parents’ grief and Katie’s guilt-ridden eyes.

He shuddered. Yeah. Better to turn those feelings off now before they developed into something that would break both of their hearts.

THREE

Wednesday morning Katie woke to the sun streaming through the blinds and a headache she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Except maybe her uncooperative intruder from yesterday. Yeah. He could have it.

She squinted against the light and held a hand to her throbbing head, wondering who’d stabbed her just above her right eye. She glanced at the clock. Eight-fifteen. Where was she?

Oh, right, Grandma Jean’s. And today was Wednesday. Grandma Jean would be at her weekly Bible study and Mariah, a crime-lab technician, would have left for work about thirty minutes ago.

Katie moved and the room tilted. She groaned and decided the pain felt like little men with ice picks were assaulting her head.

Medicine first.

Call in sick second.

Once she’d ticked both items off her list, she closed the curtains over the blinds and crawled back under the covers. Bracing her head against the headboard, she kept her eyes shut and let her mind spin.

Time passed in a blur. It seemed like mere minutes when her cell phone rang, jarring her from her twilight sleep. A quick glance at the clock told her it was lunchtime. Her stomach growled in agreement.

She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Katie? You all right?” Jordan asked.

She supposed her froglike voice might have clued him in that something might be wrong. “Yeah. Had a bad headache.”

“Had? As in it’s gone now?”

She considered the question. “Not entirely, but it’s better. Manageable.”

“Manageable enough to meet me for lunch?”

Did she want to? Not really, because she had a feeling what the topic of conversation would be. But she’d made this decision to pursue her sister’s case. A case that wouldn’t even exist if Katie hadn’t turned her back on Lucy for just a little too long. Lucy had been seven years old when fourteen-year-old Katie had helped a neighbor with her groceries. When she’d returned to the yard, Lucy had been gone. And Katie had been blamed by her parents ever since. Especially her mother.

It wasn’t too late to back out, but she knew deep down she didn’t want to do that. She needed to know what had happened to Lucy, needed somehow to absolve herself of this raging guilt she’d carried for the last fourteen years. “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”

“I think I remember you like pizza?”

“Of course.”

“How about Gino’s?”

The little pizza place about three minutes from Grandma Jean’s house. She swiped a hand through her hair. “Give me about thirty minutes.”

“Deal.”

“And I’m paying for mine, okay? I mean, this isn’t like a date, right?” she blurted. Silence from the other end. She fought the mortification at her silly assumption that he had even thought about paying for her lunch.

She opened her mouth to apologize only to hear him say on a choked laugh, “Well, if I’d been thinking along those lines, I’m not now.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. Was actually trying to avoid that by clearing that up before we met.”