Marie Ferrarella - Cavanaugh Encounter

“What do you mean by a setback?” Luke asked the woman gently.

Mrs. O’Keefe’s shoulders stiffened, as if she was bracing herself for an ordeal. “Ellen had an addiction problem, but she conquered that. It was all behind her,” she told them with finality. “Everything was fine. Everything was fine,” she repeated, her voice coming very close to cracking again.

Luke noticed the way DeMarco looked up, alert, when Ellen O’Keefe’s mother mentioned that the victim had been an addict.

Pulling herself together, Mrs. O’Keefe told them, “She was even beginning to date again.”

“Was that unusual for her?” Luke asked.

Mrs. O’Keefe offered them a small smile. “Ellen was very shy. She always had been. Getting addicted to painkillers had only added to her sense of being worthless. It made her feel that she had nothing to bring to a relationship. But getting her teaching degree and working with all those children changed all that.” Mrs. O’Keefe’s eyes shone briefly. And then she clutched the handkerchief she was holding. “I was so hopeful...”

“Would you happen to know the name of the person your daughter was dating?” Luke asked. He knew that this was too much of a break to hope for, but he still had to ask.

Mrs. O’Keefe shook her head. “Ellen wouldn’t tell me. She was afraid that she’d wind up jinxing it if she said his name out loud.”

Luke tried another approach. “Did your daughter happen to say if she met this man at school? Was he another teacher?”

Mrs. O’Keefe shook her head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. Wait,” she said suddenly, as a memory returned to her. “I think she met him on one of those online dating services.”

These days, there was no end to dating sites, Luke thought. He had a friend who was extolling the benefits of online sites for anonymity. Luke preferred finding his dates the old-fashioned way—face-to-face.

“Would you mind if we took a look at Ellen’s computer?” White Hawk asked the woman.

Mrs. O’Keefe nodded numbly. “She had a laptop. Do what you want with it. It’s in her room,” she told the detective. “Ellen moved back here after rehab. She said living at home would help her keep from relapsing—and she couldn’t afford to rent a place of her own because she needed the money to finish up and get her college degree. She dropped out when she was taking drugs.” Mrs. O’Keefe’s eyes filled with tears. “How could anyone do something so horrible to her?” she asked all three of the people in her house.

Frankie was the one to step forward again. “I’m afraid that there are terrible people in the world that do unspeakable things that we can’t begin to understand. Is there anyone who we can call to come stay with you?” she asked.

The older woman took a shaky breath. “My sister said she would be here as soon as she could.”

“Does she live around here?” Luke asked. “We could send someone to bring her.”

Mrs. O’Keefe shook her head. “No, my sister wouldn’t like that. She’s very independent, but thank you,” she said, doing her best to smile. She placed a hand on Frankie’s arm. “When I found my little girl lying on the floor, there was a syringe in her arm. I don’t care what it looked like, or what your fancy medical examiner says he found in Ellen’s—Ellen’s autopsy.” Mrs. O’Keefe nearly choked on the word. It took her a moment to pull herself together so that she could continue. “My Ellen was clean. She was very proud of that fact. Proud that she had managed to kick her drug addiction,” Mrs. O’Keefe told them with the fierceness of a mother lion protecting her cub. “And she had,” the woman insisted. “I would bet my life on that.” Again, her eyes filled with tears that spilled out onto her cheeks.

White Hawk was about to tell the woman that it wasn’t uncommon for an addict to relapse. Drugs were far more available these days than they used to be. There was no end to temptation for a former addict.

Frankie could see by the look in White Hawk’s eyes that he was about to say something and she shook her head, mouthing don’t.

Out loud, she managed to waylay him by asking, “Got a minute, Detective White Hawk?”

Puzzled, he said, “Sure,” and followed Frankie outside. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I know your heart’s in the right place, White Hawk,” she told him, starting out diplomatically. “But that woman inside the house doesn’t need another dose of harsh reality. She’s just had way too much of it. If she believes that her daughter was drug free, let her believe it.”

White Hawk studied her for a long moment, then asked, “What if it’s not true?”

“What if it is?” Frankie countered in the same tone of voice.

He inclined his head, going along with Frankie for the time being. “Why don’t we hold off on any speculation until we get the lab results back?” White Hawk suggested philosophically.

“And maybe even longer than that,” Frankie tactfully suggested.

“You do know that you’re a softie, Detective DeMarco, right?” White Hawk asked her with a wide smile.

“Not really,” Frankie denied. She preferred to think of herself as being tough as nails. But in this instance, she wanted to go easy on Mrs. O’Keefe. The woman had been through enough. “But I just don’t see the advantage of robbing a mother of her last illusion about her daughter. If Ellen’s relapse helps to crack the case, then we’ll push forward with it. But until then, there’s no harm in letting Mrs. O’Keefe remember her daughter the way she wants to.”

“White Hawk’s right,” Luke said, coming out to join them. He had a laptop tucked under his arm. The victim’s mother had handed it over to him in the young woman’s bedroom. “You are a softie.”

She didn’t mind White Hawk calling her that. But hearing the words coming out of O’Bannon’s mouth just put her back up.

Frowning, she pointed toward what he was carrying. “Is that Ellen’s laptop?”

“It is,” he confirmed. Looking down at it for a moment, he smiled. “My guess is that Valri’s going to be very busy for the next couple of days,” he commented.

He was talking about Kris’s laptop, Frankie thought. She was uneasy about anyone poking around her cousin’s computer until she got a look at it herself.

“I’m pretty good with computers,” she told Luke. “Why don’t I take a crack at Kristin’s and you can bring the one you’re holding to your cousin? That way, the work’ll get done twice as fast.”

Luke looked at her for a long moment. She felt as if he could literally see every thought in her head.

“Any particular reason you’re volunteering to take that one instead of this one right here?” he asked, holding up Ellen’s laptop.

Frankie spread her hands in exaggerated innocence. “None whatsoever. The other one was just the first one that came to mind since it was initially my crime scene.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke told her. “Valri likes a challenge. She can handle both of them. Besides—” he unlocked all four doors of his vehicle and then popped the trunk “—she likes having people owe her.” He placed the second laptop in the trunk of his car beside the first one. Since they were made by different manufacturers, there was no chance of getting them mixed up.

His stomach was making rumbling noises in loud protest. A rueful smile curved his mouth. “Now, unless either one of you have any objections, I vote we stop for lunch before driving back to the station.” He looked at the other two for an answer.

“Hey, fine by me,” White Hawk said. “I’m always hungry.”

Both detectives turned to look at Frankie, waiting for her answer. She shrugged. “You’re the one with the car keys.”