“Tell her I was duped. Or you could just blame it on Rudy. Everybody does.”
“Tempting, but no,” he said dryly. “I’ll see you tonight.” He whistled for the dog and went back inside. The shower stopped and he couldn’t help but think of Olivia wearing nothing more than drops of water. Trying to push the picture from his mind, he wandered her living room, satisfying at least a small portion of his curiosity.
He’d wondered how she lived. Very modestly, he could see, most of her money going into the posters on her wall. She collected animated art cels, she’d told him the night they’d talked until the sun came up. He could see them now, hanging in her living room-Daffy Duck and all the other characters from the cartoons he’d loved as a kid. Road Runner, it seemed, was her favorite. A giant poster of the Coyote holding his little umbrella hung over her TV and on top of her set was a stack of Road Runner DVDs.
There were pictures on the mantel over her fireplace. An older couple smiling from a faded snapshot that he assumed were her grandparents. A pair of teenagers mugging for the camera. He leaned closer, recognizing a young Olivia and Paige, arm in arm. There was another of a woman he thought was her mother. In another a stunning redhead sat on the grass, surrounded by puppies. And finally, a more recent picture of Olivia with Paige and the redhead at a restaurant, lifting glasses in a toast.
“That was my birthday,” Olivia said from behind him. “The big three-oh. Last year. Those are my friends Brie and Paige.”
She’d dressed in what seemed to be her work uniform, slacks and a blouse. Her face was free of makeup, the way he liked it best. She was braiding her hair and for a moment he just let himself watch.
“I know,” he finally said and she frowned.
“What?”
“I know your friend.” He held the picture out as if that explained it. “Paige.”
Slowly she lowered her arms. “How?”
He explained how he’d met Paige, how he’d gleaned information on Olivia over the past seven months, how Paige had been unaware. Olivia’s eyes went flat and David got the uncomfortable feeling that this was how she approached suspects. “Are you mad?” he asked when he was done.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“While you’re thinking, think on this.” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her hard. “All these months, all I thought about was you. About this. Now, go to work.”
“Mojo-”
“Can ride in my truck. I’ll drop him off. Just tell me where.”
She gave him the address and backed away, studying him in a way that made him want to squirm. “Who are you?” she asked him quietly.
I wish I knew. “What do you mean?”
“Who are you, that you want me? A man like you could have anyone.”
A man like you. “Tonight,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me.” With one very big exception. That he couldn’t share. “I’m not that complicated.”
Her smile was grim. “If you think I believe that, you’re not as smart as I thought.”
Tuesday, September 21, 8:55 a.m.
Kane was at his desk when Olivia dropped into her chair. Her cheeks flamed as soon as her eyes fell on her fedora, rakishly adorning the head of her goddess statue as it always did. She’d mulled over David’s words all the way in and, God help her, could see herself in nothing more than her fedora, cuffed to his bed. She leaned over and pulled the hat so it covered the goddess’s face. Foolish, she knew. “Hell,” she muttered.
Kane’s brows went up. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
“No.” Most definitely not. “What are you doing?”
He shrugged, disappointed. “You never dish anymore. Where’s the excitement?”
“You couldn’t handle my excitement, old man,” she said dryly and made him chuckle. She noted the breakfast-sandwich wrappers on his desk. “Jennie’s gonna be mad. You know you’re only allowed one egg and pastrami every two weeks.”
“Jennie won’t find out.” He crunched the wrappers and threw them in her trash can. “There, problem solved.” He handed her a thick folder from his desk. “I’ve been going through the CDs Tomlinson’s wife gave us. Those are Tomlinson’s paying customers.”
“All these? How come he was going bankrupt, then?”
Kane lifted another folder, twice as thick as the first one. “These are the customers who owed him money.”
Olivia began scanning pages. “Rankin and Sons?”
“In the nonpaying folder.”
“So there’s a connection. Condo contractor owes plumbing supplier money.”
“But not a lot. Rankin owed a lot less than a lot of these other guys. Certainly not enough to warrant killing Tomlinson to make the debt go away.”
“Maybe the debt was more than money.” Olivia checked her watch. “It’s nine. Let’s go.” Kane ambled while she walked quickly, as usual.
“Can you at least tell me if you got my field glasses back?”
She winced. “I forgot again.”
“No glasses and no dish. This day sucks already.” Then he stopped abruptly in the door of Abbott’s office.
Olivia craned her neck to see around him. A man in a black suit and shiny black shoes sat at Abbott’s round conference table, looking serious and slightly sour. “Who’s that?” she murmured, but she knew.
“Come in,” Abbott said. “Meet Special Agent Crawford. Crawford, these are the lead detectives on the case, Kane and Sutherland.”
They shook hands with the federal agent and Olivia looked at Abbott from the corner of her eye. “Morning meeting?”
“In here,” Abbott said. “Crawford will be joining us. On a consulting basis.”
Crawford’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, sitting back down in his chair.
“Bruce,” Olivia said gingerly, “we need to talk to you. Outside?”
Abbott rose wearily. “Of course.” Olivia felt a stirring of pity as her boss closed the door of his own office behind them and leaned against the wall. “Don’t give me shit, please,” he said. “I’ve had enough already.”
“From who?” Olivia asked.
“My boss’s boss, who doesn’t want to be caught playing cowboy if this is domestic terrorism. Can you tell me that it’s not?”
He sounded so hopeful that Olivia hated to burst his bubble. “I don’t think we can say with a hundred percent certainty yet.”
“Great.” Abbott sighed. “Crawford’s already put in a request for jurisdiction.”
“My ass,” Olivia said.
“I know. But we have to share the sandbox. Prove the glass ball is just a ruse and Special Agent Crawford goes away.” Abbott leaned closer. “Please make him go away,” he whispered. “He is a major pain in the ass and I’ve only known him an hour.”
Olivia patted his arm. “We’ll do our best. You want us to spill all in there?”
Abbott shrugged. “For now.”
They went back in the office where Crawford was still scowling sourly.
“Arson and CSU are en route from the scene,” Abbott said. “I expect them to be here soon. You can go get yourself some coffee if you like.”
“It’s okay,” Crawford said flatly. “I’ll wait here.”
Abbott shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, then looked relieved at the appearance of one of his detectives. “Come in, Detective Webster.”
Olivia was always glad to work with Noah, who was solo for the time being. His former partner was Jack Phelps, who’d returned to Homicide a few months ago after taking a medical leave. It was common knowledge that Jack had been through rehab, but nobody had mentioned it since his return. Jack’s new partner was rookie detective Sam Wyatt. Olivia suspected Noah had cut Jack too much slack when they’d been partners, hoping Jack would work out his addictions on his own.
Olivia also suspected she and Noah would be assigned together once Kane retired at the end of the year. It was one of the sparkles of silver in a dark cloud.