Chapter 2

Two

THE COP WHO HAD THE KEYS to the cruiser was heading her way.

Finally.

Lindsey drew a shaky breath and tried to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold wind whistling around the car. In here, it was toasty. But after everything else that had happened today, being confined in the back of a locked police car wasn't conducive to peace of mind. Nor was the whole crime scene experience.

Especially for someone with her history.

At least Jack Tucker hadn't returned to free her. If she never saw him again it would be too soon.

How ironic was it that he, of all people, would be assigned to handle this case?

At least he hadn't recognized her name. If Clair had mentioned her, she must have just used her first name.

The lock clicked, and a moment later the door swung open. Officer Meyers leaned down. "Ma'am? You're free to claim your car and leave."

"Thank you." She slid from the cruiser, bracing as a bitter gust buffeted her.

"Steady." His hand shot out as she wavered.

"I'm fine."

Not really.

But she would be, later. After she finished her work for the day, went home, locked her doors, took a hot bath—and prayed the nightmares she'd at last vanquished didn't return to disrupt her sleep.

If they did, though, she had Dr. Oliver's card and his personal cell number. She'd get through this, just like she'd gotten through the last trauma.

As she thanked the officer again, Heidi's red Tesla was waved through the police barricade on the street.

While it rolled down the drive, a man in clerical garb appeared at the front door, as if he'd been alerted to her arrival or had been watching for her.

Lindsey's throat tightened.

Heidi might not be her favorite client, but she wouldn't wish the woman's next few minutes on her worst enemy. Traumatic as her own day had been, she hadn't lost someone she loved.

The woman passed her and the officer, continued toward the main entrance, and alighted from the car. She glanced toward them, then let the cleric usher her inside.

Not until she disappeared through the door did Lindsey circle toward the back of the house to claim her car.

Unfortunately, Jack Tucker was between her and it.

She slowed ... but when it became apparent he was waiting for her, she picked up her pace. The faster she got this encounter over with, the faster she could get out of here and try to forget the whole nightmare.

Including her upsetting encounter with a certain St. Louis County detective.

"Officer Meyers told me I was free to leave." She stopped several feet away from the clean-cut, sandy-haired man, whose toned physique and summer-sky-blue eyes would have been attractive under other circumstances.

"Yes. We're finished."

"I assume you didn't find anything incriminating."

"Only the remains of that candy bar." One side of his mouth rose a hair.

She dug out her keys, keeping her lips flat. "I have work to do." She attempted to walk past him, but he stepped in front of her.

"Are you certain you're up to driving?" He sent a pointed glance toward her white-knuckle grip on the keys.

"Yes. Please let me by."

After a couple of seconds, he extracted a card and held it out. "If you think of anything else that may be helpful, please give me a call." He waited until she took it before moving aside.

Card in hand, she continued to her car, past Chad's truck. His grilling either hadn't taken place yet or was in progress.

But neither of them were the culprits in the crime that had been committed in this house today. And it shouldn't take Detective Tucker long to figure that out, if he knew how to do his job.

As for the real killer?

Unless he or she had left clues behind, finding them could be a challenge.

That was Jack Tucker's problem, however. Not hers. She intended to put the past few hours out of her mind as soon as she drove off the property.

And pray today's ordeal didn't cause a major setback in her recovery from the other nightmare that had upended her life twenty-one long and stressful months ago.

"EARTH TO JACK. Come in, Jack."

At the summons, Jack swiveled away from Lindsey Barnes's disappearing taillights and toward the female voice.

Detective Cate Reilly-Sloan, arms crossed, long dark hair pulled back into her usual high ponytail, stood beside the hedge of arborvitaes that hid the concrete pad behind the garage from the backyard.

Her amused expression was hard to decipher. But sometimes women were a mystery.

Like the one who'd just driven away.

"Sorry." He walked over to join her. "When did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago. I'm your reinforcement."

"Lucky you."

"TBD."

"Is Lacey here yet?"

"Yes. She's inside. The wife's on-site too. You want to bring me up to speed?"

He gave her a quick briefing. "I already spoke with Ms. Barnes. Chad Allen is up next. We can tag team it."

"Learn anything helpful from the witness?"

"Nothing other than the approximate height of the subject. She couldn't see much from her hiding place."

"Tough spot to find yourself in. She okay?"

"Claims to be. She was planning to pick up her work where she left off before we delayed her."

Cate's mouth bowed. "I think I like her." Then she sobered. "What do we know about Allen?"

"Nothing beyond the fact he doesn't have a record. Meyers ran him."

"Why?"

"Intuition."

"He has solid instincts."

"I know. Let's see if our impressions mesh with his. Allen's on the patio." He motioned toward the back of the house and followed Cate as she took the lead.

The man was sitting on a naked patio chair, its cushions relegated to post-season storage, but he shot to his feet the instant he caught sight of them. The officer waiting with him walked a discreet distance away as they approached.

Moving past Cate, Jack extended his hand and introduced himself as he assessed the man.

About five ten, thirtyish, dark brown hair, lean but muscular build, a touch of premature gray at his temples, eyes that looked as if they'd seen too much and were afraid they were about to see more.

Meyers was right.

The man had a tense, spooked air about him. Like someone who was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As soon as he had a few minutes, he'd dig deeper into the guy's background.

Unlike Lindsey, Allen didn't hesitate to return his handshake. He also shook hands with Cate.

"We have a few questions, Mr. Allen, but we'd be happy to find a warmer spot." Jack motioned toward the house. "There may be a clear area inside we could use." If Hank was in a generous mood.

The man hesitated but in the end shook his head. "If you don't mind, I'd rather stay out here."

"Cate?" Jack deferred to her. From past experience working cases with her, she wasn't a fan of spending any more time than necessary outside in cold weather.

"Why don't we at least move closer to the house, under the covered portion of the patio and out of the wind?"

"That's fine." Allen walked over to a spot under the overhang, where bushes on either side served as a windbreak.

It was warmer, but not by much.

"Would you like to sit?" Jack indicated several chairs grouped around an outdoor fireplace, fighting the temptation to flip the gas burner that would send a modicum of warmth their direction.

"I don't mind standing, unless you expect this to take a while."

"Our preliminary discussion shouldn't hold you up long." He pulled out his notebook again, flexing his fingers to stimulate circulation. "I know you already gave a brief statement to the responding officer, but tell us again why you're here and what you've seen while you've been on the premises."

Allen slid his bare hands into his pockets. "I'm replacing a floor in the pool house. Or guest house. I think they use it for both." He indicated a structure farther back in the yard, on the other side of the large, winterized pool, accessed by a paved path from the patio. "I got here about nine, unloaded my supplies, and went to work. The next thing I knew, the cops were all over the place."

"Did you see anyone when you arrived, or afterward?"

"No."

"Were the garage doors open or shut?"

"Shut."

"How did you get into the pool house?"

"The owner said she'd leave the door open."

"Did you go into the main house?"

"No. I was planning to later, though. Ms. Robertson asked me to fix a sticking door. I told her I'd do it at the end of the day, but she said she'd leave the alarm off when she left in case I wanted to work on it earlier."

"Did you hear anything unusual this morning?"

"No. I play music while I work, and I crank up the volume."

Jack asked a few more questions, but it was clear Allen either didn't have anything to offer or wasn't telling everything he knew.

"Do you have any objection to us searching your truck? We can get a warrant, but you'll be out of here faster if you give us permission to proceed."

The man's forehead puckered. "I didn't have anything to do with what happened here today."

"Then you shouldn't mind if we take a look at your vehicle."

After a moment, he pulled out his keys and passed them over. "Fine. I'd like to leave sooner rather than later. I'll wait here."

"Cate." Jack motioned for her to join him.

She left the shelter of the overhang with obvious reluctance and fell in beside him. "I hate this Arctic weather. It shouldn't be this cold in early November."

"Why don't you move somewhere warmer?"

"I like being close to my sisters. Besides, my husband relocated here for me, and it wouldn't be fair to disrupt his career. What do you think about Allen?"

"He's nervous."

"Agreed. But that's not a red flag in and of itself. Most people who find themselves linked to a murder investigation are—" She squinted toward the privacy hedge that blocked their view of the concrete pad behind the garage. "I think we're being summoned."

Jack followed her line of sight. One of the officers was waving them over.

He hurried forward, Cate beside him.

"What's up?" He paused beside the uniformed man.

"One of our people spotted something." He led them around the hedge and motioned toward the running board on Allen's GMC Sierra.

Jack moved beside it and leaned down, catching a sparkle in one of the grooves.

On closer inspection, what appeared to be a diamond stud earring was wedged into one of the treads.

A search of the truck suddenly became high priority.

"We need to get Hank out here as soon as he's finished inside." Jack straightened up.

"He'll love that." Cate bent to examine the earring too. "He hates the cold as much as I do."

"Let's see what we can find while we wait." Jack pulled out another pair of latex gloves.

"Doesn't that strike you as a bit obvious?" Cate tugged on gloves too, tipping her head toward the stud.

"You think it's a plant?"

"I wouldn't rule out the possibility."

"I'm not. But criminals aren't always the brightest bulb in the chandelier. I was involved in an armed robbery case once where the clerk convinced the thief he couldn't open the cash drawer without running the guy's credit card. Believe it or not, he handed it over."

"We've all had a few of those. Let's do this."

For the next fifteen minutes, the two of them went over the truck. No jewelry emerged other than the earring they'd already photographed and bagged in an evidence envelope.

Cate was either right about the plant, or Allen had stashed the rest of his haul elsewhere for later retrieval.

Meaning a search of the residence grounds and the edge of the park that abutted the backyard would have to be done. If Allen was the killer, he couldn't have gone far to hide his bounty, since he was on-site when law enforcement arrived minutes after Lindsey's 911 call.

Jack finished inspecting the underside of the truck, scooted out, and stood. After handing the officer back his flashlight, he brushed off his slacks and addressed Cate. "Let's give Allen the bad news."

The man stopped pacing and swung toward them as they approached the patio where they'd left him. "Can I leave now?"

"Yes. But not with your truck." Jack stopped in front of him.

"Why not?"

"We found this." He angled his phone to display the photo he'd taken of the stuck stud before bagging it.

The man leaned closer. "What is that?"

"A diamond earring wedged in your running board. Any idea how it got there?"

Allen recoiled from the image, the color leeching from his complexion. "No."

Jack waited him out as an ice pellet stung his cheek, heralding the arrival of the sleet storm the meteorologists had predicted.

"Listen, I had nothing to do with what happened here today. I can't explain the earring, but I was in the pool house working until the cops arrived. That's the truth, even if there aren't any witnesses who can verify it."

The man appeared to be sincere. Yet the desolation in his eyes suggested he didn't think anyone would believe him.

What was this guy's story, anyway?

He'd find out later, after he talked to the next person on his list.

The victim's wife.

"If you don't want to wait for your vehicle, you're free to leave and come back later to pick it up. I can get someone to give you a ride home."

"No. I'll call my wife." He pulled out his cell, shoulders slumping. "She should be home from work by now."

"We'll be in touch if we have any more questions. And if you think of anything else you'd like to pass on, give me a call." Jack offered him a card.

The man took it, turned away, and trudged to the far side of the patio.

"I'm not getting guilty vibes." Cate watched him.

"Me neither. But I've been fooled before."

"I hear you. Want me to dig into his background while you talk to the victim's wife?"

"Or you could talk to her and I'll do the background dive."

"Sorry. You were tapped for the lead on this one. The dirty work lands on your desk."

"Thanks a lot."

"You'd do the same if the situation was reversed."

He couldn't argue with that. "Let's regroup after I'm finished. Where will you be?"

"Somewhere warm. I'll ask Hank to find me a spot inside where my fingers can thaw."

"Good luck with that. You know how protective he is of his crime scenes. I doubt he'd have let us in even to interview Allen."

"He and I have an understanding."

"Yeah? How'd you manage that?"

"We both have Greek blood. Plus, my sister makes the world's best baklava—and I sometimes share a few pieces with Hank."

"Bribery."

"Kindness."

"Hey. I'm nice to him too."

"Maybe. But you're not Greek, and you don't come bearing sweets." She took off for the house at a fast clip. "Let's go inside where it's warm."

Jack followed at a much slower pace.

Warmth was relative, and he'd had little of it today. Not from Mother Nature, and not from Lindsey Barnes.

Nor was the upcoming interview with a very recent widow likely to chase away the chill in the air.

And there was certainly no warmth in the hard-hearted killer who'd slain a man in his own kitchen and disappeared on this wintry day.

The best he could hope for was a break that would lead him to the culprit fast, before the trail grew cold.

But unless a solid clue surfaced, or Lindsey Barnes remembered a shock-suppressed detail about the killer, this case could be as difficult to resolve as the guilt that had plagued him for three long years ... with no end in sight.