Shed called James Barrets home twice already, but Fitz swore third times were lucky. Not in this case, however. According to a slightly winded and decidedly out of sorts Shera, her husband wouldnt be returning from Cleveland until Friday. Which told Romana nothing. Except that her cocker spaniel hubby likely wasnt as faithful as Shera wanted to believe.
An unpleasant thought wound its way through her head. Fitz had always liked James, lusted after him in fact. If Barret had flown to Cleveland, he hadnt done so under his own name. And Fitz, who adored him, was missing.
Okay, thats just plain unworthy, she decided and punched Patricks number with more vigor than necessary.
He answered with a yawning, I was asleep, Romana. I hope this is important.
Call display still threw her sometimes. Romana pushed the hair from her cheek, held it back. Patrick, I cant find Fitz. Did you see her at all today?
What? Uh-no, I didnt. I worked the graveyard shift last night. Left at six this morning. Went Christmas shopping.
Romana would have smiled at his gloomy tone if her thoughts hadnt been bouncing around like a pinball. Her supervisor said she didnt clock in.
Well, hed know. The gloominess gave way to guarded concern. Cant the police put out an APB on her?
Romana circled the small room. Fitz is a grown woman, Patrick. No matter what I think or feel, its too early for APBs.
Everything by the book, huh?
She slid her gaze to Jacob. Most things, anyway. She stopped pacing when he tipped up the lid of the box. Gotta go, Patrick. Let me know if you hear from her. She hung up. What is it? she demanded when Jacob didnt speak. Dont give me that inscrutable look, Knight, just show me whats Oh Damn. Even in dim light, the contents of the box winked and glittered and told her far more than she wanted to know. Wonderful. She dropped to her knees. I should have guessed.
Jacob maintained his easy crouch. Lucky for Fitz Im in Homicide.
Luckier still that shes not here so I can kick her butt. Romana dipped a hand inside, let cuff links, rings and pendants slide through her fingers. I really have to stop believing in fairy-tale endings. Nudging aside a cameo, she picked up a silver watch. This is interesting. No sign of tarnish.
Jacob took it from her, flipped the band over. Its engraved.
Instantly protective, Romana took it back. It could have been a gift.
Uh-huh, just not to Fitz.
Maybe she bought it at a garage sale.
And maybe Im Father Christmas in disguise, but its not a good bet.
Youre being a cop, Jacob.
Youre happily-ever-aftering again. Is there a name?
There was something. Romana switched on a table lamp. Purple light spilled onto the watchband and the ornate script lettering that covered it.
Still not psychic, Romana, Jacob prompted gently. Youll have to read it out loud.
She really didnt want to, but the words had already scored themselves into her memory.
She breathed out the worst of her fear and read,
Belinda.
May our secrets live on. Forever.
Love, James.
IT MEANT NOTHING,ROMANA told herself. So James Barret had given Belinda a watch. So Fitz had cleaned it up and locked it in a box. And yes, both Fitz and James were unaccounted for. That didnt mean James Barret had taken her. Critch was still the most viable suspect-in everyones opinion except hers.
Im staying with Critch on this one, OKeefe said when Jacob updated him by phone. Think about it. How would Belindas murderer even know Fitz had the watch?
It was a valid question, Romana admitted. And still the pesky little whispers continued.
At Jacobs suggestion, they drove to the police station- via James Barrets riverfront warehouse. The streets were slick, the Christmas music on Jacobs radio Kentucky bluegrass. Not a far stretch in Romanas mind from Irish folk. Which sent the whispers into overdrive.
You want to tell me whats wrong? Jacob sent her a glance. Or am I supposed to guess all the way to headquarters?
Because it was foolish to live in denial, Romana relented. Its part of an old Irish verse.
What is?
The inscription on the watch. She played with the hem of her long coat. Though life cannot be so, and our bones do turn to dust, may our secrets live on. Forever. Fitz is Irish. She knows the verse. Barrets also Irish. And Belindas dead. Okay, maybe Barret murdered Belinda-no idea what their secret might have been, though logic says affair. Or maybe he paid her to doctor his partners autopsy report. Very big secret there. Worth killing for? Possibly. But how could he have known that Fitz had Belindas watch? She pressed her fingers to her temples. I want to go with OKeefe and believe Critch has her. So why cant I?
With a glance in the side mirror, Jacob geared down. Believe its Critch, Romana. And put your seat belt on.
She lifted her head. Are we being followed again?
Seat belt, he said and reached a hand toward it.
As she buckled up, Romana finally noticed what shed missed during her emotional outburst. No matter how often Jacob used the brake pedal, nothing happened. He was relying on his vehicles gears to slow them down.
Her training kicked in, and she braced her hands on the seat. Where does this street end? She regarded the ice slick in front of them. Please say before the river.
Yeah, it ends before the river. The transmission screamed as he rammed the gearshift down another notch. It dead-ends at Gloster Road, at the old brick building that used to be the Merriman Meat Factory.
She saw the building then, in silhouette, an immovable mountain of wood and concrete set behind an even more imposing wall of bricks.
Oh, hell, she managed to whisper.
The tires slipped. The SUV spun. And all Romana could do was stare in horror as the wall grew closer and closer.
Chapter Ten
Jacob disliked hospitals at the best of times and even more so when he was being threatened with admission. The E.R. doctor wanted to observe him for at least twenty-four hours. Jacob just wanted to get the hell out of there. When the doctor left, he picked up his jacket, reclipped his badge and went in search of Romana.
A man dressed as Frosty the Snowman slumped past with his costume head tucked under one arm and a bandage over his right eye. Who gives exploding peanut jars as Secret Santa gifts?
Someone with a grudge or a sick sense of humor, Jacob supposed. But better exploding peanuts than a Chevy Blazer with a slashed brake line.
I dont have whiplash, Dr. McGee, and youre holding up three fingers. He heard Romanas patient voice inside one of the treatment rooms. Im not phobic, I dont feel dizzy, and youre still holding up three fingers.
A smile tugged at Jacobs lips. Apparently, neither of them intended to spend the night here.
Jacob, are you OKeefe rushed toward him in a baggy coat, a striped pajama top and jeans. He grabbed his former partners arms and inspected him from head to toe. All in one piece. Relief spread across his face. Then fled. Wheres Romana?
Jacob nodded at the treatment room. Giving McGee a hard time. Shes fine. Hell badger her for another forty minutes, but shell convince him.
Give me the rundown.
Someone-Critch-cut my brake line, probably while we were at Fitzs place. We were heading along March toward the river. I wanted to check out Barrets furniture warehouse before checking in at the station. Brakes failed.
OKeefe shook his head. I think youre wrong about Barret. If anyone has Fitz, its Critch. He tucked the pajama top into his jeans, squinted past Jacobs shoulder. Is there any coffee?
Jacob motioned to his left. Critch might have her, Mick, but the watch says something, and I want to know what it is.
OKeefe waved his badge at a harried-looking nurse and stuck his head around the corner. Smells like coffee and diapers. Makes you want to move right in. He picked up a tall pot, sniffed the contents and blew into two mugs. Barrets coming to the Christmas party Saturday night as the mayors special guest. His wife RSVPd, so Im thinking hell show. You can feel him out then.
A young nurse walked past, paused and backtracked with a twirl. Guess I deserve a pick-me-up, too.
While she poured and chatted, Jacob relived the scene in his Blazer.
Every cop knew how to stop a runaway vehicle. Jacob had done it twice in his first rookie week, and countless times as a homicide detective. Unfortunately, he hadnt done it on a street with a grade as steep as the one on March, a layer of ice under the tires and a brick wall looming in front of him.
Thankfully, Romana hadnt panicked. Shed simply buckled up, shut up and braced.
Lounging against the wall, OKeefe cleared his throat. Jacob returned to earth and swallowed a mouthful of the tepid coffee. What?
Shes gone. You can zone back in.
I didnt
Yes, you did. Your mind goes into space, Jacob, whenever youre not interested in a thing. My question to you is, how can you not be interested in a woman who looks like Madonna in her prime, isnt married and is so obviously coming on to you? Did you see the cleavage she displayed for you?
Yeah, I saw it.
OKeefe dropped his gaze to the front of Jacobs jeans. So what, are you made of stone or just so damn besotted with Romana that your brain doesnt register other females?
Im not besotted.
In lust with, then. We had every available officer out searching for her tonight. Not because I requested it but because you told the captain to just do it and youd explain why later.
Whats your point?
A muscle twitched in OKeefes jaw. Youre in love with her, probably have been since before Belinda Critch died.
Jacobs smile had a fatalistic edge. I didnt even know her back then.
You knew her well enough. You observed from a safe distance, thought you were immune, then got the shock of your life when you realized you were gooney over her. Grieved acceptance marked OKeefes features. The irony of it is, I think she feels the same way about you. Cool cop Jacob Knight, homicide detective with a stack of commendations as thick as my wrist. You got it all, Knight. The looks, the brains, the guts, the glory and now the girl. You must have been born under one frigging lucky star.
Are you done? Jacob asked when his friend lapsed into silence.