IF CRITCHLL ATTACK AN OLD woman-an uninvolved old woman-hell attack anyone. Jacob threaded his way through traffic on the busy streets of Mount Adams. Anyone, Romana, any age.
Thank you, I realize that.And it brought a chill to her skin thinking about it. Fortunately, my niece had to pull out of the pageant. She tripped over a toy truck and sprained her ankle. Romana stared through the window at the decorated houses they passed. The city looks so festive right now, doesnt it? Pretty lights, Christmas music. I swear I can even smell chestnuts roasting in the park. And yet your neighbors in a hospital bed, Im glad my niece hurt her ankle, and Im trying to think up an excuse not to go anywhere near Fitz tonight.
Jacob located a parking spot on the edge of the makeshift lot. Directly across from them, on the far side of the pond, a high school band played Holly Jolly Christmas. He watched them as he spoke. I can talk to Barret on police time if it makes you more comfortable.
It doesnt. She pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, a striking contrast to her long red coat. Im not going to let Critch win, I just dont want anyone I know to get hurt. Having said that, I still think our best plan to stop him is to figure out who murdered his wife.
While we do or dont search for him?
Resolved, she slid from her seat and slammed the door. Eggs in more than one basket, Knight. We search for both of them.
He set his arms on the hood. I hate to remind you, Romana, but youre not a cop these days. You shouldnt be searching for anyone.
Critch shouldnt be taking potshots at us. Whats your point, Detective?
Youd be better off in Boston with your parents.
Ah, they were back to the safety issue. She tucked her hair behind her ears, tugged on a black hat. Only in your eyes. In mine, Id be exposing them to danger.
He wants me more than he wants you.
Again, your opinion. I figure if I so much as try to leave the city, hell turn on my brothers, or worse, their kids.
Romana
Not running, Detective. Accept it. Her lips curved. On a more salient note, in case you havent noticed, youre standing next to a cobalt-blue Porsche. That car is the same color as James Barrets eyes, which is undoubtedly why he bought it.
And you know that because
Her smile deepened to a tease. I guess that means I either know him well enough to be aware of his vanity, or Fitz told me.
At his vaguely suspicious look, she sighed out a laugh. Fitz had a crush on him as a kid. Her fathers an upholsterer for Barret Brown Furniture. A younger James Barret used to give her candy, and bat his baby blues at her. If she says he and Belinda were involved, they probably were. One thing Fitz can do better than anyone I know is ferret out information that she feels is relevant to her life. Dont say it. She deflected the obvious question. Fantasies are as relevant to a lot of people as reality is. She should know, Romana reflected with a shiver. She was standing three feet from hers.
Beyond a faint twitch of his lips, Jacob didnt react. He simply held out a hand for her to precede him.
She told herself to focus, not be sucked into an emotional whirlpool. It would be so easy to fall for Jacob Knight, to let herself want him in a way that, sadly, shed never wanted her ex-husband. Big girl, big desires, she reflected with a twinge of regret. But Santa couldnt make everyones Christmas wishes come true, and even if he could, Jacob was still a dark horse with the department and a largely unknown, albeit incredibly sexy, commodity to her.
Ro! Any hope she had of avoiding Fitz died as her cousin swooped in, out of breath and pink-cheeked. You have to help me. James wants to talk. Dont know why, but I cant say no. The thing is, I managed to drag Patrick here tonight, and I dont want him to disappear while Im gone. So I need you to-oh. The fingers shed wrapped around Romanas arm loosened, then did a speculative tap dance. Hello, Detective Knight. I didnt see you. But now that she had, she took a long, assessing look. Talk about coincidence. I ran into your old partner last night at Franconis. He was alone and lonely. We had beer and pasta together.
Hes missing his daughter. Jacob surveyed the park scene. A crease formed between his eyes when his gaze reached the pond.
Romana followed his gaze. What? Is it Critch?
No, its a guy from Vice dressed like a jack-in-the-box.
Charlie, she corrected. At his uncomprehending look, she grinned. Hes a Charlie-in-the-box. Island of Misfit Toys, Knight.
You need kids, Fitz said, then snapped her mouth closed. Or not. Uh, Ro, could you Shell be right back, Detective. She nudged Romana toward a cluster of benches, wiggled her fingers at a man seated on the farthest one and didnt release the breath shed evidently been holding until Jacob moved away to set his forearms on the makeshift guardrail. Cant believe I said that, she muttered. Dumb, dumber, dumbest.
Romana didnt correct her. Tonight wasnt about fixing misconceptions, it was about exposing a murderer-and keeping Warren Critch away from the people she loved.
Talk to James, she told her cousin. Ill distract Patrick.
Fitz started off, but backpedaled to drill a warning finger into Romanas arm. Only distract, okay? No making him think things he shouldnt. She fluffed her curls. You could talk me up a bit, though, if the opportunity arises. I mean, honest to God, Ro, if the guy was a horse, Id figure he was gelded.
Nice image, Romana murmured. Thanks, Fitz.
As she picked her way through the snow, Romana noticed that Jacob was already surrounded by a flock of girls. All wore bright-green jackets, which would make them members of the performing high school band.
What is it about cops and hormonal teenagers? Patrick wondered aloud when she came within earshot. He lounged on the bench with his head resting on the back and a cup of something hot in his hand. Its like they have radar. Cop in the vicinity. Line forms to the left, girlfriends.
Cynic. Romana dusted snow off the seat beside him. They probably think hes a hot guitar player.
I spotted the badge on his belt loop from here, Romana. Hes the big D to them. Dangerous, and older to boot.
The night air had a bite, like Patricks tone. Romana turned up the collar of her coat and wished shed worn heavier clothes.
With a crooked smile, Patrick produced a thermos from the snow beside him. A red-headed elf told me to come prepared. Hot chocolate?
She blew on her gloved hands. Smart elf. Id love some.
Myself, Im a warm-weather man.
How warm?
I was born in Houston. This white stuffs acceptable on Christmas Day, but otherwise Id pass.
Not into winter sports, huh?
Im not into any sports, unless you include channel and web surfing.
He sounded completely bored. Romanas female pride would have been stung if she hadnt known he used the same dull tone with everyone. It might not be kind, but she had to wonder what Fitz saw in him.
Oh, he was handsome enough in a scruffy, mismatched sort of way. He also had height, a good inch over six feet, which was about the same as Jacob, actually. His features were strong and his eyes dark brown, a match for the perpetual tangle of his hair. Romana suspected the stubble he wore was intended to be sexy, but all she wanted to do was find him a razor.
Funny she never felt that way about Jacob
Houston Control to Professor Grey. Patrick waved a steaming cup under her nose. He lowered his hand in disgust. Oh, God, youre staring at the cop, arent you?
Well, I did come with him.
You need to watch your step, he said. Knights not what he appears to be.
Romana took a cautious sip of her drink. As shed anticipated, it was heavily laced with rum. Neithers your hot cocoa, Patrick. Why the red flag?
Its the same flag Belinda held up a couple of days before she died. At her questioning glance, he shrugged. We worked together. We talked.
Only talked?
Patricks laugh had an edge. Okay, right, here we go. I knew when Critch was released the whole question-and-answer thing would erupt again. We were friends, coworkers. She was married. I respected that. She respected my respect And you can eighty-six the look, Romana. Dont you have any male friends? By that, I mean the kind of friends whose sole purpose in life isnt to jump your bones?
We were talking about Belindas bones, Patrick, not mine.
We were talking about Jacob Knight initially. The guys trouble in caps. You want it straight, thats exactly what Belinda said.
Romana blew on her cocoa, squashed the uneasy prickles in her stomach. It sounds like you and Belinda had some pretty involved conversations.
You do that when the alternative is to let it sink in that youre slicing up dead organs while extracting bodily fluids.
You didnt have to choose forensic pathology, Patrick.
My father was a mortician. My mother was a morgue attendant. What else was I going to do? Im John Patrick North, only son of Mr. and Mrs. Coffin and Slab. He laughed without humor, raised his cup in her direction and drained the contents. Sadness replaced the laughter. We were friends, Belinda and me, and whether you want to hear it or not, I believe Knight killed her.
Summoning an easy smile, Romana passed him her drink. Spoken with great conviction. But you havent specified why youre so sure Jacob did it.
He argued with Belinda in a restaurant before she died.
Thats a matter of record. Did he threaten her?
She didnt say exactly, but I could see by her body language that she was upset. And afraid.
Of Jacob?
No, of Santa Claus. He polished off her cocoa, hesitated, then moved a reluctant shoulder. But come to think of it, Dylans name came up a few times.
She was frightened of her brother?
Step.
It took Romana a moment to understand. Step- she stared in amazement -brother?
You didnt know?
Why would I know?
You were a cop. I thought you people knew everything.
It wasnt my case to investigate.
He eyeballed a glittering pine tree across from them. No, Stubbs and Canter got that gig. Short, fat guy with salt and pepper hair and no chin-that was Stubbs. Canter was a foot taller, with arms like Popeye and a butt to match.