Читать книгу Cold Case Murder - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 14

Jodie paced the room as the men discussed the female victim. She needed to get out of the office. Get away from the photos they’d spread out on the desk. Away from the words she didn’t want to hear. The victim was a young woman. Early thirties. Small-boned. Five foot five or six. Probably 115 pounds.

Jodie’s height. Jodie’s weight. Jodie’s bone structure. Jodie’s long blond hair.

Could it be a coincidence?

“It’s getting late. Let’s call it a night and pick this up again tomorrow.” Sam sounded as weary as Jodie felt. She couldn’t blame him. He’d been in Loomis for two months and barely had any evidence to show for it.

“Sounds good to me.” Harrison gathered the photos and handed them to Sam. “You wanted these.”

“Right. I’ll just file them in my office. See you both tomorrow.” He walked to a closed door, unlocked it and disappeared inside.

Jodie didn’t wait for a second invitation to end the day. She grabbed her purse and opened the front door, stepping out into the cool night. The rain had stopped, but moisture hung in the air, clogging her lungs.

“Jodie! Hold up a minute.” Harrison called out, and Jodie considered ignoring him. The last thing she wanted was to have another conversation with him.

She stopped anyway, her hand on her car’s door. “What’s up?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you.”

“Nothing is up.”

“You ran out of there like the place was on fire.”

“It’s been a long day. Tomorrow will be even longer.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s the real reason you ran.” He scanned her face, his eyes seeming almost translucent in the fading light.

“It’s one of them.”

“And the others?”

“Not something I want to discuss.”

“Whatever you know, whatever you’re hiding, you’re going to have to tell me eventually.”

“Maybe, but not today.” Because telling Harrison would mean admitting she was scared. More scared than she’d been in a long time. Scared that the woman lying hidden for decades was the mother she’d spent twenty-five years despising, the mother who’d run away and left her three-year-old daughter with a father whose harsh criticisms and cold anger had bordered on abuse.

Harrison searched her face, his brow furrowed. Dark hair, a little too long in the back, brushed his collar as he nodded. “Fair enough, but you may as well know that there are very few secrets the dead can hide from me. I’m not too shabby about getting the truth from the living, either. If what’s bothering you has something to do with this case, you won’t be able to keep it from me for long.”

It was a promise more than a threat, and Jodie sensed that there was nothing arrogant about the words. Harrison Cahill was good at what he did. Great at it, if the little she’d seen was any indication. In other circumstances, she’d be looking forward to seeing more of his methods, watching as he pieced together the puzzle that had been handed to him. But these weren’t other circumstances and the sick dread she’d been feeling since she’d first seen those strands of blond hair intensified as Harrison turned and walked back into the building.

She got in her car and drove down Main Street, her mind filled with a million thoughts. None of them good. She’d been told her mother had abandoned her and gone on to live a life free of responsibilities. She’d never doubted that. Maybe she should have.

Jodie needed to talk to her father, ask him what he remembered. Had Amelia told her husband that she planned to leave? Or had she just walked away one day and never returned? As a kid, Jodie had never had the guts to ask, and as an adult she hadn’t thought it mattered.

She’d been wrong.

It mattered. A lot. Because someone had been lying dead in the secret room for decades, and that someone just might have been her mother.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she turned onto the winding road that led to Vera Peel’s boardinghouse. Tomorrow, after she’d had time to think, to decide what questions to ask, she’d go to her father’s house. For now, she’d rather avoid the confrontation.

The boardinghouse stood on a hill at the edge of town, its gingerbread trim and white porch swing doing little to add cheer or charm to the dark exterior. A painted sign hung from posts in the front yard, the gothic lettering adding a sinister feel to place. Jodie had never been inside the house but had always imagined the interior to be just as uninviting.

She parked her car in the wide, empty driveway, got out and made her way to the porch. The door opened before she even reached the steps, and Vera stepped outside. Tall, spare, with faded red hair and small green eyes, she watched Jodie’s approach.

“Hello, Ms. Peel. I was looking for accommodations for the evening. Do you have an empty room?” Of course, Vera did. People might stay at the boardinghouse once, but most never returned.

“No.”

“You don’t?” Surprised, Jodie paused on the porch stairs.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“But I thought—”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought, Jodie Gilmore, I don’t have a room.” Vera’s lips were tight with impatience, her eyes flashing with anger. If she remembered Jodie, she also remembered the trouble Jodie had so often been in.

“Ms. Peel, I know I was a troublemaker when I was a kid, but I’ve grown up. I’m with the FBI now, and—”

“You think I didn’t already know that. It’s all your dad talks about. His daughter, the big shot FBI agent.”

Jodie’s father talked about her job? Maybe she’d finally given him something to claim bragging rights over, not that it would matter when she finally saw him face-to-face. Richard Gilmore didn’t believe in praising his daughter for anything. As a matter of fact, the only thing he’s said when she’d called to tell him she’d been hired by the FBI was, “Don’t blow it.”

“Then maybe you’ll see fit to let me stay for a few days.”

“I’ve got another guest coming. A man.” She emphasized the last word, her beady eyes gleaming with heated fervor.

“And the rest of your rooms are full?”

“My handyman Chuck stays here, too.”

“That’s two rooms that are booked. Your house must have several more that are empty.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Both of my guests are men. You are a woman. It wouldn’t be seemly to have you stay here.”

“But, Vera, you run a boardinghouse. You must have had other times when you’ve had both male and female guests.” Jodie rubbed the tight muscles in her neck and tried not to let her impatience show. She needed aspirin for her aching head, she needed a bed to lie down in, and getting upset with Vera Peel wouldn’t get her either of those.

“I’m sure I have, but I know who you are, Jodie, and I know where you came from. Who you came from.” She nearly spat the words, and Jodie took a step back, almost falling off the step.

“I hope you aren’t implying that I can’t be trusted around men because of what my mother did.”

“Your mother ran away with another man. Left your father and you alone. And you know what the Bible says…”

No, but Jodie was sure she was about to find out.

“…the sins of the father are passed down through the third and fourth generation.”

“I don’t think that God meant a child should be judged by her mother’s actions.”

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t let you stay here.” Vera gazed past Jodie, her eyes glittering oddly. “It looks like my guest has arrived. You’d best be on your way now.”

Jodie clenched her teeth to keep from arguing further. Insisting that she wasn’t her mother’s daughter wouldn’t change Vera’s opinion. People in Loomis had decided long ago that Amelia Pershing Gilmore’s daughter was the spitting image of her mother. Not just in looks but in temperament. Had Jodie really expected anything more than what Vera had given her?

She turned away from the older woman, hurrying down the steps as another car pulled in beside hers. A black Jeep with tinted windows and a glossy exterior. She tried not to resent the fact that its owner, a complete stranger to Vera, would get a warmer welcome than she had.

And not just from the owner of the boardinghouse, but also from almost everyone in town.

She pulled open her car door, started to get in and paused as the Jeep’s window slid open.

“Gilmore? You’re staying here, too?” Harrison peered out at her, his chiseled face cast in shadows, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. Handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy way. Not the kind of man Jodie usually found attractive. But then, the kind of men she usually went for were too smooth and charming to be trusted.

“No. I…” Couldn’t get a room because my mother was an adulteress? Of course, she couldn’t say that. “I’m staying at my father’s.”

“Too bad. We could have had a bite to eat together after I unpacked.”

“A bite to eat?” Vera’s voice was as shrill as a screaming parrot’s, her head bobbing as she spoke. “I hope you’re not expecting me to feed you, young man. That’s not part of what I offer.”

“No worries, ma’am, I thought I’d find a place in town.”

“And don’t think there’s coffee at all hours, either. I can’t be expected to keep the pot percolating. If you want coffee, you can go to Pershing Provisions for it.”

“Understood.” Harrison’s lips twitched, his eyes dancing with what could only be humor, and Jodie felt her tension draining away. Vera was annoying but harmless. Finding amusement in her antics was a lot better than getting upset about them.

“And no music late at night. No loud phone conversations. No women friends in. Ever.” Her gaze cut to Jodie and she scowled, her eyes hard and filled with malice.

“Seems like a lot of rules for a boardinghouse.” Harrison pulled a duffel out of his Jeep and started up the steps.

“Follow them or find another place to stay. I’ve kicked people out of my house before, you know. I won’t hesitate to do it again. And I can already tell you that the Loomis Hotel is booked solid. Come in and get the key. I’ve got other things to do with my time besides chitchatting.” She walked inside, and Harrison turned to Jodie.

“This should be an interesting stay.”

“Looks that way.” But she doubted it would be as interesting as her stay with her father. She hadn’t seen the man in ten years and was going to show up on his doorstep and beg for a room. That should be more than interesting.

“It’ll be even more interesting if you agree to have dinner with me tonight.”

“Have dinner with you? You’re kidding, right?” Jodie nearly laughed in surprise.

“Why would I be? I’m hungry. I don’t want to eat alone.”

“You told me earlier that rookies made you nervous. I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite.”

“It takes an awful lot to do that.” He smiled, and Jodie’s breath caught. No man should look that good when he smiled.

“Your appetite might not be affected, but mine would. There is no way can I enjoy a meal when someone is giving me the third degree.”

He smiled again, shrugging his shoulders, the soft cotton of his shirt pulling tight against well-muscled shoulders. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some more questions for you.”

“And I’d be lying if I said I’d answer them.”

Harrison laughed and pushed open Vera’s front door. “That shouldn’t be a reason for us not to have dinner, should it?”

She should say yes, but doing so would mean having to face what she’d much rather avoid—her father. “If we go to dinner, don’t expect to get the answers you’re looking for.”

“Just as long as you don’t expect me not to ask them. How about we meet at that Italian restaurtant on Main Street.”

“Vincetta’s?”

“Right. See you there.” He stepped inside and closed the door, the evening silence almost eerie in his absence.

Dinner with Harrison Cahill? Probably not the best idea she’d ever had, but that wasn’t surprising. Loomis had a way of muddling her thinking. Maybe it was the air—thick with the bayou. Or maybe it was the memories that were always just a whisper away. Either way, the dark and ugly place was already working its magic on her.

She sighed, getting into her car and deciding to make a quick stop at the store to pick up an economy-sized bottle of Tylenol. She had a feeling she was going to need it over the next few days or weeks.

Or months.

Please, God, don’t let it be months.

The prayer slipped out, surprising Jodie. It had been a while since she’d thought to ask God for anything. A while since He’d seen fit to answer.

Maybe this time would be different.

Somehow, though, she doubted it.