fact. Proud that she had managed to kick her drug addiction,” Mrs. O’Keefe told them with the fierceness of a mother lion protecting her cub. “And she had,” the woman insisted. “I would bet my life on that.” Again, her eyes filled with tears that spilled out onto her cheeks.
White Hawk was about to tell the woman that it wasn’t uncommon for an addict to relapse. Drugs were far more available these days than they used to be. There was no end to temptation for a former addict.
Frankie could see by the look in White Hawk’s eyes that he was about to say something and she shook her head, mouthing don’t.
Out loud, she managed to waylay him by asking, “Got a minute, Detective White Hawk?”
Puzzled, he said, “Sure,” and followed Frankie outside. “What’s up?” he asked.
“I know your heart’s in the right place, White Hawk,” she told him, starting out diplomatically. “But that woman inside the house doesn’t need another dose of harsh reality. She’s just had way too much of it. If she believes that her daughter was drug free, let her believe it.”
White Hawk studied her for a long moment, then asked, “What if it’s not true?”
“What if it is?” Frankie countered in the same tone of voice.
He inclined his head, going along with Frankie for the time being. “Why don’t we hold off on any speculation until we get the lab results back?” White Hawk suggested philosophically.
“And maybe even longer than that,” Frankie tactfully suggested.
“You do know that you’re a softie, Detective DeMarco, right?” White Hawk asked her with a wide smile.
“Not really,” Frankie denied. She preferred to think of herself as being tough as nails. But in this instance, she wanted to go easy on Mrs. O’Keefe. The woman had been through enough. “But I just don’t see the advantage of robbing a mother of her last illusion about her daughter. If Ellen’s relapse helps to crack the case, then we’ll push forward with it. But until then, there’s no harm in letting Mrs. O’Keefe remember her daughter the way she wants to.”
“White Hawk’s right,” Luke said, coming out to join them. He had a laptop tucked under his arm. The victim’s mother had handed it over to him in the young woman’s bedroom. “You are a softie.”
She didn’t mind White Hawk calling her that. But hearing the words coming out of O’Bannon’s mouth just put her back up.
Frowning, she pointed toward what he was carrying. “Is that Ellen’s laptop?”
“It is,” he confirmed. Looking down at it for a moment, he smiled. “My guess is that Valri’s going to be very busy for the next couple of days,” he commented.
He was talking about Kris’s laptop, Frankie thought. She was uneasy about anyone poking around her cousin’s computer until she got a look at it herself.
“I’m pretty good with computers,” she told Luke. “Why don’t I take a crack at Kristin’s and you can bring the one you’re holding to your cousin? That way, the work’ll get done twice as fast.”
Luke looked at her for a long moment. She felt as if he could literally see every thought in her head.
“Any particular reason you’re volunteering to take that one instead of this one right here?” he asked, holding up Ellen’s laptop.
Frankie spread her hands in exaggerated innocence. “None whatsoever. The other one was just the first one that came to mind since it was initially my crime scene.”
“Don’t worry,” Luke told her. “Valri likes a challenge. She can handle both of them. Besides—” he unlocked all four doors of his vehicle and then popped the trunk “—she likes having people owe her.” He placed the second laptop in the trunk of his car beside the first one. Since they were made by different manufacturers, there was no chance of getting them mixed up.
His stomach was making rumbling noises in loud protest. A rueful smile curved his mouth. “Now, unless either one of you have any objections, I vote we stop for lunch before driving back to the station.” He looked at the other two for an answer.
“Hey, fine by me,” White Hawk said. “I’m always hungry.”
Both detectives turned to look at Frankie, waiting for her answer. She shrugged. “You’re the one with the car keys.”
“I guess then it’s settled,” Luke said. “Lunch it is.”
But as the other two detectives began opening their doors to get into the vehicle, Frankie held up her hand. “One minute, please,” she said, ignoring the impatient look on O’Bannon’s handsome face. “I just want to check on Mrs. O’Keefe one more time before we leave.”
“Why?” Luke asked, but she had already hurried back to the front door.
“She really does seem to be pretty compassionate,” White Hawk commented, watching the detective disappear into Mrs. O’Keefe’s house.
“Either that,” Luke replied thoughtfully, “or she relates to the woman’s grief.”
Curious, White Hawk asked his partner, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not really sure yet,” Luke answered truthfully. “But you’ll be the first to know if something occurs to me.”
White Hawk snorted as he gave Luke a pointed look. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Inside the house, Frankie found Mrs. O’Keefe in the living room, exactly where they had left her. She handed the woman her card.
Accepting it, Mrs. O’Keefe gazed at her.
“It’s my card,” Frankie explained. Turning the card over for the woman, she pointed out, “That’s my cell phone number on the back. If you need anything—anything at all—give me a call. Any time,” Frankie emphasized. “Day or night.”
Holding the card in her hand, Mrs. O’Keefe made a dismissive motion. “Thank you, but I already told you, my sister’s coming to stay with me.”
“I know. But sometimes, you need someone to listen who isn’t family.” Frankie smiled sympathetically at the woman. “Who won’t bring up old flaws. And,” she added, “you can use that number in case you think of anything that might be useful to our investigation.”
Folding her hand over the card, Mrs. O’Keefe tucked it into her pocket.
Just as Frankie was about to say goodbye and leave, Mrs. O’Keefe took her hands in hers and held them fast. When Frankie looked at her quizzically, the woman said fiercely, “Promise me. Promise me you’ll catch the miserable bastard who did this to my little girl. I’m counting on you,” she said with feeling, then, looking into her eyes, the woman added with a knowing expression, “You understand.”
There was a bond between the two of them, she could feel it. Somehow, the woman knew. Frankie nodded her head.
“I promise, Mrs. O’Keefe,” she told her with sincerity.
Taking
