about to press her again as to why she had a sudden interest in his ex, but maybe this was part of some kind of therapy. A shared experience sort of thing. Except there was really nothing to share. Meredith was alive, and Nicky’s husband wasn’t.
Her husband, Patrick.
Yeah, he’d looked it up on the internet. There hadn’t been an obituary, but there’d been a mention of him on social media from someone he’d done business with. It was one of those requests for prayers and hugs.
According to what Garrett could glean from that, Patrick had been a lawyer at the same firm where Nicky worked. He’d died from cancer and been gone almost eighteen months now. Not an eternity, but maybe the pain wasn’t still as fresh and raw for Nicky. Of course, the flipside to that was Kaylee had been so young that she wouldn’t even remember her father. That had to be eating away at Nicky, too.
Garrett knew plenty about grief. It was a hungry bitch. And if he could figure out a way to beat it, he would have already done it.
“I’m sorry,” Garrett said before he even knew he was going to say it.
She nodded but seemed ready to ask him to explain that. If she hadn’t also looked like sex, he might have hung around and added more. He headed out, but he nearly smacked right into Loretta.
“Good morning, Garrett,” she said. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Loretta didn’t look anything like sex, but she did seem wide awake. Awake, smiling and also wearing his pj’s.
“Loretta’s luggage got misplaced, too,” Nicky volunteered.
Well, at least he wouldn’t encounter anyone else wearing his limited nightwear because he had only two sets of pajamas.
Garrett mumbled a “good morning” and hurried out. Staying longer and looking at Nicky would only cause this tug in his belly to tug even harder. He wasn’t overly concerned about belly tugs per se, but if that tug lowered to that idiot part of him behind his zipper, he’d be in big trouble.
NICKY WAITED ON hold for Clay McKinnon while she watched out the window. Kaylee and Gina were in the backyard, playing fetch with a golden retriever, and Kaylee was having a blast. Nicky couldn’t say the same for herself, though. That’s because her daughter and Gina weren’t the only ones in her line of sight.
So was Garrett.
He was in the barn about twenty yards away, and while he wasn’t exactly nearby, Garrett had a way of grabbing her attention.
Damn him.
He was wearing those snug jeans again and looking very much like the hot cowboy he was. A cowboy in charge since he seemed to be doling out orders to several of the hands. Judging from their body language, they were listening but weren’t liking what they were hearing.
Nicky had wanted these old feelings to be gone by now, but instead they’d morphed into adult feelings. Specifically, feelings where she had no trouble noticing how attractive he was.
Would she never learn?
Apparently not. Two heart stompings weren’t enough to teach her a lesson, and she wasn’t sure she could survive a third one.
“You still there, Mrs. Marlow?” Chief Clay McKinnon asked when he finally came on the line.
“Nicky,” she automatically corrected. “I’m here. I hate to bother you because you must be busy, but I just wanted to know if there were any updates on the body?”
Just saying the word body tightened her stomach, and Nicky hoped she wouldn’t feel the need to vomit again. While she was hoping, she added that maybe she could get those images out of her head. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the skeleton. She hoped those images went away soon since she still had plans to live in that house for the next year.
“The remains have been moved to the county morgue,” Clay explained, “and the CSIs will start going through the place this morning. I don’t expect them to find much, not after all this time, but you never know.”
Nicky glanced out the window again to check on Kaylee. She was no longer playing with the dog but rather was running toward Garrett. That nearly sent Nicky bolting after her because she didn’t want Kaylee to bother Garrett, but Gina was on her heels.
“As for the identity of the John Doe,” Clay went on, “he didn’t have any ID on him, and there weren’t any clothes in the immediate area that could have belonged to him. The CSIs will look upstairs, though. Did you happen to come across any men’s clothes when you were cleaning?”
“There are some in a few of the dressers and trunks, but I doubt he undressed and put his things away.”
“No. Unless he was staying there. That’s possible, of course, but it’s more likely that someone moved the clothes.”
She was glad he didn’t spell that out for her, but Nicky’s mind began to race with some really bad ideas. Like maybe the clothes had been blood-soaked or had bullet holes in them.
“If there’s no ID and you can’t get his prints, how will you figure out who he is?” she asked.
“I might not. That’s the way these things turn out sometimes. Of course, I’ll keep looking through the missing person’s database. The Ranger lab might be able to do facial reconstruction, too. Until then, I’ll keep following what little evidence I have. The guy didn’t have any unusual dental work, metal plates or prosthetics, but he was wearing a wedding band.”
That got her attention. She certainly hadn’t noticed a ring when she’d seen the body, but then she hadn’t lingered around for a long look. “He was married,” she mumbled.
“Sure looks that way. The band was yellow gold,” Clay continued. “And it had the words forever wrapped around you engraved inside it.”
Nicky felt her heart flutter. Not in a good way, either. Because those were lovers’ words. Unless it referred literally to the ring, that is. But she doubted it. No, this was likely a declaration of love.
“He was really married,” she repeated. Nicky hadn’t meant for there to be that much emotion in her voice. Emotion that Clay must have noticed.
“Are you okay?” Clay asked.
She quickly tried to regain her composure. Also quickly tried to figure out how to get this conversation back on track. A track that didn’t include transferring her own feelings onto this situation. “I’m fine. I was thinking, though, that his being married could be a motive for murder, right?”
“Could be. Maybe a jealous wife. Maybe a lover who got fed up waiting for him to get a divorce. I’m interviewing some folks today who knew Matilda. That doesn’t mean she had anything to do with this. Won’t know that until the ME can come up with a time of death.”
Yes, that would certainly help narrow down the list of people who might have had something to do with this. Unless the John Doe was just some trespasser. One who’d gone into the house, stripped off most his clothes and gone
