in his voice had Seth swiveling his chair to look at him. “Thank you for calling.”
A minute later, he hung up, his grin triumphant. “Ken Hardison’s girlfriend just surfaced. She says she’ll talk to us.”
Seth was already rising to his feet. “Now?”
“Sounds like. I have an address.”
She’d been hiding out at a friend’s house in Everett, an hour’s drive away.
Michelle Baker turned out to be painfully thin, with lanky, dull hair and the physical mannerisms of someone who had become conditioned to try to appear deferential—or maybe she was going for invisible, if only subconsciously.
“He always said he’d never let me go,” she said after she’d looked nervously up and down the street before letting them in the front door of the run-down place a few blocks from the community college. “I’d have liked to stay with my sister, but—” her shrug had a defeated quality “—he’s been knocking on her door every day or two since I took off. I told her to be careful.”
He asked about her child, and Michelle said she was napping. “He never hit Courtney,” she said, “but that last time, she saw what he did to me and I just didn’t know what to tell her.”
They refused coffee and talked briefly about measures she could take to protect herself, but Ben could tell she wasn’t convinced, and he couldn’t blame her. Hardison’s history suggested he was just the kind of guy to be enraged by a restraining order.
She looked from Seth to Ben, her confusion apparent. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? ’Cause I never got two detectives before when I complained.”
“No. I’m sorry.” Ben cleared his throat. She seemed more comfortable talking to him than to Seth, which wasn’t unusual. Seth’s rougher face and bulkier build were intimidating to a certain kind of witness. “We’re not usually involved in domestic violence calls.” Until they escalated into homicide, of course, but he wasn’t about to say that. He explained that Ken’s name had come up in the course of their investigation into a recent robbery, and they were hoping she’d be willing to tell them if she’d heard him making plans.
“Um... I heard some stuff.” She ducked her head, hiding her face behind her hair. “I shoulda told somebody,” she said softly. “I felt bad when I saw about it on TV. I mean, them hurting that guy.” She looked up. “He didn’t die, did he?”
“Why don’t you tell us what you heard before I answer any questions,” Ben said gently.
“That jewelry store,” she said, looking surprised. “That’s what you’re here about, isn’t it?”
He smiled at her. “Yes, it is.”
After agreeing to be recorded, she began, “See, he was real mad about getting fired.”
At the end, Ben asked if she’d be willing to testify in court as to what she’d heard. When she hesitated, he told her honestly he couldn’t guarantee Hardison would be convicted, but if he was, he’d be put away for a good, long time given how brutal the assault had been on the store owner and how serious his injuries.
Her face firmed and she squared her shoulders. “I’ll do that. After he hurt me so many times, he don’t deserve any loyalty from me.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Ben smiled at her as he rose to his feet. “You’ve been an excellent witness, Ms. Baker.” He extracted a promise from her to inform him of any moves, and told her he’d keep her informed. Seth thanked her, too, then grinned at Ben as they walked to their car.
“I have Dietz on speed dial,” he said.
Jennifer Dietz was the Deputy Prosecuting Attorney they’d been working with on this investigation.
“Call her,” Ben agreed.
* * *
NICOLE CROSSED HER arms and adopted a combative stance as she waited with Ben for Rachel to rush to her room to grab her rolling pink suitcase. “What if you get called in to work?” she asked. “Tell me you have somebody responsible to watch over Rach until I can pick her up.”
They’d only had this same conversation twenty or thirty times. Had she dredged it up again because he’d been incautious enough during their phone conversation Wednesday to mention being out for dinner? Dumb to let it slip, given that Nic had been friendly, wanting to talk about an issue she had with Rachel’s teacher.
Now he unclenched his jaw enough to allow him to speak. “You’ve met Mrs. Chaffee. She’s watched Rachel a couple times before. Rachel likes her.”
“What if she’s not home?”
He kept his voice low, but wasn’t able to strip it entirely of anger. “I haven’t yet left my daughter alone, and I won’t. She’s as safe with me as she is with you.”
“Daddy?” Speaking from right behind her mother, Rachel sounded uncertain. He hadn’t heard her returning.
“Hey, kiddo.” Tilting his head to see past Nicole, he smiled at his little girl. “You sure you have everything?”
“Uh-huh. Bye, Mommy.” She submitted to a hug from her mother, then took Ben’s hand and trotted down the porch steps happily with him.
His last glimpse was of Nicole still standing in the doorway, even from a distance radiating hostility.
He tried to call up a recollection of the last time there’d been warmth between them and failed. Passion, yes, but it had been forever since he and Nicole had had fun talking over dinner, or since she’d asked about his day and seemed to care. And, yeah, he had asked about her day, and cared.
He heard his own voice. You’re saying that Nic drawing a line in the sand over the hours I worked was...a diversion. He rejected the thought between one blink and the next. No, there’d been love, all right. He just wished he knew what had killed her love for him.
“So, pumpkin, how was school?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror to see Rach, and listened to her chatter.
She worked her way around to negotiating mode. “Can we have pizza, Daddy? You said—”
“We’re not going out tonight,” he told her firmly. “If you want pizza tomorrow after the movie, that’s what we’ll have. Tonight, I’m making tacos, which I know you like.”
She giggled. Which made him remember Eve’s laugh, but, no, he wasn’t going there.
“And for dessert,” he added, “we’re making cookies.”
“Can we make chocolate chip?” she begged.
“Nope, we’re doing cutout cookies like people make for Christmas, except we can make hearts and trees and unicorns and all kinds of shapes instead of reindeer and stars.”
Her face brightened. “With frosting?”
“And sprinkles.”
“That will be fun,” she decided,
