alone.”
It was an answer of sorts, though not an encouraging one. When he reached out to turn up the heater, Romana welcomed the warmth on her face and hands. “I’m not sitting here comparing you to Doran, you know.”
“Because you’re absolutely certain I didn’t murder Belinda Critch.”
“You said you didn’t, and I believe you.”
Now he smiled. “Bull.”
Her temper stirred. “If I thought you were guilty, Knight, I wouldn’t be here with you now.”
“Where would you be?”
“I might be grading papers.” But probably not because the first term was over and the second didn’t start until January. “I might also be having dinner with Sean—or Brendan, or Anthony. With one of my brothers, anyway.”
A crease formed between Jacob’s eyes. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Six, all older than me. They’ve given me eleven nephews and one niece named Teresa. My oldest brother’s an engineer. He and his wife lived in Chile for a while. When they came back, they brought two-year-old Teresa with them. She was an orphan, very sweet, and, because females are rare in our family, completely spoiled.”
“Are you spoiled, too, Romana?”
“By my parents and my mother’s very Irish parents, yes. By my father’s mother, no. I’m Grandma Grey’s namesake, and she’s one tough cookie. She raises thoroughbreds in Kentucky. She’s putting one in the Derby next year. I have a great deal to live up to, in her eyes.”
“In what way?”
“Top of the list, I’m obliged to bear another namesake. My brother, Brendan, hoping to ease the pressure on me, named his first son Roman, but it didn’t work. Grandma Grey wants a girl. She came from a completely male-dominated world, and she’s hell-bent on flipping the status quo.”
“Huh. How did Grandma Grey feel about you becoming a cop?”
“Oh, she was fine with that. Didn’t agree with my college-age marriage, but she helped me get through the divorce and the repercussions of Connor’s unlawful activities relatively unscathed.”
“How did your ex come out of it?”
“The way a Hanson always does, with only a few surface scratches, and a huge family debt, which he’ll pay for the rest of his life.”
“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”
“I don’t, do I? But I’m not as resentful as you might think.” She played with the fingers of her white gloves. “It seemed like everything came to a head six years ago. Belinda Critch died and her husband tried to kill you. Connor’s crimes were discovered, the hospital and the police department were simultaneously roasted in the press, I started to realize that being a cop wasn’t what I wanted, and on and on and on. Before Critch even went to prison, I realized I couldn’t shut off my emotions, and I couldn’t push them down far enough on a daily basis to be a really effective officer. So I sat down and thought.”
“About your marriage or your career?”
“Both. I shouldn’t have married Connor, I knew that almost before the ceremony ended. But I was eighteen, and he was twenty-seven, and our mothers were college roommates, so I’ve known him for pretty much my whole life.”
“And he was charming and handsome, and he swept you off your feet.”
“This is my fairy tale, Knight. I’ll draw the characters.”
“But he was charming.”
“To an eighteen-year-old, yes. He was also handsome and insecure and a lot angrier than I realized.”
“Angry at his family?”
“Cigar’s yours, Detective. Getting back on track, I thought about the decisions I’d made, both marital and career. I even made a pro/con list. Topping the pro list was the fact that I’d graduated from high school at sixteen, so I already had three years of college under my belt when I entered the Academy. Long story short, after a visit to Grandma Grey’s Kentucky ranch and a couple of really gruesome CSIs, I decided to go back to school. Now I teach kids rather than arrest them. So you see, it all turned out well in the end.”
“You like teaching, huh?”
“Love it.” She cocked her head, sent him a grin. “As it happens, I’m also good at it. When my parents moved to Boston two years ago, my father wanted me to come with them and work there. But I grew up in Cincinnati, five of my brothers are here, and I just plain enjoy the city. End of the Romana Grey story.” She let a teasing light enter her eyes. “That was a lot to say, Knight, even for me. Now I know you’re not a talker, but play fair, and tell me one small thing about your life. Anything will do, even your favorite color.”
When he braked for a red light, Jacob regarded a twinkling Christmas logo on the delivery truck ahead. “Belinda and I were involved for three months twelve years ago. It ended before she married Critch. The goodbyes were mutual.”
Surprised he’d taken that direction, Romana offered a casual, “Obviously you stayed friends.”
“We were never friends.”
“Then why did…?” She waved a glove. “Sorry, not my business.”
“And that’s going to stop you from asking?”
“I don’t pry. Well, not much.”
“Prying’s what we do.”
“Not on a personal level. I’ve always been fastidious about separating my career from my private life.” She summoned a sweet smile. “What did Critch’s parole officer have to say?”
His stare seemed to reach right into her head. When amusement tickled her throat, Romana went with it and gave her drying hair a final fluff.
“Weapons down, Knight. We’re not fighting a duel. This is a third-party threat, directed at both of us. My guess is Critch plans to pull the trigger on the twenty-first.”
“Don’t count on that.”
“Why not? It’s logical. That’s when his wife was killed.”
“And what he’ll expect us to think.” Jacob glanced in the rearview mirror. “Snow’s getting heavier. To answer your question, Critch’s parole officer is pissed off as hell that he’s lost one of his charges. He said he was going to report Critch in the morning. He did it tonight instead.”
Romana laughed. “You have such a persuasive way about you, Detective. Does he have any idea where Critch might be?”
“None that I could persuade him to share.”
“So we’re down to Critch’s family, his friends, maybe his teaching cronies.”
“And his theater buddies.”
“Critch
