The man had closed up tight, was keeping everything inside and showing us the door. Literally. He went to the door and opened it.
Mason sighed, and I knew he was disappointed. “Call me if you hear from her, okay?” He handed the guy a card.
Jake took it from him but didn’t even look at it. “Sure.”
I didn’t believe him.
I waited until we were back on the sidewalk in the bright afternoon sunshine to say, “Something happened between him and Judge Howie. Something big enough that he thought we already knew about it. You need to find out what it was.”
Mason nodded. “I think the guy has a record.”
“Really? I didn’t get that at all. How did you—”
“You get a feel for it after a while. People who’ve done time almost carry the scent of it. I’ll run him through the system, see what pops up. Should’ve done that first, but I figured the judge would’ve told me if there was anything.” He looked at me. “What else did you get?”
“I think he still cares about her. And he was either surprised to hear she was missing or surprised that we were there asking him about it.” We got to the car, Mason’s big black beast. I opened the passenger-side door and had to heft my bulldog out of the way to make room on the seat. Her loud snoring broke into aggravated bursts and she opened one eye, but other than that, she didn’t break nap. “When do we get to talk to the other boyfriend? The current one? What’s his name again? James Tiberius?”
Mason got behind the wheel and started her up. “Mitchell Kirk,” he corrected, deadpan. My Star Trek reference went right over his head. He wasn’t a Trekkie like me. “Tomorrow night at the chief’s anniversary party.”
“He knows the chief?”
“He’s his nephew.”
“Oh. I did not know that. The plot thickens.” I relaxed in my seat and watched the city pass by as he headed for the highway. Ten minutes and we were back on 17, heading for 81.
“So what now?” I asked after riding in silence for a little bit longer.
“I take you home and head back to HQ to tell Chief Sub what we’ve found so far. See if he’s ready to make this thing official yet.”
A big sigh rushed out of me before I could prevent it, catching me by surprise. He shot me a look. “What?”
“I don’t know.” I frowned. “I think that was me being disappointed that our day hanging out together is over. Weird, huh?”
Mason’s grin made his dimple flash at me. It was a more potent weapon than his stupid handgun. “I enjoyed it, too. It’s like old times, huh?”
“Old times meaning the last time a serial killer was after us? Pretty sad when I’m missing those sorts of good ol’ days.”
“Are you?” he asked.
I shrugged, because I didn’t want to get too deep or stupid. “I think if I wrote a book about you, the title would be Meets, Screws and Leaves.”
“Is that literary humor or a serious complaint?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Never mind.”
He eased into the left lane, then pressed the pedal down. He had a big, loud motor in the Beast, and even I got a little thrill when he made it roar. The nose end of the thing literally rose a little as the powerful engine kicked up a notch. I had discovered that the sighted Rachel was a little bit of a motor-head. I drove a convertible T-Bird that was a modern homage to the classic 1955 model, and I loved it. I had to admit, the ’74 Monte Carlo was growing on me, too.
A little.
As he merged onto 81, he said, “Jeremy has a home game tonight. You should come.”
I looked at him fast. “I wasn’t hinting around for an invitation.”
“Shit, Rachel, you don’t hint around for anything.”
“It’s fine, we have the party tomorrow night. Don’t overdo it or I’ll get sick of you.”
“I was going to ask you anyway. Josh has been griping that he never gets to see your potbellied pig anymore.”
“Hey!” I punched him in the shoulder and hoped it hurt. “Fine, my gorgeous, sweet-smelling, damn near svelte bulldog and I will be there. What time?”
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