“Any questions?”
Matt closed the task force file I’d just laid on his desk. “No. This is all pretty straightforward. I’ll get to work on this right now.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate you digging right in.”
He grinned. “Just glad to be a part of the task force.”
I clapped him on the shoulder before going back to my desk. I’d recruited Matt to join my drug task force after I’d taken James Maysen’s murder case away from Simmons.
Just as I’d suspected, the work Simmons had done to investigate the liquor store murder had been shit. Witness statements were thin, photographs of the crime scene were lacking detail, and the video footage from the area’s security cameras had been reviewed by a rookie who was no longer on the force. Surprise, fucking surprise, they hadn’t found a lead to track down Jamie’s killer.
Five years later, there wasn’t anything I could do about the witness statements and photographs, so my plan was to use the video footage in hopes I’d stumble on a lead. Maybe, if I was lucky, I’d find something Simmons had overlooked.
My desk phone rang, echoing in the quiet bull pen. I wasn’t surprised when Chief of Police flashed on the caller ID—no one ever called me on my desk phone except Dad.
“Goodman,” I answered, just in case it was Dad’s assistant.
“Got a few minutes to talk?” Dad asked.
I checked my watch. “Yeah, but I’ve got to be out of here in fifteen.”
I was leaving early today so I could meet Poppy at the restaurant at two, then head to the fair. That would give us a few hours to hit the rides before the Friday-night crowd got thick and the lines got long.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Come on up.”
Hanging up the phone, I dug my truck keys and wallet out of my desk drawer.
“Summoned by the man upstairs?” Matt teased.
“Story of my life.” I grinned. “See you Monday. Have a good weekend.”
“You too.”
I waved good-bye to Matt and a few other guys in the bull pen before taking the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor. When I got to the landing, I sidestepped a couple people passing by. Even on a Friday afternoon, Dad’s office was busy. I had no idea how he got a damn thing done with people always rushing in and out of meetings.
Meetings. The idea of spending five days a week in back-to-back meetings made my skin crawl. I’d suffocate in a suit and tie, just like Poppy had guessed.
It had been almost two weeks since our walk in the park and I’d been anxious for today ever since. We’d both been busy with work and I’d only seen her once these last couple weeks when I’d stopped by the restaurant for lunch with Matt and a few other guys on the force. I’d waved and introduced her to the guys, but she’d been busy so I hadn’t stayed long.
But today it was just the two of us and there was no way I’d be late.
I checked my watch again as I walked down the hallway to the corner office. Dad always asked for just a few minutes but then I’d be up here for an hour. That was not happening on my day with Poppy. Dad had thirteen minutes and not a second more.
When I reached his corner, I nodded to his assistant but didn’t stop to say hello—she was talking into her headset anyway. In all the years she’d worked for Dad, I’d probably only said twenty words to the woman, so I just walked through Dad’s open door. “Hi.”
He stood from the minifridge, holding up a bottle of water. “Hi. Want one?”
“Nah. I’m good. What’s up?”
He sat in his desk chair. “Take a seat.”
Shit. This was going to take longer than thirteen—now twelve—minutes.
“I can’t stay long. Really, Dad. I have to leave at quarter ’til.”
He nodded as he swallowed a drink of water. “This won’t take long. I just want an update on the Maysen-Hastings murder.”
I frowned. This was one of Dad’s conditions for pulling strings with my boss and transferring the case from Simmons last month. Dad wanted to be “fully informed.” I was learning that keeping him fully informed felt damn close to being micromanaged. But since I wasn’t leaving this office until he had an update, I sat on the edge of his wooden guest chair and leaned my elbows on my knees.
“No changes to my theory since my last update. I still think the killer hid out in the shopping complex somewhere and then snuck out hours later.”
The liquor store where Jamie Maysen and the cashier, Kennedy Hastings, had been killed was part of a grocery store complex. Either the killer had ducked into one of the smaller shops by the liquor store or he’d made it into the grocery store through a loading dock. Regardless, none of the witnesses or cameras had caught sight of him after the shots had been fired, which meant he’d probably been hiding in an employee area not monitored on video.
“This whole thing pisses me off,” Dad said after another gulp of water. “We had responders on the scene within minutes after shots were fired. How’d we miss him?”
I shrugged. “Damn if I know, but somehow he got away. I’m guessing he hid out for a couple of hours and laid low. Then he waltzed out of the complex like just another customer. He probably strolled past the crime scene tape and right into a car.”
Slippery bastard. The liquor store’s camera had caught the suspect killing the cashier and Jamie, then nothing, according to Simmons’s case file.
Having a rookie review the video feeds was probably Simmons’s biggest mistake in the case. I was guessing the rookie only reviewed the timeframe directly after the murders, not hours later.
“So where are you on reviewing tapes?” Dad asked.
“I’ve watched everything we had in evidence, but it’s not much. I’m still waiting to hear back from the grocery store and some of the other shops in the complex to see if they’ve got extended footage saved somewhere. Fingers crossed, we’ll get something else. And I’ve requested all of the stoplight camera footage from that whole area too. It’s getting pulled from the archives. They should have it early next week.”
“I hope he pops up on a camera.”
I nodded. “Me too, but if not, I’ll go to Plan B.”
Plan B was my Hail Mary.
The grocery store complex was next to one of the busiest streets in Bozeman. If we didn’t catch the killer on camera leaving the complex, then Plan B was to catalog all of the cars that came through the area stoplights during a five-hour stretch after the murder. From there, I’d start matching cars to those seen on footage from the shops’ various security cameras. I was hoping I’d be able to compile a short list of cars that had been in the complex and then run plates from the stoplight cameras. With plates, I could pull vehicle registrations and maybe find someone who matched the killer’s description.
Plan B wasn’t just a stretch, it was a really fucking big job that was going to take me a hell of a long time.
“Plan B is a big job, Cole.” When I’d told him about it a week ago, he’d cringed at the number of hours I’d estimated Plan B would take.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but if we don’t see the guy on camera, it’s the only angle I’ve got.”
Dad sighed. “This is my fault. I should have done more to follow up on Simmons’s investigation. I never should have let this go unsolved for so long.”
“Well, it wasn’t just you. We all got busy and this just got forgotten. By all of us.” Everyone except for Poppy.
“When you asked me for this case a couple of weeks ago, I said you could have it but it was on your own time and you weren’t getting any help.”
Dad and my boss didn’t want the momentum we had with the drug task force to take a hit because I was wrapped up in this cold murder case that had a slim chance of ever being solved.
I respected where they were coming from, but that didn’t make finding extra time any easier. I was already putting in long hours on the task force. Add to that time spent with Poppy to help her on this list, and I would be running on fumes for the foreseeable future.
“Yeah. I remember. But I’ll find a way to fit it in.”
“I’m changing my mind.”
I blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“You’re still going to have to squeeze it in between task force work, but I’m calling in another favor to your boss and asking Matt Hernandez to pitch in too. Maybe between the two of you, the murder case can get more traction.”
I sat back in my chair, stunned. “No shit?”
“No shit.” He took another drink of his water.
“Why? What changed your mind?”
“I’m pissed this case wasn’t handled correctly, and besides that, your mother is all kinds of infatuated with Poppy.”
That makes two of us.
Dad loosened his tie. “She’s all I’ve heard about since she came to dinner. Christ, we’ve eaten at her restaurant four times in the last ten days.”
I grinned. “Sounds like Mom.”
“And she’s not the only one infatuated. Don’t think I missed the way you looked at her over dinner either.”
Damn. When I’d asked Dad to transfer the case, I hadn’t exactly disclosed my feelings for Poppy. Hopefully, if I was honest with him now, I wouldn’t get the case jerked away.
“I’m not going to lie and say this case isn’t personal or say I don’t have feelings for her.”
“And I’m not going to lie and say my feelings for you aren’t the reason you have this case in the first place. What I will say is that you need to be smart. I’m giving you Hernandez so he can take the lead.”
Fuck no. This was my case. “Dad—”
“Think about it, Cole.” He held up a hand to cut me off. “Do you want a relationship with this woman?”
I closed my mouth.
“Then this has to be done by the book. I’m not saying you’d fuck up the investigation, but put yourself in an attorney’s shoes. Let’s say you actually find the killer. How is it going to look to a defense attorney when the widow’s boyfriend’s name is all over the police report? Don’t give the killer any more chances than he’s already had.”
I sighed and leaned back in the chair. Dad was right. If we actually found the killer, I wanted the fucker to hang, and in order for that to happen, the investigation itself couldn’t be called into question.
“Okay. But can I still participate?”
“Participate,” Dad nodded, “but stay behind the curtain. Do the grunt work. Spend your time staring at video footage, but let Matt run any and all questioning. Let him be the face of the investigation.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t worry. Even if you’re not the lead, this case could be big for your career.”
“That’s not why I’m doing this.”
“I know.” He held up his hands. “I’m just saying. It could be the case that guarantees you get my job when I retire.”
I shook my head. “That’s not—we don’t have time to talk about that today.”
“You’re right. Let’s talk about that later.” His eyes glanced at the clock on the wall behind my back. “Quarter ’til. Out you go.”
I pushed up from the chair. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Say hello to Poppy for me.”
“Will do.” Dad had been a hell of a cop in his day—smart enough to know where I was running off to this afternoon without needing to be told.
But even good cops had blind spots, and my career was his. No matter how many times I told him, he just couldn’t see why I’d never want his job.
Someday, I’d have to make him see. And hope like hell he wasn’t disappointed in his son.
“Hey, Molly. Is Poppy in the back?”
“Yeah.” Molly waved me closer to the register as she leaned across the counter. “Listen, she’s had a rough morning. I know you guys were planning on the fair this afternoon, but she might not be up to it.”
A rough morning? My heart rate jumped up a notch. “What happened?”
“I’ll let her tell you.” She nodded toward the kitchen door. “She’s in the office, just head on back.”
I didn’t waste any time pushing through the swinging door and walking straight to the office, where I found Poppy with her head in her hands at the desk.
“Hey.”
Her red and puffy eyes shot up to mine. “Hey.”
Was her chin quivering? She was going to break my fucking heart. I’d never seen her cry, not even after her husband had been killed. Talk about a punch to the gut.
“What happened?” I walked to the desk, pushing aside a stack of papers so I could sit on the edge. I flattened my palms on my thighs, pressing them down, fighting the urge to pull Poppy into my arms.
Poppy wiped her eyes and sniffled. “I had lunch today with Jamie’s parents and Jimmy, Jamie’s granddad. We got in a big fight. I asked them if I could have Jamie’s old truck, since technically it’s mine, but they’ve had it at their ranch all these years. They asked why I wanted the truck, which led to me telling them I wanted to fix it up, which led to them asking why again and me finally admitting I was doing Jamie’s birthday list.”
“Didn’t go over well, huh?”
She scoffed. “Not at all. Debbie, his mom, started crying. Kyle informed me that it wasn’t my place to do their son’s list and that I was crossing the line.”
Assholes. I didn’t personally know Jamie’s parents, but treating Poppy like that spoke volumes. But calling them assholes probably wouldn’t help. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “I’d expected them to be upset about it, but I guess I’d hoped deep down that they’d understand why I wanted to do his list. We all used to be so close once. Now . . . things are different. They blame me for Jamie’s death.”
“What the fuck?” Jamie’s parents blamed Poppy for his death? That was bullshit. “You aren’t responsible for his death.” That responsibility belonged to the sick fuck I was becoming more and more dedicated to hunting down with every passing second.
Poppy looked to her lap. “No, they’re right. I am partly to blame. I’m the one who asked Jamie to go to the liquor store in the first place. He didn’t really want to go, but he did for me.”
Did she seriously think this was her fault? “You are not to blame.”
A couple of tears started to fall again, and she hurried to wipe them dry. “I am. He’d be alive if I hadn’t asked him to go to that store.”
“No.” I leaned in closer. “You are not to blame. The guy that pulled the trigger? He’s got Jamie’s death on his head. Not you.”
She nodded but didn’t look up.
“Poppy, look at me.” I tipped up her chin with the side of my finger. “There are things in the world outside of our control. Other people’s actions mostly. Nothing you did caused Jamie’s death.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Logically, I know you’re right. But I still feel like this is all my fault.” Her shoulders began shaking as the hold on her tears broke, sending them streaming down her beautiful face.
Screw it. I grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the chair. Then I held her, whispering into her hair as she cried into my black shirt.
She didn’t once try and push me away. Instead, she collapsed against my chest—her hands fisting the cotton at my sides as she let go. When she clung harder, I held on tighter. Every one of her tears sent a spear through my heart.
Had she been living with this guilt for five years? No wonder she’d been so diligent about visiting Simmons. She was looking for some answers—for a place to put the blame so she could take it off her own shoulders.
Poppy cried hard but it didn’t last long. She pulled herself together, sniffling and taking a few deep breaths before she stood back.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at the wet spots on my shirt.
“Don’t be sorry.” I trapped her hand under mine until she looked me in the eyes. “No apologies for tears, okay?”
She nodded and I let her hand go so she could dry her face. Then she took another step back, standing tall. Damn. Even blotchy faced, she was beautiful. She let her grace—her incredible strength—shine through her sad smile.
My arms already felt empty with her standing three feet away. When her shoulders dropped, I had a brief flash of hope that she’d need me again, but she sat back into her desk chair instead.
“I’m okay.” She nodded. “I’m okay.”
She was. She would be okay. Somehow, I’d find a way to make it okay. I couldn’t bring her husband back, but I could track down his killer. I could be the shoulder she cried on. And, maybe, I could be the man at her side as she started a new life.
“You know the worst part about lunch was Jimmy.” She hung her head. “I should have told him sooner. I see him once a week and I never have told him I was doing Jamie’s list. He looked so hurt at lunch. I should have told him.”
“Give him some time and I’m sure he’ll come around. They all will.” I was talking out of my ass here—I’d never met these people—but I was grasping for anything to make her feel better.
“I’m going to pretend you know what you’re talking about and just believe you.”
I chuckled. “Good plan.”
“Speaking of plans. We’d better get to the fair if we’re going to get through all the rides today.”
“We don’t have to go. If you’d rather do it later, then we can wait.”
She shook her head. “No, I want to go. It will be a fun distraction.”
“All right.” I held a hand out to help her stand. “Let’s ride.”
Four hours later, I was buckling my seat belt as a carnival worker locked us in a cage. A cage that had once been a clean white but was now spotted with rust.
“I fucking hate The Zipper,” I muttered. “Are you sure about this?”
Poppy looked green. “I’m sure.”
Liar. There wasn’t an ounce of confidence in her voice. “Maybe we should take a break. Come back and do this in an hour or so.” We’d saved The Zipper for last because it was the ride that had scared her the most.
“No.” She clicked her own seat belt with shaking hands. “This is the last ride and then we’re done. We just have to get through this, and we’re done.”
“Okay.” I reached up and gripped the handle on the side of the car. My hand felt slimy because I was sweating my balls off. It was blistering outside, probably over ninety, and not a breeze to be found. Being trapped in this hot metal car wasn’t helping.
I needed water. Better yet, a fucking beer. I hadn’t gone on this many rides since I was a kid, and even then, Mom and Dad had limited my tickets. But there was no limit today. I’d spent almost two hundred dollars on tickets because I’d refused to let Poppy pay.
These fucking traveling carnivals were raking it in. Bastards. Even the kiddie rides had cost five bucks. You’d think they could afford some spray paint to spruce up these cages.
“Enjoy the ride.” With our car locked, the worker smacked the side, then moved back to the control panel.
“Oh my god,” Poppy groaned as the car rocked back, her face going from green to white, matching her knuckles on the bar across our knees.
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” I hoped a distraction would get her through the loading process. And then we’d just have to stick it out through the two-minute ride.
“Jamie never had a chance to do many fair rides. He was always showing livestock with 4-H, but he loved stuff like this. He even begged me to go to Disneyland for our honeymoon.”
I swallowed hard, not wanting to picture Poppy on a honeymoon. A niggling prickle crept up my neck. I’d been pushing images of Poppy and her husband aside, compartmentalizing them in a box I had no plans to ever open, but the damn lid kept flopping open.
It didn’t help when there were reminders everywhere, like her wedding rings always shining on her finger.
The worst part was, I’d asked her to tell me about him. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to know. I did. I wanted to know everything about Poppy. I just didn’t realize how hearing her talk about Jamie, seeing her face soften, would make me feel.
Jealous. Like an asshole, I was jealous.
The car rocked again and Poppy gasped, pulling my thoughts back into the cage. My free hand reached out and took one of hers off the bar.
She laced her fingers with mine and squeezed. “Keep distracting me.”
I grinned, amazed again at how well this woman had me figured out. “Did you go on rides as a kid?”
“No. This was always more of Finn’s thing.”
I didn’t remember much of Finn Alcott other than his hair, which was the same color as Poppy’s, and how he’d stepped up for his sister five years ago. After she’d texted him, he’d come to her house and taken over, making the difficult phone calls so she wouldn’t have to deliver the news of Jamie’s murder.
“How’s he doing?” I asked.
“He’s okay.” The car jerked and Poppy gripped my hand so hard my knuckles cracked. “Him and Molly are struggling to adjust to their divorce.”
I tried to adjust my hand and restore some blood flow, but she wasn’t having it so I just let her squeeze. “I didn’t realize they’d been married.”
“Yeah. They got divorced not too long ago.”
Below us, the carnival worker shouted something I couldn’t make out and the car started to rock.
“Last ride. Last ride. Last ride,” Poppy chanted.
“Just close your eyes. Two minutes, and this will all be over.”
She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut.
Then we rode The Zipper.
While Poppy kept her eyes closed the entire time, I kept mine open and on our linked hands. By the time the ride was over and our car stopped shaking, I’d memorized the feel of her delicate fingers laced with mine.
“Poppy.” Her eyes were still closed tight as our car stopped to unload first. “Poppy, I need my hand back so we can get out.”
Her eyes popped open and her entire frame relaxed. “We did it,” she breathed.
“You did it.”
“No. We did it.” Her eyes looked up to mine as she smiled. “I wouldn’t have done this without you, Cole.”
I leaned closer, not in a rush anymore to get out of this hot cage. Not with her eyes and hand holding mine. “I’m glad I—”
“Hey,” the ride operator snapped. “You guys gonna get out?”
Damn.
“Sorry.” Poppy wiggled her hand free and scrambled to unbuckle her seat belt.
I unbuckled too, stepping out onto the platform. My shirt was sticking to my back and I held on to the rail as I followed Poppy down the stairs to the dirt below.
“No matter what new rides they come up with, The Zipper always seems to ring my bell like no other.”
She laughed and looked up at the ride. “Me and you are done, Zipper! You win.”
When her smile came back to me, my heart jumped in a strange rhythm—almost like it skipped a beat. I’d never felt anything like it before.
“I could use a beer. What do you say, Detective? Can I buy you a cold one?”
My perfect woman. “Definitely.”