Relentless. Jan Hambright
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That was all he needed to know. No quaint gingerbread house and a cup of hot coffee was going to change that. He had to concentrate.
“Can we get on with this statement?”
“Oh, sure.” She moved into the dining room and set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Do you take cream and sugar?”
“No.” Mick flipped open his notepad, anxious to move his thoughts forward. “Last night, did you notice any other car besides the Beamer?”
“No, but there are lots of pull-ins on Bayou Road. I suppose I could have missed seeing a vehicle, if it was parked in the undergrowth.”
Picking up his cup, he took a slow sip, eyeing her over the brim. She looked innocent enough with a towel around her head and large round eyes that crinkled at the corners when she was thinking.
“I had my friend Gabby drop me off. She waits for me to call her if the mark doesn’t show up. Then she’ll come out and get me.”
“I’ll want to talk to her. See if she saw anything.”
Mick wrote down the phone number Kate gave him. “What about the man you work for?” She hadn’t budged on the point last night. “It’ll go a lot better for you, Kate, if you’ll tell me who you work for.”
“David Copeland. He handles Dallas S & L. I’ve never had a face-to-face with him.”
“How long have you worked for him?”
“A little over six months.”
Mick rolled the man’s name around in his head. He’d have him checked out. “How does he contact you?”
“He calls me the day before a job. Gives me time to make arrangements for Cody.”
“Cody?”
“My son.”
Mick’s heart rate sped up. She had a child?
“Can you tell me what other cars you’ve repoed in the last six months?”
“Sure.” She stood up and went to a small desk, opened the drawer and pulled out a notebook. “I keep track for tax reasons.” She returned to the table and sat down. “Let’s see. October a Porsche 944, owner Stephen Hacker, 1844 Caldwell. In November a Rolls, owner Hugh Keller, 3210 Jasper. I repoed a Mercedes E class in December from Nathan Morris.”
Mick jotted down the make of the car, date and name of the owner. “Address?”
“Looks like 4060 Lindstrom, on the west side. Nice neighborhood. In January, it was a Porsche purchased by Jacob Estes, 4028 Garnet. In February, a red Mercedes convertible, owner Thomas Romaro.”
Mick’s internal alarm went off at a million decibels. Thomas Romaro was the victim of an unsolved homicide. His buddy Schneider was working the case. They’d pulled the guy out of the Mississippi in pieces. “Go on. Have you got an address on Romaro?”
“Westside, near the Garden District…1019. In March it was a Jaguar XJ belonging to Orlando Durant, 4237 Vivian. Last night I went after the BMW.”
Looking up from his notes, he paused, watched her lick her lips and focus her attention on him. The movement shot holes in his control and raised his heart rate, but he didn’t drop his gaze from her face.
“It’s strange. Every one of these deadbeats lived in an upscale neighborhood, but every house looked deserted except for the car in the drive. None of them were in the garage where you’d expect an expensive car to be parked.”
He couldn’t agree more, but it was the dead man that interested him. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but maybe not. “I need a date and time you repoed Romaro’s Mercedes.”
He watched her run a long delicate finger down the list, wondering what it would feel like against his skin and not as a woman administering first aid.
“Looks like February 14. Valentine’s Day. I think it was around midnight because I asked my date to bring me home early.”
“You don’t sound too disappointed.” Mick watched her think; her eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked him square in the face.
“You could say we disagreed, but my love life isn’t open for questions, is it, Officer?”
He liked the challenge he saw flash across her face, then vanish into the smile on her lips. Why was she being so compliant this morning? Belligerent, he could handle. Maybe she was feeling guilty for sticking it to him with a hot Taser, or was it something else? Perhaps a little charm as lubricant to wiggle out of an uncomfortable situation.
“We’ll call it good for now, but don’t leave town.” He watched her face go placid and knew she was thinking about the Beamer and a road trip to Dallas. “How much do you make recovering assets?”
“More than you make getting shot at.”
“Tell me. What do you do with all that cash?” He wanted to push her. Money made people do strange things and she wouldn’t be an exception.
“I give to the needy.”
“I suppose that’s a worthy thing to do.” He felt anger charge through him. Hell, he deserved it, probing into her business. It looked more and more like she was for real, but he had to check out the list of marks on his notepad before he let her off the hook completely.
“I need to get your prints. We can do it here, or you can come into the station. What’ll it be?” She swallowed and looked straight at him, her expression trepid. The idea of entering the station frightened her? His suspicion bubbled up.
“I’ll come in this afternoon.”
“Great.”
The front door of the house flew open and a little boy burst into the room. Two steps behind him lagged a young woman.
“Mommy.” He threw his arms around Kate’s neck and knocked the towel loose from its coil. Her hair spilled over her face and he listened to her laugh. Soft, sweet, genuine.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Did you treat Molly good?”
“Yeah.”
An awkward ache moved inside him as he watched the exchange, sucked into memories of years past and lives lost.
She smoothed her hair back. “Cody, this is Officer Jacoby. He’s a policeman.”
“Where’s him’s uniform?” The little boy looked up at him, determined to discover why he didn’t look the part.
“Well, not every policeman wears a uniform. Sometimes they wear plain clothes and look just like you and me. Isn’t that right, Officer?”
He stared down at the handsome little boy, with eyes the shade of his mom’s. Thoughts of his own daughter churned in his mind and scrambled his words before they could make it onto his tongue. He nodded and found his voice. “That’s right. Sometimes we don’t want the bad guys to know we’re around.” He pulled his badge off his shoulder holster and held it out. “Here’s my badge.”
Cody ran his hand over the shield. “Wow.”
The understanding of a child only encompassed a simplicity. He was free to be impressed minus all the muck that went with the job.
“It’s nice.”
“It’s nice when it gets the respect it deserves.” He looked into Kate’s face and saw a hint of doubt, but he didn’t need her respect. He needed the answers she could give him. How close was she to this case? How much did she know about that night five years ago that ripped his world apart? “Here’s my card. Call me if you think of anything else.” She took it from his fingers and slid it into her pocket.
“I’ve gotta go.” Mick put his badge on and tried to cram his emotions into the mental box they’d escaped from.