Part 14 (2/2)
”Stay put,” he told her. ”I won't be long.”
He got out and walked up the steps to the front porch. The door opened. He displayed his credentials. A minute later, he went inside the house.
Grace wondered what he was going to find out. The mention of the red ribbon had made her sick. Garon would be suspicious. She didn't want him to know why it had upset her. It was too soon. Far too soon.
Less than five minutes pa.s.sed before he came back out, frowning. He got into the car beside her.
”Wasn't he home?”
He drew in a long breath. ”He was home,” he said, staring at the house. ”He said that Rich didn't leave a forwarding address. What's more, he left the furniture in the house, along with appliances he'd bought. He must have been in a h.e.l.l of a hurry to get out of town.”
Grace bit her lower lip and mentioned what they were both thinking. ”What if he wasn't a witness? What if he did it?”
”That's exactly what I was thinking.” He started the car and put it in gear. ”I'll leave you at the chief's office. I need to do some door-to-door investigating.”
”Couldn't I help?”
He smiled gently. ”Not without credentials,” he said. ”I'll get Mendosa to help me. If we're lucky, we may turn up something.”
BUT FOUR HOURS LATER, they hadn't turned up one single witness who'd seen anything connected with the crime.
”Look,” Garon told Mendosa, ”It's a real long shot, but I'd like to send a forensic team down here to scour the house where Rich lived. We might get lucky and turn up something. We can find traces of blood even after houses are wiped clean with disinfectant and bleach.”
”I'll arrange it with the landlord and his tenants,” Mendosa promised. ”How about next Monday, first thing?”
Garon shook his hand. ”That's fine. I appreciate the help.”
Mendosa grinned. ”So do I. n.o.body likes to see a murderer walk.”
”You can say that again.”
GRACE WAS FASCINATED with the idea that bloodstains couldn't be totally eradicated by murderers.
All the way back to Jacobsville, she pumped him for information on blood spatter patterns, crime scene protocol and what the FBI lab could do with a single human hair.
”It's like something out of Star Trek,” she exclaimed.
He chuckled. ”Yes, it is. Our high tech tools give us a real edge in solving crimes.”
”If it weren't for the gory stuff, I think I'd like law enforcement work,” she murmured.
He couldn't picture Grace at a crime scene. On the other hand, she'd chased a coyote right out of her yard with nothing more menacing than a tree limb. She had grit. He admired a woman with staying power. But she kept secrets, Grace did. He wondered what they were.
”THANKS FOR TAKING ME with you,” she said when he stopped at her house. ”I really enjoyed it.”
”So did I,” he had to admit. He walked her up onto the porch. ”You're good company.”
”You'll have to go and make your own supper, because Miss Turner's gone,” she said suddenly. She looked up at him. ”I could make supper. I've got some fresh cube steak and potatoes I could fix.”
He hesitated. He was hungry, and he didn't fancy trying to cook. ”You must be tired,” he began, feeling guilty.
She shook her head. ”I like to cook.”
He smiled. ”Okay. What time?”
”Seven?”
”I'll be here.”
He drove off and Grace ran inside to start things in the kitchen. She felt like a child with a treat in store. She'd never enjoyed a man's company so much in her whole life. It was a beginning.
THEY SAT IN THE KITCHEN for a long time after they'd finished eating, just talking about the state of the world. They agreed on a lot of issues. In fact, they thought alike on politics and religion, which were said to be the two most controversial subjects on earth.
”You make good coffee,” he remarked, finis.h.i.+ng his second cup.
”It's decaf,” she confessed. ”Caffeine bothers me.”
”It's good, regardless.”
He checked his watch. ”I hate to go, but I have to pick up a visiting agent at the airport tomorrow morning, early. He's going to be in our office for a couple of days, doing an inspection.”
”Inspection?”
He grinned. ”It's a way to make sure we're efficient.”
”I could write a testimonial for you,” she offered lightly.
”It will take more than that, I'm afraid.” He walked to the front porch and out into the yard, his eyes on the sky. ”There's a halo around the moon. We're going to get some rain, I guess.”
”How would a city fellow like you know that?” she asked, impressed.
He turned, smiling. ”I grew up on a ranch in west Texas,” he replied. ”We had an old cowboy-he looked eighty-who used to work with the Texas Rangers. He could smell rain a mile away, predict weather, make poultices. I used to sit and listen to him by the hour when he talked about catching bank robbers. I suppose that's why I became a lawman. He made it sound like a holy cause. In some ways, I guess it is. We speak for victims who can no longer speak for themselves.”
”Will you catch that killer, do you think?” she asked quietly.
”I hope we will,” he said, moving closer to her. ”This man is no amateur. He's smart. But he did leave trace evidence that will convict him, if we ever get lucky enough to take him into custody.”
”My grandfather used to say that most criminals are stupid,” she recalled. ”He said one man he arrested had killed a man and then left his business card in the man's pocket. And there was a thief who robbed a bank and went out the wrong door, tripped over somebody's dog that was waiting there and actually knocked himself out on the pavement.”
He chuckled. ”We've had our share of those, too,” he a.s.sured her. ”But some aren't as easily caught.”
”You'll get him,” she said with utter confidence, as she smiled up at him.
He moved still closer and took her by the arms, holding her lightly against his tall, powerful body. ”You're good for my ego, Grace,” he murmured. ”But I don't think I'm good for you.”
She traced a b.u.t.ton on his jacket, without looking at him. ”You mean that you don't want anything permanent. That's okay. I don't, either.”
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