Her Final Breath (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 2) (35 page)

“That’s exactly what I didn’t want. If you’d known, you’d be packing your desk with me.”

“Total honesty,” he said. She heard his chair creak, put down a stapler, and turned. He was facing her.

“I knew that if Nolasco found out, this was likely.”

“We’re partners,” he said, approaching.

“And you have a wife and three boys depending on you. If you didn’t know, no one could blame you and say you should have come forward.”

Hands shoved in his pants pockets, Kins stared at the floor. Tracy knew him well enough to know he was processing her reasoning. He looked up.

“So what happened after I left?”

“I’m off the task force. Nolasco’s in charge. And I can’t help but think this is how he wanted it.”

Kins stifled a sarcastic laugh. “Can’t imagine why. We’re no closer to catching this guy than we were the first day. This has all the makings of a career-killer.” He looked over the tops of the cubicles before lowering his voice. “What about this Beth Stinson case? You don’t think Nolasco and Hattie were covering something up, do you?”

“No, nothing that sinister.” Tracy also lowered her voice. “Stinson was Hattie’s last homicide. He’d put in for retirement. I think he had one foot out the door and didn’t want to put in the work. He and Nolasco had a perfect record. According to the witness, they showed her Wayne Gerhardt’s photograph before she picked him out of the lineup.”

“That’s not unusual.”

“It wasn’t a montage, Kins. She apparently said it was just the one photograph, though you’ll find four other photographs in the file.”

“She could be mistaken. That’s a long time to remember a detail like that.”

“Nolasco and Hattie also didn’t follow up with any of the other witnesses in the file. If they had, they’d have known Stinson was dancing at a local club and had started to bring men home with her. Stinson’s best friend told Dan she spoke to Stinson the night she was murdered and told her to be careful. Stinson told her not to worry about the guy she was bringing home that night because she said they both
knew
him.”

“So maybe Nolasco’s worried for good reason,” Kins said. “Maybe they got the wrong guy. How far did you get with the DNA evidence?”

“Cerrabone got a judge to issue an order. I dropped it off to Mike this morning and asked him to rush the analysis. It may not exonerate Gerhardt, but it may give us—you—another suspect, or confirm one you already have.”

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“Not a lot more they can do to me, Kins.”

“They can fire you.”

“They probably will.”

Kins’s jaw clenched. “Where’s the Stinson file?”

“Nolasco will never let you see it. I’m to box it up and get it back here right away.”

Kins was mulling this over, his lips pinched tight. “You’ll keep me posted?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay. And keep your head down.”

“I’m not worried about Nolasco.”

“That’s not what I meant. Remember, while you’re out there trying to find out who this guy is, he already knows who you are.”

CHAPTER 47

S
he exited the elevator into the secure garage and made her way toward her truck to drop off her box of belongings. She intended to go to the Cowboy Room to speak to anyone who was there. She owed them an explanation. Though the concrete bunker had indeed started out creepy, as Faz had said, it had begun to feel like home. If nothing else, that told her that she and Kins had chosen their team wisely, dedicated men and women who’d make the sacrifices necessary to catch a killer. She’d miss them. She’d miss working with them. And she’d really miss the rush of the hunt.

The din of the cars on the I-5 freeway, adjacent to the garage, nearly drowned out the cooing of pigeons in the overhead concrete recesses, and everything took on an orange tint beneath the garage’s dim lighting. As she neared her truck, Tracy sensed she was not alone. That cold tickle of self-preservation that made the hairs on her neck tingle migrated up her spine as she unlocked the cab door and set the box on the bench seat.

Footsteps behind her.

She drew her Glock as she spun and raised the barrel, dead center on her target.

Nolasco’s eyes widened, and he stumbled backward, off balance, into a parked car. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He looked to be having trouble catching his breath. When Tracy didn’t answer he said, “You always draw your gun without fully assessing your situation?”

“I’d fully assessed my situation,” Tracy said, her weapon still raised. “If I hadn’t, you’d be lying on the pavement with a bullet hole in your forehead and two in your chest.”

Nolasco raised a hand. “You want to put the gun down?”

She kept it raised a moment longer, then lowered it, but didn’t put it back in its holster. Nolasco’s eyes appeared glassy, and now she smelled alcohol poorly disguised by a wintergreen fragrance. If Nolasco had been chewing gum, he’d swallowed it. “What do you want?” she said.

“I just wanted to know why you did it.”

“I told you why.”

“We know that wasn’t the reason,” Nolasco said. “Did you think I was going to let you embarrass me?”

“Is your ego so fragile you’re still trying to recover from something that happened twenty years ago?” Tracy said. “That’s just sad.”

“And what were you doing, going after one of my closed files?”

“Trying to catch a killer.”

Nolasco smirked. “Bullshit. You were trying to embarrass me. Well, now you know the outcome.” He turned and started for his car.

“Who told you about Gerhardt?” Tracy said.

“Doesn’t matter.”

She raised her voice. “Doesn’t it bother you that an innocent man may be in prison, and the guy killing women is still out there?”

Nolasco reached his Corvette and turned back to face her. “That’s a fantasy. Gerhardt was our guy. We knew it from day one.”

“Is that why you made JoAnne Anderson believe she’d seen him?”

“She saw things just fine.”

“Then why’d you lie in there today? Why’d you say you spoke to the witnesses when you hadn’t?”

“I have a big day tomorrow,” Nolasco said, smiling. “I have to tell the media the circumstances of your dismissal from the task force. You might want to get a good night’s sleep too. I imagine they’re going to have plenty of questions for you, along with OPA.”

Dan’s Tahoe was parked where the police cruiser had been the prior four nights. Likely another move by Nolasco—Tracy was no longer on the task force, so she was no longer in need of protection. She parked her truck in the garage, got out, and retrieved her box of personal belongings.

Dan held the door open for her, and Tracy’s expression must have revealed how she felt. “What happened?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

She stepped past him and set the box down on the kitchen counter. Roger hopped up to greet her, and she stroked his back and listened to him purr.

“Tracy, what’s going on? What’s in the box?”

“You didn’t see the news?”

“I’ve been in a storage shed for two hours.”

She opened the fridge and pulled out an open can of cat food. “Nolasco found out about Gerhardt and fed it to Vanpelt.”

Dan’s face went blank. She stepped past him and pulled a plate from the cabinet.

“How bad was it?”

“I just came from a meeting with the brass. I’m off the task force. Assigned to desk duty until OPA conducts an investigation.”

“What does that all mean?”

She spooned the food onto a plate, fending off Roger until she could empty the tin can. “It means I’m likely fired.”

She dropped the spoon in the sink and the can in the garbage and stepped to the sliding glass doors, but she didn’t go out onto the deck when she saw that it had started to rain. Dan came up behind her and put his arms around her.

“Are you all right?”

She considered the view. It was beautiful, no doubt, but she’d spent many nights viewing it alone. “You asked me once if I could be happy again in Cedar Grove.” When Dan didn’t respond, Tracy continued. “It was the life I once wanted. I think I could want it again.”

“Tracy, there’s nothing I’d want more than for you to mean what you’re saying—”

“I do mean it.” She turned to face him.

He smiled, but the expression had a sad quality to it. “This is your life now. This is what makes you happy. And you’re good at it. You love it.”

“I was a good chemistry teacher too, and I was doing something useful.”

“Why don’t you take a few days—?”

“I’ve taken twenty years, Dan. Isn’t that long enough?”

“You’re serious about this?” He sounded cautious.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a deep kiss. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Roger jumped onto the dining room table and whined at them. “Did you talk this over with him?” Dan said. “Because I don’t think he’ll be too happy about it.”

“He’ll get used to it,” she said. “How long did it take you, when you moved back?”

He gave it a moment of thought and ran his hands along her back. “Not as long as I thought it might. I mean, I’d been gone as long as you, but it really didn’t feel that different. I don’t think we ever completely get our hometown out of our system. Cedar Grove is part of our DNA.”

“I just wish Sarah was still there,” Tracy said. “I still miss her, Dan. I still think about her every day. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop.”

Tracy cranked the water temperature to almost unbearably hot and eased beneath the shower, allowing the beating jets to sting her skin. Her muscles began to slowly relax, and she felt the tension in her neck and shoulders dissipate. Feeling weak, perhaps overwhelmed, she leaned her head against the tile wall and let the water soothe her.

After twenty minutes, she shut off the shower, wrapped herself in a banana-yellow towel, and stepped out onto the marble to her bedroom. Roger lay sprawled on her comforter, and Tracy took a moment to give him some affection, scratching him beneath his neck and about his head and ears. He rolled onto his back, paws raised in submission, gently purring as she stroked his stomach. “It’s a good thing you’re self-sufficient,” she said. “You have a terrible owner.”

The lights in the backyard came on.

Annoyed, Tracy wrapped the towel tighter and stepped to the sliding glass door. The wind had picked up and was blowing the rain sideways across the two shafts of light. The lawn was empty.

Dan crossed the room and joined her at the door. “The lights
still
coming on?”

“Apparently,” she said, peering down at the empty yard.

“I set the sensors on their lowest setting.”

“When?”

“The other day, before I left.”

It explained how Roger had gotten himself locked downstairs.

“Maybe I should just shut them off. You do live in a fortress.”

“No,” she said. “They don’t bother me.” In truth she liked having the lights. They were like having a dog that barked—an early warning system.

Dan embraced her. “Feel better?”

“Much.”

“Good. Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I am,” she said, surprised.

He smiled. “Then I better get out of here, because you in that towel is a lot more enticing than chicken Alfredo.” Their kiss lingered. Dan pulled back. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m leaving the room now.”

After he’d left, she pulled a T-shirt from the dresser and was about to put it on when she got an idea. Still wrapped in the towel, she walked to the bedroom door. “How’s dinner coming?”

“Getting there.” Dan stood at the center island, sliding noodles into a pot of boiling water, steam rising.

“I was hoping for that glass of red wine you promised me.”

Dan grabbed the bottle, poured a glass, and looked up at her through fogged lenses. Tracy leaned back against the door frame, leg bent to reveal much of her thigh. Dan pulled off his glasses. “This is so not fair,” he said. “I just put in the noodles.”

“That gives us twelve minutes, doesn’t it?”

Dan picked up the pasta box and turned it over to consider the instructions on the back. “Nine, I think.”

Tracy lowered her leg and straightened. “Really?”