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“Batting zero today.” He wolfed down his cone before it could melt and wiped his fingers on a napkin he’d wrapped around it. “I attended college on a needs-based scholarship. I think I went to six different high schools. I ran track at a couple, but just stopped going out for sports since we didn’t spend enough time in any one place to commit to a team. I always juggled a couple of part-time jobs, so I really didn’t have the time, anyway.”
He’d mentioned frequent moves before. “You said you relocated because of your dad’s job?”
“Sort of. You done with that? You’re being real poky.”
Reese gave him an elbow nudge. “It’s called savoring. As opposed to swallowing it whole. You might try it sometime.” She circled back to her earlier question. “How long did you live with your gran?”
“On and off during most of my childhood. Spent fourth through eighth grade with her when my dad’s cons caught up with him once too often and he landed in prison.”
When she was working, this was the moment she pressed the hardest. After a subject finally broke down enough personal walls to reveal something that they really hadn’t wanted to. But something prevented her from doing so now. This wasn’t a subject she was working, it was Hayes. “That couldn’t have been an easy way to grow up.”
He lifted a shoulder, bare under the tank top he wore. “At least we had somewhere to go when he went inside. After that he managed not to get caught again until three years ago.” He scanned the people in the vicinity. “He’s currently serving a ten-year stretch. I’m beginning to doubt the rehabilitation element of prison.”
In her fascination with his story, she’d neglected the cone. It began running down on all sides, and she licked frantically for a moment. “Do you have a relationship with him?”
His smile was humorless. “He’s wiped his hands of me. I see through his charm, the schmoozing, the constant ‘favors’ he requires to enact his scams. Sometimes, the best thing you can do with a toxic person in your life is remove yourself from their poison. I’m trying to get my sister to take that advice. He’s still got his grips in her, not that she needs his help to land herself in hot water.”
His hand sat on the brick between them, and she surprised herself by inching hers over until it brushed his. “I’m sorry. I guess we all have bruises in our pasts.”
Hayes looked at their hands. And then at Reese. “Ryan Moreland was more of a stain in mine, one I was determined to rid myself of. I guess that means he had something to do with my choice in careers.”
She silently agreed. A man who analyzed criminal behavior as an adult may have gotten a head start growing up with a father like his. “I’m glad your gran was there for you. Like Julia was for me when my parents died.” The role of nurturer hadn’t been in her aunt’s repertoire, but they’d had a solid friendship, each allowing the other their space. It was more, far more than some kids had.
Her cell rang then, and she shoved the cone at him while grabbing her napkin in one hand, withdrawing the cell with the other. “Seriously?” Hayes muttered.
Checking the screen, she told him, “It’s Gibbons.” She connected the call, watching as Hayes got up to chuck her cone in the garbage, then grabbed some more napkins to wipe his hands. “Hello, Detective.”
“Reese. We got some information back on that GPS device. Dr. Moreland was correct—the company was more than cooperative. Is he with you right now?”
“Yes.” Reese waved Hayes over and pressed a button. “I put you on speakerphone.” When he reached her side she stood and they walked to a less crowded area.
“Dr. Moreland.”
“Detective.”
“I was just telling Reese that the manufacturer verified the owner of the GPS device found on Julia Backworth’s vehicle. The individual did take out a subscription so the tracker could be monitored in real-time, but of course it’s been terminated now.”
“Did they give you the contact information and credit card affiliated with the subscription?” Hayes asked.
“Yeah. A Samuel Thompson. The contract began about two months before your aunt’s death, Reese.”
Two months. Dread skittered across her chest on spider legs. “When did it terminate?”
“The day after she died.”
A cyclone of thoughts whirled in her head, a continuous, everchanging tumult. One stood out. “Convenient timing.”
“It may be purely coincidental,” Gibbons cautioned. “Her death was widely reported, and whoever placed it could have canceled the subscription after hearing about the hit-and-run on the news. I wanted to ask if the name on the account means anything to either of you.”
“Not to me.” Reese had to force the words out. There was a boulder in her throat she couldn’t seem to dislodge. “But I’ll go through her planner again. And look to see if she kept old calendars from other years.” She could also ask Lucas, Julia’s boyfriend. And her aunt’s former editor, Cynthia Darrow. Maybe the name would ring a bell with them.
“Mr. Moreland?”
Hayes hadn’t said anything up to that point. Reese glanced at him, and he answered slowly, “I’ll have to look into it. If I come up with something, I’ll reach out. Would you mind texting the contact info to Reese when we’re done?”
“Will do.”
The detective signed off, and Reese lowered the phone, her gaze intent on Hayes’s grim expression. “What is it?”