Page 6 of Crime Lab Cold Case (Pacific Northwest Forensics #2)
Michael picked up his cell phone and tapped his sister’s name. Pathetic that he had to call to tell her he’d be home in time for dinner tonight…for a change.
Molly answered on the first ring. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be late again. I actually cooked dinner. You know, like I chopped some onions, peppers and garlic, and turned on the stove and everything.”
“Sounds like spaghetti sauce.”
“Duh, it’s the only thing I know how to cook, except eggs—not that I’m above having eggs for dinner.”
Michael smiled into the phone. When his mother had suggested Molly come out and help with Ivy, he thought she was joking.
His sister didn’t have a single housekeeping bone in her body, but it turned out Mom was right.
Ivy didn’t need housekeeping or home-cooked meals or orderly toy bins.
She needed attention and love and fun, and Molly could supply all those things in spades.
Michael coughed. “I’m calling to let you know I’ll be home by six. I was going to take you two out for pizza tonight, but if you went through the trouble of cooking, I’m going to make it worth your while.”
“You might wanna keep that pizza on standby, just in case things in the kitchen go south. See you at six.”
When Molly ended the call, Michael cupped the phone between his hands and took a deep breath.
Maybe it was time to turn the page, move on.
Verbally explaining to Natalie today why he was visiting the location of his wife’s murder made him realize how fruitless it was…
and how ridiculous it all sounded—about as ridiculous as Natalie’s explanation about taking the wrong trail.
She presented herself as a thorough professional. No way would she mix up those two trails. So what was she doing on Devil’s Edge at night?
A knock at his door refocused his attention, and he glanced up to see the very person from his thoughts, as if he’d conjured her. “Wrapping it up? Hope you had a productive first day.”
Leaning against his doorjamb, she said, “I did. Got a lot of work done. That fire drill was kind of annoying and broke my concentration, but I guess these types of systems need to be tested. Was it a test?”
“What?” He slipped his phone into his pocket and logged off his computer.
“The fire drill. Was that a planned test, or…?” She shifted the bag on her shoulder, grasping the strap with both hands.
“I don’t have a clue. The alarm sounds, and I head outside.” He shrugged. “Do you want to lodge a complaint or something?”
“Maybe.”
He glanced up from shoving his laptop into his bag.
She’d sounded serious about that, but she had a smile on her face.
Or was that a grimace? “If you’re serious about it, I suppose you can contact the building manager, but I don’t think it would do any good.
You know these government agencies. We play by the rules. ”
“Oh, I understand if it was a test, but not if it was a prank. That’s unacceptable.”
“A prank?” He blinked. “You mean, like someone pulled the alarm for laughs? I hope you haven’t gotten the impression that I foster an environment here that would encourage that.”
“No, no. I guess not. Maybe an accident.” She smoothed her hair back with one hand.
“I guess I’m just annoyed that it broke my concentration, but I did create a couple of databases that are going to be very useful.
Did you realize that a few of your current lab employees were around during the time that evidence was… mishandled?”
“Yeah, I’m aware.” He pushed back from his desk and stood up. He told Molly he’d be home on time tonight, and he’d stick to that. “I don’t have to tell you to tread carefully there. Nobody wants to be grilled like a criminal.”
“We just want to find out what happened to the evidence and make some progress toward solving these cold cases. Everyone… The families deserve answers and justice, if possible.”
“Justice is always possible.” He flicked off his office light, and Natalie stepped back into the hallway. “If you need some recommendations for dinner tonight, I’d be happy to text you a list of places.”
“I’m okay. I might just wander around the downtown area and see what looks good. My hotel is walking distance.”
“Good idea. You’ll find something.”
They walked outside together, and Natalie hesitated before she turned in the opposite direction in the parking lot.
Should he have invited her to dinner? Bad idea .
He didn’t want to mix business with pleasure.
Because he had to admit, he found the company of Special Agent Natalie Brunetti pleasurable.
By the time he got home, the smell of garlic saturated the air, and his mouth watered. He came up behind his sister in the kitchen and tapped her on the shoulder.
She jumped. “You scared me.”
“You didn’t hear me come through the door?” He skirted her and dipped a spoon into the bubbling tomato sauce, blew the steam away and slurped up the sauce. “Mmm, good.”
“Maybe you should get a watchdog to warn me.” She jerked her head over her shoulder and clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
He dropped the spoon on the counter. “Is Ivy still napping?”
“She was a little cranky. I put her down for a nap, so she’d be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for Dada.
” Molly aimed her knife at a loaf of sourdough bread on a baking sheet.
“Can you finish the garlic bread? I already mixed up the garlic butter and sliced the loaf. You just need to spread some butter on both sides.”
“This really is a homemade dinner. You could’ve bought some frozen garlic bread.” He stepped to the sink to wash his hands.
“I thought you needed a celebration. The FBI audit started today, right? Your prep should be over. No more long nights at the office.”
“It did, and it is.” He scooped a knife in the butter and slathered it on the first piece of bread. “The prep is over, but I’m not sure my work is completely done. The agent the FBI sent out seems to be a stickler. I have a feeling she’ll be asking us to jump and fetch.”
“She?” Molly wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Is she hot?”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “If you like kind-of-uptight, stand-offish, holier-than-thou women. Then she’s your type.”
“Not my type.” Molly threw open a cupboard door, which smacked against another cupboard. “But that might be a nice change for you.”
He opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut as he caught sight of Molly’s stormy face.
Molly’s ex-girlfriend had been just that type, a corporate lawyer who’d supported Molly as she struggled with selling her art.
Molly’s haphazard lifestyle had finally lost its charm for Gracie, and they broke up last year.
Holding up the baking sheet with the bread, he asked, “Ready for the oven?”
“About fifteen minutes should do it. I already preheated the oven.” She took two plates and two bowls from the cupboard. “You wanna set the table?”
He slid the baking sheet onto the rack in the hot oven, and as he took the dishes from her, he heard Ivy cry out from her room. His hands tightened on the plates. Ever since her mother left, Ivy had been having a tough time waking up from sleep.
Michael almost believed that Ivy dreamed of her mother and at the moment she woke up, she remembered all over again that she was gone.
Not that Raine had been a great mom to Ivy.
Raine had abandoned her daughter once before when she left him.
Then she’d decided in the middle of the divorce proceedings that she really did want her daughter.
That’s why he’d been suspect number one in her murder—they’d been fighting over custody of Ivy.
No way in hell would he have allowed Ivy to live with Raine.
Now, he didn’t have to worry about that.
As Molly turned, Michael put a hand on her arm. “If you don’t mind setting the table. I’ll get her.”
“Of course. She’ll be thrilled to see you home for dinner. I’m just the babysitter.”
Michael rubbed his sister’s back. “You are her rock right now…and I think she has more fun with you.”
“Nobody has ever called me a rock before—not even you.” She sniffed and dabbed her nose with the back of her hand.
He moved his hand up to her neck and gave it a quick squeeze. “Mom told me you were the one to watch Ivy, so she has faith in you, as well.”
That first cry was Ivy’s last, so Michael poked his head in her darkened room to make sure she was awake.
She still slept in a crib. He’d been ready to move her to a toddler bed, had bought the bed and everything, but when Raine was murdered, and Ivy’s development seemed to regress, he’d shoved the box into the garage.
Same with the little plastic potty. He’d rather deal with diapers and have a successful run at potty training later than force the issue now.
He drank in the sight of his little girl standing in her crib, holding on to the railing and swaying back and forth to a mumbled tune.
His heart swelled as he watched her, and ached a little, too.
How would he be able to give her everything she needed?
How would he be able to raise a daughter on his own?
It had been hard enough trying to raise her with a mother like Raine—who’d been absent, self-obsessed, narcissistic—but at least Raine had loved Ivy, and Ivy had loved her mother.
A sigh escaped his lips, and Ivy jerked toward him. A smile engulfed her pixie face, and she raised her arms as she said in a singsong voice, “Daddy.”
She’d recently switched back to calling him Daddy . Dada had been her baby name for him, and she’d regressed to that months ago, but now daddy was creeping back into her vocabulary. That had to be a good sign, right? Hell, he’d take it.
He strode across the room and scooped her up, his hands firmly under her arms. He swung her around until her legs flew in the air behind her and her giggles turned into shrieks of laughter. Then he cuddled her close and kissed her forehead, both cheeks, her chin and her nose.