Page 29 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

“We never got an allowance,” I said as I squatted to give the old dog a scratch behind the ears.

“It’s a daily responsibility tending to the animals,” Laura said, “and they both make sacrifices to do their chores. By the way, the kittens are fully weaned, and I’m spaying and neutering them at the end of the month, then they’re ready to go to a good home.”

When Jack and I were working to protect Laura and her irresponsible ex-husband, a stray cat made a home in the barn and gave birth to six kittens. Cody had declared that the cat was now his.

“I thought you were keeping the whole litter,” I said.

“I told Cody he could keep two. It’s always good to have cats around. But I’d love to find homes for the others.”

“I’ve never had a cat,” I said. We had a dog most of my childhood.

We put Barney to sleep when I was fifteen and it was one of the worst memories of my youth.

My parents never got another dog. Barney had been part of the family.

I’d thought about getting a dog, but not with my current erratic schedule.

“They’re great pets. There’s one kitten who wouldn’t do well being a barn cat—he’s the runt of the litter.”

“The gray one?” I asked, and wished I hadn’t. Laura would take the inquiry as a sign of interest.

She smiled and nodded. “Think about it. He could go home with you tonight. He’s still a little on the small side, so I might wait to neuter him. We like them to be at least two pounds. You can bring him back when he’s ready.”

“I don’t need a cat,” I said.

“You haven’t said no,” Jack pointed out with a sly smile.

“What about you? You taking one?”

“Nope. But I think Mom should have one. She had cats growing up—she’d like the company.”

Pops and Abuela still had cats—four of them. At one point they had seven.

“You give it to her,” I said. “You’re the favorite.”

Jack laughed. “I don’t know about that. I think Lu wins that contest.”

Jack was everyone’s favorite, but I didn’t harbor any ill will.

I sipped my beer and watched as my brother kept glancing over at Laura with a goofy half smile on his face, as if he couldn’t believe she was his girlfriend.

I liked that. I liked that my brother was happy, that he had found love a second time around when he had been so devastated by the collapse of his marriage.

Thirty minutes later, we were eating amazing barbecue steaks, homemade potato salad, and grilled zucchini. In my thirty-three years, I’d never had grilled zucchini before.

It was after eight when Laura told the kids to finish their homework and we all cleared the plates. I watched as Laura and Jack did the dishes together—the whispers and smiles and genuine affection.

Jack offered me another beer; I declined. Two was my limit. He brought me over a water bottle and we sat in the family room while Laura went out to the barn.

“You’re happy,” I said.

“I am.”

“And everything went okay last night?”

He hesitated a fraction with a glance toward where Laura had gone.

“What?” I pushed.

“It was fine. It didn’t start fine, but by the end of the evening, we had an understanding.” He paused. “I said things I wish I hadn’t, but they got through.”

“You mean, you told the truth and felt bad.”

“I don’t like hurting anyone, even with words. But they had to be said. A reminder of everything I did to save our marriage. I don’t think she realized every step I took to prevent what ultimately happened. But there is no going back.”

If I had been drinking, I would have spit out my beer. “What? She wants to get back together?”

“God, no. I think—” He paused, assessed what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it.

“I’m not a shrink, but I think Whitney liked having me on-call.

She liked knowing I would always come—and I still will.

She will always be Austin’s mother. But I saw last night—I saw it before, but I knew in my heart last night—that she never wanted to be married to me.

I should have seen it fifteen years ago when I first proposed.

But we can’t go back, and we have Austin. He alone is worth everything.”

“Amen,” I said and toasted with my water bottle.

Jack was going to be fine.

“Changing subjects because I should be going home soon,” I said, “but do you think you can get me a one-on-one with Mike Hitchner?”

His mouth dropped open. “From DEB?”

“Yep. He was lead in the Bradford investigation and I have some questions.”

“He’s a commander now. I don’t know that he would have the time or desire to talk to a PI. Why?”

“I can’t find any connection between the drug bust three years ago and what happened these last two weeks with Elijah’s overdose and Lena’s murder, but I think it would help if I better understood how the Bradford operation ran.”

“As in, if it happened once, maybe someone else is running it?”

“Something like that.”

“I don’t think you can assume that these events are connected. Drugs are a parasite; they’re everywhere.”

I didn’t know how to explain to Jack that little tickle in the back of my mind that told me there was something more here than meets the eye. “It’s... a triangle,” I said lamely.

Jack’s lips twitched. “A triangle.”

“Yeah, Elijah and Lena are connected through Sun Valley—time and place. They’re now both dead—killed less than two weeks apart.”

“Whoa—there is no evidence that Elijah was murdered.”

“Okay, maybe not killed , but Detective King didn’t conduct a thorough investigation. She took the autopsy report as the only evidence, and there are a lot of unanswered questions. Did you read the police reports?”

“I skimmed them.”

“Did you notice that his backpack and phone weren’t recovered?”

Jack shook his head and asked, “What did they conclude?”

“They deduced that the phone was in the backpack and someone took it after Elijah passed out or died in the park.”

“Logical.”

“It’s a guess, based on no actual evidence. They haven’t found it, and if someone did, no one connected it to Elijah? I don’t buy it. I think they dismissed possible evidence of foul play because it doesn’t fit in with the accidental overdose assumption.

“Now, my triangle theory—Lena Clark has been at Sun Valley for more than five years. She was there when Bradford was dealing drugs, a crime he got away with for apparently years. Hitchner’s report is very detailed, and they shut down the operation, but the only two people who went to prison were Bradford and his wife and one student to juvie.

I couldn’t find any documents about how it started, when it started.

Maybe the info will be in the court records Tess is going through.

Did he use other kids, kids who graduated before the sting?

Plus, no one knows who his supplier was. Neither he nor his wife would talk.”

“You think someone picked up where Bradford left off.”

“It’s an idea that’s rattling around in my head.

The other point of the triangle is that Lena and Bradford worked at the school at the same time.

I could be way off, but Hitchner might have more info there.

Was Lena involved in the arrest at all? Did she give a statement?

Were there any grudges? Other players who weren’t caught up in the sting? ”

“Triangles have three points.”

“I haven’t connected Elijah to Bradford, but Elijah was a freshman when Bradford was arrested—yes, a small insignificant connection.

He could have known someone who was involved.

If I’m wrong, I can close it off and focus on something else, like Elijah’s workplace or his friends.

I’ve talked to one, reached out to the others, but so far I’m ending up dry.

No one knows where Elijah was after he left work until he ended up dead in the park. Five hours unaccounted for.”

Jack didn’t say anything, and I worried that I was way off base. I didn’t know how to put all these pieces together. Some were solid, but some depended on me fully believing Elijah’s shiny reputation, a kid I had never met.

And there were far too many things I didn’t know.

“I’ll reach out to Hitchner tomorrow morning, but no promises,” Jack finally said. “I didn’t know him well when I was on the job, don’t have any favors I can call in.”

“That’s all I can ask. Thanks.”

When I left Laura’s house thirty minutes later, my rearview mirror framed Jack and Laura standing on the wide porch, his arm around her waist. I had an overwhelming sense of longing that I couldn’t explain.

Rick only lived a few minutes away, two exits up the freeway. But he worked swing shift and was probably still at work; even if he wasn’t, could I just stop by his house and pick up where we left off?

He’d given me no sign that he wanted to rekindle our relationship.

Inviting me to Sam’s game? Maybe it was an olive branch.

Yet, he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong when he lectured me about how to handle Sam.

And even if I thought he was right—and he was, to a point, since Sam was his daughter—it hurt.

Because I wanted Sam to be my daughter too. And Rick didn’t trust me.

I headed home. Still torn, still unsure where I stood in Rick’s life. And that was a feeling I didn’t want.