Chapter Nine #2
“Yeah. Except women who are involved in crimes I’m investigating.”
Elle glared up at him. “I am not involved in Dianne’s death.”
“You are. You didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re involved nonetheless.”
Elle scowled. “Déjà vu all over again. I was not at fault in the accident, either, but I was involved nonetheless.” Then she realized what he’d said. “You’d ask me out if we weren’t working this case?”
He met her gaze directly. “I would. What would you say?”
“I’d say yes.”
His mouth curved and she wanted to kiss it. “Good.”
She’d say yes, even though she’d have to go back to San Francisco at some point. It would have to be a temporary thing.
She wished it didn’t have to be temporary.
She blinked when she felt the warmth of his body against hers. She’d drifted toward him. He’d drifted toward her. They were touching.
Clearing her throat, she took a step back, aware that they were close to crossing a line.
“I do have some news for you on the Miller case. Sara’s wife was contacted by three different pawnshops.
We’d reached out to them about the painting Miller stole—the one that’s still missing.
They each got a call from the same burner, asking if there was any interest in the painting.
Someone—a young woman—wanted to pawn it. ”
“Wendy Miller.”
“Yes.” Elle handed him a folded piece of paper. “I couldn’t give you this in front of Sara, but this is the burner number she used. They said she sounded desperate.”
He put the note in his pocket, safe from the rain. “They’ve been on the run for a month now. Sounds like they’re running out of cash. Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I should be going.”
Because he looked like he wanted to kiss her.
Because she wanted to kiss him back.
That couldn’t happen. Not yet.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Elle.”
“Sleep well, Ronan.”
She turned and forced herself to walk back to her car, turning off the heated vest. Her body had become uncomfortably warm.
And wet.
And frustrated.
She didn’t think she’d get much sleep tonight.
Mendocino, California
Monday, February 2, 8:00 a.m.
“Someone has a spring to his step,” Penny said with a grin as Ronan walked into the kitchen. She was sipping her coffee, her laptop open on the table in front of her.
Ronan’s cheeks heated because, yes, he did have a spring to his step. He was going to see Elle again this morning. He’d had the spring in his step every morning since their first conversation on the bluffs.
He poured himself some coffee and popped a bagel in the toaster. “What’s on your agenda for the day?”
“I’m meeting with my new project partner this afternoon over in Ukiah.”
“How’s that going?” She hadn’t complained about the “abrasive” new partner since the night she’d cried on him after learning her old partner was quitting the nursing program and running away to Florida. “Is she as bad as you thought?”
“Actually no. I took my own advice and brought her some candy cap caramels. I told her I appreciated her taking me on and I’d do my best to make her life easier, not harder.
Dad, she got all teary. She said that everyone in the class avoids her because they think she’s mean.
She just has trouble with social cues. So I guess we’re getting along well. ”
He dropped a kiss on top of her head. “I’m glad.”
“And you?” she asked slyly. “Is all going well with you and your hunter?”
Ronan turned back to the counter to retrieve his bagel from the toaster, grateful for the moment to tame the smile on his face into something that wasn’t slightly maniacal.
He was happy for the first time in a long time.
He’d almost kissed Elle last night and she’d accepted the date they’d have when he closed this case.
“Everything is going well with the case,” he said and she laughed.
“The case. Okay, Dad, whatever. But I thought the case hadn’t gone anywhere.”
It really hadn’t. There’d been no movement in nearly a week. All he had were fingerprints on the murder weapon that belonged to Elle because she’d picked it up.
He’d heard from Samantha Jacobson, who’d given her permission for him to search her house for Reece Miller, but Ronan had found nothing. Only a cat who became very annoyed to have him in her domain.
So…no progress. He was frustrated on behalf of Dianne and everyone in Mendocino who’d loved her, but he was…happy.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she said softly, all traces of laughter gone. “I’m glad you’re happy. I’m sorry for teasing you.”
He turned then, not caring if his cheeks were red or his smile too maniacal. “Thank you. And go ahead and tease me. Just know I’ll give as good as I got when it’s your turn.”
“So noted,” she said dryly.
He’d taken a bite of bagel when his phone rang. It was Howard’s assistant over at the Ukiah office. “Hey, Cliff.”
“Hey, Ronan. Just wanted to let you know that I got that juvenile record for Reece Miller unsealed. He was arrested for assault and theft of a car, but its value was less than a thousand dollars, so it was a misdemeanor. He served six months in juvie.”
“Six months?” Ronan frowned. “He was gone for two years.”
“I don’t know where he was for eighteen months, but it wasn’t juvie.”
“I’ll have to dig deeper, then. Thank you, Cliff.”
“No problem. Have a great day.”
Ronan ended the call, thinking about who he’d call to ask where Reece Miller had gone for the eighteen months he hadn’t been in juvie.
Especially since Miller’s Mendo friends claimed not to know.
It might not be important, but if he had friends somewhere other than Mendocino, that was where he could be hiding.
He’d have plenty of time to make calls today. He’d be sitting in his SUV watching the pharmacy with Elle.
“Everything okay, Dad?” Penny asked.
“Yep. Just a new wrinkle.”
He sat down at the table with her to finish his bagel. It would hold him until he got pastries from Arlene’s bakery. He was going to have to cut back, though. The donuts were going right to his middle.
He’d taken the last bite when his phone buzzed again, this time with an unfamiliar number with a San Francisco area code. “Detective Clarke.”
“Ronan, this is Lieutenant Diego Sanchez, with SFPD Homicide.”
Ronan wasn’t familiar with the name, but it had been fifteen years since he’d been part of the SFPD. “Good morning. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“I had dinner with your old partner last night—Dwight Jackson.”
“Okay,” Ronan said slowly. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Chatty as always. He mentioned you’d called asking about Lambert and Randolph.”
“Can you hold on a moment?” Wary now, Ronan went to his bedroom, closed the door, and sat on the edge of his bed. “Sorry, I’m still at home and had to go somewhere quiet. Yes, the hunters are here in my town.”
“Are they connected to a murder investigation?”
“They are. How did you know?”
“I checked the BOLOs coming out of Mendocino County. They’re chasing after Reece Miller, who skipped bail and ran to your area. And you began investigating the murder of an innkeeper shortly thereafter.”
“That’s all true. What do you know, Lieutenant?”
“I wanted to give you background on a homicide case I was associated with, one where Giselle Randolph was a suspect.”
Ronan was glad he’d sat down. His first reflex was to deny that Elle could have killed anyone, but he took a breath and made sure his tone was nonconfrontational when he replied. “What happened?”
Because she had no arrest record. No convictions.
“You know about the case where she rescued the child from the bail jumper who’d taken her hostage and set the building on fire.”
“Of course.”
“We kept a lot of the facts from the press, but I think you should know what went down, that day and after. She’d tracked the jumper to the home he was hiding in.
It belonged to his friend. She gave the required notification that she was apprehending him and of course we arrived to surround the area.
We knew there was a hostage and were assembling the SWAT response team, per protocol.
I personally told her to stand down over the phone and she agreed.
But then the jumper called her on her cell.
Offered that if she traded herself for the child, he’d leave with her and the child would remain in the home for the police to pick up later.
He didn’t know she’d called us only minutes before.
He gave her two minutes to make up her mind.
Sent her video of the child crying when he put a gun to the kid’s head.
He told her that he’d kill this child and find himself another to hold hostage if she didn’t do what he said. She didn’t wait for us.”
“She believed his threat.”