Damn it, Nicole could wait.
Ben went for cherry pie a la mode, and she stole more than a couple of bites. Sharing with her was fun, and it gave him an excuse to prolong the evening. Since they’d met here, like last time, and Eve would be driving herself home, her inviting him in wasn’t going to happen. A good-night kiss would have to be hasty, given that it was raining, weather that was more common than not in western Washington at this time of year.
While they waited for the waitress to return with change, Ben braced himself for Eve to take offense, but had to say, “This is my weekend with Rachel.” That sounded kind of bald, so he added, “If you want to think about Sunday night after she’s gone...”
If her expression changed, he couldn’t tell. “Oh, I usually have Sunday dinner with Mom and Dad.” Her tone was pleasant. “Do you have any special plans?”
“Maybe a movie Saturday.” Rachel liked to bake, too, so he’d bought some shaped cookie cutters and sprinkles and what have you so they could have some fun with sugar cookies. He was a little embarrassed to admit that. Plus...damn it, he couldn’t help picturing Eve with them, that rippling laugh delighting Rachel as much as it did him.
But letting her get to know Rachel better implied something he didn’t intend. He didn’t want his daughter to become attached to one after another of the women in his life.
As Eve walked out of the café ahead of him, he tried to decide if she’d understood the signal he’d sent by not suggesting she join him and Rachel this weekend, or whether she just thought he was being cautious about jumping in too quickly.
If he were smart, he’d come right out and say, “I’m not looking for anything long-term,” but he couldn’t seem to make himself do that, and he knew why: he wanted Eve, and he’d never have her if he was that blunt.
What if he hurt her, a woman who’d been hurt by too many people?
The worry made shame curl in his belly.
He kissed her good-night anyway, even though cold rain ran down his neck while he was doing it.
But he dialed Nic’s number even as he walked to his own car.
* * *
“YOU THINK THEIR haul is stashed under one of their beds?” Seth asked, frustration adding an edge to his tone.
Frustration Ben shared. Neither of them knew where to go next with this, and new crimes were pulling them away. The amount of time they could give to investigating the jewelry store heist was diminishing.
“Why not?” he said. “They must know we’re not even close to getting a warrant.”
The frustration still simmering, he ran a background search on a guy he liked for a more conventional holdup at a corner grocery store and gas station. The perpetrator had kept his head down and his face shielded by a hoodie, but watching the footage from the surveillance camera, Ben kept thinking, I’ve seen this guy before. His stature, the way he moved, the dart of his hand as he snatched the money... The name had come to Ben in the middle of the night, a lightbulb bursting on.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured now, when he saw that Henry James Whitmore—otherwise known as Whit—had been picked up a couple more times since Ben had last collared him. In fact, Whit had been released from a six-month lockup three weeks ago.
Ben shook his head. Some people never learned.
His phone rang and he reached for it absently. The number looked familiar, but didn’t belong to anyone he knew well.
“Detective Kemper, this is Julie Silveira from Child Protective Services. I heard from Michelle Baker.”
“Did you?” he said softly. Something in his voice had Seth swiveling his chair to look at him. “Thank you for calling.”
A minute later, he hung up, his grin triumphant. “Ken Hardison’s girlfriend just surfaced. She says she’ll talk to us.”
Seth was already rising to his feet. “Now?”
“Sounds like. I have an address.”
She’d been hiding out at a friend’s house in Everett, an hour’s drive away.
Michelle Baker turned out to be painfully thin, with lanky, dull hair and the physical mannerisms of someone who had become conditioned to try to appear deferential—or maybe she was going for invisible, if only subconsciously.
“He always said he’d never let me go,” she said after she’d looked nervously up and down the street before letting them in the front door of the run-down place a few blocks from the community college. “I’d have liked to stay with my sister, but—” her shrug had a defeated quality “—he’s been knocking on her door every day or two since I took off. I told her to be careful.”
He asked about her child, and Michelle said she was napping. “He never hit Courtney,” she said, “but that last time, she saw what he did to me and I just didn’t know what to tell her.”
They refused coffee and talked briefly about measures she could take to protect herself, but Ben could tell she wasn’t convinced, and he couldn’t blame her. Hardison’s history suggested he was just the kind of guy to be enraged by a restraining order.
She looked from Seth to Ben, her confusion apparent. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? ’Cause I never got two detectives before when I complained.”
“No. I’m sorry.” Ben cleared his throat. She seemed more comfortable talking to him than to Seth, which wasn’t unusual. Seth’s rougher face and bulkier build were intimidating to a certain kind of witness. “We’re not usually involved in domestic violence calls.” Until they escalated into homicide, of course, but he wasn’t about to say that. He explained that Ken’s name had come up in the course of their investigation into a recent robbery, and they were hoping she’d be willing to tell them if she’d heard him making plans.
“Um... I heard some stuff.” She ducked her head, hiding her face behind her hair. “I shoulda told somebody,” she said softly. “I felt bad when I saw about it on TV. I mean, them hurting that guy.” She looked up. “He didn’t die, did he?”
“Why don’t you tell us what you heard before I answer any questions,” Ben said gently.
“That jewelry store,” she said, looking surprised. “That’s what you’re here about, isn’t it?”
He smiled at her. “Yes, it is.”
After agreeing to be recorded, she began, “See, he was real mad about getting fired.”
At the end, Ben asked if she’d be willing to testify in court as to what she’d heard. When she hesitated, he told her honestly he couldn’t guarantee Hardison would be convicted, but if he was, he’d be put away for a good, long time given how brutal the assault had been on the store owner and how serious his injuries.
Her face firmed and she squared her shoulders. “I’ll do that. After he hurt me so many times, he don’t deserve any loyalty from me.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Ben smiled at her as he rose to his feet. “You’ve been an excellent witness, Ms. Baker.” He extracted a promise from her to inform him of any moves, and told her he’d keep her informed. Seth thanked her, too, then grinned at Ben as they walked to their car.
“I have Dietz on speed dial,” he said.
Jennifer Dietz was the Deputy Prosecuting Attorney they’d been working with on this investigation.
“Call her,” Ben agreed.
* * *
NICOLE CROSSED HER arms and adopted a combative stance as she waited with Ben for Rachel to rush to her room to grab her rolling