“Sure does. I heard the Thompson pig farm offers mud baths at half price this week only and they’re selling fast.”
“That so?”
“Has to be true. I got it straight from Gertie Simpson’s mud-caked lips.”
Liz laughed out loud at the mental image of old maid Gertie Simpson covered with mud and thinking it was a beauty remedy.
“Okay, I admit that was a good one. Now, get serious and fill me in.” Liz sat down and pulled her wheeled chair closer to her desk. “I take it you met with the state boys.”
“Sure did. Detective Frank Davenport will be acting as liaison between our people and his men. They’ve agreed to handle the physical evidence—follow up with the state lab on the ballistic reports, prints and so on. They’re also investigating the Hendersons’ background prior to their move here.”
Liz nodded and continued listening.
“Darlene enlarged all of the crime scene photos. She gave copies to Davenport and posted the other set to our board in the conference room.”
Liz breathed a sigh of relief. Adam had been right. A couple hours of sleep hadn’t prevented progress from being made on the case.
“Anything helpful in the photos?”
Sal shrugged and took a sip of coffee from the cup he’d carried in with him. “Not yet. You know how that goes. You don’t know what is or isn’t helpful until you have more of an idea about what happened in the first place.”
“Thanks, Sal. I appreciate you coordinating things for me.”
“No problem.” He grinned at her like a kid who’d nabbed the top score on a school test and then continued updating her. “Our department’s handling the investigation of the Hendersons since their move here in January. I’m running a check to see if there are any business ties we should be looking into. Paul’s checking out Mrs. Henderson’s social calendar. He’s also interviewing neighbors to see if anybody saw anything—which is unlikely since the houses are so remote and secluded out there, but it’s worth a shot. Miller’s off this shift. I sent him home. I figure the guy’s kissing retirement. Don’t see any reason to ask him to work double shifts. Not yet, anyway.”
“Darlene?”
“She’s on a B and E call. I don’t know—home invasions, murders, dead drug dealers, breaking and entering. All of a sudden our quiet little town isn’t so quiet anymore.”
“Tell me about it.” Liz pulled a mug out of her top drawer and looked longingly at Sal’s coffee cup.
He laughed. “Want me to grab you a cup of coffee, boss?”
“I’ll get some in a minute. Want to catch up first.”
He leaned over and poured half of the contents of his cup into hers. “Here, that should hold you over.”
Liz grinned, leaned back in her chair and took a welcome sip of the hot liquid. “What would I do without you, Sal?”
“Just remember that when reviews roll around,” Sal quipped.
“I’m glad you sent Tom home. We don’t need two cops dead on their feet. I was at the hospital all night and had to grab a couple of z’s myself. My mind was becoming mush.”
“How’s the kid?”
“They had to sedate him. He hasn’t come out of it yet.”
“I still can’t believe there was a kid in the house and the killer missed him. I can’t believe we missed him the first go-round.”
“He hid in his mother’s closet under a pile of blankets. Thank the good Lord, the killer did miss him,” Liz replied. “He’s such an adorable little boy…and he’s our only witness.”
“Think he’ll be able to identify the shooter?”
Liz leaned back and gazed up at the white ceiling tiles. “I really don’t know. He’s only five. Besides, he’s autistic.”
“Autism. I’ve heard of it but don’t know exactly what it is.”
“It’s a psychological disorder that affects language and socialization skills. Even if he saw the killer, I’m not sure he would be any help in identifying him.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that we have a witness that can’t tell us what he witnessed. What kind of luck is that?”
“At least the little guy is alive. That’s a plus. We’ll know more when he wakes up.”
“Do you want me to head over to the hospital and see if he’s awake yet? I don’t have a lot of experience with kids, but I’m willing to give it a try and see if I can get something helpful out of him.”
“No, but thanks. Dr. Morgan is a highly respected psychiatrist. He’s taking care of Jeremy. He’ll let us know the second anything changes.”
Sal slammed his foot back to the floor and stood up. “Then I’m out of here. I’m headed over to Henderson’s business. Try to see if anyone there got passed over for a promotion or had their nose bent out of shape for any other reason.”
“Be sure to report in,” Liz called to his departing back and laughed when he waved her away like the nag she sometimes knew she was.
* * *
The following morning, after several hours of fielding phone calls, reading reports and reviewing the crime scene photos, Liz came up for air. Progress on the case was slower than she’d like, but at least it was moving forward.
Liz glanced at the phone on her desk. Why hadn’t Adam called? It had been three days since the murders and two since Adam took over Jeremy’s case. There had to be some news to share by now.
The mental image of the six-foot blond-headed doctor played over and over in her mind.
Adam’s back.
More handsome than ever—in a mature adult way. The gangly teen finally grew into his feet, shoulders widened, muscles rock hard. He looked like that gorgeous young actor she’d seen when she’d watched an old classic movie marathon last weekend.
She hadn’t known how she would feel when she saw him again. She expected to be disappointed, maybe even nurse a tinge of pain for old hurts—but instead she had felt an unexpected sadness for years lost. She’d expected to feel wells of hatred—but the Lord’s Prayer had put a quick end to that.
What she hadn’t expected was his ability to still snatch her breath away.
She thought she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor when he’d looked at her with those golden-brown eyes—and when he’d placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, she could have sworn her heart had physically flip-flopped in her chest.
She slammed her hand on the desk. What was the matter with her?
She’d decided years ago to pursue a career and not entangle herself with any permanent relationships.
It had been difficult following in her father’s footsteps while trying to blaze a trail of her own. She’d had to devote herself one hundred per cent to her job. She’d worked hard, putting in long hours, but over the years it had paid off. She’d gained the respect of her team and her community. She couldn’t afford to let down her guard now. She didn’t have time for a man in her life, any man, and particularly one who had already broken her heart once before.
Another hour passed and Liz tried not to stare at the minute hand on the wall clock or jump each time the phone rang. Usually, she could lose herself in work, but not this time.
She drummed her fingers