Justine Davis – Flashback (страница 8)

Chapter 4

“Just what I need, a fed.”

Alex caught the muttered imprecation, although she doubted she’d been meant to. Detective Eric Hunt—Kayla had introduced them and then sneakily decamped—looked up quickly, as if he suspected he’d spoken too loudly.

He’d be nice looking, she thought, if he ever smiled. There was something appealing about his boy-next-door looks, sandy hair and golden-brown eyes. He seemed…trustworthy, she thought. A good quality in a cop.

“Look,” he said, “I know you’re a friend of the lieutenant’s—”

“Don’t let that influence you.”

He gave her a look that told her what he thought of that piece of impossibility.

“Just,” she said lightly, “think of me as a P.I.”

She smiled. He frowned.

“A P.I.? With an FBI badge?”

“This has nothing to do with the FBI. I’m investigating an old case of yours, yes, but as a private citizen.”

She supposed she couldn’t blame him for the suspicions that showed in his expression. In his place, she’d be hard-pressed not to wonder herself.

In his place, she thought, I’d get some sleep.

He looked beyond tired. Beyond even exhausted. He looked, she realized, burned out. She’d become familiar with the look, that world-weary, heard-too-much, seen-too-much expression that could quickly collapse into don’t-give-a-damn. Once somebody hit that wall, coming back was a long, hard road many chose not to even attempt.

He leaned back in his chair. It creaked, the way just about every government chair she’d ever seen did. His cubicle was typical, small but not cramped, plastered with notices and suspect photographs, official memos and reminders.

But not, she noticed, much in the way of personal items. A postcard with a photograph of a snowcapped mountain, a snapshot of what appeared to be that same mountain and, looped over a pushpin, a long chain with a set of dog tags. She couldn’t read the name from where she stood.

“How long have you been a cop?” she asked.

His frown deepened. She guessed if she’d been anybody else the answer would have been “What’s it to you?” Instead it was a grudging, “Eighteen years.”

Long enough to burn out. And then some. “First job?” she guessed. He didn’t look over forty, even with the tired eyes.

“Yeah. Straight into the academy from college.” He shrugged. “All I ever wanted to be.”

He still sounded a bit on edge, so she tried another tack.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not asking that you reactivate the case or get involved at all. I’m just letting you know I’m here, and what I’ll be doing.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Your thoughts about the case, mainly. And a look at the original file. I’ve seen ours but not yours. Although, if you have any personal notes or recollections, copies of those would help, too. Beyond that, I’ll stay out of your hair.”

He leaned back slightly, puzzlement replacing the frown on his face. “Why?”

She lifted one shoulder. “Because, this is personal, not official.”

“Oh? You guys took over the case in the first place, the vic being a senator and all, so why don’t you check with your own investigators?”

“I have. But you were first investigator on the scene. Your impressions are the most important.”

“So I’m supposed to believe an FBI agent—”

“Scientist.”

“Whatever. I’m supposed to believe the FBI shows up in tiny little Athens asking about the unsolved ten-year-old murder of a former U.S. senator, and it’s only personal, I’m not going to get sucked up into the federal wood chipper?”

Her mouth twitched. She fought the grin. “It is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”

She finally got the smile she’d been thinking about earlier. And it did, as she’d suspected it would, transform his face. He went from guarded and world-weary to open and approachable—and charming—in the space of a few seconds.

“It really is personal,” she assured him. “Marion Gracelyn was a longtime family friend. She was like an aunt to me, and my family would really like to know the full truth of what happened that night.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” Hunt said wryly.

“It means even more to me, because of where it happened.”

He lifted one sandy brow. “The women’s academy? You go there?”

“I did.”

He looked curious then. “I hear it’s quite a place. Lieutenant Ryan went there didn’t she?”

Alex nodded. “She did. We were best friends.”

“And she’s one of the best cops I’ve ever worked with.”

“I’ll tell her you said so,” Alex said with a smile.

“Oh.” He looked chagrinned. “I guess you already knew that.”

“We were in the same class,” Alex said. “So yes, I know how good she is.”

No point in trying to explain about the Cassandras; he didn’t need to know, and likely wouldn’t understand anyway. Nobody would who hadn’t been in that kind of situation where the bonding was deep and permanent.

Whether it was that she knew Kayla, curiosity about Athena or something else, she didn’t know, but he came over to her side after that.

“Look, your guys pretty much nudged me out of the whole investigation once they got here. Not that I blame them, really,” he added in a burst of refreshing candor. “I was pretty green.”

“Sometimes I think I still am,” she commiserated, and earned another smile.

“Naw. Definitely red,” he quipped, and to her surprise she didn’t mind the reference to her hair. Perhaps it was the boy-next-door thing that softened it from taunt to friendly tease.

“Anyway,” he said quickly, as if he’d embarrassed himself, “most of the files of that era aren’t digital, so they’re in storage in Phoenix. I can send for them, but it’ll raise a flag.”

She knew that was likely true; you didn’t dig out a murder case on a U.S. senator without drawing attention.

“I could tell them it’s just been bugging me, and I want to look at it again,” he said.

Something in the way he said it told her it wasn’t totally a ruse. “Does it? Bug you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a half shrug. “It does. It was my first murder, and probably the biggest case I’ll ever be involved in.”

She nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m not really trying to hide what I’m doing, just to keep it under the radar as long as I can. So if you think you can do it without sending up a flare…”

“I think so,” he said, and she smiled at the change in his attitude. Oddly, he glanced away for a minute, much as she did when she thought she was going to blush.

“Thank you.” She put every bit of sincerity she was feeling into her voice. “I really appreciate it.”

As if inspired by the positive reception of his first offer, he said “I can dig out my own notes, if you think it would help. I kept all the old ones on paper, so it’s not a digital file.” He gave her a slightly sheepish smile. “And back then, I wrote down everything.”

Definitely boy-next-door material, Alex thought.

“So did I,” she said, grinning at him. “I think it would probably help a lot, then. Thanks, Eric.”

He colored visibly then, and grinned back at the same time, a combination she thought awkwardly sweet.

It seemed she had gained an ally.

“Anything else, Agent Forsythe?” he asked.

“Alex,” she said, granting him the familiarity she’d already taken. She started to answer his question in the negative, then thought again. “Could you have a license plate run for me?”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Sure.”