Page 18 of Facing the Enemy
Jack sat patiently at my kitchen table while I read Carson Lowell’s story, and I felt certain an arrest for Trenton’s murder would happen soon. I told Jack that Risa wanted to talk. He stared at me and squinted, a trait I’d noted when he thought through his words.
“You need to see Risa and offer an assist about what’s bothering her. We’ve worked two nights in a row on the Addingtons’ case,” Jack said. “I’m all for a break to process the evidence or lack thereof. Sometimes my mind needs to let the truth weave in and out of my brain cells. We can prep in the morning for the maternity home interviews.”
“Thanks. The Wades and their attorney arrive in Houston tomorrow afternoon. You still okay about meeting them around four at the office?”
Jack snorted. “Armed with more questions than they want to consider. I anticipate those three have concocted a strategy to dismiss us like warm beer.”
I smiled at his comparison. “Depends on our questions. I’m suspicious of their offer to meet us on our territory. Might have a lot to do with the forty-eight thousand paid for the Addingtons’ baby.”
Jack stood. “I sincerely doubt we’ll put an end to the malefaction tonight. In the meantime, I’m leaving so you can see Risa.” He dipped his hands into his pant pockets. “Does she know you’re in love with her?”
I mentally punched his jaw. “What?”
Jack laughed. “If this bachelor detects it, so does half the world.”
I held up my hand. “Ridiculous.”
“Sure. I’ll see you in the morning at seven. We’ll start the maternity home interviews early.”
On the drive to pick up Risa, I wrestled with Jack’s observation about my feelings for her and the truth of his words. Made me feel like a fool. Great. How many others detected my pitiful affections for a woman who’d slammed me out of her life? When I thought about what I wanted to make my life complete—a life with Risa and a family—I refused to give up, but the future didn’t hold much optimism.
I determined to do a better job of concealing my emotions and put a stop to the rumors.
My mind swept over Carson Lowell’s story mirroring Trenton Jacobs’s death. After grabbing my phone on the console, I dictated questions at bullet speed. “Did Risa uncover more than a driver having a joyride in a stolen car? Why did Carson put himself out there as a killer, or could he have deep psychological problems? Did his parents have an idea of his behavior? What about his friends?”
Risa’s apartment building—luxury living for the contemporary single woman—seemed like the last place she’d live. The lifestyle didn’t fit her. Never had. Why pay the exorbitant rent to live here? She claimed not to enjoy the latest fashion and trends or the nightlife, and she had the early-to-bed, early-to-rise mentality. Unless she’d changed over the past months.
She stood outside the double-glass door front entrance. At least, I thought it was Risa. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d be wondering about the woman in the wide-brimmed suede hat and jeans. But the moment she headed my way, I recognized her, the ease of how she placed one foot in front of the other. My pulse escalated. I pulled up next to her, and she slid into the car.
When she placed the legal pad and pen on the console between the front seats, I grinned to break the tension. Seemed like the last five months had vanished. She’d grown out her coffee-brown hair until it lay on her shoulders in soft waves, but little else had changed. She’dlost weight ... too much, but I remembered her inability to eat when upset. Her cheeks were hollow and her body bone thin.
“Thanks for offering to visit Carson’s parents.” Her voice trembled yet her green eyes avoided me. “I’m sure you and Jack have a heavy caseload.”
“He and I are good.” I entered traffic. Risa’s nervousness wasn’t a characteristic I’d often detected. “You look great. Like the hat and longer hair.”
“Thanks.” She kept her attention on the street as we crossed the intersection where Trenton had lost his life.
“I miss our times together,” I said. “I mean working cases.”
“Seems like another person, and that woman no longer exists.”
Whoa. Not the way I’d imagined our evening together after all this time. I’d keep this purely business. “I completed a little more background information on Carson. High school records show the kid graduated first in his class, played basketball on the varsity team, a member of a photography club, and active in a Christian club. His stepfather, Ethan Mercury, owns an alarm business with offices in various cities across the US. Highly respected. He coaches basketball on a private league where Carson also played, and his mother, Lynn, volunteers at an elementary school.”
“Their activities could be a front.” She focused on the street ahead.
“We’ve seen fronts before. Other than the kid’s story, are you enjoying teaching?”
“For the most part. The students’ enthusiastic personalities and eagerness for the future give me an optimistic perspective for tomorrow.” She frowned. “That sounded straight from academia land. The simple answer is yes.”
“I’m sure you give 110 percent like always. Are they all working toward careers in some type of writing?”
“Most are English majors. Some students believed my class would be an easy A. But I challenge them.”
“I’m not surprised. Have you learned any information about Trenton?”
“No, why would I?”
“Because you never walk away from anything.”
