Page 90 of In Her Eyes

“I know you do. Wish I could find the last person, so it could be over, but I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to go back and look at the rest of the evidence.”

“It’s only been five days since you found the body. It should settle down soon. Bet you can go back in by next week.”

“I hope so. I think this whole thing is getting to Jake. He’s divided between wanting to keep me away and wanting me to find out more.”

“Well, enjoy the lull and his weekend off before the ghosts come back with more demands.”

“I’ll sure try. Jake’s coming now. Call me if anything happens.”

I disconnect the call and turn off the engine and step out of my car. Jake moves his sunglasses to the top of his head and pulls me into a hug before I can say hello. He wraps himself around me and presses me to the side of the car. I return his embrace, the feel of his body against me like coming home.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, then his mouth is on mine. I melt into him. My body molds to his as I bend to his will. There’s a touch of desperation to his kiss—fear blended with want. I miss our morning jogs together but even then we had little chance to be like this. Open with each other because Jake still wants us to keep a low profile while in public. Not that I think it’s working that well, especially after yesterday at the beach. I know he’s afraid that with finding a second body, the killer will pay closer attention to him. And he doesn’t want that attention coming my way. Or Lynn’s.

He pulls back and rests his forehead on mine. Our breaths mingle. “I’ve missed you. Missed kissing you.”

His confession surprises me, but I know what he means. The longing for something more, something we can’t have. “I’m here now. We have an entire weekend, so let’s make the most of it.”

He kisses me one more time, steps back, and covers his eyes with his sunglasses. I grab my purse from the car and lock it. He takes my hand, and we walk into the restaurant.

We’re taken to a table in a corner behind a booth. Potted plants atop the booth walls add another layer of privacy. We sit across from each other, Jake’s back to the sitting area. People have started to recognize him since the press interview on TV. The waiter takes our drink orders, a mango lemonade for me and a beer for Jake. We talk about anything and everything, except the cases.

The hostess brings an older couple to the table across from us. The lady sits, but the man remains standing. “Can we have a booth?”

Jake stiffens when he hears the voice.

I make eye contact with the lady, and her gaze goes to Jake’s back. Her eyes widen. “Jake? Is that you?”

His hands fist and then relax. He turns slowly, and the woman’s face breaks into a smile filled with love. The man standing next to her scowls. His face shows only discontent.

Jake stands and walks to the lady, bends down, and kisses her cheek. “Hi, Mom.’’

Mom? These are his parents? I look at the man and recognize the sneer from my visions from when Jake gave me the rock. He’s a hateful sort and reminds me of a rattlesnake.

His icy gaze lands on Jake. “Don’t you have a murder to solve?”

I watch a transformation, like invisible armor, slide over Jake. He goes from an open and caring man into something else—someone else. The hostess smiles, unaware of the power dynamics at play. “Do you want to sit together?”

His mother’s eyes light up at the prospect. His father’s sneer grows. Jake ignores him and smiles at his mom. “Sure. We haven’t ordered yet, and the table is big enough.”

He pulls a chair for his mother, and she sits next to me and across from his father. Jake takes his spot across from me again. His pinky finger touches the sunglasses he removed when we were seated alone. I feel his need to put them back on to protect himself from his father.

I recognize some of his mother in him. Same hair color and eye shape. But he looks nothing like his father, yet there’s something familiar about the older man. I try to figure out what without staring at him. An awkward silence falls, but we are saved by the waiter returning with our drinks. Jake’s father takes Jake’s beer and drains half of the glass in one gulp, and that’s when it hits me. He’s the drunk man from that night Jake cooked for me. He’s the reason Jake had to leave.

“Ava?” Jake taps my hand across the table. “Your order?”

“What?”

The waiter stands there, notepad in hand. “Sorry, I zoned out. I’ll have the vegetarian platter, thank you.”

The waiter takes the rest of the orders and leaves. Jake turns to his mother. “Mom, this is my friend Ava. Ava, this is my mother, Caroline.” There’s genuine affection in his voice. “And my father, Bill.” The sentiment doesn’t extend to his father.

Caroline smiles, and I immediately like her. She’s warm and sweet.

“It’s so nice to meet one of Jake’s friends. He works too much. I always tell him life is short, he should have more fun, but with him, it’s work, work, work.”

The father grunts. “Stop coddling him. He’s not a boy anymore.”

The light goes out of his mother’s eyes, and her face reddens. I want to punch his jerk of a father. But instead, I ignore him and smile at his mother. “I agree. He works nonstop. Today is his first day off in weeks and it’s nice to get him out of his office.”

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