Marked for Murder

“I know,” she’d whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

They might’ve been able to get past that, Margo thought, pushing the ham and veggies around in the pan. But he’d grown up in a household with old-fashioned parents with old-fashioned values. The Blackburn code was simple: the husband provided for his family. Any man who couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain wasn’t worthy of the name.

Despite her prayers that God would send an answer, no help came, and they began to argue about everything. By the time he was offered a job with Sharp Investigations in Pittsburgh and started talking about buying a home there, she was so afraid of being uprooted and jobless if their upcoming marriage failed, she balked. Though it broke her heart, she said no again. For the time being, she would stay in Charity. She saw it as logical. He saw it as betrayal.

“It would only be temporary,” she’d said. “Just until you’re sure that P.I. work is what you want to do.”

He’d kept tossing clothes into a suitcase. “We can’t fix what’s wrong between us, living apart. Whatever happened to whither thou goest, Margo?”

“We wouldn’t be apart that often,” she’d insisted. “A lot of P.I. work is done on the phone and Internet these days, and Pittsburgh is only two hours away. You could drive back any night you wanted to, and I could visit you on my days off.”

That’s when he’d turned around, met her eyes and said, “Fine. If you want to stay, stay. I just have one question.”

“What?” she’d replied on a nervous breath.

“Are we still getting married or not?”

Blinking away the sting in her eyes, Margo moved the ham and vegetables to a plate, then slid the bowl of eggs closer, grabbed a wire whisk and put it to work.

If only he’d listened to her, and not gone head-to-head with John.

If only he’d been able to find more police work in the area.

If only her father hadn’t died, leaving behind a grief-stricken wife who couldn’t cope.

If only the God she’d loved and revered since her childhood hadn’t ignored her prayers.

When Cole finally returned, the omelets were done—and her round resin table outside was set. “Everything’s ready,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought we’d eat on the deck.”

Cole glanced through the window, his gaze narrowing. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“I know. But it’s pretty outside, and the mosquitoes haven’t shown up yet.” She couldn’t very well say she felt his presence so acutely that if they ate in her tiny kitchen she wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite. Outside in the evening air, she at least had a chance.

“Okay,” he said amiably. “The deck it is.”

The blue sky was darkening as they settled at the table and pulled in their chairs, while above the trees, a white smudge of a moon had appeared. Cole picked up the lighter she’d left on the table, lit the citronella candle between them, then set the lighter aside.

Eleven months ago, Margo with her deep connection to God, and Cole with his lukewarm faith would’ve joined hands and asked the blessing on their meal. Now, after too many unanswered prayers and too many losses, they simply ate, while Cole kept the conversation going and they avoided anything that approached real eye contact.

She was still picking at her food when Cole pushed his plate back, drained the last of his milk and spoke. If they’d been at a Renaissance fair, blaring trumpets would’ve announced to one and all that something important was coming.

His gaze drifted briefly over her damp, shoulder-length hair, gray sweats and pink T-shirt. “So, how did it go with the victim’s roommate today?” he asked. “Was she helpful?”

The question was so pointed that, after their casual discussions about Charity’s suddenly bustling lumber business and the friends they had in common, Margo did make real eye contact. That was when she saw the intense interest on his face. He wasn’t just making idle chitchat. The Hudson girl’s death was the main thing on his mind right now. That’s what he wanted to talk about. That’s why they were having omelets. His visit had nothing to do with the two of them. It was all about the case.

Slowly, she pushed her plate aside, too. “We talked about this earlier. I can’t discuss it.”

His earnest gaze held hers. “You can discuss it with me. I worked the case two years ago, remember?”

Of course she remembered. How could she forget? Seeing his name on the old reports she’d pulled out today had made dealing with the current case even more difficult. The files had been riddled with Cole’s thoughts. Cole’s handwriting. Cole’s presence.

“Two years ago, I could’ve shared every detail with you,” she said as kindly as she could. “You were on the force then.”

If the reminder hurt, he didn’t show it. “I won’t say a word about anything you tell me. Not to anyone.”

“I know that. Your discretion and integrity are two of your best qualities. You don’t betray confidences.”

“Then why can’t we talk about this?”

“Because it’s against department policy. Please don’t put me on the spot.” And please don’t tell me you’re not surprised that I said no yet again.

There was no missing the frustration in his eyes, but after a moment, he nodded.

They didn’t speak for a while, just sat there listening to the sounds of night approaching. Crickets chirped beneath the deck. A slight breeze lifted the pine boughs and ruffled the maples. Peepers in the creek below sang backup to Carrie Underwood as that Louisville Slugger song drifted through the kitchen screen.

The song was nearly over when Cole eased forward, stirred a half teaspoon of sugar into her tea, then slid it toward her. “I can help you with this case, Margo. Bring me in on a consulting basis.”

As much as she hated to do it, she had to shake her head. “You know what our budget’s like. We’re smaller than small potatoes. There’s no money. Even if there were a few dollars earmarked for consultant fees, I’d have to clear it with the mayor and town council.”

His expression cooled as he asked about the man who’d officially dismissed him. “Is Hank Keller still the mayor?”

Margo shook her head again. “No, Bernice Marshall is.”

“Good, then we have a shot. Tell her I’ll do it for nothing. That should make her decision a lot easier.”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached across the table and laced his fingers through hers. Margo felt the gentle contact all the way to that place in her heart and mind where treasured memories were stored.

His low voice pulled at her emotions. “This case cost both of us in ways I’ll never forget, Margo. I need to be a part of it so I can finally close the door on that chapter of my life and move on.”

He could do that? How fortunate for him. She’d never be able to close that door completely.

“Maybe you could remind Bernice that you’re undermanned. With Wilcox gone, besides yourself you only have two full-time guys and two part-timers, one of whom is retirement age. We both know that some of the day-to-day work—important work—will be back-burnered while they’re chasing down leads.” His voice dropped a little more. “I can help, Margo.”

He was right. Everything he’d said made perfect sense. He had more experience than any other officer on the force, her included, and his instincts were spot-on. If he hadn’t lost his temper with John and been dismissed, he’d be leading this investigation. She’d be taking her orders from him.

“Will you do it?”

She nodded reluctantly. Including him was a perfect solution to a lot of their problems. But there was no way the butterflies beating the walls of her stomach would agree. If this was approved, and she had no reason to think it wouldn’t, they’d be working together again. Side by side. Day and night.

Cole’s smile of appreciation faltered as he seemed to sense her doubts. “It’ll be okay,” he vowed. “We’re both professionals. What we had is over. There’s no reason why it has to get in the way of the work.” He squeezed her hand, then withdrew his. “We got through dinner without a nuclear meltdown, didn’t we?”

Yes, they had—on the surface, anyway. But they’d both steered clear of anything that could become inflammatory. That could change if emotions ran high and they started in on each other again. The answer came from a tiny voice in the back of her mind. Then you’ll have to see that that doesn’t happen, won’t you?

“Okay,” she said after drawing a deep breath. “I’ll call the mayor first thing in the morning, and ask her to contact the council members. Considering the gravity of the situation, I doubt they’ll have to meet formally. A few phone calls should do it.”

Determination lined his face. “Good. I’d like to look at the Hudson file as soon as I can. The old files, too.” He checked his wristwatch. “Thirty minutes. My time’s up.” Rising, he stacked their plates and flatware on the tray she’d left on the seat beside him, and put their condiments and napkins back in the woven-straw basket.

“Leave them. You’ve done enough tonight.” Had he ever.