Marked for Murder

“No, not really. I’m just—” Margo released a breath, frustrated. “The truth is, I have no idea how I feel, and right now I don’t have time to sort it out.”

Jenna snagged Margo’s hand and led her to a corner table where white carafes and pots of strawberry and peach preserves were clustered. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

Margo shook her head. “You don’t know how badly I want to, but I have to go.”

“Not until seven, which means you can stay for at least a half hour. Three of my guests are gone, and the two women on the porch have already eaten. If they want croissants or more coffee, there’s a cordial table out there.”

“I really can’t,” Margo returned. “It would take me a week to explain, and unfortunately… Well, you know what’s going on.”

Jenna spoke softly. “The Hudson girl. How tragic.”

“Yes. Can we get together in a day or two? Hopefully, I’ll have some time by then.”

“Of course,” Jenna replied, her concern deepening. “Just give me a call. Or show up. I’m always here.”

Yes, she was—day in, night out. “We need to talk about that, too, sometime. You should get out more.”

“I do. I go to the grocery store, I go to church and occasionally I even have lunch with my good friend Margo or take in a movie.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Margo returned gently.

Jenna smiled. “I know. But it’s all I can handle right now.”

They were a pair, Margo thought as she left that manila envelope in Cole’s room, then drove off. If things didn’t change, neither of them would ever again have a life that included the male of the species.

Seven hours later, she’d finished an enlightening phone conversation with an officer from a neighboring county, and was preparing to leave when Cole strode into the office. He was all broad shoulders and narrow hips in faded jeans and a navy polo shirt. Margo drew a stabilizing breath.

“Can you get away for a few minutes?” he asked.

“Actually, I’m on my way out the door right now,” she replied. Part-timer Charlie Banks, who was now racking up full-time hours, was talking on the phone trying to track down a man Leanne Hudson had been seeing, but so far, no luck. Chase Merritt—whom Hudson’s roommate, Ellie Cortino, had identified—seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. They’d questioned the volleyball team yesterday, and now Brett was at the park, interviewing two teenage employees who’d been out of town when the murder occurred. And dear Sarah was handling yet another call from the media. The office was covered.

Margo came around her desk. “You found my gift?” Everyone knew about Cole’s involvement now. And like always, supportive Sarah, Charlie and Brett, who’d also worked with him, were all for it.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good. Just let me grab my sunglasses and let the troops know where I’ll be for the next few hours. Then I’ll see you outside.”

Cole narrowed his gaze. “Where will you be?”

She started to say she’d tell him later when the door opened again and an angry young man blew inside.

FOUR

Cole stepped to the side as Adam Wilcox stormed past Sarah’s desk, came through the spindled gate and made a beeline for Margo’s desk. He’d changed since he’d gone to college, filled out. The thin boy with acne and glasses was gone, replaced by a good-looking kid in a red T-shirt and khakis. His light brown hair was streaked with blond now, and contact lenses made his eyes appear bluer than usual. Cole had considered seeing Adam sometime today to offer his condolences, but he wasn’t sure his sympathies would be welcomed.

The kid’s churning gaze bounced off Cole as he approached Margo, but he didn’t smile and he didn’t acknowledge Cole’s nod.

“Thanks a lot, Margo,” he said, locking his eyes on hers. “Thanks a whole lot.”

Cole watched Margo’s expression move from surprise to confusion. “Adam,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

His anger was nearly palpable, but so was his grief. His voice rose. “What’s wrong? I just saw the interview you gave that Johnstown reporter. I was talking to an insurance guy on the phone, and all of a sudden, there you were on TV practically saying my dad bungled the first Gold Star murders. How could you do that to him? How could you do it to me?”

It was Cole’s turn to be confused. Margo had been nothing but diplomatic and respectful. He saw Sarah turn in her chair, saw portly Charlie Banks hang up the phone and stand sentinel, ready to help if things got sticky. Still, the shaggy gray brows above his blue eyes had dipped low in sympathy.

“Adam,” Margo said, “I would never insult or disrespect your father. You must have misunderstood.”

“I didn’t misunderstand anything. You should’ve told that woman flat out that my dad didn’t need to call in the state police. He knew who killed those girls. He just couldn’t put him away. You made him look clueless.”

Cole watched Margo move closer, her tone gentle and sincere. “Adam, your dad was a great cop. I would never say or do anything to denigrate his memory. If it sounded that way, I’m deeply sorry.” She signaled Sarah. “Let me get you some coffee or a soft drink, then we can go back to the interrogation room, sit down and talk this through. Okay?”

He shook his head no. Then tears welled in his eyes and he blinked and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a lousy week.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“I’m alone now.”

Sarah’s pudgy face lined in sympathy, then following Charlie’s lead, she went back to work. Cole walked to Charlie’s desk, a desk he’d used frequently, giving Adam and Margo some space to talk quietly.

Banks was a heavyset, grandfatherly man with rimless bifocals, a gray walrus mustache and a heart of gold, but the trademark gruffness in his voice always made him sound as if he was half ticked off. He stood to shake Cole’s hand.

“Hey, Charlie,” Cole said. “You’re looking well.”

Charlie gripped his hand hard and long. “You too, Cole. Good to see you. Sarah said you came in yesterday.”

“Yeah. I heard one of the initial reports and got interested.”

“I’m not surprised. You doin’ okay in Pittsburgh?”

“Fair to middling, as they say. How’s your family?”

“Good. Doris and I got another grandbaby on the way. Real quick now—just a matter of days. Sad thing is, it’s our Ginny’s first, and her husband’s over there in Afghanistan.” He nodded a few times. “But we’re here for her. We’ll help her get this baby born.”

“You’re good parents,” Cole said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. We try.” Charlie’s gaze shifted to the conversation going on near Margo’s desk. “That’s a bad situation over there,” he said quietly. “Young kid, both parents gone, no sisters or brothers. John’s sister and her husband want the boy to move in with them, but Adam’s of age now, and he wants to stay at the house.”

“It’s his home,” Cole said, a shrug in his voice. “I don’t know about you, but I’d feel the same way. His life’s already been turned upside down.” He watched Margo dump the pencils and pens out of that Hail to the Chief mug and hand it to Adam. Watched the kid hug her for a long time. Then, surprising Cole at the brevity of their conversation, Margo walked him through the gate and out the door.

When she came back inside a minute later, she ex haled, spoke to Sarah, then crossed to Cole where he stood with Charlie. “I’ll see you outside. I need to talk to Charlie before I leave.”

Presently, with Charlie and Sarah apprised of her plans, Margo descended the steps, and crossed the sidewalk to Cole where he waited beside his parked truck. High above them, the midday sun shone down, baking the concrete beneath their feet. The August air was stone still, heavy with humidity.

Cole pushed away from the side of his truck. “Are you all right? Your talk with Adam got a little intense.”

“I’m fine. I just wish he was.” She brushed a few wispy strands back from her face. “I just hope he’ll go back to school. He said there’s a special girl there, and friends. He needs them now.”

“He’s decided against it for certain?”