Final Mend (18 page)

The news aired nothing on television that night or the next morning. Winona searched the Internet, searched Miranda Blakely's name for blogs, but found nothing. All the woman had done was hinder Winona's ability to finish her questioning, and Winona had allowed her to do so. That realization made her sick.

Winona warned Jake not to get his hopes up by visiting the police station. Her meeting yesterday left her weary and she had low expectations of what would happen today. She feared Jake's reaction and advised him not to speak or react or demand, but he brushed her off.

Detective Rogers wasn't available, and she could tell by the receptionist's face she was thinking,
This again
. Her interest did perk up, however, when she noticed Jake.

“Mr. Inman, how are you, sir?” she asked, her face turning pink as she fumbled with her phone. “I'll see if the lieutenant can speak with you.”

They waited five minutes before a tall, athletic man with a hardened smile greeted them and called himself Lieutenant Litton. He shook Jake's hand, then settled his palm on Winona's back and ushered them to what appeared to be an interview room. Dim lighting, no windows, and a large table with stiff chairs left her with the feeling this meeting wouldn't go any better than yesterday's.

Litton nodded at the chairs and they sat. She caught Jake's scowl and thin mouth line as the lieutenant finally removed his hand from Winona's back, but Jake said nothing.

Jake had told Winona that he'd met the lieutenant so she knew this wasn't their first time to speak. She expected attitude but was pleasantly surprised when Litton leaned forward, clasping his large hands together and resting his elbows on the table. His eyes softened.

“Mr. Inman, how are you?” Litton asked. “I'm glad we're meeting on better terms.”

“How is it better? My cousin's murder is still unsolved.”

“Yes, but his daughter is well and safe.”

Jake nodded, but Winona knew his opinion and was shocked he hadn't voiced it.
Amy isn't safe. Not with Lillian.

They spent an hour chatting about the town, the neighbors, and the case before Litton offered them a soda. Another hour trading war stories of investigations and childhood drama. He had three kids of his own, and Jake lightened up and laughed with him over the stories of his children. Litton assured them they were doing everything possible and had a few leads, but felt it was best if he didn't speak of those leads.

“All it takes is one screw-up to let our suspect know we're on to him.”

“Can you tell us anything about Amy's interview? What she said when she was questioned?” Winona asked.

The lieutenant's brows cocked and he rubbed his chin. “Honestly, she didn't have a lot to say. She gave us a description and we're working on a police sketch, but she acted as if it was a big game. She colored a lot. Played. Even went swimming, she says. She was interviewed by a specialist, and there was nothing in that interview to give us any leads.”

Winona heard Jake's harsh intake of breath, but he didn't speak. She glanced at him to see him slouched in his seat, glaring at the lieutenant.

“What about the police sketch?” Winona asked.

“Well, every time we think we have one and we call Lillian and Amy in, Amy says that doesn't look like the guy. So we have to start over. She's young and easily confused. But why don't you give me your mailing address? I'll see what I can release to you.” Litton rooted for a business card and handed one over.

Winona frowned, but wrote her post office box on the back of his business card and slid it back to him.

Jake told them of their suspicions of the men following them at the mall and gave Litton descriptions. He promised to speak to Lillian again.

“What about the break-ins?” Winona asked. “Detective Rogers never mentioned a word about them.” She decided it was best not to accuse the detective of siccing the media on her or complain of his treatment.

Again, Litton assured them the police were doing everything, blah blah blah. Winona knew the chitchat was just as important to make a connection and network, but she was growing antsy. She knew Jack must be, too. She kept telling herself that these networks might give her information later, but now nothing was working out for them.

Litton gave them each a business card and assured Winona he'd keep her updated on anything that might happen. “You'll be one of the first I call when we make an arrest.”

He acted as if their conversation was over, but neither Jake nor Winona moved. Seconds later, Detective Rogers waltzed in and dropped into a seat across from Jake, nodding a hostile hello and sneering the whole time. Jake stiffened. Winona was surprised and relieved he remained silent.

“Detective,” Litton said, his voice dripping with censure.

“Lieutenant,” Rogers muttered and straightened.

She wondered at the animosity between them and hoped it wouldn't impede the investigation.

They chatted a bit more, the lieutenant told Rogers about the men following Jake and Winona yesterday, and Rogers only said he'd look into it, never writing anything down. Winona squinted at him, anxiety pooling in her stomach. Now she knew why Jake was so insistent she take this case. She understood his urgency. If he'd received this type of treatment, and the detective didn't even take notes, she'd do the same as Jake.

The detective stood to leave but stopped in front of Jake. “You know, solving Brandon's murder isn't going to bring him back.”

Jake disentangled himself from the chair and sat upright, his hands flat on the table. His jaw hardened. “Is this how you regard all your investigations? No sense in solving them, since it won't bring back the victims?”

“That's not what I meant. I meant
you
solving it. You need to let the police handle it. The time we're wasting with you could be more time spent on this case.”

“Rogers,” Litton warned. It was like every time the lieutenant spoke the detective's name, it was a warning. He must have practice belting out warnings to the detective every five minutes. Winona's stomach churned.

The detective nodded and left. Litton let out a long sigh.

“Look, Detective Rogers is a great investigator. His attitude leaves something to be desired, yes, but I wouldn't trust this investigation with anyone else. I also trust his instincts.”

“You trust his instincts?” Winona asked.

“Yes. If something is amiss, he'll sniff it out until he finds it. If you have any further questions or concerns, please contact me directly.”

• • •

After Jake talked to Amy on the phone, they decided to drive back to Tanyon that day.

Jake clenched his hands over the steering wheel as they left town and got on the freeway. Winona knew he wanted to turn back. She knew it killed him to leave Amy. She also knew he had to, at least for now.

After driving three hours in silence, the only background noise being the bumps on the highway and grit of rock and roll on the radio, Jake glanced at Winona and propped his hand on her leg. She looked at him and smiled.

“I'm getting a little hungry if you are,” he said. “We have another five hours or so, and I could stand to stretch my legs and grab a bite to eat.”

“Absolutely.”

He pulled into a McDonald's. They got out, stretched their legs, ordered burgers, and made a pit-stop to the bathroom. Winona sipped on a Diet Coke while Jake drummed his fingers on the table.

“Are you okay?” Winona asked.

“Yes. You?”

“Great.” She stared at the condensation on her cup, unsure how to offer him comfort.

“I'm a little stressed,” Jake finally admitted. “Worried about Amy, obviously. I wish Lillian would have let her come back with us. I'm worried what might happen in the next three weeks and then I feel silly because you're right when you say Lillian is her mother. And she's been staying with Lillian since the break-up a few months ago. Of course, Brandon had her practically every weekend but still. I just …” He shrugged. “I worry. I appreciate everything Garret did to convince Lillian to let Amy spend a couple of weeks with me. And you.” He stopped drumming his fingers. “I appreciate you coming, staying with me, visiting with Amy yesterday. Going to the police and talking to them.”

His smile tightened her stomach. She offered one in return.

“The lieutenant seems like a straight-up guy, but this Rogers guy, he worries me,” Winona confessed.

“Yeah? Me, too.”

“I'll stay on them. I'll bypass the detective and go straight to the lieutenant.”

“Yeah, he sure was into you. Maybe you'll get a date out of it.”

“Excuse me?”

He winked but she wasn't certain he was teasing.

Their order came out, and they didn't finish their conversation. Winona didn't press him to say what was on his mind. Jake dumped salt and pepper and ketchup on his fries, then tore at his food. Winona tried to eat, tried not to dwell on the pain she knew he was feeling about having to leave Amy. The fact she had no idea what to do next. They ate in silence.

They were almost finished eating when a boy approached. Tall, lanky, with wild blond hair. “Excuse me,” he said to Jake as he held out a sports magazine. “Could I get your autograph?”

Winona recognized the cover of Jake on his bike. The article had come out a few months ago, and Jake had been candid about his past addiction in hopes he could help the younger generation pursue athleticism instead of drugs and alcohol.

“Absolutely.” Jake wiped his hands on his napkin. The boy, prepared, handed him a pen. “What's your name?”

“Keith Landers.”

“That's a good, strong name. What do you enjoy doing?”

“I love my bike. And I love to swim. I don't much care to run. I'm also into strength training. My dad says I'm a beanpole, so I'm trying to build muscle.”

“Look like you're doing a good job, man,” he said. Winona knew he liked to talk to people, kids especially, in hopes he'd inspire them. If he asked the right questions, he'd figure out what one thing to write with his autograph that might stay with them forever.

“What about school? What's your favorite subject?”

“I like science and chemistry.”

“What grade will you be in?”

“I'll be a junior.”

“Awesome. You thinking about college?”

Keith shrugged. “I don't know, man.”

“Well, hey, start looking into grants you might qualify for. Even scholarships.”

Jake scribbled a few words and handed it to Keith. Admiration filled Winona as she watched him.

“Thanks. Can I get a picture?”

“Sure.” He glanced at Winona. “Do you mind?” He scooted over to give the boy room to sit beside him. Keith turned his phone on his camera and handed it to Winona. Jake propped his hand on Keith's shoulder and smiled for the camera.

Winona shot the picture and glanced at the photo before handing it over. “Awesome.”

Keith took the phone and studied the picture. “Thanks.” He nodded at Winona and smiled sheepishly. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Oh.” Keith stopped and turned. “Sorry about your cousin.”

Jake shielded his grief with a smile and a nod. As Keith walked away, he dunked a fry in ketchup as Winona watched him. She felt she was getting good at reading him, but she didn't want to pry.

“That's probably cold now,” she said.

Jake shrugged. “Who cares?”

“Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“Wow. I mean, you're so good with kids. And you don't care if your meal got cold.”

“No. Why should I?”

“I think it's cool. I mean, you're really awesome.”

“If I'm an asshole to that kid, he'll remember, probably for the rest of his life, and tell his friends. That's not the reputation that inspires other people to be better. And if I can only inspire one person in this world, then I feel I did a good job.”

Jake, finished with his food, crumpled his package, then leaned back in his seat and sucked on his chocolate shake. He nodded towards Winona's food. “Your food is cold now, too.”

She folded her unfinished burger in the package, crumbled it, and tossed it on the table. “I'm done. Besides, I couldn't help watching your interaction with him. Does that happen every time you go out?”

“Rarely. I'm not that well known, only to people who follow certain sports. I've been on TV, news, commercials, and I've participated in many autographing events. But no, it doesn't happen on a day-to-day basis.”

Jake looked happier than she'd seen him in a while; more relaxed. His eyes twinkled as he grinned and cocked his head. She blinked at him.

“But you love it when it does,” she said.

“Absolutely.” He grabbed her hands from across the table and kissed her knuckles.

“It's sexy.”

Jake arched his brow. “Oh?”

“You're sexy.”

“I smell like onions now.”

Winona wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, you do.”

“And your hands taste like onions.”

“That's not sexy at all.”

Jake shrugged. “Kind of. Have you ever had sex in a bathroom?”

“Not a McDonald's bathroom.”

“There's a first time for everything.”

“Now, that won't inspire young children. Aren't you supposed to be a good role model?”

“I don't know. It might inspire them.”

Winona laughed, the smile on Jake's face easing the worry in her chest. “Hardly.” She stood. “Come on. Let's go wash these onions off our hands and get back on the road.”

Jake remained seated. “So I guess that means no sex in the bathroom?”

A week later, Jake ran through the mountains, his calves burning as he climbed. Once he made it up the slope, he slowed and walked. Trees shrouded him on all sides, lightening the heavy sun and his heavy heart.