Nowhere to Hide (10 page)

“
Not yet. But some looking around is reasonable—a possible break-in and burglary. I asked the woman if I could look around. I doubt she’ll remember giving me permission, but I’m willing to push it a little. And we do have a worried daughter who thinks her father is missing. We should try to find Doris’ next of kin, or some emergency contact. You see anything that looks like an address book?” Schaeffer started leafing through the folders on the desk.

Graham went to the bookcase and ran his gloved hand along the spines of the volumes on the shelves. “Wow, this takes me back. There must be nearly a dozen bird field guides here.” He pulled one from the shelf and leafed through it. “My uncle is a birder. Always stopping to identify them. I never got hooked, but Walters must be into birding.”

“
Yeah,” Schaeffer said. “Look at the pictures.”

Graham followed Schaeffer’s gaze to a series of framed prints lined up on the wall above the desk. “Audubons, I think. When I was a kid, I went on one of the big Christmas Bird Counts with my uncle. Once was enough. I wonder what this guy’s life list looks like.” He flipped to the back of the book. Nothing. Looking at the prints on the wall, he replaced the “National Geographic Field Guide” and grabbed the Audubon Society volume. “This is more like it.”

“
What are you talking about?”

“
Birders take things extremely seriously. They see a bird, they’ve got to know exactly what it is, and then they check it off their life list. All the field guides have one. But I can see Walters not bothering to cross-reference all his books. He’d record everything in one. So we have a man who checks out birds all over the country. The world, maybe. Why didn’t he take this book with him?”

“
Who knows? Maybe he writes them down, fills them in when he gets home. Maybe he has a travel copy. Doesn’t want to mess up his good one. Any number of explanations.”

“
Yeah, but aren’t we supposed to look at everything and see how it fits later?”

“
So we have another sliver of evidence that maybe the guy’s not on a business trip. I can hear me trying to explain to a judge I want permission to dig into this guy’s history because we didn’t find anything missing.”

Graham’s pulse picked up a little at a notation. “What’s this? Here, in the margins of his life list. A bunch of numbers.” He showed the book to Schaeffer.

Schaeffer glanced at the book and handed it back. “You’re the bird watching expert. What do you think? Bird codes?”

“
Birders spout Latin names. They don’t number the birds. I have no clue. Bank account numbers, maybe? Safety deposit boxes? Lock combinations?”

“
Copy them down and put the book back.” Schaeffer straightened the files he’d been looking through. “Look, Harrigan. I have to be honest. You were right about this case getting moldy on someone’s desk and I thought it would be harmless to let you poke around a bit. Get your feet wet, let me see how you operate.”

“
You threw me a bone. I knew that, but I still appreciated the chance.” Graham braced himself for a trip back to Patrol.

“
I’m starting to think there might be a few scraps of meat on this bone.”

Colleen stood at her kitchen counter and tapped her foot as the crime lab technician rolled her fingerprints. The tech, a chunky brunette who smelled like Doublemint, handed her a cleanser-soaked paper towel.

“
We’re done here. Sorry it took so long, but we’re backlogged, and we did the main house first.”

Colleen had been surprised they’d bothered at all, given that nothing was missing. Had the elusive Jeffrey Walters kicked it higher on the list?

 
The tech snapped her gum and secured her kit. “All yours. Someone will call you if we need anything else.”

As Colleen wiped the ink from her fingers, she surveyed the damage. Much as she hated to admit it, Harrigan had been right. She felt violated and unclean. She hurried to turn the deadbolt, made sure all the windows were closed, and tossed the paper towel in the kitchen trash can.

Even if the odds said it was only Doris, there was still the possibility a stranger had been in her home. First thing in the morning, she’d call a locksmith. She pulled a spray bottle of cleanser from under the kitchen sink, yanked the roll of paper towels from its holder and started attacking the black fingerprint powder mess. Not good enough. She stormed into the bedroom, ripped the linens from the bed and threw them into the washing machine. Her skin crawled under her clothes and she stripped bare and tossed them on top of the sheets. She began to shiver uncontrollably and hurried to the bedroom.

Cursing under her breath, she climbed into her most comfortable sweatpants and thick wool socks. She kicked the pile of Nordstrom bags into the closet, swore again and went to her drawer for an old sports bra and tank. The chills wouldn’t stop and she layered on her gray sweatshirt, the one with the holes in the elbows and the frayed ribbing around the neck. The one that hugged and comforted.

She went to the kitchen, scrubbed out the sink and was filling a bucket to mop the floors when she heard a knock at the door.

The hospital was keeping Doris overnight for observation. Tracy? She turned off the water, wiped her hands and went to the door. Not Tracy. Harrigan. What did he want?

“
Go away,” she shouted through the closed door. “I’m busy. I don’t need you here.”

“
Open the door and tell me that to my face and I will.” His voice was calm and soothing, soothing enough that things were starting to wobble inside her again.

She unlocked the door and opened it far enough to poke her head out. “Go away. I’m in the middle of cleaning. I don’t—” She realized it was the first time she’d seen him out of uniform. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue-and-cream striped jersey, he looked so—so comforting. She met his eyes and fought the urge to bury her face in his chest. “Come in.” She stepped aside and went to her bucket. “But I am cleaning.”

“
I can see that. Anything I can do?”

“
You got any leads? Anyone talk to Doris?”

“
She was still confused, but she says it wasn’t her. They’re running prints, but it’ll take a while.”

“
In that case, stay out of my way.”

Harrigan reached for the bucket. “Let me help.”

His hand met hers. She jerked away, sloshing water onto his shoes. “I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. If you’re going to stay here, go sit on the couch.”

His gaze lingered on hers, and she tensed. He backed away, then went and flopped onto the couch. “Okay if I watch TV?”

“
Be my guest.” She pulled the mop out of the bucket, squeezed out the excess water and started manhandling it across the kitchen floor. When she finished the kitchen, she moved into the bathroom and cleaned that floor too. And the counters and the mirrors. She dumped the pine-scented water into the toilet and scrubbed the bowl. Her socks were soaked, and she went to the bedroom for dry ones and laced on her sneakers. She took the mop and bucket to the closet in the kitchen. Harrigan seemed engrossed in flipping through the channels.

“
Tell me something, Harrigan,” she said. “If you lost the remote, would you be able to watch television?”

He grinned at her. “What would be the point?”

Her tension hadn’t eased despite the cleaning frenzy and she paced through the living room and kitchen, dusting, wiping and rearranging anything and everything. Harrigan turned off the television, came over and took her by the shoulders. She flinched, but held his gaze.

“
What do you need?” he asked.

“
Frankly, I think I need to pound the crap out of someone. You interested?”

*****

Five minutes later, they were in Graham’s Jeep. He glanced at Colleen often on the drive, but she kept her gaze fixed out the window. He wouldn’t press. Besides, he had no clue how to approach her. He leaned toward the glamorous side of beauty, more like Tracy, not Colleen’s casual prettiness. Under normal circumstances, he’d have made his moves, dropped his lines, and they’d be taking care of each other’s physical needs. A few more encounters, then they’d be saying goodbye and moving on. He shifted in his seat as thoughts of Colleen triggered those physical needs. Different somehow with her.

He pulled into the shopping center and parked under a light. “We’re here.” He unsnapped his seatbelt. Colleen’s head jerked. He wondered if she’d dozed off, if he’d done the right thing.

“
Why are we at Kmart? Tracy totally shopped me out this afternoon.”

“
This way. Come on.” He circled the car and opened her door. She raised her eyebrows and swung her legs out of the car. Damn, he wished she’d smile. Once. Under the light, he saw the flash of recognition as she surveyed the buildings around the lot. And a tiny upturn of one corner of her mouth. That would do for now.

The two of them walked into the gym. Manny, his long dark hair secured in a leather wrap, was on duty. He smiled as they approached the counter. “Hey, Cracker Man! Long time no see! What brings you to our place instead of your fancy cop gyms?” He raised his hand in greeting.

Graham slapped Manny’s palm. “I still get over here and work with the kids and you know it.”

“
Yeah, but it’s not the same.” He gave Graham a questioning look.

“
Colleen McDonald, Manny Rodriguez. Manny and I go way back. We’re going to spar a little,” Graham said. “That all right?”

“
You know you can bring a guest in here any time, man. Nothing going on in Gym B right now, so have at it.”

Graham put his hand to the small of Colleen’s back to guide her. She seemed to accept his touch, though for all he knew, she didn’t even feel it.

“
Cracker Man?” Understanding flashed across her face. “Graham Crackers.” Her snorting laughter was like music.

“
I started volunteering here almost six years ago. Couple of kids latched on to the name and it stuck.” He twirled her around. “But it doesn’t leave this building.”

“
Graham Cracker Man.” She shook her head and giggled all the way down the hall.

In the gym, Graham pulled some mats from the stack on the wall and spread them in the center of the floor. He pulled his jersey over his head and readjusted his t-shirt. His pulse quickened as Colleen turned away and started to remove her sweatshirt. Underneath, she wore a navy blue tank top. He took in her firm upper arms and shoulders and wondered what she hid under her baggy sweats. Something very fine, he surmised.

Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he knelt to remove his sneakers and socks, and Colleen did the same. He set his Glock on top of his sweatshirt. “You ready?” he asked after several minutes of stretching. The way she’d warmed up told him she was no stranger to exercise. That she hadn’t asked any questions made him wonder if she knew what he planned to do.

“
Say when.” She stood on the gym floor, arms hanging loosely at her sides.

Stepping to the center of the mats, Graham motioned to her. “Come on. You said you needed to hit someone.”

She approached him, arms in a guard position and they circled each other. He took in the smooth way she moved, the confidence in her eyes. She flashed him a huge grin and the next thing he knew, she’d swiveled around, thrust a hip into his gut and he was flat on his back, staring up at her.

“
Not fair.” He jumped to his feet. “You cheated.”

“
No way. I took you down fair and square.”

“
You smiled. I got distracted.” He brushed his hands against his jeans. “Won’t happen again. Two out of three?”

They circled again. “How did you know I could spar?”

“
I didn’t. But I figured I’d let you pound on me. Or we can go over to the bags you can punch away if you don’t want to keep sparring “

“
Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

He grinned. “Try it.” He crooked his fingers in invitation. Nobody got by him twice.

Colleen came at him with a right jab, but this time, he was ready. He blocked it, grabbed her wrist and stepped in with his left foot. His right forearm to her chest, his right leg sweeping behind to kick hers out from under. This time she was on the mat, with him kneeling beside her.

“
You got lucky,” she said, accepting his hand as he helped her to her feet. “I was letting you get complacent.”

He got the next fall, but it took a lot longer. There was something comfortably familiar about the way she moved, not unlike sparring with his colleagues. She blocked most of his moves and got in a few clean hits of her own. They were both breathing harder now and his shirt stuck to his back. “That’s two out of three,” he panted. “Want to call it a night?”

“
Not on your life. I’m still warming up.”

Fierce determination shone in her eyes, and he knew she was no longer thinking about anything except getting him to the floor. For a split second he thought about letting her get past him, but he knew faking a loss would be the end of anything remotely resembling a friendship. He took what she threw at him and gave her as much. In a sudden spurt, she managed to get through his guard. She stepped in close, grabbed his left sleeve and wrapped her right arm around his waist. She swiveled around, pulled him onto her back. A second later he was rolling over her hip and flat on his back again. She had one hand at his throat and was poised above him, her knee precariously close to doing serious damage. He didn’t dare move. Her green eyes sparkled, her face glistened with sweat, and he reveled in her satisfied smile.

“
This one’s mine, Harrigan,” she said, one hand on either side of his chest, straddling him.

“
No question about it.” She edged forward and he drew in a sharp breath. “But, given where you’ve got your knee, I think you should call me Graham.”