Tender Is The Night (15 page)

"It is depressing." She walked across the room and paused in front of the fireplace. On the mantel were several framed photographs, one a family shot of the Parkers, obviously taken in happier times. Like Val, Samantha had dark brown hair and eyes, but she was more serious in expression than Val. She had a penetrating gaze that was sharp and intelligent. Her face matched that of her dad while her mom seemed to look more like Val, with rounder, softer features. "Good-looking family," she commented as Devin joined her.

"I used to tease Sam about that picture. I told her she looked suspicious, as if she thought the cameraman was there for some other reason than to take a family photograph."

She smiled, happy to hear more nostalgic fondness than pain in Devin's voice. "She does have a wary look about her."

"She was always wary. She was always looking for a hidden agenda, a dark secret. She would try to take people at face value, but she just couldn't do it."

"Suspicion can make a good analyst, but it can also weigh you down."

"It weighed her down," Devin agreed. "I used to tell her to take some time off, go on vacation, not take her work so seriously, but she never listened. When she was on a case, she was a bulldog. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. I think she had a little obsessive-compulsive in her. But that determination usually got her to the truth. I remember one of the training exercises at the academy. We were supposed to figure out where two kidnappers had hidden three hostages they'd taken during a bank robbery. There were six of us on the team, and five of us went in one direction and Sam went in the other. She was convinced there was a connection between one of the hostages and one of the kidnappers."

"I'm betting she was right."

"Yes, she was. She was always looking for the angle."

"You do that, too, Devin."

"Maybe I learned something from her."

"Maybe she learned something from you. I have a feeling your partnership wasn't one-sided. I've only been working with you a few days, and I already know that you bring a lot to the table."

"I'm surprised you'd say that. I haven't accomplished much the last year and a half."

"You've done a lot, but you're following someone who goes underground for periods of time. You've had to wait, but you've kept the pressure on, and you're still on the case. If you weren't, no one would know that Monday's fire was important and connected to those in the past."

"Well, we still have to catch the person. We're a long way from doing that."

"Maybe not. Maybe we're closer than we think."

He smiled. "And here I thought this house would suck the life out of you."

"It is hard to be here, but in some ways it makes me more determined. It reminds me that there's a real person whose life was lost."

He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. "Thanks, Kate."

"You're welcome," she said, wishing his hug hadn't ended so fast. As she turned her gaze back on the pictures, she saw one of the family with Devin at a baseball game. "Hey, you made the mantel."

"I told them to take that down, but since Sam is in it, it stays."

"And why shouldn't it? Your friendship with Sam was important to not just the both of you but also the family." She moved on to the next picture of a group of friends: Sam and Val with some other young men and women. "Did Sam have a boyfriend?" she asked curiously.

"She had some off-and-on relationships. She dated a police officer here in the city. When we came back for the arson cases, they reconnected for a while. He was really distraught when she died."

Her gut tightened at that piece of unexpected information. "Sam was dating a cop here in the city?"

"Yes." Devin's gaze narrowed. "Why do you say it like it means something?"

"You said that you didn't know where she'd gotten the information to change her profile ideas. Maybe it was from him. Was he helping you with the case?"

"No, he wasn't involved in that at all. He worked narcotics."

"But he still had access to police records. What was his name?"

"Rob Hamilton. He wasn't involved in the case, Kate. We were working with police and fire arson investigators. Hamilton wasn't talking to Sam about her work. He wanted to sleep with her. That was his interest."

"It just seems a little odd that I never saw that information in any of the files."

"Because it wasn't relevant."

"You don't think there's any way that Rob could have given Sam the clue that led her to that house?"

Devin stared back at her, his jaw firm, his eyes annoyed but reflective. "I can't be a hundred percent sure, but he told me he hadn't talked to Sam for a few days before her death, and he was wrecked after she was killed. I saw him at the fire, at the funeral and at Sam's parents' house. He knew I wanted to find her killer, that I wasn't convinced Baines was it, or that he was working alone. If he'd known something he would have told me. But all he talked about was Sam—how he'd wanted to get back together with her, but Sam was hesitant to start something up with him again. Her heart was still in her job and she wanted the freedom to go where she needed to go, and that's why they'd broken up in the first place. He'd wanted her to put him first, but she couldn't. He was broken up about it. He said he wished he'd spent more time enjoying their relationship instead of wanting more."

"That's sad." She paused, thinking that Sam was sounding a little like her. Would a man expect her to put him first over her job? Probably. It never seemed to be as big a question when it was the man with the big job and not the woman. She turned to Devin. "Would you ever change your life for a woman? If her work was important, would you want her to continue doing it?"

"Why are we talking about me?"

"Because I'm curious. If you loved a woman, and her job took her to another city, and it was something she loved to do, would you go with her?"

He let out a sigh. "I'd go now. I might not have gone before, because I had bigger career goals. Now, not so much."

"That might change once you find Sam's killer."

He shrugged. "Who knows? But why do I feel like we're not really talking about me or Sam? This is about the guy who broke up with you when you left for Quantico."

"Maybe a little. I guess I was just wondering when love trumps career."

"It obviously hasn't been a strong enough factor for either of us to consider."

"But you threw away your career for Sam."

"Not out of romantic love—out of friendship and loyalty."

"But you still did it."

"If something or someone matters enough to you, you won't hesitate; you'll know what to do," Devin said.

As Devin finished speaking, Val came into the room with a thin, dark-haired woman wearing black leggings and an oversized sweater. Her hair was streaked with gray, her face pale, her eyes dull, but a small spark appeared in her gaze when she saw Devin. She crossed the room and took his hands in hers.

"Devin," she said. "It's so good to see you. Is there news?"

"Not yet," he said. "But the Bureau sent someone to help me. This is Special Agent Kate Callaway."

"Mrs. Parker," Kate said, as the woman turned her head to look at her. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"I don't want any more apologies or condolences. I want answers. I want my daughter's killer to be in jail. It's about time they sent someone to help." She turned back to Devin. "Val told me there was another fire earlier this week. Is it connected?"

"I believe so," he replied.

"You knew he would strike again. You kept telling me we had to be patient. You were right. So what's going to happen next?"

"We're going to catch him," Devin said.

"How?" Val asked.

"We have a couple of new leads," Devin said. "I know that I'm getting your hopes up, and I just want to warn you it's not going to be easy. Whoever is doing this is very good at staying hidden."

"Samantha always said that you were very good, Devin," Mrs. Parker said with a sad smile. "She said you were the best agent she'd ever worked with."

Kate saw Devin tense at the words, another reminder that he'd let down someone who'd really believed in him.

"I'm going to do my best," he said.

"Do you want something to drink? I could make us some coffee or tea," Val offered. "We could chat for a while. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Mom?"

Mrs. Parker immediately shook her head. "I'm feeling tired. I think I'll go back to bed. You all have your tea and talk. I just don't feel up to it."

"Mom, you've been in bed all day," Val protested. "It would be good for you to stay up for a while."

"I'm sorry, Val." Mrs. Parker looked back at Devin. "Thank you for fighting for Samantha. I know you're doing your best. Please let us know if there's any news."

"I will," he promised.

"Do you see how bad she is?" Valerie asked, as her mother left the room. "It gets worse every day. It's been a year and a half. Is she ever going to get better? Is she ever going to wake up and look around and see she still has one daughter left?"

"I hope so," Devin said. "I know it's rough on you, Val."

"It has been rough, and it won't get better until you find Sam's killer. I feel like that's the only way Mom will be able to move on. She's just in horrible limbo right now."

"I understand. I'm trying to give her that closure."

"I wish you'd never told her that you had doubts about the man who died with Sam. Maybe Mom could have let go of this a long time ago. Maybe I could have, too."

"I can't take back what happened."

"I know, but you can make it right. We've all been waiting too long."

"I don't think you have to tell Devin that," Kate couldn't help pointing out, irritated that Val was making Devin out to be the bad guy.

Valerie shot her an annoyed look. "And I don't think I need your opinion, Agent Callaway. When did you get on the case? Two days ago? We've been living this nightmare for over a year."

"We're going to take off," Devin said before she could respond. "I'll be in touch, Val."

"You better," Val said, not bothering to walk them to the door.

When they got in the car, Devin said, "I don't need you to defend me, Kate. It wasn't your place to get in the middle of a conversation between Val and me."

"You're mad at me because I spoke up for you?" she asked in surprise. "She was acting like you've done nothing to solve this case."

"She's angry and sad."

"So are you. But if you need to yell at someone, then you can yell at me. I can handle it."

He ran a hand through his hair as he let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I don't want to take it out on you. I'm just…pissed. I need to hit something."

"I said you could yell at me, not hit me."

His tension eased at her words. "I would never hit you or any other woman. I have a better idea. Are you game?"

"For hitting something—always. Do I need to change into workout clothes?"

His gaze ran down her body. "You're fine."

As his eyes met hers again, she saw a flicker of desire, and she couldn't help but respond. "Most men think I'm better than
fine
," she said, giving in to a reckless impulse.

"I bet they do, but I haven't seen the whole show."

"And you're not going to see the whole show," she said, immediately regretting her teasing words. "Forget I said that."

"Too late."

"So where are we going?"

"You'll see."

* * *

She'd thought they were going to a gym, but twenty minutes later, Devin pulled into a parking lot behind a large warehouse building south of Market. It wasn't until they got out of the car that she saw the sign for the batting cages.

"We're going to hit baseballs?" she asked, as they walked toward the front door.

"It's a good way to release stress." He opened the door and waved her inside.

She stepped into the large, cavernous building. It was late afternoon, and the sound of bats hitting baseballs echoed through the air. Along with a dozen batting cages, there was a huge arcade area with video games, air hockey, and Ping-Pong, all of which were being enjoyed by kids ranging from elementary school age on up to high school.

The air from a nearby snack bar was filled with the aroma of buttery, salty popcorn and cheeseburgers and onions on the grill.

Devin walked up to the counter, and within a few minutes, they had bats, helmets, and a cage to use.

"You want to go first?" he asked as they got into the cage.

"How fast is the ball going to come?"

He showed her the controller. "There are different pitches. You can practice on fastballs, curves, sliders, breaking balls and change-ups. I'd start with a fastball at the slowest speed."

"Which would be what?" she asked, putting the helmet on her head.

"Slowest they go is fifty. You up for it?"

"I'll give it a shot. Worst I can do is strike out, right?"

"It's a batting cage, so you won't actually strike out. Your money will just run out."

"Good point."

"Have you ever hit a baseball before?"

"A few."

"Do you want me to give you some tips?"

"My dad always used to tell me to keep my eye on the ball."

"That would be a good place to start. Ready?"

She stepped into the batter's box while Devin went over to put tokens into the machine. She took a few warm-up swings, then said, "Ready."

The first ball came much faster than she expected. She swung and missed completely.

"Remember the part about keeping your eye on the ball," Devin said.

She shot him a dark look, seeing the humor in his eyes. "I remember." But she'd barely finished speaking when the next baseball took her by surprise. She jumped back.

"I told you; eye on the ball, not me," Devin said.

She focused on the next pitch, determined to show Devin she could handle a baseball. All those years of shagging balls for her brothers and taking swings with her dad came back to her. It had been a decade since she'd swung a bat, but she knew what to do.

She connected with the next pitch in the sweet spot of the bat, and her ball went flying over the pitching machine into the farthest part of the net. She gave Devin a triumphant smile. "Not bad for a girl."