The Detective (9 page)

He nodded toward Dad. “We’re going to the game this weekend.”

Tossing my hands up, I looked at our father. “Seriously, I’m never invited!”

Dad shrugged. “You’re always working. I asked you to go weeks ago.”

He probably did and I didn’t remember. Nevertheless, I shook my head. “Whatever.”

Chuck squeezed my shoulder. “I got you a present.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small fabric rectangle. “It’s for your hat.” He flicked the brim of my ball cap.
 

I looked down at the velcro patch. It had a picture of an assault rifle on it and it said, ‘I Plead the Second’. I laughed. “That’s pretty funny.” I showed it to Dad.

Lara cleared her throat. “Nathan, aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”

“Oh, sorry!” I turned toward Shannon. “Shannon, this is my sister, Lara, and my brother, Chuck. You met Carter when we came in and”—I looked around the room—“where’s Rachel?”

“Rachel has dance tonight.” Lara offered Shannon her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Lara’s tone was warm and kind, but she was taking a close inventory of Shannon who was wearing a casual gray dress and heels opposed to my sister’s yoga pants and Wolfpack sweatshirt.
 

“Thanks! You too!” Shannon chirped a little too eagerly.

Chuck caught my eye and mouthed the word ‘wow’ as he gave a discreet thumbs-up.
 

Mom held up her hands to get our attention. “Shall we eat before dinner gets cold?”

Chuck rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving!”

Mom looked at Lara. “Or should we wait on Joe?”

Lara checked her watch. “No, let’s go ahead and eat. I’ll save him a plate.”

Gently, I touched the small of Shannon’s back and nudged her toward the dining room door. I looked back at my mother. “Dining room, Mom?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh, the grown-ups’ table.” Chuck laughed. “This must be a very special occasion.”

Shannon looked over her shoulder at me. “The grown-ups table?”

We all filed into the formal dining room. The table was set with the good china. I stopped at the chair next to mine and pulled it out for Shannon. “When we were kids and Mom threw dinner parties, this was always the grown-ups table and all us kids had to eat in the kitchen.”

Chuck pulled out his chair. “Even as adults, we never eat in here except on Thanksgiving or Christmas.” He winked at her. “You must be a very big deal.”

Dad sat down at the head of the table. “It’s not every day that Nathan brings a lady home.”

“Or any day,” Lara said, helping Carter into his booster seat.

I threw a cloth napkin across the table at her.

Mom clapped her hands together angrily. “Stop it, you two! This is exactly why you still have to eat in the kitchen!”

Everyone laughed.

The meal was fit for a holiday: honey glazed ham, scalloped potatoes, broccoli casserole, homemade rolls, fruit salad, and even though Shannon was supposed to bring dessert, Mom baked a cream cheese pound cake.

“You’ve really done too much,” Shannon said, her nerves still causing her voice to be way too chipper. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble for me.”

My mother waved her hand toward Shannon. “This is nothing, my dear. We have family dinners quite often.” She reached over and squeezed my dad’s hand. “We’re very close like that.”

Shannon smiled at me. “Well, I hope this won’t be my last invitation.”

I wasn’t sure why she was looking at me; I didn’t invite her, period.
 

Lara might have been reading my mind across the table because when I looked at her, her eyes were as wide as mine felt.
 

“So, Shannon,” Chuck said with a mouthful of potatoes. “What do you do?”

She put her napkin beside her plate. “I’m a reporter for WKNC in Asheville.”

He nodded, impressed.
 

Shannon was fidgeting. “My daddy wanted me to go into banking like he did. He’s one of the biggest investment bankers in Asheville.”

Well, that was random. And awkward.

Mom and Dad exchanged glances. “Well, that’s lovely,” Mom finally said. “What about your mother. Does she work?”

“Not exactly.” She shifted on her chair. “But she does organize the Ladies’ Social Auxiliary at the Brook Diamond Country Club.”

Mom stopped chewing. The only social club she’d ever belonged to was the PTO.
 

Shannon flipped her blonde hair back off her shoulder. “And she manages the household staff.”

Staff?
I could hear the sound of a plane crashing in my head.
 

Chuck plucked a stray piece of ham from his beard. “I hired the neighbor’s kid to cut my grass during squirrel season last summer.”

The room erupted in laughter.
 

“You hunt squirrels?” Shannon asked.

I leaned toward her. “He hunts anything with fur or feathers.”

Her nose scrunched up. “Do you eat them?”

He smiled. “Sometimes.”

She visibly shuddered.

Lara kicked me in the shin under the table, and I flinched.

“Unca Chuck said I can eat da sqwa-wills bwains!” Carter chimed in.

Chuck pointed his fork at him. “Only if you skin it, remember?”

Mom shook her head. “Enough of that talk at the table!” She dropped her hands into her lap. “I swear you all don’t know how to behave when we have company.”

Chuck pointed at Carter. “He brought up the brains.”

I covered my mouth to keep from laughing.
 

“Charles Mason McNamara!” Mom scolded.
 

He just shrugged and shoved a forkful of ham into his mouth.

I leaned into Shannon. “I should’ve warned you about my family.”

She smiled and dabbed her napkin on her lips. “I like them.”

Looking around the table, I wasn’t sure if they would say the same.

Deciding to change the subject, I looked at Dad. “So about this game… are they playing UNC at home this weekend?”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Would I have driven all the way from Tennessee for any other game?”

I slammed my napkin down on the table. “Damn it.”

“Nathan! Carter’s here. Watch your mouth!” Mom yelled.

“Damn it,” Carter echoed, then burst into giggles.

Lara clamped her hand over his mouth and shot me a hateful glare.

I held up my hands. “Sorry.” I leaned an elbow on the table. “I wonder how much scalped tickets are going for.”

Lara smirked. “You’re going to buy illegally scalped basketball tickets, Mr. Law Enforcement Officer?”

I shrugged and sat back in my chair. “It’s the biggest game of the season.”

No one argued.

Mom cleared her throat. “Nathan, are you forgetting about your houseguest?”

Oops.

I looked at Shannon. “Do you like basketball?”

She smiled. “I’d love to go to the game!”

Well, that’s a point in her favor.

Then she spoke again.

“I really hope the Tarheels make it to the championship!”

And that was all she wrote for Shannon Green.

ELEVEN

FOR THE REST of my weekend with Shannon, I was flooded with phone calls from my mother, my sister, and even Chuck. Lara was the least delicate of the bunch, threatening my life if I married Shannon or accidentally got her pregnant. Mom was polite, but she apologized for forcing the family dinner so quickly. And Chuck… well, his response was ‘If it doesn’t work out, send her my way. She’s hot and I’m sure she can make a sandwich.’ He’s a classy dude, my brother.

We didn’t go to the game either. I didn’t even get to watch it on television because Shannon wanted to go see some romantic comedy with that blonde chick from Grey’s Anatomy, whose last name looks like a vagina exercise. It was an excellent way to spend a Saturday. Right.

Shannon left early on Sunday and I watched the game on DVR. But because I have a police scanner, I already knew who won. It wasn’t nearly as much fun watching, knowing State lost 63 to 54.

And before I knew it, Monday arrived and I was pulling back into my parking space at the sheriff’s office—at the exact same time as the lieutenant. I muttered a few explicatives before getting out of my SUV.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” I carried my hazelnut coffee around his car. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Reese said that you made a connection with the break-ins.” He slammed his driver’s side door. “Why wasn’t I briefed on it?”

The muscle worked in my jaw as I tried to calm my temper. “You were out on Friday, sir.”

“I have a phone.”

I nodded and fell in step behind him. “Yes, but there was no reason to bother you on your day off, so I decided to wait until first thing this morning.”

He spun on his heel toward me. “Detective, you’re on thin ice with me as it is. I don’t think you’re pulling your weight on this case. So I suggest that any time you have even the smallest crumb of information, you pass it along to me directly.” Droplets of spit sprayed my sunglasses. “Your job depends on it!”

Frozen to the ground, I watched as he stormed inside the building. What I had done to make him hate me so much, I wasn’t sure. This conversation confirmed it though; Carr was gunning for my job. After a moment, I trudged inside after him.

Marge looked worried. “You all right?”

“You heard that?”

She just nodded.

I forced a smile. “I’m fine. How was your weekend?”

“The grandbaby shoved seven rolls of toilet paper down the toilet, then flushed it.” She looked at me and frowned. “He’s a little less cute now.”

I laughed. “Have a good day, Marge.”

“You too, Detective.” She smiled. “Keep your chin up.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed the office door open and walked in like I hadn’t just been verbally kicked in the nuts outside. When I went into my office, I shut the door behind me, but by the time I’d made it around to my desk Reese had reopened it and walked in.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said.

“Ugh.”

He sat down across from me. “That good, huh?”
 

I relayed the conversation with our boss.

When I was finished, he shook his head. “What’s the deal with you two? Did you screw his daughter or something?”

I tossed my hands up. “I don’t freaking know!”

He folded his hands behind his head. “There’s got to be a reason.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I hope I figure it out before he fires me.”

Reese smirked. “He’s not going to fire you.”

“Easy for you to say.” I turned on my computer. “Please tell me there wasn’t another break-in over the weekend.”

He shook his head. “Quiet as church.”

“That’s good.” I tapped a pen against my desk. “I doubt there will be any more.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Yeah. They upped the ante to homicide now. They’re scared.”

He blew out a slow breath. “I hope you’re right. So you think they were just after the cash?”

The question made me think. “I don’t know if it was just the money or the thrill of getting away with it too. You should’ve seen how Morgan lit up the other day, telling me about what he could pull off as a hacker.”

He grinned. “Think it’s Morgan?”

I laughed. “That would be impressive.” I pulled out a pad of sticky notes. “I need to remember to go check and make sure he got his zombie shows this weekend.” In all caps, I wrote ‘SEE DENNIS MORGAN’ and stuck it to the top of my computer screen.

My office phone beeped, and Marge’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Detective McNamara, the State Crime Lab is on line four.”

“Thanks, Marge. Put ‘em through.” I looked at Reese. “Cross your fingers.” I pressed the blinking line four button on my phone and left the speaker on. “Detective McNamara,” I said.

Reese got up and closed my office door.

“Good morning, Detective,” a woman said. “My name is Deborah Jacobs at the State Crime Lab. We met last year on the Hilton murder case.”
 

My brain churned on her name. Deborah Jacobs—brunette, mid-forties, double-D’s. “Hi, Deborah. I remember you. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to let you know that we were able to pull a fingerprint off your murder weapon.”

I bolted upright in my seat. “Oh, really?”

Reese leaned over my desk toward the phone.
 

“We lifted a right thumb print off the barrel. And we have a match for it.”

I stood so quickly, I knocked over my office chair. “Who is it?”

“I’m sending over the info now, but his name is Kyle Anthony Culver. Twenty-seven, lives in Millbrook.” Papers rustled on her end of the line. “He was fingerprinted during a college internship for a weapons vulnerability software company in Raleigh.”

I slammed my palms down on the desk. “Bingo.”

Reese backed toward the door. “I’ll get the DA on the phone.”

“Thank you, Deborah. I owe you my first-born,” I said.

She chuckled. “Not necessary. Check your email.”

After disconnecting the call, I downloaded her report to my computer and printed two copies. One of them, I carried straight to Carr’s office. The door was closed, but I walked in anyway. The sheriff was sitting in front of his desk, but I didn’t care.

The lieutenant’s face flushed red with anger. “McNamara, what makes you think you can just barge in here—”

I cut him off by slamming the report down on his desk with the full force of my hand. “There’s your shooter, Lieutenant.”

The sheriff stood and leaned over the desk. “The Withers girl’s murderer?”

I looked down at him. “Exactly. The State Crime Lab just called.”

Sheriff Tipper slapped me on the back. “Good work, son.”

“Reese is getting started with the warrant, sir.” I lowered my head so I was eye-level with him. “I may need you to make a phone call to help push this through, so I can go get this guy immediately.”

He nodded. “Of course I will. Go get him.”

I smiled, my heart pounding with excitement. “10-4, sir.”

* * *

Within the hour, I had a signed arrest warrant in my hand. In all my years at the department, I’d never seen the wheels of justice turn so fast. Reese and I were escorted in his unmarked sedan by two deputies in patrol cars, and on our drive to Millbrook, Shannon called.