Stella reviewed the case. She asked Mattie to present the findings from her interview with Carlos Martinez, and when she did, Lawson nodded but didn’t comment. His computer appeared to be holding his attention as he opened it and began to scroll.
“The ATF has a hit on the Desert Eagle,” Lawson said, typing the keyboard, evidently retrieving the report. When he paused to read the screen, his brow lifted with surprise. He looked up from the computer screen and cleared his throat. “The last date of sale on the gun was thirty years ago, purchased new from a gun shop in San Diego by a man named Harold Cobb.”
Mattie felt as if she were falling, and her stomach flipped. Her father was the last registered owner of a gun she’d found near her brother’s grave? How could that be? She wondered if she’d heard right.
Lawson frowned as he turned his head to make eye contact with her. “Any relation to you, Deputy Cobb?”
Her mouth had gone dry, and it was all she could do to form words—words that articulated a relationship she hated to admit. “He was my father.”
TWENTY-THREE
Silence reigned while Mattie waged war with her emotions. All eyes were on her, even Robo’s. Shock and dismay triumphed over her ability to remain detached. Her eyes prickled, and she knew her cop face was beginning to crumble. She leaned over to pet Robo, bowing her head to hide her weakness from the others.
Lawson turned his chair to face her, and its scrape against the linoleum resounded in the silent room. “Was your father? Is he deceased?”
“Yes.” Mattie forced in a deep breath as she remained hunched over Robo.
“Is that definite?” Lawson sounded like he doubted her.
McCoy cleared his throat. “I confirmed it myself. He died twenty-four years ago.”
“Was he living here at the time?”
“Harold Cobb was a resident of Timber Creek,” McCoy said, “but he died while incarcerated at the Colorado State Penitentiary in Canon City.”
Mattie used the few moments when their attention shifted away from her to realign the features of her face. She lifted her chin to meet Lawson’s gaze, confident that she could remain expressionless. “My father was convicted of domestic violence and killed during a prison fight. He died when I was six years old.”
“How long had he lived in Timber Creek?” Lawson asked.
“Harold and Ramona Cobb lived here for approximately four years prior to his arrest,” McCoy said. “He had no prior record at the time.”
The fact that McCoy could relay her father’s history from memory stunned her. He’d been a young deputy when he’d responded to her call for help the night her father tried to kill her mother. It was a long time ago and he’d seen countless arrests since then.
Lawson was observing McCoy with narrowed eyes. “This is too much, Sheriff. Deputy Cobb’s brother is a victim in our first case, and now her father’s a firm suspect for the murders of our three victims in the second case. I insist we take her off this investigation.”
Stella leaned forward and fastened Lawson with a heated gaze. “Do you realize that our deputy is the source of the major points of evidence we have in this case? I insist she stays.”
A sinking sensation gripped Mattie’s belly. Lawson was right. Both cases had crossed over the line and become too personal. Even she couldn’t deny it.
Though it hurt to surrender, she felt forced to. “He’s right, Stella. The gun registration implicating my father makes a difference, because it designates me as family times two. These two cases are now linked by MO, location, and family relationship. No court would accept anything I discovered as fact.”
Stella turned her glare on Mattie, but she could tell underneath that anger lay helplessness in the face of the inevitable, a helplessness Mattie shared.
“Detective LoSasso, you will act as family liaison to Deputy Cobb,” McCoy said, sounding resigned. “You’ll share appropriate details with her as well as bring any information that might come her way back to us. Deputy Cobb, you’ll cease investigating both cases.”
“Understood,” Mattie said. She needed to get her hands on her computer to search for any information about her father that she could find.
Lawson might have read her mind. “Thank you, Deputy. I’ll be following up with a thorough search of your father’s history, trying to find any known associates who might be involved with your brother’s homicide. We need to remove you from the investigative process, but we’ll still keep you in the loop.”
“Appreciated.” Mattie stood, her movement as abrupt as her reply, determined to leave the room before someone told her to. Robo jumped up to follow, and she’d never been more grateful for his championship.
During the last hour of her shift, Mattie uncovered nothing new about Harold Cobb. His case had been archived, but she could pull up a mug shot, the record of his arrest, disposition of his charges, and his date of death.
She studied the photo. She’d seen it before, and it had lost its ability to move her. Harold Cobb was Caucasian with pale skin, lank brown hair, and a scruffy dark beard. She tried to see her own features and even Willie’s in his likeness, but she couldn’t. She’d never seen a picture of her mother, but both she and her brother had inherited the Hispanic features of their maternal ancestry.
She glanced at the clock and decided to finish her paperwork. She’d promised Mama T that she would come to dinner to say goodbye to Doreen, and it was important to stand by her word. First, she would drop Robo off at her house.
Several hours later, Mattie returned home from dinner at Mama T’s, tired but in a calmer state of mind than when she’d left work. She leaned back in her seat, studying the front of her house by the glow of the porch light and thinking about her evening.
Being with her foster family had lifted her spirits more than she’d thought possible. She’d surprised herself by discovering that she actually enjoyed visiting with Doreen. Much to Mama T’s delight, the two of them had entertained their foster mother by telling stories about their memories from growing up in her home, and Mattie had found relief from the turmoil of her own life during her time with the two women.
Her phone signaled a text from Riley, asking if she had time to talk. At the same time, Robo’s face popped into the picture window of her house, paws braced against the sill, his nose pressed against the windowpane.
Mattie texted back: I’ll call you in ten minutes after I take care of Robo.
While she went toward the porch, she remembered that she needed to call Cole, too. When he’d texted earlier in the evening, she’d promised him a call after she got home.
She unlocked the front door, turning off the porch light as she entered. Robo greeted her but then made a beeline for the kitchen and scratched on the back door. “Do you need to go out?”
She opened the door to the backyard. Robo charged onto the porch and leaped off, growling a low-pitched warning in his chest. He rushed around the corner of the house into the side yard that led to the gate. Must be a rabbit or something on that side of the house, Mattie thought and started after him.
A loud pfft, similar to air escaping from a hydraulic valve, came from somewhere in the darkness.
Robo yelped.
Mattie dashed around the corner of the house. A shadow that could only be Robo lunged against the chain link in an awkward leap, bouncing off the fencing. She called to him, and he stumbled toward her, taking a few steps before falling.