There was another beat of silence. “I knew you would. It’s not your fault, Noah.”
“I’m still sorry. I’ll stop by Sal’s later if I can.”
“That’s fine,” she said, but it was as if all the air had been forced from her lungs. She disconnected and he felt as if all the air had been forced from his lungs, as well.
Jack rolled down his window. “You okay?”
No. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
Tuesday, February 23, 7:55 p.m.
“Excuse me, Miss Wilson?” Eve looked up from the drink she was mixing to see a petite redhead perched on a bar stool, her hands folded primly on the bar. Eve had seen her before. She was Trina, married to Noah’s cousin Brock, who occasionally sat with Noah as he drank his tonic water. Trina sometimes came in with her girlfriends and they were pretty good tippers, but somehow Eve doubted Trina was here for a drink today. Eve knew when she was being scrutinized. And found wanting.
She smiled, despite the jitters in her stomach. “Chardonnay, right?”
Trina didn’t smile back. “Right, but I’m not here to drink tonight. I came to see you. What are your intentions regarding Noah?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You kissed him today in the Deli. Don’t look so surprised,” she added dryly. “You of all people should know how the rumor mill churns.”
“Cops and firefighters,” Eve murmured. “Nosy bastards. No offense intended.”
Humor flickered briefly in the woman’s brown eyes. “None taken. So?”
“I could say it’s none of your business,” Eve said.
Trina’s eyes narrowed. “But you won’t. I care about Noah. He’s a good man.”
“I know,” Eve said quietly.
“And for some reason he cares about you.”
“I know,” Eve repeated, brushing aside her irritation at for some reason. Trina was protecting her family. That Eve understood. “That kiss…” Didn’t mean anything, she wanted to say, but that was a lie. “Was a mistake. I’ve told Noah I’m not interested.”
“You kissed him, where everyone would see,” Trina said, her lips thinning in disapproval. “You never struck me as a tease, Eve.”
“I’m not a tease,” Eve responded, indignant. But several customers were watching, so she leaned forward. “Talk to Noah. It needs to come from him. It was for his job.”
Trina looked taken aback. “You’re helping him?” she asked.
“I’m trying. But you don’t need to worry. I don’t intend to cling when it’s all over.” Eve’s tone was harsh, sardonic. Because clinging was exactly what she wanted to do.
“I see,” Trina murmured. “You do realize that you can hurt him?”
Eve swallowed hard. “Yeah. I got that part. I’m doing my best not to.”
“And you’re not interested? At all?”
God, yes. “No,” she said. Firmly.
Trina sat back, all primness gone. “You’re as bad a liar as he is.”
Eve blinked at her. “Excuse me?”
Trina pulled a bowl of salted peanuts closer. “You want him. He wants you. He’s a good man. You seem to be a good person, too. So what’s the problem here?”
Eve shook her head. “Wait. You want me to want him?”
“I want you to cling like socks out of the dryer.” She popped a few nuts in her mouth while Eve stared. “He’s overcome a lot. From what I’ve read on the Internet, so have you. Two lost souls, both want each other… Color me a romantic, but it could work.”
Eve’s cheeks flamed. “It’s not that simple.”
Trina’s red brows rose. “Why not? You dying? Six months to live?”
Eve coughed. “No,” she said, stunned.
“Diseases? Witness protection? Secret husband? Undercover nun?”
Eve shook her head, feeling like she’d been run over by a very small truck. “No.”
“Do you like him?” Trina wagged her forefinger in warning. “And don’t you lie to me.”
“Yes,” Eve murmured. “Very much.”
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. So you like him, you want him, and there are no reasonable impediments to a relationship that I can see. Do you like roast beef?”
Eve had given up trying to keep up. “Yes.”
“Good. We eat Sundays at five.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket.
Eve saw it held an address, neatly printed. “You planned to invite me all along?”
“Yes.” Trina smiled then. “Noah made me promise not to interfere, but I figured that kiss this morning nullified any promises previously rendered. I wanted to talk to you, find out if you were leading him on.” She sobered. “You’re not. Whatever’s bothering you is real. But time is precious and Noah’s wasted a lot of years. Figure out how to deal with whatever’s keeping you from ‘being interested.’ See you on Sunday.”
And with that she slid off the stool and left, leaving Eve staring after her.
Tuesday, February 23, 7:55 p.m.
“So all we have tying this guy to the murder is his car leaving a parking lot after one of the victims?” ADA Brian Ramsey frowned into the glass separating them from an ashen-faced Axel Girard. “Nothing more?”
“No,” Noah said. Either Girard was good or he was telling the truth.
“That’s not enough to at least hold him?” Jack demanded.
“Not unless you have something physical tying him to the victim or the scene.”
Jack huffed in frustration. “Dammit, Brian.”
“What about his alibi for Sunday night when the Lewis woman was killed?”
“His wife says he was with her,” Jack said sarcastically. “All night. Like we haven’t heard that before. Dammit, those pictures don’t lie. He was there.”
“His car was there,” Brian corrected. “That’s what the defense will claim.”
“He never reported it stolen,” Abbott said. “If the wife says he was with her all night, he couldn’t have been in the parking lot to begin with. Somebody’s lying and those pictures from the diner’s surveillance system are clear.”
“Crystal clear,” Jack added. “Wives always say their husbands were there all night.”
Brian grunted his agreement to that. “Noah, you’re being awfully quiet.”
Noah glanced at Jack, who was glaring at him. They’d had this conversation already and Jack was not a happy partner. Jack was also an uninformed partner. Noah hadn’t told him about Eve’s call. He’d started to a dozen times, but… hadn’t.
“I don’t think he did it, but I sure as hell don’t want to take the chance that I’m wrong. If he did it, I don’t want to give him opportunity to kill again.”
“What about his alibis for the nights the other two were killed?” Brian pressed.
“Ian’s time of death windows are wide on the other two,” Noah said. “As best we can pinpoint, Girard was home with his wife.”
“We passed out photos of the three victims at our press conference today,” Abbott said. “They’ll run on newscasts and in the papers. We’re hoping to find somebody who saw these women the night they were attacked.”
“That’s good, but that doesn’t help me right now,” Brian said.
Noah thought of the dates Eve had given him, when the killer had changed his victims’ avatars. If Girard had alibis for those times, other than his wife, he’d be cleared. But if he used the information Eve had given him, Ramsey would want to know where it came from and if it resulted in proving Girard’s guilt, they couldn’t use it anyway.
And Eve’s hacking would be exposed.
Noah blinked hard. Too little sleep and too much worry were fogging his brain.
“Noah?” Abbott prodded. “What are you thinking?”
Noah rubbed his temples, hard. “That we need more information. His car was there, but was he? And if he wasn’t, how did his car get there? He’s involved somehow, Brian. Can’t we keep him here until we figure out how?”