“Because I play on a league and we need a fielder. One of our guys broke his foot. We’re headed to the play-offs, but without him it won’t be easy. If you wanna come…”
He knew a “welcome to the group” when he heard one. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
“We practice Thursday night.” She scribbled an address. “Here.”
“If I can, I will. Thanks for the history. Hope the head stops exploding soon.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears. Don’t slam the door on your way out.”
He was back on the main road when his cell buzzed in his pocket. It was his mom. “I’m sorry, Ma. I should have called you this morning, but I wanted to let you sleep in.”
“Where are you, David?” she asked, a tension in her voice he didn’t like.
“North of town. Why? What’s wrong?”
“The news reported on that glass ball. You weren’t mentioned, but word’s gotten out. A dozen reporters were here, wanting to interview you on your ‘save.’”
“A girl died in that fire and a man was murdered. And they want the scoop on my catching a ball?” He blew out an angry breath. “I’ll be home to take care of it.”
“No, don’t come home. That’s why I’m calling. Glenn told them to go away, that you didn’t live here. Glenn said for you to go to the cabin for the day, that he’d drop off a change of clothes for you at the firehouse.”
“It’s not a bad idea. But what about you? I hate to leave you alone all day.”
“I’ve got a building full of people to keep me company. I got up early and made fresh bread. The Gorski sisters are adorable, and those babies in 2A? Well, I got my grandma fix for the day. Don’t worry about me. I’m having lunch with Tom and dinner with Evie, so I’m too busy for you anyway.” She said it lightly, but it didn’t fool him.
“Tom never has time for lunch with me. He’s always too busy studying.”
“He has to make time for me. I’m his grandma. You’re only the uncle. Just don’t worry about me. If you stay away, maybe this’ll blow over in a day or so.”
He sighed. “From your mouth to God’s ears, Ma.”
He’d no sooner hung up when another call came in. Olivia. Hopefully calling to tell him he’d been outed as the ball catcher and not to tell him she was still mad and not coming back tonight for what would hopefully be stimulating conversation and more stimulating sex. “Hello?” he answered cautiously.
“It’s Olivia. The news picked up the story about the glass ball.”
“I know. My mom just called. I had a yard full of reporters, so I’m going to the cabin. So if-when-you get done…”
“Understood,” she said stiffly and he realized she couldn’t speak freely. Still, there was a huskiness in her voice that encouraged him. “My boss wants me to tell you not to talk to the press, but it seems like you have that covered.”
“There are a lot of things I’d like to cover,” he said, dropping his tone to a caress.
“Understood,” she said again, then cleared her throat. “I have to go.”
David hung up, then let go and grinned. Things were looking up.
Tuesday, September 21, 9:45 a.m.
Olivia pocketed her phone as she and Kane stood in line at the Deli, hoping her cheeks weren’t too red. No chance, because Kane was grinning at her. “You shut up.”
“I didn’t say a word,” he said. “I could continue not saying a word for a pastrami.”
“I’m not supporting your pastrami habit. You already had two this morning.”
“That was hours ago,” he grumbled.
“Fine. I’ll split one with you. I’m not that hungry anyway. I had an omelet already.”
“Who made you an omelet?” His eyes narrowed. “The firefighter who you left early last night came back, huh? Come on, Liv,” he whined. “Tell me.”
Annoyed, she looked to the front of the line. “What is taking so long this morning?”
“Avoidance has always been your go-to defense. This time of the morning Kirby’s always slow. It would go faster if he didn’t stop to chat with everyone.”
“You don’t like him because he flirts with you,” Olivia said slyly.
Rolling his eyes, Kane looked over the crowded tables. “The interpreter isn’t here.”
“She texted me ten minutes ago. She’s looking for a parking place. Relax. You’re awfully tense today.”
“Too much coffee.” The bell on the door jingled and he turned to look. “She’s here.” Val was dressed all in black, exactly as she had been the night before. She lifted a travel mug, indicating she had coffee and would just wait at the door. “Is the black a uniform or a fashion statement, I wonder?” Kane murmured.
“Uniform, of sorts,” Olivia said. “It provides contrast for her hands. Dark solids are good. Bright crazy prints, very bad.” They made it to the front of the line and Olivia spouted her order, but the barista behind the counter didn’t respond. His gaze was locked on the television mounted in the corner, his forehead furrowed in a frown.
“Yippee,” Olivia muttered. Channel 2’s reporter was talking about the glass ball. “Kirby.” She knocked on the counter. “Hey, Kirby.”
The barista blinked, then turned to her. “I’m sorry, Detective. That’s some story. In fact, unless I’m wrong, that’s your story. So what’s the sitch?”
She gave him a back-off look. “The sitch is a detective who really needs her coffee. Can I get two coffees and a pastrami and egg?”
Kirby looked over her shoulder to Kane. “Three in one day? I’m flattered,” he cooed, all but batting his eyes. Behind her, Kane tensed and Olivia’s lips twitched, knowing Kirby only baited Kane because it made her partner uncomfortable.
“Just fill the order, please,” Olivia said with a sigh. She paid him, dropped her change in his tip jar and took the coffees.
“Buh-bye, Detective,” Kirby sang, waving at Kane as he grabbed the sandwich.
Kane shook his head. “Good-bye, Kirby,” he said and Olivia chuckled.
Sutherland and Kane met the woman in black as he surreptitiously turned the wheel on the microphone tuner he’d clipped to his waist. Now he could hear them at the door.
“Sorry I’m late,” the woman said. Kane called her an interpreter. Sutherland said her black shirt provided contrast with her hands. That says sign language to me.
“Principal Oaks texted to say he’s ready for us,” the interpreter murmured as Olivia held open the door. “I told him we were running late.”
The door closed behind them. Oaks, principal, interpreter… Call me crazy, but I think they’re going to a school. For deaf kids. And then a piece of the puzzle fell into place. He’d wondered why the girl in the condo hadn’t run before she’d been trapped. Eric and Joel had certainly made enough noise to wake the dead.
But not the deaf. She hadn’t heard them, and she’d died. If the girl was deaf, the person who’d taken the boat may be, too. Sutherland and Kane obviously thought so.
He smiled at the next customer. “How can I help you?”
He filled the order while glancing up at the television. He’d seen the report on the glass balls the first time it aired but had pretended to be absorbed to keep Kane and Sutherland waiting-and chatting-a few moments longer.
So glass globes had been found at each scene. I’ll be damned. Who’s got the nostalgic streak? He might have guessed Joel, but Joel hadn’t been at Tomlinson’s because Joel was quite dead. Not Albert, because he never went into the condo. Eric? Maybe, but unlikely. Nostalgia was not the boy’s style. No, it had been Mary.
She’d just changed the game. The cops may have considered environmental terrorism as a motive, but the glass ball cemented it. Now the Feds would get involved.
A lot of things made sense now.
The FBI wouldn’t take too kindly to knowing about Eric’s plane ticket to France. Still, Albert was likely to take Eric’s fleeing a lot more personally. He couldn’t wait until the morning rush was over so he could tell him.