Page 32 of Ruthless Cross

For all his tough questions, he'd also been incredibly kind. And he respected her for her fight. It was warming to have someone see how hard she was battling to keep her mom sane.

Not that she let many people see the private war she'd been engaged in for her entire life. She'd built a wall around her very small family and no one saw over that wall. She didn't think even Arthur had really understood the depth of her mom's problems.

But Flynn had battered through her wall and there was no kicking him out now. She just needed to remember that no matter how nice he was being, if her mother had had anything to do with Arthur's death, Flynn would make her pay.

So, she had to stay close to Flynn and help him find a lead to somewhere else. Fighting him, trying to keep him away from him, was the wrong approach.

"I'm going to help you," she said aloud.

"Is that what you've been thinking about the last fifteen minutes? You've been very quiet," he commented.

"I was also enjoying my salmon, but, yes, I have been thinking about our rather odd relationship."

He smiled. "I've never been in an odd relationship before."

"It's a first for me, too." She paused and then took the plunge. "On that note, I've also been pondering what I might know that could be helpful, and I think there might be something."

"What's that?"

"There was a barbecue at Arthur's house a few weeks ago. My mom sent me to look for him, because their guests were arriving, and he was nowhere to be found. He was in Olivia's room. The door was partly ajar, and he was talking on the phone. I didn’t hear him say anything that strange. But when he ended the call, I pushed the door open and I saw him put his phone in his pocket. He gave me a startled, angry look and told me I was never to come in there. I apologized, and then he immediately backed down and said he was sorry for snapping at me."

"Okay," Flynn said, his brows knitting together. "Why is that helpful? What am I missing?"

"I haven't gotten to the helpful part yet. When Arthur and I walked downstairs, my mom met us on the landing. She handed Arthur a phone and said it had been ringing for the last fifteen minutes."

A light entered his eyes. "Arthur had two phones."

"Yes. I don't know if that matters."

"We need to find that other phone. There wasn't another line registered to his name. It might have been a prepaid phone."

"It did look cheap and small, not like his other smartphone. I didn't think that much about it at the time, because I know he liked to keep work separate from his personal life. He rarely spoke about the cases in his court. He said that it was his duty to maintain confidentiality, and, frankly, I didn't care that much, so I never pressed him about his job or what cases he was overseeing." She paused. "Are you sure his death doesn't have to do with a case? Don't judges get threatened all the time?"

"Savannah is looking into that angle. I'm focused on the art, because that's the world I know well. I didn't see a second phone in the study. Where would Arthur have kept it?"

"Maybe Olivia's room. It was the one room in the house that no one ever went into but him." Discomfort entered Flynn's eyes. "Looks like you might have to open that door after all," she said. "Or I can look."

"I can do it. Thanks for telling me about the phone. Are you ready to go?"

"I'll just pop my head in the kitchen and say goodbye to Melissa."

"I'll meet you out front."

* * *

After driving Callie back to the hospital parking lot so she could get her mother's car, Flynn followed her to Arthur's house. He was happy to have a few minutes alone. He'd enjoyed having dinner with Callie. Talking to her had been surprisingly easy. When she wasn't on guard about her mother, she was very forthcoming. He'd found himself sharing far more than he usually did about his father and his past and even about Olivia.

He'd wanted to open up to get Callie to trust him, and he'd succeeded. But through their very personal conversation, he had also begun to trust her. And he felt a very strong emotional connection to her. He was more than a little impressed at her strength in dealing with her mother, and not just now, but since she was ten years old. He could imagine her as a little girl taking charge of the house and the kitchen. She stepped up when she had to. Her mom might be a fragile flower, but Callie was sweet steel.

He knew it was probably a mistake to get so close to her, but he couldn't stop himself. She'd caught his eye the first second he'd seen her, and since then he hadn't really been able to look away. He kept wanting to see her again, to know more about her, to keep talking to her for as long as he could.

But he couldn't afford that kind of distraction.

He needed to find Arthur's killer. That should be his only focus. And his only interest in Callie should be to further that goal.

Turning the corner, he drove down Arthur's street, happy to see that the press had disappeared. It was almost seven now and completely dark. There wasn't one light on in the house, and for some reason it felt a little foreboding, maybe because he knew Arthur would never come back to the home he'd lived in for forty plus years.

Callie drove into the garage, while he stopped on the circular drive in front of the house. As he got out of the car, he realized that the porch was filled with not only floral arrangements but also boxes of chocolates, gourmet cookies, fruit baskets, and even bottles of wine. Arthur's friends were showing their love to his family.

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