Page 417 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Addie’s phone buzzed. She deciphered the message. “Show me the screen.” What came up was a grid of dots to draw a pattern. She slid her finger across in the way Mona had described and the phone unlocked. “Guess it’s his.”

She moved so she could see the phone over his shoulder.

McCauley pulled up the messages. “Not much that’s recent except the ones from ‘Mom.’”

“What about calls?”

He tapped the phone icon and pulled up recent calls in and out. “Huh.”

One was from tonight. “What is it?”

“That prefix is usually PD phones.”

Addie used her own phone to dial the unlabeled number in Austin’s phone. In hers it came up assigned to a name. “Hank Maxwell.” She registered the time of the call and looked up at McCauley. “Any reason your detective would have direct contact with a victim in the last hours of his life?”

“Could be several reasons.”

“Tell me the last time you saw Hank Maxwell.”

McCauley hedged.

“You have no idea where he is.”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatever he does, he’s covered.”

Addie figured that was a brotherhood way of operating as cops. But if the person in question had committed a crime, how far did they go to keep it under wraps? Perhaps years, and the offender had a list of people he’d murdered when the urge overcame him, and he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Red and blue flashing lights lit up the front window and open door.

Addie lifted her chin to convey everything McCauley needed to know in her expression. Cop to cop, if that phone disappeared or Hank’s number was suspiciously absent from the call list logged as evidence? They were going to have more issues between them than they already did.

“Thanks for coming out here with me. I appreciate the backup.” Addie could see she’d surprised him with that but didn’t drag it out.

She took a step toward the door. “I’ll go wake the owner. Let her know what happened.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jacob didn’t care how much it hurt. He needed coffee.

That didn’t mean he planned to stand for much longer than it took to walk from the bedroom Addie had used as a kid to the kitchen.

If he pulled up a chair to the counter, he’d have to stretch. That wouldn’t be a good idea unless it was a stool.

This was far too much thinking.

One hand braced on the hallway wall, Jacob shuffled old man steps to the kitchen. The coffee pot light was on, and the pot was half full. He felt the hot burn of tears behind his eyes and told himself it was only about needing another dose of meds soon.

Jacob leaned his side against the counter. He braced his weight with one hand as though the granite was a crutch. He got a mug, and slammed it down too hard on the counter. Pushed out a breath.

“Sit.” Russ’s gruff voice echoed across the kitchen. “Let me do that.”

Jacob wasn’t sure he could make it to the chair. Thankfully, Russ caught his elbows and helped him lower his behind into a chair. Jacob hissed out a breath.

“There you go. Milk?”

“Black.” Jacob cleared his throat.

“Sugar?”

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