Page 55 of The Murder Between Us
“He was hiding it. He did everything he could to cover up who he was.”
Her gaze turned back to him. “I want my dad to be happy.”
He heard what she wasn’t saying, saw the words as if they were being beamed out of her eyes. Fear nearly choked her, made her lips quiver.I don’t want to lose my dad.
“We can make him happy. You already do. Maybe I can a bit, too?” He laid his hand over hers, squeezing once before letting go. “I’d like the chance to try, together with you.”
She smiled, very slowly, before turning back to her homework.
Noah appeared, sliding his phone into his pocket as he balanced a cup of coffee and a plate with a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich. Cole tried to smother a smile as Noah passed him the sandwich and coffee. Noah sat beside Katie, straddling the bench and facing her as he reviewed her homework. Not that he knew what he was reviewing, Cole thought. He was just checking that it looked complete and that all the assigned problems were done. He faked it well, though, nodding seriously as Katie described the way Cole had explained the equations. Katie had perked up as soon as Noah had reappeared, like a flower blooming in sunlight.
Noah beamed at his daughter as she snapped the textbook closed. “Great job, K-Bear.”
“Dr. Kennedy helped a lot.” She smiled at him. He tried to smile back, around his mouthful of sandwich. “Thanks.”
“I’m proud of you.” Noah kissed her hair.
Cole recognized the shift in Noah’s gaze, his eyes tightening, the darkness descending. He waited as Noah pressed his lips together. “The warrant’s been signed,” Noah said, speaking to both Katie and Cole. “The team is starting the search of his house right now.”
Katie sagged. “So you have to go to work?”
“Yeah. We have to go to work. I don’t know how long we’ll be.”
She shrugged. “I’ve got cheer in a few hours. I won’t be done until six.”
“Well, I’ll make sure I’m done at six, too.” Noah reached for her and took her hand. “Dinner tonight? To make up for last night”
“Which part of last night?” Katie grinned. “Or… this morning?”
Noah flushed, turning a color that matched his shirt, something deep and dark that reminded Cole of red wine. Or spilled blood. “Katie.”
“Just teasing you, Dad. Yeah, dinner sounds good.” She grabbed her book and binder and stood. “Can you drop me off at the school on your way in? I’ll hang out at the library until cheer starts.”
They trooped out to Noah’s SUV after Cole shoved the rest of the sandwich down his throat and chugged his creamy coffee. Katie packed her cheer bag and backpack, and Noah carried the case files for Cole. It was domestic, and quaint, and paternal, and Cole had no idea how to feel as they drove to the high school and parked in front to let Katie out. He rolled down his window and waved to her. “Have a good afternoon, Katie.”
“Thanks, Dr. Kennedy.”
Noah had climbed out of the SUV and stood by the engine, flipping his keys in one hand. He had that scrunched-up look to his face, partially hidden by his sunglasses. Katie joined him, a mirror image, all the way down to the furrow of their noses and the angle of their heads.
“I know it’s not cool at your age to hug your parent in public,” Noah said softly. “But I could use a hug today, K-Bear.”
“Dad.” She wrapped him up in a huge hug, both arms around his shoulders, knuckles almost white where she gripped him. He squeezed back, his face in her ponytail.Thank you, Cole saw Noah whisper.
Katie pulled back, rearranging her cheer skirt and leggings, hugging her textbook to her chest. “Love you.”
“Love you, K-Bear. See you tonight.”
18
The detritusof Andy Garrett’s life was laid out on the conference room table.
Photos taken during the search of his townhome showed a life coming unglued. He’d punched his bathroom mirror out at some point. Pieces of glass covered the master bathroom. Blood stains swirled like high-water marks in his sink. A pile of empty liquor bottles squatted in the corner of his living room. His sheets were covered in bloodstains, some fresher than others. Dirt from his boots matched the Olson cornfield and yard. Dried corn husks and wisps of corn silk were scattered in his living room and near his front door, like he’d tracked it in and hadn’t cared.
A picture of Jessie was taped to one of the shards of Garrett’s bathroom mirror. Jessie, smiling for the camera, a close-up, a selfie. The flash was too bright, and she was washed out, but it was her. Very much alive.
There was another photo of a girl, a different one, torn up and shoved in the back of Andy’s nightstand. When the detectives taped it back together, they were staring at a picture of Monica Venneslund, the fifth of the Coed Killer’s victims.
What they hadn’t found was the missing crystal sheriff’s star, the weapon that had most likely killed Bart. And they hadn’t found Garrett’s service weapon, though they found about six hundred nine-millimeter rounds packed into the top shelf of his closet.
