Page 43 of Mine to Save

CHAPTERTEN

Trinity pushed the laptop aside and dropped her head to the table. It landed with a thud. She groaned. “I feel like a hamster on a wheel.” They’d been at Emmett’s house for the last few hours going through file after file. Case after case. She wasn’t sure she completely understood half the things she’d read. They’d received paperwork from homeless shelters, social workers, the private investigator she’d hired, police reports…among other things. Her eyes blurred, and her muscles ached.

Strong hands came down on her shoulders, massaging like a master. She had half a mind to shrug them off, but it felt too damn good.

She took in a slow breath and lifted her head. A full, stocked bar separated the kitchen from the dining room but it opened to the family room. Trinity had to wonder if Melinda had had something to do with the decorations in the house. It had that same beachy feel that the bed and breakfast did. Or maybe they just had similar tastes.

Emmett had gotten under her skin like thick cream moisturizer that soothed away the dryness. He made her feel like, no matter what, everything would be okay. With every brick wall they hit, he managed to fill the glass so it seemed half-full.

“According to the records all these homeless shelters sent over, my dad wasn’t a bad person,” she managed. “They say he was kind. That he was always trying to find work but struggled to find anything but odd jobs.”

“Having to put down that you’re a convicted felon on a job application doesn’t make it easy for anyone to want to hire you.”

“No. It doesn’t.” She sat up straight. “I was such a little bitch at sixteen.” She shook her head. “I told my own father to fuck off and die.”

“You were a kid who’d just found out that your biological father was a murderer.” Emmett rested his hand on her thigh. “When Jamison learned that Steve was his biological dad, he went nuts. And he was a grown-ass man at the time. He held a grudge for almost two years. So, don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“My father didn’t deserve the things I said to him.”

“The more you look at it that way, the more you’re going to make yourself crazy.” He tapped his finger on her knee. “Your father wanted you to know that he thought about you every day. You read the note. He loved you and wanted only good things for you. I don’t believe for one second that he harbored any ill will.”

She inhaled sharply and let it out with a big puff. “So why give me the sketch? Why did he think I would want that?”

“I’m not sure that was necessarily meant for you. He wanted me to see what was inside that envelope, and he wanted someone to continue searching for clues, which is what we’re doing.”

“Okay, but you basically said he gave up. He walked out of that diner, knowing they were going to kill him. Why would he do that?” So many questions continued to swirl in her brain, and the second one got answered, ten more popped up.

“I have two guesses for that.” Emmett turned her chair and leaned closer. “My mom has asked for the autopsy report. We should have it in a day or two.”

She narrowed her stare. “Why would you need that?”

“Maybe he was sick. Cancer or something.”

Covering her mouth, she gasped. “Why wouldn’t he go seek treatment?”

“No job. No insurance. It was terminal. Who knows? But that could have been his way out.”

She dropped her hand to her lap. “That’s terrible.”

He tilted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That’s only one theory. My second one is two-fold. He knew he was being set up and didn’t think there was a way out because he believed it was coming from one of the good guys.”

“But you didn’t think Robash believed she got the wrong guy.”

Emmett leaned back. “I don’t know anymore. She might be a pawn, or she might be a player, but some of this stuff that Rhett got from Cotania makes me think something bigger is going on.” He reached across the table and shuffled through some of the paperwork they’d spread across the surface. “According to Cotania, Robash called him numerous times regarding the case, and each time she all but told him he had it wrong. She had her team working the case when she was told it was off-limits. When her boss questioned her about it, she told him—no, sheshowedhim—proof that an informant had been reaching out to her, but she wouldn’t reveal her source. Still won’t.” Emmett tapped a piece of paper. “We need to find whoever she was working with.”

“I have to assume you’ve asked.”

“Of course, but she’s doing exactly what I’d do and protecting her sources. She has to. Otherwise, he or she will never come forward again. But what fascinates me is that Robash asked for the files to the first few murders that didn’t have the notes with Paul’s name on thembeforeshe started making a pest of herself.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because the more I study those crime scenes, the more they don’t match up. Or should I say the more the latter ones look staged to look like the first ones.”

“My head hurts.” Trinity stood and made her way toward the small bar between the dining room and kitchen, where she helped herself to a glass of white wine. She held up the bottle and waved.

“Actually, I’d rather have a beer.”

“Sure thing.” She snagged one from the beverage cooler and twisted the top. Before making her way back, she opened the pantry, looked around, and pulled out a thing of nuts. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m grabbing a snack, as well.”

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