Maybe he was afraid he wouldn’t be proficient at it.
Or maybe it was something even deeper. He had to accept that they needed to watch each other’s backs. Was he worried that she wasn’t capable—or that he wasn’t capable of trusting her?
He forced his attention back to the matter at hand. “Detective,” he said to Wharton, “we have an appointment to speak with the missing woman’s aunt, but if you could give me an hour after that, I’d like to see Genie Gonzales’s apartment.”
“We did a thorough job searching it,” Wharton told him.
“I know you did. I’d just like to get a feel for her.”
“Certainly. Say, about one this afternoon?”
“That’ll be fine,” Matt replied.
Meg was still speaking with the young officer. Matt checked his watch; they should leave. The situation here was covered by Kat and Will.
He walked over to her and gestured that it was time to go.
She nodded and shook hands with the young detective.
Matt paused to let Will know they were leaving, then he and Meg headed out.
“He does walk, you know,” she said.
“What?”
“Killer. He walks. You’re still carrying him.”
“Oh.” That was when he realized that he was still holding the dog and had been for quite some time. In his arms, the animal had barely moved.
He set the dog on the ground. Killer fell into step with him as they made their way to the parking lot. The dog obediently jumped onto Meg’s lap in the passenger seat when they reached the car.
“You may be getting too attached, you know,” he told her.
She shook her head. “Actually, I’m going to ask Aunt Nancy to keep him for me until I get back.”
“Because he’s such a beauty?” Matt asked her. “Such a charming little guy?”
She smiled. “Yes. He has the most beautiful soul an animal could have. Have you ever heard of Greyfriars Bobby? When I was child, my dad told me the story about him. He was a terrier who sat at his master’s grave in Edinburgh for years after his death—and he’s buried near him now. People fed him and cared for him, but he spent his days at his master’s grave. This little guy is a Bobby. So loyal. I knew I wanted a dog when I could, and this is the one. My town house is— Well, it’s really empty right now, but I figure even with furniture, it’ll feel cold for a while. Killer will fix that.”
“Not too fond of the name,” Matt said.
“I’ll think about it. I’m sure Genie named him Killer ironically, because he’s so little and so affectionate. Going against type. But...changing his name doesn’t seem right. Taking care of him does.”
“Whatever you say.” Her dog, he told himself. Sort of. Her decision.
She pointed to a street sign. “Turn here. Nancy has a beautiful old home at the end of this cul-de-sac.”
They arrived at the house and Meg paused, touching his arm before he could turn to get out of the car. “I, uh, spent a lot of time here. Nancy is a very dear and old friend. I call her Aunt, too, although we aren’t related.”
He felt her touch. Her eyes seemed oddly intense.
“And you’re afraid I’m going to be a jerk and make her cry?”
She frowned. “That’s not what I meant...”
“That’s exactly what you meant. Hey, I’m the one suggesting Lara might be alive, despite the fact that you ‘saw’ her. But never mind. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
He got out of the car. As Meg had said, Nancy lived in one of the grand old places that spoke of all that had been good about the Old South—true warmth and hospitality. He smiled. Those were the things he loved about his own home, his own family.
Granted, not everything about the South had been good—certain attitudes, beliefs, behavior.
But kindness and graciousness also abounded.
Yes, he’d be on his best behavior. His mother hadn’t sent him to dance lessons for nothing, he thought with amusement.
Once they’d entered the house, Matt wondered why he’d been so certain that Nancy Cooper would be a fragile old lady.
The woman who opened the door was dressed in workout clothing; she had a small but lean, muscled frame. Her hair, iron gray, was cut stylishly short. She wasn’t the kind of woman to hide her age, but her age didn’t matter—she was lovely. She seemed to glow with energy and intelligence. She welcomed Meg with a warm hug.
She smiled at the dog, taking him from Meg’s arms and putting him on the floor, urging him to run about as if he were at home.
Then she looked at Meg with a question in her eyes, one Meg couldn’t answer.
They clung together again, and Matt remembered that it was this woman’s niece who was missing. She was certainly shaken with worry and dread.
She drew away from Meg at last to shake hands with Matt. She made no pretense of doing anything but assessing him. To her credit, he had no idea what her assessment had been.
“You’ve been with the Bureau long, Agent Bosworth?” she asked.
“Ten years.”