*
Luke said a quick good-bye to Andi at his office and drove to the Laurelton Police Department, about a mile away. He’d already called them and asked for Detective George Thompkins but had been informed the detective would call him back. Maybe Thompkins was still on-site. Or maybe he was screening his calls. Whatever the case, Luke wanted to talk to him sooner rather than later.
He smiled at the young female officer manning the desk as he let himself into the station.
“I’m Luke Denton. Here to see Detective Thompkins.”
She gave him the once-over but made no move to buzz him through to the squad room. Luke considered trying to charm her. It sometimes worked, but her dark, suspicious eyes told him it would be a no-go here. She had that everyone’s-guilty-until-proven-innocent attitude that came with inexperience. He was forced to cool his heels and wait.
But waiting brought back images of how he and Andi had spent the afternoon, and as pleasurable as that had been, he didn’t want to think about it too much. It felt like a problem in the making. Not that he wasn’t interested. God no. But it was too soon after the debacle that had been his relationship with Iris.
As if her radar were attuned to him and she knew what he was up to, his cell phone dinged, and he looked down to see Iris was texting him. She wanted to meet him.
He shook his head. Getting involved with her had been a mistake from the get-go. He’d known it but had let himself fall into a relationship that, if he was completely honest with himself, was more about her working for the district attorney’s office and his need to clear his ex-partner than any real feeling on his part for her.
You knew better, he thought with a grimace.
Thinking of lawyers reminded him of his delay in calling his brother back. A lot had happened in a very few hours, he consoled himself. Dallas would understand. Still, he texted his brother: Wrapped up in a lot of unexpected stuff. Okay to check in next week?
A few minutes later Dallas wrote back: OK. Call when you can.
And then his cell rang and he saw it was Andi.
“Hey,” he started, but her panicked voice cut him off.
“I just got a call from Jarrett. It was his wallet at Trini’s! He went back to her apartment to get it and saw the police and left!”
“Your brother,” Luke clarified.
“She knows him. They dated.”
He stepped back outside and lowered his voice. “He didn’t talk to the police?”
“No. Oh God. That was his wallet. What does it mean?”
“Did he have an explanation?”
“I didn’t really talk to him. He was stunned and shocked, and then he just got off the phone. What should I do? I can’t just sit here!”
Luke saw headlights from an approaching vehicle, then a black Jeep with the Laurelton Police Department stenciled on it appeared. “Wait for me. I’ll be there soon. I think Detective Thompkins just arrived.”
“Do they think it’s a homicide? Do they think . . . Jarrett’s involved?”
“Andi, hang tight. Let me get some information.”
“I wish I’d come with you.”
“It’s better that you didn’t. Where is Jarrett now?”
“I don’t know.” She sounded about to break down and he could hardly blame her.
He was right about it being Thompkins. He saw his bulk move from the driver’s seat and then he was walking toward Luke. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll call back.” He clicked off and waited for the detective, who wheezed from the effort of walking.
“What are you doing here?” the detective asked him with a weary frown.
“I wanted to talk to you about Trini Finch’s death.”
“I got nothin’ to say.”
“I know the wallet you found belongs to Jarrett Sellers and that he dated Trini once upon a time.”
That earned Luke a long stare, then he said, “Marjorie said you’re ex-Portland PD.”
“I am. Quit over the Bolchoy case.”
He grunted, then motioned Luke to precede him inside. This time the girl at the desk hit the buzzer without hesitation. Luke followed Thompkins down a short hallway that opened into the squad room, which was about thirty feet square and held a number of desks. An attractive woman in plainclothes was just slipping on her coat and Luke realized he knew her. Rafferty. Named for one of the months like her brother, Detective August “Auggie” Rafferty. “Detective Rafferty?” Luke asked.
She was preoccupied, but he caught her attention. “Yes?”
Thompkins said, “He’s ex-Portland PD.”
Luke added, “I’ve worked with your brother. I’m Luke Denton.” He thrust out his hand.
She studied him. Her eyes were a warm hazel and her hair had the faintest of red in its shoulder-length brown tresses. He realized he’d seen her on television, interviewed by Pauline Kirby.