She’d eaten here enough that she knew the menu by heart. “A beer and a small pizza.”
“I’ll take a burger and soda,” Rick said. “Still got a bit of work to do tonight.”
KC nodded. “Will do.”
Jenna sat back in her seat. “You checking up on me?”
“Yeah. Wanted to make sure you haven’t had any more road problems.”
“Not a one. A very peaceful night and day.”
Rick loosened his tie and sat back in the booth. A blues song crooned in the background. “I thought you had portrait work.”
“Finished. She loved it.”
“Why do the street drawings? Seems a waste of talent.”
“Street drawing keeps my sketching skills sharp until I return to the real world and my old job. And it pays the rent. I’m on unpaid leave and have bills to pay in two cities.”
Rick didn’t comment even as a tension rippled over his expression. “When will you go back?”
“Who knows? A week or two.”
He sat back in the booth. “What’s holding you here?”
She arched a brow. “You in a rush to see me go?”
“Not at all.”
“So what do you do when you’re back in Baltimore?”
She glanced up, a half smile tugging the edge of her lips. “Nice conversation shifter.”
“I like to think I’m smooth. What do you do?”
“Before my aunt died, I hung out with her. I have friends. We drive to the harbor or hang out. Regular stuff.”
KC arrived with their drinks and set them on the table. He looked as if he wanted to stay and talk but a glance from Rick sent him back to the bar.
Jenna laughed. “That look sent poor KC scurrying away. You must be one scary dude.” She sipped her beer savoring the flavor as it cooled her dried throat.
His smile did little to soften the intensity that she guessed grew exponentially the deeper it went. “KC is a good guy. But he’ll stand here for an hour talking.”
She traced the rim of her cup. “Any leads on the Lost Girl?”
“Not yet.” Rick sighed. “There was no report filed on a child of her description during a twenty-five-year time frame.” He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “You and the Lost Girl are about the same age.”
“I thought about that.”
“We’ve dates when the pond was drained and the burial site accessible. But no hits.”
“Ever thought the killer worked for the parks system? Hell of a long shot to just stumble onto the drained lake.”
“I checked with the head of maintenance. Each time they drain the pond, it’s announced in the media. But you’re right about a possible job connection. We’ve got the parks system compiling a list of employee names.”
“And the blanket?”
“Georgia went over every square inch of it. Found a couple of hairs, a bloodstain, and two other stains. DNA on the hair and blood and she thinks the other stains were food.”
“High-or low-end blanket?”
“High. But not so special that it would only have been exclusive. Dozens of stores could have sold it.”
“It just might come down to my sketch.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
KC was grateful to focus on food rather than emotions. The pizza crust was crisp and the sauce and cheese blended perfectly. She savored every bite. Rick, like her, also concentrated on his food. He was a cop, after all, and ate when he could. Cops never knew when they’d be called into the field or for how long. Eat when you can. When their meal was done, Jenna pushed her plate away and dug two rumpled twenties from her pocket. “This one’s on me.”
He balled his napkin and held it in his fist. “You get the next one. I got this one.”
She crushed the bills in her fist, ready to toss them on the table. “A next time? Who’s to say there’ll be another time?”
He placed the crumpled napkin by his plate. “You’re on Georgia’s radar. She’s yet to land her first cold case for this team she’s assembling in her mind and I suspect she won’t let you go so easily.”
Jenna laughed. “I liked helping her. But my paying job is in Baltimore.”
He ignored the Baltimore mention. “She’ll have more cases for you. She’s a woman on a mission.”
“Georgia wants to find all the missing. Wants to bring them home.” Jenna traced the rim of her cup. “That’s not always possible.”
“Don’t tell her.”
“I did a lot of reading on Nashville. Dug through the newspaper on microfilm for the last twenty-five years.”
“So you know about Georgia?”
“Yeah. I can relate to her. We’ve both lost mothers.” She stopped short of saying they’d both been murdered.
His jaw tightened. “She doesn’t talk about it. She’s pretending it never happened.”
A sad smile tipped the edge of her lips. “She hasn’t forgotten. It’s still there. She just can’t deal. Yet. It took me twenty-five years until I ran into a trigger that set me off.”
He picked up the paper that had covered the straw and folded it over and over until it was a small box. “The girl in the closet.”
“Yes.”
“So what’s your plan?”
A shrug. “I go back to my life in Baltimore and live happily ever after.” That had been the tentative plan when she left Baltimore but, now, going back didn’t feel exactly right, as if somehow this journey had already changed her. Smiling, she gathered up her supplies. “I better get home. It’s been a long day.”
He moved to slide out of the booth. “Let me walk you to your Jeep.”
“I’m fine. Parked out back. KC is always nice enough to let me use his extra reserved spot.”
Rick glanced toward the former cop who stood behind the bar and laughed with customers. “Good.”
“Take care, Detective.”
“Until next time.”
She laughed, not sure if she was glad to be leaving or glad this wasn’t the end of the road for them.
Rick was finishing one of KC’s strong coffees when his cell rang. A glance at the number told him it was the main desk at police headquarters. He answered on the third ring. “Morgan.”