“No doubt it reads like all the other letters he’s sent to me. I’m not interested in his sob story.”
“He’s not perfect, but he’s not evil.”
Dark eyes flashed. “Why are you doing this?” “Delivering the letter?”
“Defending him.”
She considered avoiding the subject but opted for a rare option for her: candid honesty. “My brother was convicted of murder. I thought he was innocent, and I did my best to get him out of jail. He died in prison before I could free him.”
Kirk’s head tilted and she sensed he was reassessing her. “So you think you can save men like your brother?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know your brother, but I knew my father. He’s not a man worth saving.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Then you are in a battle all by yourself.”
Her gaze landed on a two-year-old calendar featuring a bikini-clad woman on a motorcycle. The woman looked fresh-faced and happy. What did that kind of happy feel like? “Tell me what I don’t know.”
KC took his regular seat at the bar and a sigh eased from his body as he scooped a handful of nuts. For thirty-two years he’d been coming here, enjoying a beer or two and sorting his thoughts about the job before going home. Rudy’s allowed him to transition from the job to home.
Hard to believe that soon he’d not need the transition. The job would be gone and there would only be home. Jesus. As much as he’d bitched about the job over the years he really didn’t know what the hell he’d do without it.
A cold beer settled in front of him and KC glanced up at Rudy. “Thanks.”
“Countdown is coming. Two days or three.”
“Two. Fast and furious.”
Rudy had listened to KC a lot over the last three and a half decades. He listened when KC had a case that would not let him go. He listened when he was hyped about an arrest. And lately he’d listened as KC hinted at the worries nagging him about the future.
“So are they giving you a party?”
KC took a healthy gulp of beer. “I told them I didn’t want one and then my gal Brenda said I had to go out in style. That’s part of the reason I’m here.”
“How’s that?”
“She thought it might be fun to hold the party here.”
Rudy wiped his hands on a white rag. “Why here?”
“It’s not the office and it’s not home. The bridge in between.” KC took a gulp of beer. “Rudy’s has been my home away from home over the years and it’s a fitting place to end a career and start a new life.”
Rudy sniffed. “Yeah sure, if you want to have a party here, go ahead. A weeknight is best. Not so crazed.”
“That will work. How about Monday?”
“Sure.”
KC sipped more beer and glanced up at the television playing behind Rudy. It was on mute but when the picture of Annie Rivers Dawson flashed he didn’t need sound to know what was being said. He tipped his beer toward the screen. “Been following that story?”
Rudy glanced back and frowned. “Ain’t that some shit.”
A bitter taste soured the beer. “Thirty years since a righteous conviction and some attorney wants to unravel it all.”
“She’s making a name for herself. In a week people won’t care about her request.”
KC shook his head. “If the last thirty years have taught me anything, it’s that any good case can be undone. Any case. The right attorney can knot up the truth and twist it in all sorts of ways.”
Rudy took KC’s mug and refilled it. “That was a bitch of a case. I remember you talking about it and the brutal hours you all worked. All you cops looked like the walking dead.”
“Had us tied in knots. Shit. I had nightmares about that crime scene for years.”
The lines in Rudy’s face deepened with a frown. “I can’t imagine.”
“We were all afraid he’d get off. Without a body we knew a conviction would be tough.”
“But you found her. Gave her a proper burial and sent the bad guy to jail.”
KC raised his mug in salute. “Yeah. God bless, anonymous tipster.”
Rudy glanced back at the television. “You think the DNA is gonna go against you?”
“Hell no. I don’t.”
“There was a cop here on Thursday. Deke Morgan.”
“My partner.”
“Looks a hell of a lot like his old man.”
“Buddy could’ve spit him right out. But don’t tell Deke unless you want to piss him off.”
“He was asking about Dixie.”
KC shook his head. “Hell of a murder.”
Rudy filled a glass with water and took a long swallow. “Nice kid. Had her issues. But then who doesn’t?”
“Kinda reminded me of Annie.”
“Maybe.”
KC gulped the beer and set the mug carefully on the bar. “Hey, I need another favor?”
Dark eyes grew darker. “What’s that?”
“There’s a gal in the office. She sings. I’d like her to sing at my party.”
Rudy shook his head. “Hey man, I got a reputation to uphold. Only the best here.”
“I know. But Georgia is top notch. Really. You won’t be sorry. Even Brenda thinks she’s great.”
Rudy hesitated as if he’d never offered a fast yes in his entire life. “One song.”
“Three.”
A smile quipped the edges of his lips. “Two.”
Rudy shrugged. “Deal. This Monday?”
“Sure.”
“So what the hell are you gonna do with yourself after the Force.”
As tempted as KC was to have another beer and cling onto his old life, he rose from the bar, refusing to second guess today. “Hell, if I know.”
Deke parked in front of Rick’s small one-level house and grabbed the cold six-pack of beer. He crossed the cracked sidewalk and up to the well-lit front stoop. He rang the bell. The baritone bark of the wolf dog reverberated through the house and the bay window’s thick curtain flickered.
After the scrape of two dislodging chains, the door opened to Rick wearing a battered Vanderbilt T-shirt, jeans, and no shoes. His hair stuck up on end as if he dug his fingers through it a thousand times.
The dog appeared, big, black, and menacing as he stayed close to Rick’s side. Rick gently rubbed the dog between the ears. “It’s big brother, Tracker. We’re safe for now.”
Deke held up the six-pack. “You texted. Said you were digging through the case files.”
Rick pushed open the door. “Come on in.”
Deke held out his hand. Tracker sniffed until he was satisfied he posed no threat and then retreated to a large dog bed. Beside it, an electric space heater blew out warm air onto his thick fur. Tracker closed his eyes but his body clung to a tension signaling he remained on duty.
Deke glanced toward the old dining room table that had come from his family’s house. When Buddy had died, Deke had offered any furnishings to his siblings. Rick had put dibs on the table that had hosted so many gatherings. Alex had taken a guest bedroom set and Georgia had taken all the family pictures. “Looks like you jumped right to it. How long have you been at this?”
“Since I got home.”
“Nonstop.”
He shrugged. “Love a puzzle.”