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“How much longer until we hear from your guy about the meds?”
“He’ll call when he has what we need.”
What they needed was a profile on Dean’s mental condition, a list of the medications he was taking and whether or not he’d ever been a patient at Laurel Oaks Behavioral Hospital. Jonah claimed Department 6 had people who could get that information—who could get just about any information. He said that’d be quicker than going through the sheriff’s department here in Prescott. Since Hunsacker and Finch were out knocking on doors to see if they could find someone who might’ve seen April along the highway the night she was killed, Francesca had no problem with turning to an outside entity. Her father was trying to help, too, wasn’t he? But it was getting late. She doubted they’d hear anything until tomorrow and wasn’t looking forward to the wait.
“You really think we’ll be able to search for Bianca’s car?” she asked.
Jonah slouched in his seat. “Butch has got to go in eventually.”
They’d been hoping for an opportunity to get close to the chain-link fence surrounding the salvage yard for hours. But there’d been too much activity. They didn’t want to be seen snooping around, using binoculars, taking pictures. If he felt threatened, Butch could move or hide evidence. And if he was the person who’d cut her telephone line, Francesca didn’t feel it was a good idea to keep jumping into his sights. She wanted to feel comfortable in her own house again. If that was even possible.
“This could take a while,” she said when she saw Butch getting back in his truck. “He’s still working.”
She handed Jonah the binoculars to have a look for himself. “Surveillance too tedious for you?” he asked.
“I think it’s the cramped conditions that are bothering me.”
“Cramped conditions? We have the whole van to ourselves.”
Therein lay the problem. It wasn’t easy to be alone with Jonah during the day, let alone at night. Especially in such a private setting. They could do just about anything out here and no one would know about it. The potential for secrecy made Francesca feel free, daring, almost as if she could avoid responsibility for her own actions….
Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she studied him for a moment, then drew a deep breath. “Tell me something.”
He set the binoculars aside. “What’s that?”
“What’s it like?”
Her change in tone caused a certain wariness to come over him. “It?”
“Talking to Adriana after so long.”
He didn’t respond.
“What? You don’t want to answer?”
“Are we really going to do this?” he asked, watching her from beneath half-lowered eyelids.
“You had a baby with her. Don’t you ever think about her? The child? How things might’ve been different if you’d married?”
“Don’t dredge this up.”
“Why? You’re the one who wanted to talk about it in the past. Well, now I’m ready.”
He scowled. “You’re not ready. You’re looking for a pound of flesh. My flesh.”
“And you don’t think you owe it to me?”
“Fine.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care but she suspected he did. “I wish I’d married her, okay? Is that what you want to hear? God knows you won’t believe anything else, so there you have it. I was an asshole with no heart, out to hurt anyone I could, and I tried to destroy your life and hers just for the hell of it. I used you both, like I use all women.”
The muscle that jumped in his cheek warned her to back off, but the compulsion to hurt him as he’d hurt her goaded her to continue. “What if I’d gotten pregnant at the same time she did?”
He shook his head.
“It could’ve happened,” she went on. “You were sleeping with both of us.”
“I wasn’t sleeping with both of you,” he muttered with a scowl.
“She didn’t get that baby by immaculate conception, Jonah.”
