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“Is the department reopening the case?” she persisted.
“Listen, Sheila, I don’t know anything yet, and even if I did?”
“I know, I know. You wouldn’t say. Protocol and all that crap.”
“Yeah, all that crap.”
“I just thought I’d give you a chance to say what the department’s going to do. I’m already talking to some of the other people who have a stake in the case.”
“What’d’ya mean?”
“Other sources. Witnesses.”
She was baiting him. He knew it but couldn’t help asking, “Who?”
She laughed. “I believe you call them ‘persons of interest.’”
“Sheila—?”
“News at eleven,” she said, teasing. Or was it a veiled threat? With Sheila, you never knew.
Her voice lost any hint of banter. She said, “You owe me, Cole.”
And there it was. The favor that he knew she would call in someday. His jaw tightened. “I thought I’d paid up.”
She barked out a laugh. Completely without humor. Sadly. There had been a time when she’d laughed spontaneously, when she’d flirted and giggled and been sexy as hell. A time when she’d challenged him to strip chess, and he’d ended up sitting stark naked in her dining room while she was wearing everything other than a charm bracelet and her dangling earrings. And a time when she and he had discussed world issues along with the subtle differences between Oregon microbrews. And now this, the hard-edged laughter and her killer instinct. He knew she’d go for the jugular to get a jump on this story. Hence the mention of the favor.
“Where’s Jonas now?”
“I don’t know.”
“But someone does. He’s been out of prison for what? Eighteen hours or so? Don’t tell me the cops aren’t watching him.”
That was probably true. “If so, I’m not in the loop.”
“Yet.”
Another email popped up. From the lieutenant. His superior.
“Holy shit, Cole, if you don’t know, who does?”
Another good question. He read the email. Lieutenant Gleason wanted a meeting in fifteen minutes.
“Look, when you find out,” Sheila was saying, “I’d appreciate a heads-up.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. It won’t be the first time you broke the rules.”
“I don’t know anything,” he admitted. “If you want more—”
“Hey. No.” She cut him off. “Don’t even think about peddling me off to the PIO. Not this time, Cole. This time I need something more than a canned speech by the department.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t have it.”
“Even though you’re the senior detective. You work homicide. And before you start saying the case is cold or too old or whatever, don’t. Save your breath. I know better. As I said, check the news today. You might find it interesting.”
And with that, she hung up just as Johnson appeared.
