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He’d said all of this with a warm smile, so Jack only sipped the terrible coffee and gave him a sarcastically enthusiastic thumbs-up as he did.
“Hey, man, can I ask you a question?” Jack ventured, hoping beyond all hope that this subject wouldn’t fall under the category of “trying to come in and change things that didn’t require changing.” Being that he was only trying to change the status of a case from cold to active, he sincerely hoped not.
“Shoot.”
“Any chance you’d mind if we worked together to look into Matthew McBride’s case?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Jack saw the warmth disappear from his new coworker’s face. Jack might be new to civilian policing, but he’d gotten plenty of experience on the job as a Marine, and he’d learned that someone’s eyes could often communicate much more than a verbal response.
Right now, Holden’s eyes said a lot. They said he was scared, confused, and deeply wounded. Jack saw evidence of guilt, which was understandable considering his absence that day, though it was through no fault of his own. And finally, he watched the transition from wariness and suspicion into forced relaxation.
Interesting.
“Why?” Holden asked, leaning back in his chair as if he needed to physically distance himself from the memories Jack had dropped on the desks between them.
“I just moved in next door to Matthew’s wife.”
“Robin.”
“Yeah.”
A crease appeared between his brows, and he sat forward again. “Did she ask you to look into it?”
Jack hesitated, wondering if he should lie. Then he brushed the thought away and shook his head. “She did not. But she did tell me the case was cold, and since she clearly lacks closure—”
“We all do,” Holden cut in.
“Of course. You all do. So, I thought a fresh set of eyes wouldn’t hurt.”
Holden nodded pensively, but before he could reply, Jack heard footsteps approaching from behind. One set of which sounded a lot like theclick-clackof heels. Since no one in this department wore heels at work, his pulse jumped as he turned around.
Okay, yes, the woman entering the bullpen wearing heels could’ve been anyone. And no, hearing the generic sound of heels echoing over linoleum shouldn’t have made his heart race. But when his eyes landed on Robin’s face as she trailed behind a middle-aged man in an expensive suit, the wordsknew itflashed through his mind.
He stood, shooting her a quick smile before shaking the offered hand of the man.
“Officer Rhodes,” the man said, releasing his hand after giving it a firm shake. “I’m Mayor Andrew Thompson.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jack replied.
“Please, call me Andrew.” He turned toward Robin, holding out his hand for her to step forward. “I believe you know my assistant, Robin McBride.”
“I do.”
“Great. Well, we just wanted to come by to say hi to our newest member of SHPD. My dad was the chief around here many years ago, and while I chose to go into politics rather than follow in his footsteps, I’ll always have a soft spot for our brothers in blue.”
Jack thought the sentiment was nice, though he’d spoken it with enough sweetness in his tone that it struck him as being lip service by a true politician. But one look at Robin’s face as she gave him a nearly imperceptible nod told him the man was a good one. Genuine. Respected.
That was enough for Jack.
“Thank you, sir.”
Andrew made a face about Jack’s avoidance of using his name, but if he’d spent any time as a Marine, he wouldn’t have expected him to go along with that request. If they were at a barbecue, sure, he’d call him Andrew. But as Jack stood before him at the station in his blue uniform with a badge on his chest, there was no way he’d feel comfortable calling the mayor of Snow Hill by anything other than his title orsir.
Andrew turned back to Robin again. “Think we can convince your friend here to take a walk around the station and give us a few minutes of his time?”
Jack watched Robin as she considered him with a wry smile. “Ooh, I don’t know. Jack looks pretty busy. What with all the cases he’s probably working.”
Jack and Andrew both chuckled at this, knowing full well the crime rate in their little town made for a fraction of the casework he’d had on his plate in Philly.
