Eternal by V. Forrest (primary phonics books .TXT) 📕

girlfriends, not in the outside world, at least. And here in Clare Point…well, everyone already knew all her deep, dark secrets.

“I don’t know.” He lifted his hand and let it fall. “I don’t know if I love her. I don’t know if I want to marry her. I don’t know if I’m getting cold feet because every forty-two-year-old man who’s never been married does get scared at some point, or…”

Fia wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to rest her hand on his knee. On his arm. She wanted to draw him to her breast, smooth his hair, and whisper to him that it would be all right. That he would figure it all out.

She stayed on her side of the porch swing. He stayed on his, but there was a sudden crackle of energy in the air. A sexual tension that hadn’t been there before. He wanted her to touch him…

“Glen—”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get emo on you, here.” He got up awkwardly. “I was waiting around thinking we should talk before we go back, but we’re good, right? Waiting on the autopsy, the tox reports, lab results, etcetera.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure.” She got to her feet, pushing the swing back as she rose. It drifted forward. She felt like a complete idiot. A dweeb, her teenage brother would have called her.

“So I guess I’ll be on my way.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of his car, parked on the street. “We’ll talk next week, right?”

She followed him to the steps, resting her hand on a white porch column. “Sure. Talk to you next week.”

On the sidewalk, he raised his hand in a half-wave.

Fia couldn’t decide if she wanted to run and tackle him and kiss him, or bite him. Either would have worked.

Chapter 14

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, Special Agent Kahill. I know this isn’t the way we usually do business.” Lieutenant Sutton glanced up at the guy in the paper hat behind the deli counter. “Smoked turkey on whole wheat, sprouts and mayo, please. But this is the kind of thing I feel weird talking about over the phone, if you know what I mean,” the policewoman continued, looking to Fia.

“Roast beef on rye with brown mustard. No, not that piece. The rare stuff.” Fia pointed at the slab of meat in the glass deli case.

She had been surprised when Lieutenant Sutton had called Monday morning and asked her out to lunch to talk about the case. It really wasn’t done often, dialogue between FBI and local cops, but Fia’s curiosity was piqued.

Even though Jarrell had passed the task of researching similar past crimes for the Lansdowne police on to Morone weeks ago, Fia hadn’t been able to set the woman’s death aside the way she usually could. It was a technique cops learned early, had to, to stay sane, and it worked most of the time. But not always. Once in a while there was a case, a victim, or maybe a surviving family member who stuck with you long after the case had been solved or officially left open.

“It’s not a problem, Lieutenant. A woman’s got to eat.” Fia watched the deli guy slice her roast beef with an electric slicer. Rivulets of bloody juice ran over the sides of the blade. “I needed to get out of the office for a few minutes anyway.”

“Tough case?” Sutton accepted her paper plate from gloved hands.

“The beheadings in Delaware.”

A woman in brown BCBG pumps in line behind them cut her eyes at Fia.

So beheadings weren’t polite deli-line conversation. Why was the chick eavesdropping, anyway?

Sutton spotted Brown Pump Chick and moved up to the cash register without saying anything more. She waited for Fia at a table in the front, next to the window. The deli was a dump, but the roast beef was always excellent and it was only a couple of blocks from the Bureau’s office on Arch.

“You were saying you were on the beheading cases.”

“Know anything about what happened?” Fia opened the cap on her bottle of iced tea.

“Mostly what I read in the paper.”

“First a postmaster. Then a police officer.”

“Jesus.” Sutton bit off a corner of her sandwich.

“Thing is…” Fia looked down at her sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. “I’m from Clare Point.”

“And they put you on the case?”

“Long story involving federal bureaucracy at its finest.” Fia dropped a napkin into her lap and reached for her sandwich, realizing she was famished. “So what’s going on with the Mulvine case?”

“Nothing, and that’s what’s irking me.” Sutton nibbled at the crust of her bread. “Nothing came back on the forensics. I did dig up this file.” She pulled a manila envelope out of her leather bag and slid it across the table. She wrinkled her nose and reached for her sandwich again. “You probably want to wait until you get back to the office to have a look.”

Fia stared at the envelope, getting that weird feeling again. She looked up at Sutton. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—” She stopped and then started again, thinking that no matter how she phrased it, it was going to come out rude. “I’m not sure I know how I can help you.”

“I know. Not your case. Not your jurisdiction.” Sutton held out one hand, sandwich in the other. “The other agent who contacted me was not very helpful.”

Fia frowned. “Really? He find anything of use?”

Sutton looked up, chuckling. “Not a thing. Not even sure he looked, but that’s neither here nor there.” She looked down at the envelope, then back at Fia. “Truthfully, I don’t know why I called you.” She groaned. “This sounds stupid, but I’m at such a loss with this case, it’s so disturbing and…I felt as if you and I made some kind of connection that night at the scene.” She grabbed her napkin, lowering her voice. “And no, I’m not coming on to you, Special