Alone (Detective D.D. Warren, #1)(66)

“I cared about you, too.”

“Then why are we sitting here yelling at each other?”

“Because it's all we have left!” He regretted the words the moment he said them. She sat back, clearly stunned, deeply hurt. But then she started to nod, and that hurt him, so they were even.

“You've been waiting for it to end since the minute it started,” she said, her voice soft, her hands back to rotating her coffee mug.

“We've never had much in common.”

“We had enough to last two years.”

He shrugged, feeling even more awkward, and hollow now, in a way he couldn't explain. He wished this scene were over. He wasn't so good with the leaving. He was better when the people were already gone.

“Ask me what you're going to ask me, Bobby,” Susan said wearily. “Quiz your ex-girlfriend on what she told the police.”

He had the good grace to flush.

“I honestly didn't remember meeting them,” he said curtly.

“The Gagnons?” She shrugged. “Personally, I think they make quite an impression.”

“Was it only that one time that we met?”

“I've met them several times at a variety of functions, but the big shindigs . . . I think you only met them that once.”

Bobby felt it was important to say this: “I didn't pay much attention to her.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “Come on, Bobby! She's a gorgeous woman. And with that gold dress and the exotic mask . . . Hell, even I thought about sleeping with her.”

“I didn't pay much attention,” Bobby repeated. “I was too busy watching him watch you. That's what I remember. Some man ogling my girlfriend, right in front of me and his wife.”

Susan didn't look convinced, but she finally nodded, cradling her mug. “Does that bother you?”

“What?”

“You knew Jimmy Gagnon. You thought bad things about him. Then later, you killed him. Come on, Bobby, that's gotta gnaw at your gut.”

“But I didn't remember meeting him until after you mentioned it to the police.”

She was silent for a moment. “If it helps any, from what I read in the paper, it sounds like you saved that little boy's life.”

“Maybe,” he said bleakly, and then, simply because he needed to say the words out loud, “I think the family is going to get me.”

“The family?”

“Gagnon's parents filed a lawsuit against me. They're going after me for felony murder. As in, if I'm found guilty, I go to jail.”

“Oh Bobby . . .”

He frowned, surprised by how tight his throat had grown, then picked up his coffee and took another bitter sip. “I think they're going to win.”

She closed her eyes. “Oh Bobby . . .”

“It's funny. The whole time I've had this job, I've always been so certain. Of what I do, of what I see. Even Thursday night. I never had a doubt. I sat there, lined up my shot and pulled the trigger. Then I told myself I didn't have any other choice.

“What a load of horseshit,” he expelled now. “As if in fifteen minutes or less I could really know or understand what was going on inside a family.”

“Don't do this, Bobby.”

“Do what?”

“Give up. Blame yourself. Crap out. It's what you do. You're one of the smartest guys on the force, but you never became a detective. Why is that?”

“I like being on STOP—”

“You gave up. You and me, a great two years together. But here we are, doing an awkward farewell in the middle of a coffee shop. I don't think we don't have enough in common. I don't think this has to end. But I also know it's over. Because you gave up.”

“That's not fair—”

“You're a good guy, Bobby, one of the best I've ever known. But there's something dark in you. Something angry. For every step forward, you take two steps back. It's as if half of you genuinely wants to be happy, but the other half won't let go. You want to be angry, Bobby. You need it, somehow.”

He pushed his chair back. “I should be going.”

Her gaze was dead-on. “Yes, run away.”

“Hey, I do not want to go to prison!” He was suddenly impatient. “You don't understand. The truth doesn't matter to a guy like Judge Gagnon. He can take any fact and twist it to be what he needs it to be. If I want to get out of jail, I gotta trade in another life. And I won't do that.”

“Catherine Gagnon,” Susan guessed softly.

He thinned his lips, not denying it, and Susan slowly but surely shook her head.

“I don't know, Bobby. Sounds to me like you remember Catherine better than you think. Sounds to me like she made quite an impression.”

“Not at the cocktail party,” he countered harshly, “not when you were with me.”

Susan had always been smart. “Oh God, Bobby, what exactly was it that you saw on Thursday night?”





C ATHERINE DIDN'T KNOW what started to spook her. She and Nathan were downstairs in the family room. It was nearly ten o'clock, well past Nathan's bedtime. He didn't seem to want to head upstairs, however, and she didn't have the heart to make him. He lay on the floor amid a mound of pillows, only his head visible above the pile. She'd put in his favorite movie, Finding Nemo. So far, he'd watched it twice.