River Bodies (Northampton County #1)(48)

“None taken,” Parker said and grabbed an ice cube to suck on.

“When we finally got around to his office, his whole demeanor changed. He went from being annoyed to downright uncooperative. He wanted to know why we were so interested in the case. He said it was small-town stuff and he was perfectly capable of handling it. Then he goes on to tell us that since it was so small town, he hadn’t even finished his report and he needed some time. He said he was waiting for the medical examiner’s report. We told him not to worry about any of that, to just hand over whatever he had, we’d take it from there. But no, this guy insisted he finish his report and all but threw us out.”

“Maybe Clint just liked to keep the town’s police matters under his control. It was his job, after all,” Parker said. He refused to believe Becca’s father was incompetent or crooked in any way.

“Maybe. But the report we got was shit. Hell, he could’ve typed it up while we were standing there. There was nothing in it. I always suspected we didn’t get the original report from him, but I could never prove it. So we followed him for a while.”

“You tailed him?”

“Yeah, for a couple of weeks, to see what would turn up. Like I said, we didn’t have the rifle or the knife. We just didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest. We knew the chief was the younger stepbrother of our guy, Russell. We were hoping he would lead us to him.”

“And?” Parker asked. The muscles in his arms tensed.

“And nothing,” Rick said. “Clint was clean. I’d even go as far as to say he was a good chief.”

Parker’s body relaxed.

“So that makes the flimsy report and his behavior all the more confusing.” He paused. “Well, there was one flaw in his character. Hell, nobody’s perfect.”

“And what was that?” They were talking about Becca’s father, a man Parker had looked up to most of his life, and his curiosity about Clint, his curiosity in general, had gotten the better of him.

“Let’s just say he liked women.”

Parker had heard the rumors before, how Clint had been seen around town with different women while he’d still been married to Becca’s mother. There was always some truth to gossip. Parker had wondered about it back when he and Becca had been in high school, but she hadn’t liked to talk about her father, and Parker hadn’t pried.

“And how is any of this supposed to help my case now?” He wondered what he was supposed to do with all of this noninformation. Russell Jackson was dead, so he couldn’t be responsible for this crime. But his son could be the copycat killer. Parker knew John Jackson had stepped in as the enforcer, taking his father’s place in the club. But what Parker hadn’t been able to find was what had eluded Rick on the first case, the hard evidence to make an arrest.

“Clint knew something,” Rick said. “All these years later, and it still keeps me up at night. He knew something. He wears a badge same as us, but he wasn’t talking. Why? Who was he protecting? Russell? The history we dug up on them was that they’d never gotten along. It didn’t seem likely that Clint would protect him, not for something this big.” He paused. “Well, that was my gut feeling anyway.”

The door to the bar swung open, bringing a draft of cold air into the place. Both Parker and Rick turned in their seats to see who had walked in. Parker recognized the pixie cut, the slight build, the big, careful eyes of the girl who had once been his best friend.

Rick was eying her closely. Parker’s pulse picked up. After what Rick had suspected about her father, Parker felt an overwhelming need to protect her. The best way he knew how was to pretend he hadn’t recognized her. He turned back to the bar, hoping she wouldn’t spot him.

“Hey,” Becca said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Parker turned around, feigning surprise. “Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” she said, touching the small stud in her right ear. “I stopped by the station. They told me to check here.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Rick asked, keeping his eyes on her.

Parker didn’t like the way the retired detective was looking her over. “Sorry,” Parker said. “Becca, this is Rick Smith.”

Rick seemed to be studying her face. “You look familiar,” he said. “Have we met before?”

“No,” Becca was quick to say—too quick, which made Parker think she was lying.

“Are you sure? I never forget a face, and yours is definitely familiar,” Rick said.

Behind where they were sitting, some of the guys hooted and hollered over the hockey game they were watching on TV.

Parker used the brief disruption as an opportunity. “Sit,” he said to Becca and pulled the stool out on the other side of him, putting himself between her and Rick.

No one said anything. Parker didn’t know how he was going to get Rick to leave, but then Rick stood. “Well, that’s it for me.” Before he walked away, he said to Becca, “I’m sure I know you from somewhere. It’ll come to me sooner or later. Probably in the middle of the night. Don’t you hate when that happens? I can never get back to sleep.” He stared at her a second more.

She kept her head down, didn’t reply. Parker wanted to shield her from Rick’s glare.