Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(150)
With anything important, it was better late than never.
“I got a homicide to solve,” Garrett eventually told his old man.
Dave tipped his head to the table. “Then I got a cup a’ joe I best be pourin’ in a travel mug.”
They got up. His dad poured his coffee in a travel mug. He also walked his son to the door.
“Want Cher and her boy here for dinner, Garrett,” Dave ordered. “Soon’s you can work that out.”
He stopped and looked at his dad, muttering, “You got it.”
He moved in, wrapped an arm around his old man, and slapped his back twice.
He got three back.
That was his father; he always bested on the back slaps.
Grinning, Garrett let him go, lifted the mug, and took off out the door.
“Careful out there,” Dave called.
“Always,” Garrett called back.
He got in his truck and drove to the station.
Count your lucky stars you’re able to hold tight to your woman so you can weather the goddamned storm.
Fuck, he missed his mom.
And he had a great dad.
On the way up the back stairs to the bullpen, his phone sounded with a text.
He pulled it out and read, Eggs and toast are not culinary brilliance. Dinner tonight will be. Warning, I’m introducing vegetables to my kid’s diet. Before hitting your pad, please secure an adrenaline shot in case he goes into shock.
Shit, Cher. Damned funny.
And she had been that way with him since he knew her.
She gave that to everyone else.
But looking back, he’d definitely had his head up his ass. She’d pulled out all the stops to make him laugh, to give him the impression she was just one of the guys but with tits, which meant hiding the fact that he was not like Colt to her. Or Sully. Morrie. Mike. Cal. Tanner. And not because he wasn’t married.
Because she was into him.
Shit.
…weather the goddamned storm.
He texted back, What time you need me home?
He gave Mike a chin lift as he walked to his desk.
He was seated at it, ready to brief with Mike before they took on their day, when he got back, It’s not me fighting crime. You tell me when and dinner will be ready.
Will do. But later. Good? he texted back.
You got it, boss, she replied.
“Everything okay?” Mike asked.
He looked to his partner.
“Yes,” Garrett answered. That word was solid because he meant it in many ways, not all of which he was going to communicate right then. “You know where I can get an extra bed? Need to convert my second bedroom to an eleven-year-old kid’s room.”
Mike’s lips twitched. After years of his partner being the town player, he thought this was hilarious.
“Nope,” he answered. “But I’ll ask Dusty. Maybe Rhonda has something.”
Garrett nodded and reached out to turn on his computer.
He didn’t get there.
“You hear from Ryker?” Mike asked.
“No,” Garrett answered.
“Time to try and hit Cutler again?” Mike asked.
“Absolutely,” Garrett answered.
Mike got up.
Garrett got up without even turning on his computer.
They went to the sedan.
And that day, Garrett drove.
Chapter Twenty
Matchmaker
Garrett
In the bullpen, Mike stood three feet from the whiteboard, staring at it.
Garrett sat on the side of his desk, also staring at it.
Sean and Drew stood close, staring at the board too.
At the top was a long horizontal line, short vertical dashes on the line.
Close to the right edge and under a dash, on three lines, it said, 4:30 a.m. gunshots heard, time of death.
Next to that, under a dash, two lines said, 4:39 a.m., 911 call.
The space between those times and the time Wendy left work as well as the space after those times was empty—except for question marks.
Stuck to the board, there were driver’s license photos of Wendy Derian and Jaden Cutler. There were also crime scene photos of her, her Fiesta, and four shell casings on the pavement outside her Fiesta.
Marscha had heard it right; Wendy had been hit three times. Jake found another bullet lodged close to the gear shift.
Either a warning shot or a miss.
In the top right-hand corner, it said, Cell phone?
Other than that, there was nothing.
Dick.
Their trip to Cutler’s that morning bought them the same. He still wasn’t there.
“Fuck, we got dick,” Mike muttered.
“You got dick,” Drew confirmed.
They all stared at the board.
“Seriously,” Drew kept on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a board so empty.”
Garrett watched Mike turn annoyed eyes at his colleague.
“Can’t go to Carlito ’cause no one mentioned him,” Sean remarked, eyes still to the board. “Can’t go to any of Cutler’s associates because no one has mentioned them either.”
“Not like those guys aren’t used to fishing expeditions,” Mike returned, turning his eyes to Garrett. “They’re known associates. One of their own lost his girl. We’re just looking for any information we can find.” He tipped his chin up to Garrett. “Game?” he asked just when the phone on Garrett’s desk went.