night. Do you wanna come?”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got plans with a friend from work.” She and Lilah went to Taco Tuesday every week for dollar tacos and half-off Margaritas.
There was a moment of silence before Drew said, “Bring him along. I’d like to check out my competition. What’s his name? I’ll put the two of you on the guest list.”
“Lilah.” Meagan laughed. “Let me talk to her, and I’ll call you back tomorrow. What’s your number?”
“You won’t be able to reach me, I’m going to be in and out. Why don’t I just call you?”
“Okay. That reminds me, how’d you get my home number?”
There was a brief pause. “You gave it to me Saturday night, don’t you remember?”
“Actually, I gave you the salon number.” She never gave out her home number to men anymore.
Silence again.
“All right, I confess. Theresa gave it to me. I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to be angry with her. You can’t tell her I told you. She made me promise.”
“Well that figures.”
They ended up talking for a couple of hours. She loved all his stories of life on the road; he was really quite funny. Meagan hung up and found herself humming while she got ready for bed. Suddenly she stopped. It just occurred to her: Would Theresa, with all her faults, really give Meagan’s home number to a complete stranger?
EIGHTEEN
With Shadowhawk riding shotgun, Thomas drove the two-hour trip to Temecula, where the Bernards lived. Shadowhawk had studied the file the day before, and they discussed the case. He answered her questions the best he could, and was impressed with his new partner’s intellect and insight.
The Bernard’s street was a model of suburbia. The track homes with their meticulously manicured lawns could have been Anytown, California. Thomas was having a bad case of déjà vu, like he’d driven down this same street countless times before.
Shadowhawk pointed out the address, and they pulled up in front of a professionally landscaped house with numerous palm trees. Each, placed strategically around the lawn, had a ring of brightly colored flowers around the base, and raised flowerbeds rimmed the circumference. The house itself was a beige two-story Mediterranean with a beige tiled roof. An overturned bicycle lay in the driveway.
As the detectives walked up the front pathway leading to the door, Thomas realized he was not looking forward to this. There was nothing easy about talking to a man who had just lost his wife in such a brutal manner. His mind flashed back to Victoria.
He mentally shook his head, and rang the doorbell. A little blonde girl of about three answered. She had ringlets all over her head and big bright eyes.
“Hi, I’m Kylie! What’s your name?” came the perky little voice. Just then a man appeared behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Kylie, what have I told you about answering the door? Now go to your room and watch videos while I talk with my guests.” Kylie’s smile faded as she turned and did what she was told.
Thomas looked at the shell of a broken man. His bloodshot eyes were swollen, his pallor almost gray. He was in his mid- forties, but today could easily pass for sixty.
“Good morning, Mr. Bernard. My name is Detective Thomas, and this is Detective Shadowhawk.” He flashed his ID. “We have a few questions we’d like to ask you. We’ll make it as brief as possible.”
Jack Bernard moved aside and motioned for them to come in.
“Let’s go into the living room where we won’t be disturbed. My son Brian is in his room. He hasn’t been out since I told him about his mother last night. He’s ten. Kylie’s too little to understand. Hell, I don’t even understand.” He choked back a sob.
He swiped at a tear that had slipped down his cheek and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thank you,” they said almost in unison.
Mr. Bernard dropped in
“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got plans with a friend from work.” She and Lilah went to Taco Tuesday every week for dollar tacos and half-off Margaritas.
There was a moment of silence before Drew said, “Bring him along. I’d like to check out my competition. What’s his name? I’ll put the two of you on the guest list.”
“Lilah.” Meagan laughed. “Let me talk to her, and I’ll call you back tomorrow. What’s your number?”
“You won’t be able to reach me, I’m going to be in and out. Why don’t I just call you?”
“Okay. That reminds me, how’d you get my home number?”
There was a brief pause. “You gave it to me Saturday night, don’t you remember?”
“Actually, I gave you the salon number.” She never gave out her home number to men anymore.
Silence again.
“All right, I confess. Theresa gave it to me. I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to be angry with her. You can’t tell her I told you. She made me promise.”
“Well that figures.”
They ended up talking for a couple of hours. She loved all his stories of life on the road; he was really quite funny. Meagan hung up and found herself humming while she got ready for bed. Suddenly she stopped. It just occurred to her: Would Theresa, with all her faults, really give Meagan’s home number to a complete stranger?
EIGHTEEN
With Shadowhawk riding shotgun, Thomas drove the two-hour trip to Temecula, where the Bernards lived. Shadowhawk had studied the file the day before, and they discussed the case. He answered her questions the best he could, and was impressed with his new partner’s intellect and insight.
The Bernard’s street was a model of suburbia. The track homes with their meticulously manicured lawns could have been Anytown, California. Thomas was having a bad case of déjà vu, like he’d driven down this same street countless times before.
Shadowhawk pointed out the address, and they pulled up in front of a professionally landscaped house with numerous palm trees. Each, placed strategically around the lawn, had a ring of brightly colored flowers around the base, and raised flowerbeds rimmed the circumference. The house itself was a beige two-story Mediterranean with a beige tiled roof. An overturned bicycle lay in the driveway.
As the detectives walked up the front pathway leading to the door, Thomas realized he was not looking forward to this. There was nothing easy about talking to a man who had just lost his wife in such a brutal manner. His mind flashed back to Victoria.
He mentally shook his head, and rang the doorbell. A little blonde girl of about three answered. She had ringlets all over her head and big bright eyes.
“Hi, I’m Kylie! What’s your name?” came the perky little voice. Just then a man appeared behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Kylie, what have I told you about answering the door? Now go to your room and watch videos while I talk with my guests.” Kylie’s smile faded as she turned and did what she was told.
Thomas looked at the shell of a broken man. His bloodshot eyes were swollen, his pallor almost gray. He was in his mid- forties, but today could easily pass for sixty.
“Good morning, Mr. Bernard. My name is Detective Thomas, and this is Detective Shadowhawk.” He flashed his ID. “We have a few questions we’d like to ask you. We’ll make it as brief as possible.”
Jack Bernard moved aside and motioned for them to come in.
“Let’s go into the living room where we won’t be disturbed. My son Brian is in his room. He hasn’t been out since I told him about his mother last night. He’s ten. Kylie’s too little to understand. Hell, I don’t even understand.” He choked back a sob.
He swiped at a tear that had slipped down his cheek and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thank you,” they said almost in unison.
Mr. Bernard dropped in
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