Crush - Alan Jacobson [17]
“I ruined our vacation,” she said over a sip of Duckhorn Merlot.
Robby put down his fork and sat back. “No, the UNSUB ruined it. Wrong place, wrong time.” He chewed a moment, then added, “But that doesn’t mean you had to pursue it so aggressively.”
“I had to.”
“Karen, there are murders all across the country—hell, all across the world—and you can’t be at every crime scene. You can’t draw up a profile on every UNSUB. You can’t help catch every psychosexual offender who’s on the loose.”
“I know that.”
He splayed out his large hands. “So then what gives?”
Vail took another sip of wine. She put it down, studied the glass, then said, “I don’t know. I saw that body, the—well, the behaviors—and my mind switched into work mode. I—this is what I do, and I’ve got very specialized knowledge that can help apprehend this guy before more women are killed. Am I wrong to want to help prevent that?”
Robby looked to his left, out the window at the Napa River. The sun had set and a blue-orange blush reflected off the water. The lights along the river’s edge began glowing.
“No. I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, you have to be allowed to have a life.”
“Things would’ve been fine if we hadn’t gone to Silver Ridge. We wouldn’t have heard anything about it and we would’ve gone about our vacation.”
Robby looked at her. “Are you saying this whole thing is my fault because I hooked you up with my friend to get us those wine-pairing tickets?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying that maybe this was meant to be. Maybe some higher power put us there at that time, same time as the killer, so we could do our thing and help catch this guy.”
Robby furrowed his brow. “Wow, you’re getting religious on me. I’m surprised.”
“I don’t know what to make of it, Robby. But we’re here for a reason. Maybe that reason is to help put this guy away before he kills someone else.”
The waitress appeared and leaned across the table to clear the used dishes.
Robby swirled his glass of Patz and Hall Pinot Noir, then lifted it and watched the liquid spin. As it came to rest, he said, “Basically, our vacation is over. You’re now working this case. And that’s fine, I guess. Maybe you can get Gifford to jigger your vacation time so you don’t lose it. You can take another trip when you get back.”
Vail finished off her wine. “So that means my vacation time won’t correspond with yours because yours is now, and there’s no reason for you to be working this case.”
“Exactly. So I guess we’ll have to enjoy whatever time we have when you’re not working the case.”
She reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. But we’ll make the best of what we do have. Deal?”
Robby nodded slowly. “Deal.”
“How about we start with tonight?” she said, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on his lips.
THIRTEEN
Vail and Robby ate breakfast with their B&B mates—plus another couple who’d arrived last night—and after putting down their forks and draining their coffee, were the first to leave. Vail had to be at the task force at 9 a.m., and she didn’t want to be late.
While en route to the sheriff’s department, Vail thought about asking Robby to call the Vienna police chief to ask permission for him to participate on the task force. But Robby, being a Virginia state law enforcement officer, had no jurisdiction in California. His chief would never go for it: He would say that the locals had plenty of homicide investigators to work the case—and he would be correct. Vail, however, was a different situation. She had a unique skill set the police here didn’t have.
When they arrived at the sheriff’s department, Robby pulled to the curb by the front of the building. “Call me when you’re done.”
Vail’s door was open, the car audibly purring. “What are you going to do?”
“It’s Napa.” He held up a Wine Country News magazine. “No shortage of places to explore. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
VAIL WALKED INTO the