The Widow - Carla Neggers [81]
“You could have come to and seen him. If he’d tried to run with it, he could have been caught. Ellis Cooper’s guests were down this way during the party to check out the cliffs. A wonder he wasn’t spotted as it was.”
But Lou and his detectives had questioned every one of Ellis’s guests that day, and no one had seen anyone.
Then again, would anyone have noticed Mattie Young?
“We’ll go through every piece of dust in that wall, Abigail,” Lou said, moving past her into the front room. “And we’ll keep an open mind.”
She gave him a grudging smile. “If you’re reminding me of the dangers of jumping to conclusions, your point is well taken. I shouldn’t have dug into the wall. I should have waited for the crime scene guys.” She glanced back at her fellow BPD detective in the entry. “O’Reilly, why didn’t you stop me?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t seem like a good idea at the time.”
“I just…”
She couldn’t go on. She saw herself on her wedding day, putting on the pearl-and-cameo necklace with her grandmother and mother watching her, happy for her, none of them ever imagining the horror and tragedy that would come their way in a matter of days.
And not because of the necklace.
The thief—the person who’d attacked her seven years ago—had never been after the necklace.
It was nothing she needed to tell either detective with her.
“Lou, what else do you know?” She spoke quietly, saw him stiffen as he stopped, his back to her. She went on. “What haven’t you told me all these years?”
He turned back to her. “Lab guys will be here any sec—”
She swallowed. “I should talk to my father, shouldn’t I?”
“You should always talk to your father.” He cleared his throat and nodded to Bob. “Good to meet you, finally.”
“You, too, Lieutenant,” Bob said, stepping aside for Lou to pass him.
After Lou headed outside to meet more arriving officers, Abigail frowned at O’Reilly. “‘Finally?’ What does that mean? Have you two talked behind my back more than I think you have?”
“Probably.”
“I don’t like being thought of as a complication.”
“Well, you are. Tough. You’re also a damn good detective. If not for you, Boston would have a few more cretins on the street.”
She hadn’t expected any kind of compliment, not today. “Thanks for that, Bob.”
“I’m just stating the facts. I’m not trying to be nice.” His big frame took up most of the doorway. “Abigail. Detective Browning. You get burned up here—you cross the line—I can’t help you.”
“Understood.”
“Having a father who’s the director of the FBI isn’t a point in your favor. It’s not why you’re a detective today. Neither is having the unsolved murder of a loved one in your background. These are liabilities.”
“I like to think I’m a detective today because of my own hard work.”
“You are. You didn’t let your liabilities sink you.” He made a face, as if he’d been planning what to say to her but, now that he was saying it, didn’t like it. “I’m being blunt here, but I have to be. Your liabilities set you apart. They make people look at you and wonder, and that’s not good. I’ve stood up for you because you should have a chance to prove yourself on your own merits. And you have.”
“Your faith in me means a lot.”
“Yeah. That’s great. I’ll tell Scoop that we need to keep that in mind when reporters are camped out on our front stoop.” But O’Reilly wasn’t finished. “Tell me, kid. What are you going to do if you come face-to-face with Chris’s killer? Have you thought about that?”
“Every day for the past seven years.”
He wasn’t satisfied. “Do you see yourself calling 911?”
“Bob, I know what you’re getting at.”
“Or do you see yourself taking out your Glock and pulling the trigger and blowing this guy’s head off?”
“I see Chris.” Abigail crossed her arms on her chest and refused to look at her friend and mentor, a man with almost thirty years of law enforcement experience. “I see him nodding and saying, ‘That’s the one, babe. That’s the one who killed me.’”
Bob had no response. He walked into the front