Jamie had worn his blond hair a little long, but it went with his laid-back vibe. He was a big guy too, likely as tall as me and with just as much bulk. He was wearing flip-flops and cargo shorts with his Western pearl-snap shirt. And on his left hand, a silver wedding band reflected in the screen.
My insides twisted as the footage spun on. Tragic. That was the word I’d landed on to describe this video. Fucking tragic.
On screen, Jamie handed over some cash to Kennedy just as the killer came into the liquor store. The killer was barely inside the door before he started waving his gun in the air. Jamie said something, you could make out the word don’t, and then took one step forward. The moment he moved, the killer gripped the gun with both hands and shot Jamie in the head. Kennedy’s mouth was wide as she screamed before the killer turned the gun on her and shot her center mass.
Then, with no hesitation, as if he hadn’t just taken two innocent lives, the killer reached across the counter and yanked out all of the cash from the open register drawer.
He’d kept his back to the camera as he backed out of the store. The angle of the camera had never caught his face—just hints of his profile. All we could see was the plain charcoal hoodie and jeans he’d been wearing. When he pulled the cash out from the register, we could make out a sliver of his light-skinned nose and a small tuft of brown hair at his ear. Black sunglasses covered his eyes and black gloves his hands.
With the register empty, he backed out of the store, leaving behind two dead bodies.
Leaving behind a young daughter without a mother and a wife who’d had to bury her husband in a closed-casket funeral.
Matt and I sat quietly, both staring at the screen as it played on. I’d seen a lot of fucked-up things as a cop, but this video was the worst. Maybe it was because I knew Poppy. Maybe it was because I knew what would happen hours later when I showed up on her porch. Maybe it was because the image of her heart breaking right before my eyes was one I’d never forget.
Besides delivering the news to Poppy that her husband had been killed, watching this video over and over was the hardest thing I’d ever done as a police officer.
Matt stopped the video and broke the silence in the room. “That is fucked up.”
I nodded. “And for what? A couple hundred bucks from the register? Doesn’t seem worth it, does it?”
Matt shook his head. “We’ve got to find this guy.”
I dug my fingers back into my temples. “I’ve gone through all the tapes from the complex, all the footage we got from the grocery store and all the other shops. I can’t find a glimpse of this guy anywhere.”
Matt sighed. “Which means we’re on to Plan B. Stoplight cameras.”
“Yep.” I popped the p just like Poppy did. “Which means if you’re looking for me anytime before eight or after five, I’ll be in this room.”
I had no fucking clue how long it would take me to start weeding through camera footage in my free time. A month? Maybe two?
But for Poppy, I’d do anything. I’d sit in this damn room and leave work every night with a headache just for the chance to give her some closure.
Because closure was the one thing she craved as much as love. She was desperate for someone to tell her it was okay to start living again. And since she sure as fuck wasn’t going to get it from Jamie’s parents, I’d do my best to give it to her myself.
These last two weeks, she’d built a brick wall between us. When I’d go to the restaurant for dinner, she’d be too busy in the kitchen to sit with me for more than ten minutes. When I’d text to check in, she’d respond with short answers.
Me: How was your day?
Poppy: Just fine.
Me: Do you care if I come by the restaurant for dinner?
Poppy: Sure. That’s fine.
Me: Are you doing okay?
Poppy: I’m fine.
Fine. Things were not fucking fine. But if she thought she could shut me out, Poppy Maysen had something to learn.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d known going into this thing with her that the road would be rough. That she had more to overcome than I could possibly imagine. I had to give her time. So while waiting for her to realize that I was the new constant in her life, I’d been here, watching video footage.
And fixing up that old truck.
I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed tinkering on classic cars. How much fun I’d had as a kid working on old beaters with my dad. Besides my brief encounters with Poppy, that truck had given me something to look forward to at the end of each long day.
I’d ended up taking it to my parents’ house because Dad had better tools and a bigger garage. He had been more than happy to part with the garage space, thrilled to jump into the project with me. Mom was happy because I’d been there almost every night for the past two weeks.
Every night except when Poppy had been there for her ukulele lessons.
Those nights, I’d given her some space.
“You should get out of here.” Matt shut off the TV.
“I think I will.” Leaving sounded like a damn good idea. I needed some time away from this room. Some time to think about the case. “See you Monday.”
Matt nodded as we both stood and walked back to our desks in the bull pen. I didn’t waste a second grabbing my keys, sunglasses and wallet from my desk and getting the hell out of the station.
The minute I pulled out of the parking lot, my headache started to
