He changed his clothes and stored his Glock in the small safe he’d had installed in his father’s—his—bedroom closet. No one knew the combination but him. He didn’t like carrying a gun off duty. Just wasn’t going to do it.
He’d called the family from Vancouver—the DeProsperos—whose daughter had been killed in the apparent robbery while she was babysitting. He’d spoken with the deceased girl’s father, who’d surprised him with information that had been kept out of the papers, more because it was the man’s opinion than because it was based on any real fact.
“It was her boyfriend,” DeProspero told him flatly. “He was the robber. They got in a fight and he killed her. And he’s dead now, too, so it’s over.”
“Are you certain? Nothing ever came out about that.”
“I just know it.”
Cooper let that one go. “How did he die?” he asked.
“Gunshot. Killed by the next guy whose girlfriend he was trying to steal. Maybe you don’t call that justice, but I do.”
After asking if it was all right if he called on him again and getting an okay, Cooper had then checked with the Vancouver police, who’d turned him over to the detective who’d worked the case, now retired. The detective hadn’t totally agreed with Mr. DeProspero when he’d first heard his theory, but after all this time he’d mellowed a bit and allowed that maybe there could be something there. “I thought he was a grieving parent who wanted to lay the blame on a kid he didn’t like anyway. But now, with the hindsight of twenty years, I think he was right,” the detective told Cooper.
“There was talk of the Babysitter Stalker that summer.”
“I never really bought that,” the detective admitted. “Did you?”
I was a kid, Cooper thought. He’d almost wanted it to be true. Some explanation that took the crime away from him and his friends. But he’d shaken his head and thanked the detective for the information.
Now, he grabbed up his keys from the hook by the back door and headed for his Explorer. He was inordinately glad Laura had tasked him with taking Marissa to the game because Laura and her boyfriend were planning to have a date night before a weekend of purging stuff from their house in preparation for moving to Staffordshire Estates. He was glad, because he was going to see Jamie again.
Is it just because she’s Emma Whelan’s younger sister? he asked himself again. Then, If so, why does it matter so much?
He forced himself to explore that. Guilt, for sure. He’d been attracted to Emma in high school and now, years and events later, he was attracted to her younger sister. A lot of the reason he’d gone into law enforcement was because of what had happened to Emma, but was his attraction to Jamie for the same one?
No. Though there were definitely elements of Emma in Jamie, his attraction to her was more than that. He’d been unable to get her out of his thoughts since seeing her again, now as a woman. Yes, he could admit he was drawn to a certain “look”—thanks, Howie, for pointing that out—but looks only went so far.
He thought back to high school, to Emma. He’d liked her, a lot, but the truth of it was, Emma had been that girl who wouldn’t really date any of the guys in high school. He and all his classmates had mostly been relegated to the friend zone. Rumor had it that Emma was seeing an older guy, out of college or maybe even closer to thirty, but that was likely an excuse they’d all wanted to believe. Race Stillwell had had a thing for Emma, too. Race’s obsession had been a big reason they’d all gone to the Ryersons’. And while all that was going on, Jamie Whelan had been at the Stillwell party. Race and Dug had run into her, in fact, just as they’d been heading out to pick up Robbie and head to Emma’s babysitting gig. That had come out during the interviews at the police station following the attack. The question had been floated that maybe the wrong Whelan girl had been the targeted victim, but there was no evidence to support that theory, then or now.
But why had Emma been targeted? Now that he’d learned the babysitter attack in Vancouver had likely been a deadly lover’s quarrel, he found the burglary idea harder to swallow.
Was it really just a terrible, random crime?
He tightened his jaw. He didn’t want it to be random. There was no protection against random. He wanted there to be a reason. A real motive. A way to keep what had happened to Emma from being such a terrible, senseless act that could occur again.
He told himself to check with the family in Gresham whose daughter had fallen to her death. He pretty much knew the details of that event; the boyfriend had confessed. Neither of the so-called Babysitter Stalker crimes of twenty years ago appeared to have anything to do with Emma’s attack.
Five minutes later, he wheeled into Laura’s house. The garage was open and packed with boxes. The moving had already commenced. Cooper felt a small pang of regret. The marriage was long over and the biggest reason was that they’d grown apart, that the hours of his job had gotten in the way of Laura’s future plans, that Cooper had never fully committed in the way she’d expected. She’d warned him that they weren’t making it. She’d thought that they would get married and she would get pregnant again, but that hadn’t happened. And as Marissa had grown older, Laura had resented the bond Cooper shared with her. It all added up to a bad brew neither could stop drinking.
He texted Marissa: I’m here. During the first
