She could tell he was distracted. “Okay. Shoot,” she said as she grabbed one of the bottles of red she’d purchased, a medium-priced blend, and worked to get the foil off.
“I was at the Thrift Shop today . . .” Cooper began, and then, as she set down a glass in front of him and one for herself, taking a seat across from him, he told her about his adventures with Deke Girard, the homeless man with a fixation on Emma who was now at Glen Gen, and then he went on to the details of what he’d learned by refreshing himself with information from the binder the police had on Emma.
When he finally slowed down, Jamie recovered from the narrative to realize she hadn’t touched her glass of wine and neither had Cooper. “What does it mean, about this Deke guy?” she asked at the same moment she heard Theo’s van pull up on the street in front of the house.
“I don’t know yet. It’s a lot of information to go through. I haven’t had time to really digest it all. Just wanted to talk it through.”
“Good. Me too.” She nodded. “But Emma’s here.”
“It might have to wait till later. Meantime, I’m going to talk to those high school kids about Marissa, and I’m going to check with my ‘friends’ from high school. I just wanted to get it all out there. For another person’s ears . . . your ears . . .”
“We’re in this together. Are you working on finding the man who came after Marissa?”
“Not officially. My partner, Howie Eversgard, was assigned the case.”
“You and I are working on Emma’s case.”
“Again, not officially. But yes, we are.” He smiled faintly, and she noticed that his top button was undone. Remembering unbuttoning it for him brought a warmth spreading through her.
The front door opened and Emma came inside, followed by Theo. Emma zeroed in on Cooper. “Did you get that Deke?” she asked in her flat way.
Cooper said, “He’s in the hospital, Emma. He collapsed, so an ambulance took him there.”
“Glen Gen?” She stopped, frozen, staring at him, her head half-cocked in a way Jamie had learned meant Emma was thinking deeply.
Jamie almost intervened. She knew how uncomfortable Emma could make people, but she stopped herself. Cooper was a police officer, and he’d known Emma in some capacity for years.
He nodded. “I left him in Emergency. His name is Deke Girard.”
Cooper had informed Jamie about the particulars, but Jamie didn’t know how Emma would take it, so she kept her eyes on her sister. Theo, too, was watching Emma.
“Is he dead?” Emma asked.
“He was being attended to when I left,” said Cooper.
“He smells bad.”
“That’s a fact,” Cooper said with a nod.
Jamie hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she had to inhale hard. She half-expected Emma to go into one of her panicked states. Theo clearly was worried, too. But Emma seemed extraordinarily stable, and Jamie wondered if it had something to do with Cooper. He silently emanated strength and capability.
“You were there that night,” Emma said, as she had before.
“I was. I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
“Race was there,” she said. “Race Stillwell.”
Jamie looked at Theo, who shook her head, her brows lifting. Emma rarely if ever talked specifics about that night. She might remember that Cooper was there, but she’d never named names to Jamie’s knowledge.
She wanted to let Cooper know how unusual this was, but he was focused on Emma. Maybe he knew.
“Race was there,” Cooper agreed. “And Tim Merchel. Robbie Padilla. Mark Norquist.”
“He’s dead,” she stated.
“Yes, Mark died on tour in Afghanistan. And Dug Douglas.”
“Patrick Douglas.”
Now it was Cooper’s turn to lift his brows. “Yes, Patrick Douglas.”
“No one calls him that,” she said.
“No,” Cooper agreed.
Emma finally dropped her gaze and turned to Jamie. “You made a chicken,” she said, walking through the living room to the kitchen. “I can smell it.”
“I had to put it in the refrigerator to save it, but I can heat you up some.”
“I’ll head out, then,” Theo said.
“You’re certainly invited to stay,” Jamie said.
“No, no. I’ve got a dog. And so do you, apparently.”
Duchess, who’d been softly whining from inside Harley’s room, suddenly went into full-scale barking. Harley opened the door, and the dog streaked downstairs, sliding to a stop just outside the kitchen and staring at Cooper with laser eyes.
“Who’s this?” Cooper asked.
“Duchess,” said Jamie as she stepped to the refrigerator, where she’d put the rotisserie chicken.
Theo said, “She’s a beauty.”
A beauty was not what Jamie would have called the black-and-white dog. Comical, maybe. A little goofy-looking. But Theo was a dog lover from way back, and Duchess, apparently recognizing that trait in her, went to Theo, but made a wide berth of Cooper. She growled faintly at him, almost a worried sound, but then sniffed and licked Theo’s hand.
“My sister thinks I need a dog,” said Cooper. “I worry that I’m going to come home one day and one’s going to be dropped on my doorstep, courtesy of Jeannie.”
Theo said, at the door, “Then maybe you should beat her to the punch.” She waved a goodbye to everyone and closed the door behind her.
Emma had called Duchess over and the dog was standing beside her, still regarding Cooper like an interloper. “I don’t want to give you our dog.”
Immediately, Jamie and Cooper started talking at once.
Cooper: “I would never take your dog.”
Jamie: “That’s not what we’re saying.”
“I love Duchess,” Emma said and the dog, seeming to understand, finally released Cooper from her hot gaze and laid her chin on Emma’s lap.
Cooper, after first demurring, agreed to stay for dinner. The three of them dug into the food and Emma warned Cooper about not giving the dog treats, telling him it wasn’t good for the animal. They were just finishing up when Harley appeared in the sweats and T-shirt she slept in and a heavy-duty pair of socks.
“Can I get you a plate?” Jamie asked, rising from her seat.
Harley slid onto a barstool, pointedly
