Clint nodded. “Then let’s hear it.”
Gaspar’s hazel eyes swung back to me. “Ma’am, he really isn’t—”
I shook my head. “No, anything you have to say, you can say in front of Clint.”
The change in his expression was minute, but I saw it held resignation and disappointment. “Fine. There was a report you were abducted last week?”
Clint opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He looked at me and I figured that was my cue.
“That is correct.”
“Did you see who did it? Someone approach you?”
I shook my head. “No, I knew someone came up behind me, but before I could turn, I was cold-cocked.”
He glanced at Clint and back to me. “Was your rental car ever found?”
“It was still in the lot the next morning,” Clint put in.
Gaspar’s lips tightened for a moment. “How do you know that, Ramsey?”
Clint cocked a brow. “Because I drove her back on the off chance the car was still there.”
The detective returned the eyebrow arch. “And the keys were there?”
Clint shook his head. “No. Raegan had to request another set from the rental company.”
Gaspar shook his head, as though he knew Clint had hot-wired the vehicle. “And reports of gunshots outside this home?”
He directed the question to me, but had his gaze aimed at Clint. “An intruder. I wasn’t armed, but he didn’t expect to find me in the bed, let alone my fist in his face.”
Detective Gaspar looked at me, then back to Clint. “You investigating?”
Clint’s jaw shifted for a beat. “Not officially. She’s my woman.”
“Anything happen since the gunfire?”
“Nothing I can report,” Clint said.
“Meaning?”
Clint sighed. “Meaning, I think someone pressured a waitress to mickey Raegan’s drink when we were out, but I don’t know it for sure. I prevented her from drinking it and got us the hell out of there.”
Silence fell, but before I could fill it, Clint did.
“Why are you here? This your case now? Thought you closed Bronwyn’s case?”
Gaspar’s eyes slid to me briefly. “I did, but the events surrounding Ms. Connelly may require reopening it.”
“Did the ME get the analysis of stomach contents back yet?” Clint asked.
The detective’s head twitched. “Is there some reason you’d like to know?”
Clint shrugged a shoulder. “No. I just find it strange a woman who was a certified lifeguard was found dead in a bathtub. If anyone knew about water safety, it was Bronwyn.”
After a somber glance my way, Gaspar said, “Some suicides don’t come with notes.”
Clint made a low noise that sounded like a growl. “That’s bullshit, and it’s offensive. Especially to the victim’s sister.”
Gaspar turned to me. “If you should remember anything about your assailants, please call.”
I nodded, since I didn’t trust myself to speak.
He went back to his sedan and left. Clint stood with me for a long moment after he’d driven away. I wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but I knew better than to cut in on his thoughts.
When he looked down at me, I could tell he was conflicted. “Part of me wants to trust him, but my gut says he’s too damn slick.”
My head tilted back and forth slightly. “Be nice if he reopens the case. I’m not sure yet, but I have a feeling getting Bronwyn’s life insurance money is going to be a pill if it’s deemed accidental. Probably impossible if Gaspar gets asked and he mentions he thinks it’s a suicide.”
Clint sighed. “Hadn’t even thought about that shit. You taking care of that for Penny?”
I nodded. “It’s among the many things I have to do today. Call the insurance people, call New York—”
“Say again,” he demanded.
I looked up at him. “It’s been weeks since my interview with Eastern, Sharpe, and Prescott, and they deserve to know my status. I’m not going back to New York, and they need to find someone else.”
A smile played at Clint’s lips, but he was staring at a spot over my shoulder. He focused on me and the lip twitch died. “Why can’t you work for them from here?”
I turned my head slightly to the side. “I don’t think that’ll fly, Clint. So much of advertising is about meetings and brainstorming and—”
“And people Facetime now, or Skype. If they want you, hotshot, make them want you from here. And if you have a meeting you have to attend, it’s not like Orlando International is some backwater regional airport. Haven’t checked lately, but I know there are direct flights to La Guardia.”
I pressed my lips together as I thought about it. Ordinarily, I didn’t tell employers anything about my personal life, even after I’d been working there past the probationary period. It was bad enough that I had married a coworker, and this firm knew that. Yet, there was no getting around the fact Mom needed a modicum of care, and that would cost at least three times as much in New York.
Locking eyes with Clint, I said, “You’re right. I’ll see what they say to that.”
He pecked my lips. “Great. Go get your Mom sorted out, honey. I’ll call you around lunch, if I can.”
Clint
I WALKED INTO THE OTERO-Silva offices after I finished a call with a buddy who still worked at the Orange County Sheriff’s Office. At the rate I was requesting favors, I would owe him an entire case of his favorite booze.
As I entered the office, Deanne smiled at me. “Good afternoon, Ramsey.”
I cocked my head. “Ha-ha, smartass. It’s only nine-thirty, and I’d have been here on time if not for a visit from Detective Gaspar.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Better you than me.”
My brows furrowed. “How do you even know him?”
She shook her head. “You don’t want to know, but I was relieved to hear he finally got married.”
At her words, I knew she was right. I didn’t want to know.
Paul’s door was open, and I knocked on the jamb. “You got a minute, boss?”
He lifted his chin. As I walked in, he asked, “I hear that right? Gaspar paid you a visit?”
I nodded. “Well,
