He shook his head. “Better not. I’m driving. But I wouldn’t mind joining you for a swing.”
Whiskers lifted his head and let out a loud, offended meow, as if saying,no one invited you. Then he hopped down, tail high.
She laughed as he trotted off into the yard. “I had no idea he was so territorial.”
Sliding over, she made room for him on the bench seat, an unspoken invitation.
Coop knew he shouldn’t, but sat beside her, careful to leave space between them. The swing creaked under their combined weight. For a few seconds, neither spoke.
He became aware of her warmth only inches away, the subtle scent of lavender and vanilla surrounding him, and the whisper-soft brush of her dress against his leg. Maybe too aware.
She took a sip of wine then gestured toward the envelope with the glass. “You didn’t come over to enjoy my company.”
“I like to think that’s part of it,” he clarified because it was.
Her smile deepened. “Flatterer. You’re also stalling. Lay it on me, Lieutenant. I can take it.”
Hoping that was true, he withdrew a photo and handed it to her. “I spent most of the day following dead-end leads. This one panned out.”
She angled the grainy security still toward the moonlight. Wilson stood at a bank counter, accessing a safe-deposit box.
“This looks like my neighbor at the bank.” She looked up. “You caught him. What about Cheyenne?”
“It didn’t pan out that well. The photo is from security cameras, taken about a week ago.”
“Ah… too bad.” She glanced at the image again. “Why is this important?” she asked, appearing to brace for the answer.
“He accessed a safe-deposit box and removed several items. To pay his debt or to flee after Kedrov started to squeeze him.”
“Getting into bed with the mob,” she murmured. “It amazes me the lengths some people will go to for money. Why’d he do it?”
“His motive is still unclear,” Coop said. “But when he started feeling the heat, he borrowed the money to cover his tracks and got in way over his head. We got a warrant, although we weresure he’d already removed anything of monetary value. This is all that was left.”
He upended the contents of the envelope into his hand: a gold-plated graduation watch engraved withProud of you, Mom and Dad, a twenty-year-old class ring, and a tarnished silver locket with a photo of Wilson as a child with his parents.
All sentimental. All meaningless to anyone but the owner, and, hopefully, a woman with a unique gift.
Coop didn’t have to ask. One by one, Erica picked up each item. She quickly discarded the watch and the ring. The locket she opened and held in her palm. She closed it a moment later.
“They must have been in there a while.”
“Does that matter?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer.
“Unlike people, objects don’t hold emotional residue forever. These feel cold. Like they’ve been sitting untouched for years.”
“He didn’t go there for these.”
“I wouldn’t think so. He needed cash fast.”
“You felt nothing?”
“Only pity.”
“Not for Wilson,” he said, surprised.
She glanced his way. “His wife is dead, and his only daughter is missing.”
Coop leaned back slightly, watching her. She had a big heart to go along with her unusual ability. “Don’t pity him too much,” he advised. “He had a quarter million of the Mafia’s money in his house. He’s not innocent in this.”
