“You’ve sold other things of mine?” Sounding outraged, Ricky raised his voice.
“It’s not like you’ve ever noticed! Classic hoarding, I saw it on Oprah. Now tell Mr. Cooper you’re sorry and let him keep his ring in peace.”
“You still there?” Ricky asked.
“I am.” Coop wasn’t sure whether he was more amused or intrigued by Ricky Burnett.
“Look, I’ll give you another reward if I can just have my ring back,” Ricky said, clearly ignoring his daughter.
So the ring meant something to the man. Did he know it was stolen? Had he played a role in the theft? Or was he just a hoarder, as his daughter said?
“You’re impossible!” his daughter exclaimed. A loud slamming door sounded in the background.
Coop winced. “I’d really like to help you, Mr. Burnett, but I can’t.”
“Hey!”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run.” Coop disconnected, then patted the pocket where he’d placed the ring.
Sure he felt guilty about not returning it. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to accept a reward in the first place. But armed with new information, Coop couldn’t just turn it over to Ricky Burnett. Who knew if Ricky was the rightful owner? And Lexie Davis also had an interest in that particular piece of jewelry.
There was obviously much more to this ring, and Coop’s reporter’s curiosity pulled at him, while the story tugged at the fiction writer inside him. Until he unraveled the mystery behind the theft, the ring stayed put.
CHAPTER THREE
LIKE ITS OWNER, Jack’s Bar and Grill was vibrant and full of life. When Coop’s mother died from a sudden brain aneurysm, not long after his father’s retirement, Jack Cooper needed a substitute for the company and companionship his wife had provided. He’d found it in this bar and with his fellow cops who hung out here.
Coop walked into the place he considered his second home and was greeted by clapping and laughter, reminiscent of the newsroom immediately after the foiled robbery.
His brother, Matt, called out. “All hail the conquering hero!”
“Shut up,” Coop said to his older sibling.
“Would you rather I said next time leave the crime fighting to us?” Matt asked, chuckling.
Not particularly, Coop thought.
“Dad, get the hero a beer.”
Coop shook his head. He should have known that picking Jack’s as the place to meet Lexie was a mistake.
“Ignore your brother and come take a load off,” his father said. “He’s just jealous the paper didn’t pick him for the Bachelor Blog.” Jack slid a foaming glass across the bar.
“You read that crap?” Coop asked.
“On the way to the sports section,” his father muttered without meeting Coop’s gaze.
Coop took a seat.
“So how’s it been, being the city’s darling?” Matt asked.
Coop described the box of trash he’d dumped earlier.
“Sounds like a real hardship. You threw every last one of them away? You didn’t save even one of those lady’s numbers?” he asked, shocked.
“Can I help it if I like my women sane?”
Matt inclined his head. “Good point. To sane women. Like Olivia,” he said of his wife of ten years.
Unlike Coop, marriage was another thing his brother had done well, following in their father’s footsteps. Coop rarely dwelled on his failings, but sometimes it was hard not to compare.
Matt raised his beer glass and Coop met him in a toast.
They both then tipped their beer and swallowed a large gulp.
“So when’s your next shift?” Coop asked.
“Tomorrow morning. So I thought I’d keep Dad company tonight.” Matt met Coop’s gaze.
Both brothers ended up at Jack’s more often than not under the pretext of wanting a drink. They were really checking up on their father, making sure he wasn’t too lonely.
“In other words, his wife’s sick of him,” their father said, having overheard Matt’s comment.
He had a point, but both Matt and Coop knew old Jack appreciated having his sons stop by.
“How’s work going for you?” Matt asked.
“Same old,” Coop said.
“Anything else new and exciting going on?”
Coop shook his head. “Except for the robbery and the damn Bachelor Blog, my life’s pretty boring,” he lied.
Until Coop knew more about Lexie and her grandmother’s connection to the ring, he felt compelled to keep the information to himself.
“So life as a hero and famous bachelor is boring, huh? Maybe you should’a taken the risk and become a cop,” Jack joked.
His father might be teasing, but the joke hit a raw nerve.
Coop had torn his rotator cuff playing football in high school, injuring it again while training at the academy. After surgery, the doctors had warned him that most cops rarely recovered well enough from rotator cuff surgery to safely do the job required. Not to mention he’d be risking reinjuring the already weakened shoulder.
It nearly killed Coop to bail on the academy and the future his father had hoped both his sons would have. Joke or not, Coop didn’t need the reminder that he’d disappointed his old man. He lived with the knowledge that he’d failed every damn day. So there was no way he’d admit to his father that, as much as he’d once loved his job as a reporter, he now found it too routine.
It was a sad commentary on life when the crime beat of muggings, robberies and stabbings became too ordinary to spark much interest. Coop had started out eager to report the news and make an impact in a way he never could have as a cop. He’d hoped that by reporting on crime he would increase public awareness and maybe spark outrage, eventually helping to save lives or catch criminals. Instead, it was a never-ending cycle of violence. A mundane repetition of the seedier side of human nature. He wasn’t helping or changing things. He was just spreading the word.
Maybe that’s why he enjoyed writing fiction so much. He could dictate the story arc, the plot, the characters and, most important, the outcome. He might not be making a difference in the world, but he couldn’t duplicate anywhere else the satisfaction he got from writing.
Problem was, he’d yet to find the kind of public success and validation in writing fiction he’d found in journalism and reporting. And in a family of successful men, Coop refused to fail.
“If I weren’t already married, I’d think I’d found the woman of my dreams,” Matt said, his gaze suddenly glued to the front door.