Home > Never Look Back (Criminal Profiler #3)(21)

Never Look Back (Criminal Profiler #3)(21)
Author: Mary Burton

Perhaps Guthrie reminded her of her foster days. Maybe she had arrested someone like that linked to a horrific crime. Whatever the reason, Bonnie Guthrie had made an impression on Melina Shepard.

He swung into a convenience store and gassed up his vehicle. “Can I get you anything?”

She reached for her wallet. “I’d love a soda.”

“Keep your money.”

He jogged inside to pay for the gas and grab her soda and a few PowerBars to tide him over between meals. While Ramsey was at the checkout, armed also with wintergreen gum and a bag of nuts, his eye caught the display that read A BAZILLION BUBBLES. ONE PUFF AWAY. He questioned the statement’s truth but still chose a pink container decorated with white and blue flowers. Ignoring the clerk’s raised brow, he placed the bubble mixture into the pile and paid for the lot.

Back in the car, he handed her the soda as he tossed his paper bag in the back seat.

“Thanks.”

He started the engine and switched on the radio. A country music song played softly as she twisted off the top of the soda and took a long drink. She dropped her gaze to her phone and retreated into her own thoughts, as if entering a private, windowless chamber. He could almost hear the door closing behind her.

Normally, silence suited him just fine. In high-stakes cases, he took moments like this to examine and reexamine the fractured pieces of the case’s puzzle.

“I’m trying to get used to the country music. It’s not my regular fare,” he said.

She looked up from her phone, blinked as if shifting mental gears. “I’m betting classical. Or whatever kind of music people raised with old money listen to.”

Old money sounded a little tainted when she said it. “Why do you say old money?”

“Your cuff links and watch look vintage, and you don’t strike me as the type of guy who haunts antique stores. Your precise use of the King’s English is another giveaway. And the cut of your suit. It’s handmade, isn’t it?”

The sharp assessment hit home. “And all that says old money? Newly rich can adopt all those traits.”

“You don’t seem to acknowledge any of it. New money cares; old money grows up with the good stuff and treats it like a second skin.”

“What else do you notice?”

“You have a house on the water. Potomac River is close to Northern Virginia, but so is Chesapeake Bay. Your skin is tanned, and your hands are weather beaten. I’m guessing they’ve been exposed to a lot of sun. Crew or sailing.”

A smile tugged the edges of his lips. “I sail.”

“And you have a dog,” she said. “Golden retriever? Just a couple of hairs on your pants, which I bet you don’t bother to brush off because you like remembering him. My father’s dog, Axel, can do no wrong.”

“You should be a profiler,” Ramsey said.

She closed her phone. “Don’t all cops have to be to some extent? We have to identify genuine versus deceptive behavior almost every day.”

“True.” He slowed as he approached the hospital. “You said your mother cooks Sunday dinner?” he asked.

“Mom expects my presence unless I’m in a shoot-out or tracking a missing person. Arterial spray is also acceptable.”

He pulled into the hospital parking lot, slid into a spot, and shut off the engine. “Nothing wrong with a hot meal.”

She laughed. “You haven’t tasted my mom’s cooking. Heart of gold but hide the can opener and dinner is going to be late.”

“Your dad cook?” he asked.

“Yeah. He’s pretty good at it. He took a fall recently and is recovering, so she’s back in the galley. And if that’s not an incentive to get well, I don’t know what is. What’s your deal—now that we are making small talk?”

“You summed me up pretty well. Harvard undergraduate, Yale Law.”

“Blood’s bluer than I thought. Who takes care of the dog?”

“The dog lives with my mother on the Chesapeake Bay. I visited this past Sunday, and he and I went sailing.”

“His name?”

“Romo.”

“After the Dallas Cowboys quarterback? Christ, that’s treason in Washington Redskins territory.”

“No truer words.” As he got out of the car, he grabbed the brown paper bag from the back seat, and the two crossed the lot to the hospital entrance. He could not say he had broken the ice with Shepard, but there was a small crack. Normally, he did not bother beyond basic politeness when working with local law enforcement. But Shepard stoked his curiosity.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside, joining a doctor and a couple of nurses. The nurses were discussing an upcoming wedding, but he quickly filtered out the details.

When the doors opened to the pediatric ward, the nurse on duty offered a quick update on Elena. The girl had had a fair night, but there had been some crying. Still, physically she was fine and would be released soon.

They found the little girl sitting up and watching a cartoon. Ramsey did not recognize the characters, but judging by the child’s face, she did. She was not really animated, but any child in a stressful situation would be the same. She appeared less lethargic and scared. He sensed she had lived a transient life and accepted change as a matter of course.

“Hey, Elena,” Shepard said. The lightness had returned to her voice. “How are you doing?”

The girl kept her gaze on the television and tightened her hold on the stuffed dog as if she sensed another change was coming. Shepard’s watch dangled from the girl’s tiny wrist. “Good.”

Shepard pulled up a chair. “I came by last night, but you were asleep. Sorry I was so late getting by. Been trying to figure out a lot of things.”

“Okay.”

The monotone, almost dismissive tone was a coping mechanism. This kid was very wary of emotional connections. He bet she had been burned enough times before.

For several minutes, Shepard watched the cartoon, laughing in a few spots. “I love this one. It’s when Papa Smurf builds a house.”

“Yeah.” This time the girl tossed a side-glance at him. “Do you want your watch back?”

“You keep it for now,” Shepard said.

The girl rubbed her other hand over the watch’s face. “Okay. Who’s he?”

“He’s a sailor and has a dog named Romo. His name is Jerrod, and when he’s not sailing or playing fetch with Romo, he works for me.”

Ramsey shifted, amused at Shepard’s assessment. It was designed to soften up the girl’s fears but revealed a few of Shepard’s inside thoughts about him. He grinned, but the girl shifted and dropped her gaze.

“I did stop by a store today, Elena.” Ramsey held up the paper bag. “Want to see?”

She did not answer, but he had her attention.

He removed the pink plastic vial from the bag. When her expression turned quizzical, he explained, “I used to play with this when I was a kid. It says on the label that if you blow once, it will make a million bubbles. I’m not sure you’ll get a million, but you’ll get a lot.”

“I don’t know how to make bubbles,” Elena said.

“It’s easy enough,” he said, moving slowly toward the bed. He twisted off the top and handed it to Shepard, then, removing the wand from the container, held it up and blew into the hollow circle at the end. A large bubble materialized, broke free, and then floated toward the girl.

Elena looked amazed.

He blew a few more bubbles, and by the third time she was smiling. “Do you want to try?”

“Yes.”

Ramsey came around the side of the bed and handed her the plastic container. “Dunk the wand, hold it up, and blow.”

She blew hard, but the thin coating of liquid popped before it became a bubble. “It didn’t work.”

“Dunk it again, and this time blow very gently.”

Her second try was also a fail, but her third worked, to her great delight. The three sat there for another five minutes while the child created bubble after bubble.

Finally, she grew tired and handed the bubble mix to Shepard, who carefully screwed on the top. “I’m putting this over here so you can play with it later.”

“I like bubbles,” Elena said.

Shepard removed her phone from her back pocket and found the picture of Bonnie Guthrie. “Elena, can you look at a picture and tell me if this is BB?”

The girl shrugged.

Shepard showed her Bonnie’s picture, and Elena took the phone, studying the face closely.

“Is BB coming for me? She said she would come get me if I stopped crying,” Elena said.

“I’m still trying to find BB,” Shepard said. “Does BB have friends or family in Nashville? Did you two stop and visit anyone?”

Elena stared at the picture of BB. “She said don’t talk to cops. They’ll put you in jail.”

“I’m not going to put you in jail,” Ramsey said. “Neither is Melina.”

“BB says cops lie.” Elena laid down the phone and shifted her gaze back to the Smurf cartoon.

“I don’t lie,” Shepard said. “I said I’d come back, and I did.”

The girl glanced down at the watch and the stuffed dog. Absently, she twisted a piece of the fur between her fingers. “BB has a friend.”

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