Three days later
The results of Jamie’s paternity test came back, proving he was Oliver’s father. In light of this, and the fact Oliver had cried over Jamie since he had been returned to Ernest and Judy, I pleaded with them to take pity on Jamie, to extend an olive branch and offer him a chance of a life with his son. If not for their sakes, for the sake of their grandson. Ernest promised to visit Jamie in jail and to work on Judy to do the same. They were good people. In time, I believed they’d come around, and together, they’d all find a way to move forward.
I parked my car curbside, made my way to the front porch, and took a hearty breath in before I knocked. When the door opened, Coop, who was dressed in a long, thick robe, had a beer in one hand and a television remote control in the other. From the looks of it, he hadn’t shaved since the day he’d flipped out in Sheppard’s office.
“What are you doing here?” he grunted.
“I … ahh, I heard you haven’t returned to work yet. Sheppard said you’ve requested time off.”
“What’s it to you?”
“I’ve never known you to take time off before.”
“Calhoun’s just moved back to Park City. Sheppard let me know he’d hired him back, so, the way I see it, I’m long overdue for a break.”
“Who’s Calhoun?”
“Nick Calhoun. Bit of a hothead. Decent detective. S’pose you’ll meet him now that your head’s overinflated after solving your case.”
“My head’s not …”
I wasn’t there to quarrel.
I held a plate out in front of him. He stared at it but didn’t take it out of my hands.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“Cookies. I made them. They’re for you.”
“Why?”
“I liked working Rebecca Barlow’s case. I want to take on more like it, which means the two of us will see each other from time to time. I’d like us to get along.”
“And I’d like a million dollars. We don’t always get what we want.”
I looked him in the eye and whispered, “Why do you hate me?”
He was silent for so long, I assumed he was waiting for me to turn around and leave. Then he reached for the cookies.
“Thanks for, uhh … well, thanks,” he said as he balanced the plate in his hands. “I don’t hate you, okay?”
“You don’t like me either.”
“I give everyone grief. It’s what I do.”
“Are you saying there’s a sliver of hope for us to move past the place we’re in now?”
He sighed. “Look, if you’re determined to investigate the tough stuff, you need to grow a thicker skin, and you need to learn how to think and act like a cop. Your tires getting slashed is nothing compared to what could happen when you’re working cases that are out of your league. One day you’ll find yourself in a situation you’ll wish you weren’t in. If you’re not prepared, you might not make it out alive. Understand?”
He was right.
I wasn’t prepared—not like I needed to be.
All this time, I figured he’d always busted my chops because he couldn’t stand me. Now I knew different. Sure, I was far from his favorite person, but there was a fraction of concern for my welfare in his voice.
“I … thank you,” I said. “You’re right. I have a lot to learn, and I want you to know, I’m willing to learn it. Anyway, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to stop by and … you know, give you the cookies.”
He wiggled a cookie out from beneath the plastic wrap, popped it into his mouth, and then grabbed a second one and smiled. “These aren’t laced with cyanide or anything, right?”
I glanced over my shoulder on the way back to my car and winked. “If they are, you’ll know soon enough.”