WHAT COULD MURPHY KNOW about the Triple Seven that I don’t?

Abby bought a carton of milk from the doughnut shop and sat in her car munching Oreos while her thoughts dwelled on Luke Murphy. Yes, they had something in common, as he had observed —something big. But where could it possibly take them?

She finished her milk and cookies and had started the car when her phone rang. Fear jolted through her when she saw it was Ethan at this time of the morning, not yet 6 a.m. It was, of course, a normal hour where he was, but if he needed to call her now, something must be wrong.

“Abby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. A little better now that I’m talking to you. Is everything okay on your end?”

“Yeah, yeah. But some kids on the team came across a YouTube video. I couldn’t believe what I saw. What were you thinking? You could have been smashed beneath that train!”

Abby frowned, ruminations of Rollins and Goddard and Murphy muffling her thoughts. Then she remembered Lil’ Sporty and the tourist’s video.

“Ethan, I’m fine. It wasn’t really that close.”

“Wasn’t that close?” He made a strangled sound, and Abby imagined him running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

She closed her eyes, not certain how to respond and not wanting to have this discussion right now. “I couldn’t stop and watch the man be crushed.”

“The image is stuck in my mind. Abby, I could have lost you.” The emotion in his voice bothered her for some reason, and she worked to squish the irritation. He didn’t deserve that.

“I’m fine, really. I’m okay.”

He was quiet, so she went on. “The upside is, I caught a serial killer, and he all but confessed.”

Ethan sighed. “Your job is dangerous enough without you being reckless.”

Anger flared, but Abby bit her tongue. This divide about her work had to be crossed, or she didn’t know how they could be married.

“I didn’t look at it as being reckless, and I’m sorry it bothered you.” She paused, hesitant to tell him her other news, but knowing deep down that he deserved to hear the update.

“I am glad you called, though. I have something to tell you. It might not make you any happier than the train video, but you need to know.” Bottom line, now that Luke Murphy knew who she was, everyone else would soon know. Abby didn’t want Ethan to hear about it on the Internet.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful first.”

“I will, I promise.” She told him about her encounter with Rollins.

The line went silent for a minute.

“I don’t know about this,” he said finally. “Opening this door doesn’t seem smart.”

“I just want the truth about my parents’ murders —that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Her voice faltered as emotion threatened to overwhelm her.

“I thought you —we —had decided to trust God and let this alone.”

“I wish I could explain everything behind my reasoning, but this isn’t a good time. I’m on my way to the station.”

“We are going to talk about this soon.”

Abby stifled a sigh and agreed before changing the subject. “Thank you for the roses. They made my day.”

“Good. Please be more careful. And, Abby?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t put work before you and me, and before God.”

“I would never consciously do that.”

“Don’t let it happen subconsciously either.”

Abby promised she wouldn’t and ended the call as she parked at the station. She grabbed a Kleenex and blew her nose, then double-checked her eyes in the mirror. They were bloodshot, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Don’t put work before God. That stung.

Until the conversation with Ethan, Abby had actually been more settled than she had been before talking with Woody. Now, among other things, she wished she had looked at the stupid train video when Megan brought it up.

The station was still graveyard sparse and quiet. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, she quickly unlocked the door to the homicide office, entered, and flipped on the lights. On the way to her desk, she stopped in the records room and pulled the Triple Seven file from the drawer. The accordion file was wrinkled with age and use, bound in spots with tape. All of it had long since been transferred to a computer file, but today she felt the need to riffle through the originals.

Coffee was already set to brew, the job of the last person leaving for the night. Abby hit the Start button and waited. Once she had a full mug, she sat at her desk, powered up the computer, and logged on as soon as she was able. When the phone rang, she was going to ignore it, but she saw that it was Gunther.

“Hart,” she said tersely as she answered the phone.

“Whoa, I expected your voice mail.”

“Well, this is your lucky day. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket.”

“Ha. I always said you had more of a sense of humor than Asa. And a better poker face. What a secret you’ve been sitting on, Miss Morgan.”

Abby’s jaw hit the floor. “What? How did you hear that? There were only five people in that room and it wasn’t even twenty-four hours ago.” She expected people would eventually hear, but so soon?

“You’re not my only law enforcement contact. And I can keep secrets too. Are you going to reopen the Triple Seven case?”

It took Abby a minute to collect her thoughts. Finally she sighed. “I have plenty on my plate right now.”

“Not an answer. I assume you stayed below the radar for so long because of fear for your safety. Not worried now?”

“I’d love to talk about this another time.”

“Fair enough. Will you let me know if you reopen the Triple Seven? In case you’ve forgotten, I covered the story at the time.”

“I haven’t forgotten. And you’ll be the first to know. By the way, what did you have on the Jenkins case?”

“Crunchers.”

“What?” Abby knew the junkyard, but until this moment she’d never connected it to Jenkins.

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about that place, and I’m not certain about the connection, but that name keeps coming up. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else. Later.”

“Thanks, and later.”

Abby hung up, still reeling from the progression of Ethan’s phone call to Gunther already knowing what she’d told Rollins. It was almost too much to process, and she had a lot of work to do. She held her head in her hands and prayed for clarity, peace —both of which eluded her. Grunting in frustration, she turned her attention to the hard copy of the Triple Seven file, the report number faded on the well-handled cover.

My energy needs to go here for now. I’ll deal with the other later.

Rereading what she knew by heart gave her a reasonable facsimile of peace. Puff and Puff More had been thorough and diligent. Would they really miss a suspect like Rollins right in front of their faces? They’d asked the hate question several times to Rollins and others: Who hated the Morgans enough to murder them and attempt to murder their child?

Why, no one. Everyone loved them.

Not everyone.

Frowning, she glanced at her computer screen. Since nothing new in the old case had jumped up and bitten her, she opened her e-mail. Her in-box was loaded with messages from news organizations. Scanning the list for anything urgent or from a friend, she saw one from Luke Murphy.

What could he want?

Sipping her coffee, she opened the e-mail.

Hi, hope it’s okay to contact you at work. I’d really like to get together and talk about your parents and my uncle. I bet you want to solve this as much as I do.

She wanted to talk to him, yet she didn’t. As much as she wanted to kick down the door to Rollins, she feared this door Murphy wanted to open. Why?

What are you keeping from me? Ethan’s voice; she had said nothing about Luke Murphy.

There was no time to work it out, no time to smooth out the wrinkles in her life. The workday was starting. She and Roper were due in Jacoby’s office at eight thirty. From there, everyone would walk across the parking lot to the court building for the 9 a.m. meeting with the DA.

Abby poured another cup of coffee and forced her concentration back to the granny murders. There was enough evidence to arraign Lil’ Sporty Davis and enough for a trial. She didn’t mind trials and testifying, but she bet Davis would cop a plea to avoid the death penalty. Placing the granny murder book on top of the Triple Seven file, Abby began a review. She was halfway through when Roper arrived.

“Good morning,” he said with a grin. “I hear Rollins identified some loss.”

“Yep, the case is getting stronger.” She braced for a question about who she was, certain Murphy would have said something. But Roper didn’t ask.

He sat and started going through paperwork on his desk.

She went back to her review, wondering if Murphy’s friendship with Roper would make it easier or harder to have him as a partner. It didn’t change the fact that she liked working alone with her own thoughts and hunches. Ideas and solutions came to her quickly if she wasn’t slowed down by having to explain her thought process to someone else.

As if on cue, Roper interrupted her review.

“I looked over the Jenkins file.” He whistled. “That’s a tough one.”

Abby closed the Murray file, determined to think business, not personal preferences. Working the Jenkins case had become secondary to the granny murders, and she hated setting anything aside. Besides that, Gunther had offered another avenue of investigation. “It needs some legwork, time on the streets. I bet we can shake loose some information with a little effort. And I might have a lead. Walter Gunther said there might be a connection to Crunchers, which is the first I’ve heard.”

“Wow, I wouldn’t have seen that, but then that place is so grimy anything is likely to stick there.”

“I agree.”

“After we meet with the DA, we’ll put some time in for Jenkins.”

“Sounds good.”

Abby formally put the Triple Seven file away and shifted to the present, going over aspects of the first granny murder she wanted to be certain Roper was familiar with. Technically, the Triple Seven was not closed and never had been. It was open-unsolved. People often thought of cold cases as closed, but that was inaccurate. Every open case, no matter how old, was assigned to an investigator as the contact person in the event new information came in. Asa had been the contact person for the Triple Seven as long as he’d been in homicide. No replacement contact had been assigned as of yet. Abby always assumed it would just be her next partner but now doubted that.

One day the Triple Seven would be moved to the open-current file officially, but not today.

Ethan, I’m trying.

Still, the door Murphy was opening beckoned. What was there to lose in just talking to him? He obviously did care about finding the Triple Seven killers. He could be an ally. She knew the idea would bother her until she did something about it. When she had a chance, she’d make a call, ask him to meet. It might go nowhere, but it would at least answer some of the questions she had. She hoped.