Chapter 31

Around one on Sunday morning, Jake stepped back into his house after working Cavilla most the night. Wired, unable to sleep, he fidgeted around all night and day. He needed to go into the station and finish his reports but he had no energy to do so. He wanted to call Mia and apologize, but every time he reached for the phone, he got angry. She was the one being unreasonable, not him. Run her life, his ass. For crying out loud, all he’d done was try to make things easier for her. Last night Louie had tried to speak to him about it, but he pushed him away. He’d already called three times this morning, and it wasn’t even noon.

* * * *

Mia woke at ten o’clock, feeling groggy. She hadn’t slept well last night. Her anger at Jake hadn’t abated. How dare he assume he could make decisions for her. She didn’t need another interfering man in her life. Her father was one too many.

She was sorry she had embarrassed him in front of his friends, but Friday’s dinner with her parents hadn’t turned out well, thanks to her father’s ambush. She still couldn’t understand why he had invited her former, low-life, fiancé to join them. From there things deteriorated to the point of no return. Her blood boiled even now at the audacity of it.

She and Logan Andrews had gone back and forth over her responsibilities as defined by him. He had taunted her about her meager job and her book—her tolerance level had peaked. She had pushed away from the table, said her good-byes, gave her mother a peck on the cheek, and started to walk out. She refused to put up with her father’s criticism any longer. Over her shoulder she had asked, “Father, did you send me a dead animal as a way of scaring me home?” She hadn’t waited for his answer.

* * * *

Wrapped in his reports on Monday morning, Jake heard a noise at his door. He looked up to see Louie standing there. “What’s up, Louie?”

“You okay? I called yesterday.”

“I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I still don’t.”

“I’m here if you change your mind.”

An awkward moment of silence fell over the room. Jake was grateful when the phone rang, saving him from having to come up with a reply. “Lieutenant Carrington, this is Joanne Gale from the UConn Medical Center. I have the results on the samples you wanted rushed.”

“What are they?”

“I’m sending you an email now,” Joanne said.

You’re driving me nuts. Get to the freakin’ point. “Thanks, Joanne, what are they?”

“Both samples match the samples taken from the car,” she said.

“Both?” Jake asked, surprised.

“Yes, both.”

“What sample matched who?”

“The hair fibers matched Jeff Adams. The skin cells, saliva, and sweat matched Lola Adams.”

“Thanks again, Joanne. When should I see the email?”

“It should be there now. I already sent it.”

The email popped into his inbox. He printed out two copies of the report, one of which he handed to Louie. He kept the other for the murder book.

“What do you think? According to Beau Taylor, he verified Jeff Adams’s schedule with his boss for said weekend. He couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“Do you think Lola planted it there to incriminate him?” Louie asked.

“I don’t know what to think except that we’re going to be heading down to Florida within the next couple of hours to see for ourselves. I’m going in to talk to the captain.” Jake got up from his chair and started out of the office.

“I’ll start the paperwork on the request for flights.” Louie grabbed Jake’s arm before he could leave the office. “Jake, please give Mia a call and straighten things out.”

“Let it be, Louie.”

Jake explained everything to the captain. McGuire asked, “Are you going to call Chief Taylor and tell him the results?”

“No, he said he interviewed the manager at the restaurant where Adams worked. He verified his work schedule for the weekend of the sixteenth. I’m inclined to trust him, but I want to verify his alibi for myself.”

“I’ll get the paperwork ready for extradition. Have Katrina take care of the flight and hotel scheduling.”

“Louie’s already on it.”

* * * *

Jacksonville, Florida, temperatures were in the mid-nineties when they landed. Back in Connecticut they were still in the low seventies, even this late in June. After Jake signed for the rental car, Louie took the keys from the clerk and loaded their bags into the truck. It was a short drive to Neptune, without any stops until they reached the police station. The receptionist/dispatcher seemed surprised to see them when he slipped his badge on the counter.

“Hi, Lieutenant,” she said in her southern drawl as she studied it. “You look like you sound.”

“Good or bad?” he joked. The room was filled with Florida sunshine, some from the windows, the rest from Sammy.

She laughed. “Good.” Shifting back to work mode, she said, “Do you want to see the chief? He didn’t say you were expected.”

“Things came down fast. We booked our flights and hoped we’d catch the chief before the end of his day. Is he here?” Jake said.

“Yes, he’s in his office. I’ll go get him.” Before walking down the hall, he noticed she had switched off her computer screen.

Jake thought she too looked like she sounded—a cute, petite blonde, standing no taller than five-three, with a voluptuous figure. If a person didn’t look directly into her eyes they’d miss the cop, the worldly knowledge of the underbelly of what coexisted alongside decent law abiding citizens.

Beau Taylor followed Sammy back down the hall to greet them. At six-two with sun-bleached blond hair and pale blue eyes, Taylor’s swagger reminded Jake of John Wayne. A thin and lanky frame didn’t fool Jake. He saw the biceps peeking out from under his shirt sleeves and figured he could handle himself in a fight.

Grinning, Taylor walked toward Jake with his hand out. “You must be Lieutenant Jake Carrington,” Beau said.

“How’d you tell me from the sergeant here?”

“I’ll use the dreaded word in law enforcement now. I profiled you. Carrington, Irish. The sergeant, he looks Italian.” He pronounced it Eye-Talian. “Am I right or wrong?”

“You’re right. Chief Beau Taylor, Sergeant Louie Romanelli, my partner.” They took Beau’s hand in turn.

“It’s nice to meet you, Louie. What do I owe this unexpected pleasure to, Connecticut?”

“Things came down fast today. A couple of hours ago we got the DNA samples back. They match both Mr. and Mrs. Adams—hair fibers from him—skin cells, saliva, and sweat from her. We’d like you to interview them again with us, since you have such a great rapport with Lola. We’d also like to interview the restaurant manager, and recheck Adams’s alibi,” Jake said.

“Why didn’t you call? I could have checked it all out for you and saved you a trip,” Beau asked, watching Jake with a trained eye.

“To be honest, I wanted to get here and interview them myself. I always like the element of surprise. If you went to speak with them again, they might have taken off. I didn’t want to chance it, Beau.”

“You don’t trust me, Connecticut?” Beau asked, still not breaking eye contact.

“I do, Beau. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s not adding up. How would you have handled it?”

“Probably the same way.” He smiled at Jake. “Let me contact my officers. I have one watching the house and another one watching the restaurant.”

“Can we surprise them too?” Jake asked.

“We can, if you tell me why.”

“Jeff Adams is good with electronics. He might have a police scanner in his home and could be monitoring your broadcasts. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Leave your rental here. We’ll take my car. The house is about six miles away, the restaurant four miles. We’ll hit the house first. I want you to have the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Adams—”

“She left quite an impression on you?” Jake interrupted.

“She did. In Desert Storm, I didn’t take as much fire as I did from her. She’s the queen of mean.”

“Do we need our cups?” Louie joked.

Beau started laughing. “I don’t think it would hurt to wear one around her. I can tell you her husband has no balls left. She runs the show there.”