Known (17 page)

The home had a faint cinnamon scent. He’d gone immediately to the kitchen and looked for evidence of previous baking. If she’d made cinnamon rolls, she’d taken them on her trip. He didn’t use his flashlight, finding his night vision sufficient in the dim home. He’d poked through her kitchen drawers and cupboards. There was an absence of the junk that he’d noticed in most people’s homes, the little things that accumulated over time that people hated to throw away. It made sense. She’d been in the house for only a short while.

He wandered to the upper level of the house, stopping first in Violet’s room. Black walls greeted him. Noticing that her blinds were closed tight, he turned on his flashlight to a dim level, and realized the walls were actually dark purple and covered in posters of young men. Movie stars, bands. He recognized a few. A strong perfume filled the room. The type he associated with certain clothing stores at the mall that catered to teens who lived in hoodies and lace and shorts. He turned off his light and backed out of the room. The teenager held no interest for him; she was a child.

His interest lay in the bedroom at the back of the house. The room he’d watched every day for three weeks. He kept his flashlight off and moved to the center of her master bedroom, inhaling deeply. No overpowering scents. Large windows filled the back wall of the room, with her bed positioned at the bottom of one. On sunny days she’d wake to the sun on her face.

He knew she kept her blinds lowered from the top, keeping the bottom halves of the windows covered and blocking curious gazes from ground level. But from his second-floor spy nest, he could see her if she walked about the room, constantly moving in and out of his view. It simply tantalized him, making him want to see more.

He moved to the window and spotted his favorite spying position in the empty home behind hers.
Does she ever wonder who lives in that house? Wonder if they watch her?
He picked up a pillow and pressed it against his face.

He caught the faintest odor of shampoo or face cream. A store-bought scent. Annoyance rolled through him. He’d wanted to know what her skin smelled like, what her favorite shirt would smell like after she slept in it. He stepped into the master closet, pulled the door closed, and turned on the light. The odor of leather was the primary smell. Shoes, jackets, and purses were lined up on her shelves. He peeked in a bag on the floor, his mind spinning as he spotted lingerie with the tags still attached.

She’s never worn these for anyone.

He shoved the bras and panties into his coat pockets.

He rifled through her filing cabinet, grabbed her computer and a few other knickknacks, and then vanished silently out the door. He hadn’t found the item he was looking for, but he had a few mementoes that’d made it worth his while.

To Gianna’s surprise, the next morning Chris strode into the home during breakfast and took a seat at the table with her, Michael, and Jamie, helping himself to the stack of waffles like he did it every day.

Maybe he did.

“Have you heard from the Portland police detective?” he asked her.

“Michael reached out to him first thing this morning,” Gianna said. Chris looked better than he had yesterday. Like he’d actually had a good night’s sleep. He probably thought the same thing about her.

“What’d he say?” Chris’s hazel eyes studied her over the rim of his coffee cup, and she thought about Jamie’s story from last night. After Violet had gone to sleep, Gianna had asked Jamie a few deeper questions. Jamie had been frank. And the story of Chris’s two years of torture was disturbing.
Soul-deep damage
was one of the phrases Jamie had used.
Still recovering
.

Gianna had lain awake for a long time, reviewing the events of the last forty-eight hours. Jamie’s story had filled in some holes and explained some of Chris’s behaviors.

No wonder he was constantly aware of his surroundings; he’d been on guard since he was a child. Her heart had ached as she thought about the young teen who’d lost his innocence too early. He’d become a strong man. One who was sensitive and caring. If the damage had been too deep, she didn’t think he’d be the dependable person she’d seen.

Clearly he’d healed. But how much?

Sunshine streamed into the cheery kitchen nook where they ate, and Gianna noticed he’d shaved. Chris Jacobs cleaned up nicely. “He’s getting in touch with Hawes and Becker. He wants their opinion and to compare notes,” she said.

“Have you heard from the two state detectives?”

“Yes. I talked with Hawes. She said they were just getting ready to enter the cabin. They had a team clear the surrounding area first, determining the shooter was gone so they could start their investigation.”

“What about tracks? Spent casings from the shooting? Did they figure out where the shots came from?” Chris asked.

“Slow down,” Gianna ordered, waving her fork at him. “Hawes didn’t tell me anything except that they felt it was safe to begin. We’ll hear what they found.”

Chris looked antsy. Like he wanted to drive back up into the Cascades and look over the detectives’ shoulders.

“She said they’ll try to get the bodies to the medical examiner’s office by this afternoon.”

“You’ll be there for the autopsies, right?” asked Michael.

Gianna blinked. “I don’t think that would be right.”

“Did you ask Dr. Rutledge? I doubt he’d have a problem with you observing. And I assume either Hawes or Becker will be there, too. It’d be a good time to hear what they found.”

Clearly Michael likes to push boundaries.

“I’ll think about it.” The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to attend. She’d been unable to get the murdered burn victim out of her head. She’d wanted to spend more time studying the photos and discussing them with the detectives or the brothers, but Violet had always been around, so she’d bitten her tongue, not wanting to upset her daughter more. The fact that Gianna hadn’t noticed the medallion when they’d first found the body bothered her. She was a trained observer; she was supposed to notice the details that other people missed. She didn’t believe in making excuses for herself, but she’d been through hell before finding the body. And she hadn’t been on the job at that moment.

She was deeply curious to find out the identity of the dead man in her cabin. Maybe another set of eyes at the autopsy would be a good idea. Once they identified him, hopefully that would lead to who had put her and Violet in danger. If they’d been targeted, she wanted to know
why
.

“Mom? Grandpa wants to talk to you.” Violet stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding out her cell phone.

Gianna rose out of her chair. “Did you call him?”

“I texted him when we got here last night. He must have just seen my message.”

“What does he know?” she asked softly.

Violet shrugged. “Everything.”

Gianna silently moaned. She’d hoped to control the elements her uncle heard of the story. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about moving. She loved her uncle, but he tried her patience. Saul Messina was a good man. He’d taken her in after the death of her parents and raised her as his own. He’d never married, but had dated a wealth of kind women who were always eager to mother the orphan. Some of them had been genuine; some not so much. Gianna had learned early how to tell the fakes from the sincere ones. And she had learned to not get attached.

She reluctantly accepted the phone and stepped into the hallway, seeking privacy. “Saul?”

“Gianna? Are you all right?” Her uncle still had a hint of Brooklyn in his voice, even though he’d lived in Southern California for thirty years. Homesickness hit her in the gut and she wiped her eyes. She’d lived in New York for only a few years, but the combination of his familiar voice and the realization that she’d truly left behind everything she’d known overwhelmed her.

“We’re fine, Saul. We were very lucky. I owe my life to Violet.”

“What’s this about you being shot at? And possibly drugged? I’m telling you, Gianna, that state has some residents who are a bit feral. Are you sure the two of you are okay?”

“We’re fine, Saul. The police are going to handle everything. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and neither of us got hurt.” She hoped Violet hadn’t told him about the personal items missing from her house. She didn’t need Saul worrying any more than he already was.

“You know how I felt about the two of you moving there. This doesn’t put my mind at ease at all.”

He’d been very vocal with his disappointment when she’d accepted the job in Portland, even though it’d placed her on the same coast as him. She suspected the only city he wouldn’t complain about her moving to was Los Angeles. “It’s a good place to live. I won’t judge it by what happened.”

“Do you need to come home for a while?

She sighed. Saul’s house hadn’t been her home for almost two decades, but he still referred to it as if she’d just left yesterday. “I don’t think so. Violet has school and I start my new job soon.”

“Don’t know what you see in that wet state. You should have picked somewhere with sun.”

“I made my choice. We like it here.”

“Violet doesn’t sound too happy.”

Irritation brought up her chin. “Any new school is hard. It doesn’t matter what state it’s in.”

She refused to argue with him. They’d already beaten the subject to death.

“I’m coming up there. You need some family around. Violet says you’re staying at some stranger’s house because your home was broken into. I’ve already called the Benson Hotel and arranged for you to have the presidential suite for a few days. If you’re not going to come visit, I’ll come there.”

“Saul, that’s not—”

“Don’t argue with me. Someone needs to make certain the police are doing their job, and you’re too nice about it. I can get results.”

Anger burned in her chest. Saul always threw his weight and money around to get what he wanted. He’d made a fortune in the temporary worker industry and was known for burying the competition when there was something he wanted. Now he wanted to handle Gianna’s life. They’d butted heads for decades over his pushy behavior.

Gianna had learned to pick her battles with her uncle, and decided to stand down on this one. She had a feeling Detective Hawes could handle Saul just fine. “You take the suite, Saul. There’s nothing wrong with my home. The police should be done with it today.” She crossed her fingers.

“Well, I’ve hired a security company to take a look at it today. If you insist on staying there alone, I want to know you have the best defense.”

Gianna closed her eyes, fighting the need to bang her forehead against the wall. “Thank you, Saul.”

She ended the call after getting his travel information. Saul would be taking over Portland by six this evening.

Hopefully, Portland was ready.

“You okay?” Chris asked, moving into the hallway. Gianna wondered how much he’d heard.

“You look like you need to hit something,” he said.

“My uncle can be a bit infuriating,” Gianna replied.

“I take it ‘infuriating’ is a polite term?”

“Absolutely. He’s a freight train, barreling full speed wherever he pleases. Right now he feels the need to come supervise my life and stir every pot I own.”

“Sounds like he cares about you.”

“That’s not what I need to hear right now.”

“Okay . . . sounds like he’s a pushy son of a bitch.”

“That’s better.”

“This is the guy who took you in after your parents died?”

Gianna swallowed. Someone had done some research. “Yes. He’s my father’s brother.”

“But he’s not related to Violet’s grandmother who died.”

“No. That was her father’s mother.”

Chris was silent, and Gianna took a close look at him. Even though he’d lived through hell, he hadn’t lost his humanity. He cared. He was probably selective about whom he cared for, but she knew Violet and she were now included.

Other people could have come out of his experience and been bitter the rest of their lives, turning their backs on everyone. Chris looked forward. There was an optimism about him that she suspected had everything to do with his son.

His heart was good.

“The Portland police detective called back while you were talking with your uncle.”

“Damn it.” Her to-do list was getting longer and longer. “I need to get a new cell phone. Today.”

“He wants to meet at your place in an hour.”

Gianna nodded, “I can do that.” That’d give her time to replace her cell phone. “Crap. I need—”

“I’ll drive you.” His eyes were kind.

“Surely you have things you need to do today.”

“I’m my own boss. I gave myself the day off.”

Gianna exhaled, grateful for his generosity. “After this meeting, I need to rent a car.”

“Jamie asked Violet if she’d like to stay here for the morning, and Violet said she would. She seems a bit fascinated with my sister.”

“Violet’s interested in teaching elementary school. I suspect your sister will be bombarded with questions about her job as a principal.”

“Jamie will love that.”