“But your mother had a sister. Wasn’t she there for you, growing up?”
“Janelle Reinhardt,” Gabby said, realizing he’d been doing some homework on her family. “She lives somewhere in New York. I’m not sure exactly where. I only saw her once when I was twelve.”
“Once—in your whole life?”
Gabby nodded. “She said she was coming back, but she never did.” For months, Gabby had dreamed of going to her aunt’s house for the summer. But summer had come and gone without a word from her. Rejected again, Gabby had put her aunt out of her mind.
Agent Bain nodded, then passed Gabby his business card. “The authorities have released your father’s house. You’re free to return to it. We don’t think you’re in any immediate danger—even the CI knew you and your father were estranged—so you should be safe. But keep your wits about you, just in case. And if you find anything of interest at the house, let me know right away.”
Gabby took the card, mortified to have her personal life so exposed, and devastated because the truth humiliated her. Unlovable. “If I find anything even remotely of interest, you’ll be the first to know.” She hesitated, then asked, “What are the odds of actually finding and bringing the killer to justice?”
“Honestly?”
She nodded.
“We’ll do our best, but you said it yourself. Medros is slick. He never gets his own hands dirty. Even if we found who took the contract, the odds of us connecting it back to Medros are slim to none.”
Gabby frowned, all too familiar with his type from her work with Troop Search and Rescue. “And the contractor could be anybody from anywhere.”
“Frankly, yes.”
What more needed to be said? They had little hope of catching a contracted killer, and no hope of getting Medros. “I’m sure you’ll do what you can.” She offered the platitude because Bain clearly needed it. What a thankless job he had. Gabby didn’t envy him after all. He too carried his burdens and, no doubt, his scars.
“We will do everything possible.”
Lip service. Her heart cried for justice he couldn’t offer, yet she couldn’t expect more from him than he was capable of giving. A lifetime with her father had taught her the futility in that. Accepting it, she stood up. “Thank you, Agent Bain.”
He took the hint and departed.
Gabby locked the door behind him then paced between it and the kitchen bar, empty, furious and sick inside. Sometimes life just threw too much reality at you. She’d felt vulnerable and fragile before Bain’s visit. Now she felt even worse. She felt hopeless.
9:45 p.m.
“You still with Bain?”
The Shadow Watcher text coming through startled her. How long had she been sitting, staring out the window at nothing? Long enough for the night to grow still and quiet and darkness to settle in. She reached to the table at her elbow for her phone. “He’s gone.”
“You tied up with something or someone?”
“No.”
“Taking it the meeting didn’t go well.”
“You’d be right.” She paused, considered deleting the message, then hit Send and immediately regretted it. Only a fool wouldn’t realize Shadow Watcher knew exactly who she was by now. The path from her father’s murder and the news stories made it easy for him to figure it all out. “Looks like a contracted hit ordered by your favorite mobster.”
“And the angel?”
“Collateral damage.” Gabby’s eyes burned. “That one is on me. Had I handled his care myself, she wouldn’t have been there.”
“Had he not gotten mixed up with bad people, he wouldn’t have been there,” Shadow Watcher reminded her. “But what is, is. So, what’s next?”
“I’m off all week. Tomorrow I’m going to start packing up the house. I’m selling it.”
“Is there a rush? Maybe you should give yourself some time to think about it. You grew up there.”
A normal person would feel that way, but her “home” had never been “normal” only normal for her. No sense in not being straight up about anything at this point. “I have never been happy in that house. Honestly, I’ve never felt comfortable in it. If I never had to see it again, I’d be just fine.”
“Isolated.” Shadow Watcher texted back. “I hate that, GK.”
“Me, too. Always have, but like you say, it is what it is,” she whispered as she texted. “I need a fresh start.”
“I’ve got time off coming. Want some help packing it up?”
Did she? The offer overwhelmed her. The troops would all come if she asked. They’d drop what they were doing and help her. But she couldn’t do that, ask them to put their own lives on hold to help her sort out her own. More importantly, Troop Search and Rescue was the one thing she had that wasn’t tainted by her past and wasn’t a wreck. She didn’t want it messed up, too. It was her refuge. A place she felt valued and treasured and appreciated. Almost lovable. No way did she want to risk losing that. She had nothing else. Now, no one else. “No, but thanks, and thank the troops for me. I need to do this myself.”
“Emptying the house requires heavy lifting.”
“I’ve scheduled movers to handle that part. They’ll put what I keep in storage until I decide what I’m going to do.”
“GK, you’re alone only because you want to be. We are here. I am here. Remember that. If you change your mind at any time, you let me know. Whatever you need.”
Tears blurred Gabby’s eyes. “That means more to me than you’ll ever know, SW. Thank you.”
Sniffling, she set the phone down on the table. How ironic is life? On the same day she buries the only member of her family she discovers, for the first time in her life, she is not alone . . .
Ironic and twisted.
Chapter Six
Tuesday, December 8, 5:00 a.m.
Gabby awakened at dawn, dressed in jeans, a deep brown sweater and sneakers, and then left the apartment. She stopped by the coffee shop for a Cinnamon Latte and snagged a Chipotle Chicken Panini sandwich for lunch. It’d save her a trip out to get something later. Then she drove over and parked the Mustang in her father’s driveway, fished the house keys out of her handbag and finally let herself in through the front door, locking it behind her.
Emptying a house was not for the faint of heart. Emptying a house where you’d found your father and his caretaker’s bodies was even harder.
The moving company had delivered ample boxes on Monday morning, which were neatly stacked in the living room against the wall. While Gabby worked steadily, she had barely made a dent in the upstairs. On edge about the murderer having gained access to the house already, she reminded herself often of Agent Bain’s assurances she should be safe here, and of Marsh’s CI being aware of her and her father being estranged.
Life was just full of irony and gut-punches. The one thing she’d hated all her life now had become her protection.
Stuffing that down, she turned her mind to the work. The guest room and two baths were done. Today, she planned to first tackle her old room or her father’s bedroom. Neither appealed.