She had to remind herself of that one little fact, because after last night, it looked as if they would be working together trying to find Gabriel Reeve. They’d sat at the table, over the cooling pizza, discussing where the kid could have gone and the details of the charges against him.
Though the armed robbery in which Gabriel Reeve had allegedly taken part wasn’t her case, nor even in the jurisdiction of the Pinewood Sheriff ’s Department, she’d ended up agreeing to work the case “from the inside,” using the department’s resources. She was pushing the envelope a little and she was uncomfortable with it as she usually played strictly by the rules, but this time, considering that her biological son was a suspect, she decided to bend the rules a bit. What could it hurt?
Just as long as you’re not doing this out of guilt for what happened to O’Keefe. Keep your head on straight!
Though nothing had been said about the past or their relationship, it had been there, between them, the proverbial elephant in the living room, or in this case, on the dining room table.
When he’d left, she’d walked him to the door, keeping her distance, and then closed it quickly as he’d stepped outside. What had happened between them in San Bernardino was long over.
She had to keep reminding herself of that fact.
The light turned green, the pickup’s driver gunned it and slipped back, then a little sideways before he managed to get his truck under control again and, tires spinning, inch up the hill.
Twenty minutes later, Alvarez pulled into the station’s lot. Though the parking area had been recently plowed, half an inch of new snow was covering the icy potholes and cracked pavement. She cut the engine and grabbed her computer, then caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. Dark circles were visible under her eyes from her lack of sleep, much of which she attributed to O’Keefe.
The truth of the matter was that the man upset not only her emotional equilibrium, but her life as well. Somehow, she had to pull herself together.
Grabbing her computer case, she climbed out of the Outback, locked it and headed inside where, of course, Joelle had added even more lights and a silver and gold banner that spelled out “Ho, Ho, Ho!” in block letters that were punctuated by stars, then repeated, again, down the length of the hallway.
“You need to do something about this,” Pescoli was saying to the sheriff as they stood in the corridor outside of Grayson’s office. Pescoli had shed her jacket and was carrying a coffee cup already sporting lipstick stains, indicating she’d been here a while, but Grayson looked as if he’d just stepped inside the building before being ambushed by the detective. Bits of snow clung to the toes of his boots while flakes melted on the shoulders of his ski jacket.
“It’s a sickness,” Pescoli continued, pointing at the new decorations as the sheriff ’s dog sat near the door to his office. “This is a public place ... I can’t bring my prisoners down this way with that on the wall. What am I gonna do, Mirandize them like Santa Claus?” She was beside herself. “You have the right to remain silent. Ho, ho, ho! Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. Ho, ho, ho!”
“Enough! I get it.” Grayson held up a hand. Clearly he was annoyed at someone. Pescoli? Joelle? “Look, I just hate to kill her enthusiasm.”
“This is the workplace. She can be enthusiastic somewhere else! At her house. Or her church. Or when she volunteers down at the dog rescue center or wherever else the spirit moves her. But not here!” She rotated her hand, finger pointed, to indicate the entire complex. “I mean, I appreciate the effort to be cheery and all, trying to get everyone to feel a little holiday love or whatever you want to call it,” she said, though Alvarez didn’t believe it, “but, you know, it’s kinda hard to get into the Christmas spirit when every year we get a new set of arctic storms, lose power and somehow unleash a new, gruesome psycho who thinks Grizzly Falls is his own personal playroom!”
“Oh, poo!” Joelle, hearing the tail end of the conversation, breezed in wearing high-heeled boots and a red and green plaid cape. Today, tiny little cardinals were placed strategically in her platinum hair and she was carrying several Tupperware bins holding, no doubt, yet more Christmas goodies. “Detective, this isn’t hurting anyone. All that nonsense about keeping Christmas out of the schools and public places is hooey. As for the other religions, they can celebrate their holidays, too! Bring out the menorah for Hanukkah, for pity’s sake! And ... and ... whatever the Buddhists or Hindus do, they can do it as well. Of course they can. The whole point is to celebrate. Whatever God you believe in. I just happen to be a major fan of Jesus Christ, but we can be nondenominational. Sure!” She pointed a finger at Pescoli and jabbed it at the taller woman’s nose. “A few decorations, some Christmas cookies, and a little music never hurt anyone. And don’t get me started on your aversion to the Secret Santa game! If you ask me, there’s something wrong with you! What is it you have against a little fun? You of all people should understand the need to bring a little cheer into the holidays!”
Before Pescoli could answer, Joelle stormed off, red heels clicking furiously down the hallway, a cloud of steam nearly visible in her wake, the hem of her cape billowing as she hurried to the lunchroom, where, no doubt, officers were waiting.
“Guess she told you,” Grayson said, his eyes twinkling despite the fact that he was obviously trying to hide his amusement. Even Joelle’s reference to Pescoli’s personal terrorization by a madman a couple of years earlier hadn’t dissuaded him from smiling a bit.
“But I’m still right. This over-the-top Christmas stuff has got to stop. Or at least slow down.”
“Okay, I’ll take it under advisement, but Joelle does have a point. You might try lightening up a bit.”
“Oh, I will. As soon as our latest sicko is firmly behind bars!” She cocked her head to make her point, then turned and headed to her office without the dramatic storm-out that Joelle preferred.
Grayson let out his breath slowly. “Sometimes,” he drawled as he made his way to his office, his dog following, “I think this place is more like a zoo than a police station.”
Pescoli had been in a bad mood since her bare feet had hit the bedroom floor around five in the morning, much earlier than she usually arose. But it had been a bad night. Around ten fifteen, after all of the family obligations had been covered, Jeremy had announced that he was going to an eleven o’clock showing of a new action film that was being released for the holidays. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “It’s eleven! You have school tomorrow.”
“Friday. No big deal.” He shrugged into his jacket and pulled on a stocking cap. “One class.”
“At eight in the morning.”
“So?”
“It’s already ten fifteen.”
“It’s college, Mom. I don’t get marked down for not showing up.”
“But, isn’t it finals week?”
“I’ve got it handled. Just chill!”
He’d been unimpressed by her arguments, zipped his jacket, scooped up his keys and left, his truck rumbling and kicking up snow, tailli