“That’s right.” Alvarez realized she had to come clean. “The kid that broke into my place, that O’Keefe followed to Grizzly Falls, there’s a chance ... make that a very good chance ... that Gabriel Reeve is my son.”
Chapter 20
By the time O’Keefe pulled into Alvarez’s driveway, it was after ten. Enough snow had fallen to cover up a lot of the tracks that had been made by the police vehicles and tow truck, but Alvarez couldn’t shake the image of Junior Green and his gun pointed straight at her as the garage door had slowly closed behind him. If O’Keefe hadn’t shown up when he had, the outcome of the standoff could have been much different. If Junior Green had been successful in his mission, she would undoubtedly be dead.
Once she’d admitted her possible connection to Gabriel Reeve and the ice-mummy case, both she and O’Keefe had been questioned by the FBI agents. Stephanie Chandler, a model-beautiful blonde whose personality was often described as “icy,” had been all business, as usual. Her partner, Craig Halden, a self-proclaimed “cracker” originally from Georgia, too, had been intense, his good-old-boy smile sadly missing in the two hours they’d sat in one of the interview rooms, going over the case. Like Alvarez, Halden thought Junior Green’s assault had nothing to do with the latest serial-killer case.
Chandler hadn’t been so sure.
As snow piled on the windshield of O’Keefe’s Explorer, Alvarez wondered why her world had turned upside down now. Ever since leaving San Bernardino, she’d attempted to keep her life in a neat, if sterile, order. That had begun to change when she’d adopted her cat, or, more precisely, Jane had adopted her. Since that time, Alvarez had softened a little and now ... now disaster had struck. All of her neatly constructed walls had cracked and tumbled down around her.
“Come on, let’s get you inside,” O’Keefe said as if he could read her thoughts. He cut the engine and grabbed the sack of food they’d ordered from Wild Will’s and picked up on their way home.
Alvarez had called the restaurant from the station, and Sandi, the owner of the restaurant where Brenda Sutherland had worked, had answered. “Oh, tell me you have news about Brenda,” she’d demanded, the minute Alvarez had identified herself.
“I don’t.” Alvarez had almost felt the woman’s despair through the phone lines. “I wish I did, and the minute we locate her, I’m sure she’ll want you to know.”
“You’ve checked into that louse of an ex-husband of hers, though, right? I saw him on the television making a plea for her to be returned safely to him and the boys. Oh, yeah, right, like he gives a flying you know what. He knocked her around, I’m telling you, has a temper that’s hotter’n hell. He’s behind this.” She drew a breath, then let it out slowly. “I know you know all this.”
“I was just going to order dinner to go,” Alvarez had said.
“Oh. Sorry. I’m just worried, that’s all, and I hate seeing that loser go around as if he cares. Really chafes my hide, y’know what I mean? Okay, okay, I’ve said my piece. So ... what can I get you? Oh, let’s see, just checked with the kitchen and we’re out of clam chowder and the bison chili. Got some of the special, trout almondine, left though ...”
They’d ended up ordering sandwiches that they would eat in her kitchen, and O’Keefe had also stopped at a minimart for a six-pack and a bottle of halfway decent wine. “It is Saturday night,” he’d said in explanation.
“Good to have for a nondate,” she’d said.
“Exactly.”
Now, Alvarez walked past the garage and onto the front porch, where she unlocked the door and, once again, let Dylan O’Keefe into her house.
It was beginning to become a habit, she decided, and found the thought surprisingly comforting. Which it shouldn’t be. She found plates and flatware while O’Keefe turned on the fireplace and the gas logs began to hiss softly. Jane threaded her way between Alvarez’s legs. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too,” she said, taking the time to pick up the cat and stroke her before Jane hopped from her hands and went into the living room by the fire.
O’Keefe cracked open a beer, held a second up for her but she shook her head. “Maybe a glass of wine.” Why not? He was right. It was Saturday night and it had been one helluva day ... make that one helluva week. She needed to relax and kick back.
“You got it.”
After parceling out the sandwiches and small side salads, he retrieved a plastic container from the sack. “Looks like we got a bonus.” She couldn’t help but smile at the slice of chocolate mousse pie, a specialty of Sandi’s.
As they dove into their meal, O’Keefe said, “I talked to Aggie again today. She’s been in contact with the lawyer who set up Gabe’s adoption.”
Alvarez’s stomach tightened. “And?”
“He’s going before a judge, or something. The bottom line is he’s going through the motions of opening up the adoption.”
“That could take months.”
“The Helena PD is adding pressure.”
“Does it matter?” she finally asked. “I mean, of course it matters to me and maybe to your cousin and her husband as well as Gabe. But for his alleged crime, it’s pretty irrelevant.”
“Just another lead. And I think it’s more than alleged.”
“We haven’t heard his side of the story yet,” she pointed out and he looked up at her sharply, not saying what they were both thinking, that she was defensive, acting like a mother.
She glanced out the sliding door, where the snow was piling against the glass, and wondered about the boy out in the elements. Was he shivering in the freezing cold? Had he found a place to hide? He could be long gone by now. It had been days since there had been any sign of him.
Except for the earring.