He turned out lights, secured the doors and got ready for bed. He still wasn’t ready to sleep so he checked for new messages on his laptop. The response from the police in Denver sparked his interest first and he opened it to find the rap sheet on Jeremy Roos Salter. So he was in the criminal database!
Jeremy Roos Salter, 33. Born: Denver, Colorado. Home address: Lima Street. Aliases: Jessie James, Walter James, Sal Jameson. Currently serving a life sentence at Atwater Federal Penitentiary, Northern California, for arson, aggravated assault and the murder of two police officers. Incarcerated seven years ago.
That meant Harold and Jeremy could have been committing crimes all through their teens before the law caught had up with them. The visit to Gladys Park had produced a big lead for Kit. He intended to fly to California to have a talk with Salter.
While he was still up he called Information to find out if there were any Salters living in Denver. There were quite a few, but none on Lima. Tomorrow he’d phone every listing. Maybe he’d stumble across someone related to Jeremy or who could tell him something about the family that once lived on that street.
Stan had sent him a message saying the thumbprint found on the lid of the laptop
had been sent to the criminal database because it hadn’t matched Mrs. Harris’s prints or her husband’s. He’d requested that the results be sent to Kit ASAP, and Kit was anxious to see them.
One last item of business before he quit for the night. He reached for his cell and texted his brother.
No time to call hospital. Give Scott my condolences. Won’t be in Texas this weekend. Hope you find a hazer fast. Kit.
He put down his phone and closed his laptop, refusing to feel guilty. For years he’d watched out for Brandon, but this was one time his duty to work came first. But a nagging little voice reminded him it wasn’t all duty, not where Natalie was concerned. Not by a long shot.
* * *
“THERE’S COLETTE. SHE’S wearing the yellow blouse and cowboy boots,” Natalie said as they walked off the plane into Terminal Four on Wednesday morning.
Her friend’s long, chestnut-brown hair rippled as she hurried toward them and hugged both Natalie and the baby. “It’s so good to see you.”
“I feel the same. Colette, meet my cousin, Father Segal.”
Colette smiled at Kit and shook his hand. “I’m so glad to meet you, Father. I’m thrilled you’re helping Natalie through this difficult time.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Since I know you’re in a hurry, I thought we’d go up to the third level and have a meal in the restaurant. They have high chairs. Maybe Amy will let me hold her after we’re seated.”
“I’m sure she will.”
“Let’s go.”
Kit followed the women, carrying the diaper bag and car seat. The restaurant Colette had chosen was the perfect place for an interview.
Once they’d ordered lunch Natalie excused herself and took Amy to the restroom where she could change her diaper. Kit handed her the bag.
His eyes lingered on her retreating figure, dressed in a peach-colored top and jeans that outlined the soft curve of her hips. With those long legs and that honey-blond hair, he was sure every male in the place must be watching her progress.
The reason he was there at all suddenly dawned on him and he switched his gaze to Natalie’s friend. “I appreciate your being able to meet us here, especially since I hear your husband is still recovering from an operation.”
“I’d do anything for Natalie and my husband is much better—he plans to go to work tomorrow. I just hope I can help you.”
“Whatever you can tell me about the woman you saw with Rod Harris will be useful. I’ll be recording our conversation.” She nodded. “Could you describe her physically for me?”
“She couldn’t have been more than five-two, five-three. She had a small frame, maybe a hundred and ten pounds.”
“What about her hairstyle?”
“Dramatic. Her hair was long and black. She had it swept around back and coiled near the top of her head with a clip. She had dark brown eyes.”
“Race?”
“Her coloring made think she was Hispanic.”
“Did she speak with an accent?”