Cold Case Affair by Loreth Anne White Read Free Book Online Page A

it from wobbling, looked away.
    “Hey—” he cupped her jaw, turned her face back to his,and immediately regretted the impulse. “Gus was a really eccentric old guy, Muirinn, even more so these past few years. This was in keeping with his character.”
    Tears pooled in her eyes again, and Jett couldn’t stop himself from asking. “You’d have known all this about Gus if you’d come to see him,” he said quietly. “Why, Muirinn? Why didn’t you ever come home to see your grandfather?”
    She held his eyes, silent for several beats, something unreadable darkening her features. Then she sighed heavily. “I sent Gus plane tickets, Jett, so he could come to see me in New York.”
    “Yeah, he wasn’t that impressed with the city. He told us about it.”
    Her lips flattened. “And for his birthday, I sent him a ticket to Spain. I met him in Madrid. Gus had a thing for Hemingway—he wanted to see a bullfight…” Tears spilled down her cheeks again. “Damn, I’m so sorry,” she said brushing them away.
    “Sorry for what? Caring ?”
    Her eyes shot up to his.
    “Look, I guess I just don’t understand why you didn’t even come back for his memorial service, Muirinn. Or when you first heard he was missing.”
    “I didn’t know he was missing!”
    “ Someone must have told you.”
    “I was unreachable, Jett, on assignment in the remote jungles of West Papua—”
    “With no cell phone? No satellite connection, nothing?”
    “Nothing.” She rubbed her face. “That was the whole point of the assignment, to be inaccessible. For myself, an anthropologist and a photographer to spend some time with one of the world’s last truly isolated tribes. Part of my story was to be about that sense of isolation. Our goal was to feel it.”
    “But you were— are —pregnant.”
    “And in good health. Women in those tribes have been bearing children in that jungle for centuries. The photographer was also a paramedic. I was not at risk.”
    “What if there had been an emergency?”
    “That’s the point, Jett. Our society can’t conceive of living without phones, Internet, radios. We don’t know how to cope on our own anymore. We go into a total panic at the mere notion of not being in contact, but it’s not necessary. Besides, I grew up here, remember? My grandfather raised me to be self-sufficient.”
    “Stubborn is more like it,” he muttered.
    She glanced at him. “You disapprove of me.”
    Jett inhaled deeply, thinking how she’d run off pregnant with his baby, never allowing him to share in the joy of a pregnancy, the birth of his son.
    “It’s not just you that you need to think about,” he said. “You have a responsibility toward a child now.”
    “You’re still angry at me, aren’t you?” she whispered.
    He wanted to be. He needed something to shield himself from this woman. Anger was all he had to protect himself right now.
    Jett got up suddenly, went to the truck.
    “You’re avoiding my question,” she called after him.
    “I’m doing what Mrs. Wilkie called me over to do,” he said coolly, as he opened the door. “What happened when you tried to start it?”
    “Nothing at all. I think it’s an oil leak,” Muirinn said, getting up and following him to the truck, sun burning down hot on her head as it rose higher in the clear blue sky.
    He climbed into the cab. “There’s a bunch of gray silt on the floor here,” he said, turning the key in the ignition. It clicked but the engine didn’t start. “You’ll need to clean this thing out if you want your city clothes to stay all fancy,” hesaid, shooting her a glance. “And you’re going to need better sandals, too, if you actually want to get around.”
    “I was going into the office, to meet Rick Frankl,” she replied crisply. “And then I was going to see the police chief—”
    He crooked up a brow. “Chief Moran?”
    “Whoever.”
    He turned the key again and frowned. “Oil light is on.”
    “Doesn’t take a genius to