Maybe abuse ran in the family. Had Craig’s father mistreated his wife? Is that why she’d walked away from him and her kids?
But what kind of woman would leave her children with an abusive man?
They wound down Edgewood Road, the divide between Redwood City and San Carlos, hit Alameda and turned left. Craig’s father lived in a three-bedroom white wood house in the Belmont Hills. Craig and Hallie had grown up there. Schultz’s restaurant, one of the family’s favorites, was in a strip mall in Belmont, less than a mile from the house. The party was being held in a private room.
Kaitlan touched her cheek. Had the redness faded?
She spotted the strip mall a few blocks up. Kaitlan dug her fingers into the seat. Everything within her wanted to jump out of the car and run away. How was she supposed to get through this party?
Kaitlan didn’t know how many people would be attending. Plenty, she hoped. All the more easily she could avoid Chief Barlow.
Craig pulled into the parking lot of the mall and cut the engine. He turned toward her and nudged hair off her cheek—almost like the old Craig. “You might want to comb it.”
Her fingers fumbled as she opened her purse.
He watched until she finished, then touched her shoulder and smiled—the expression that sparkled his eyes and deepened the grooves in his cheek. Pain and longing shot through Kaitlan. Was he trying to torture her? The way he looked right now, she could almost convince herself …
She tried to smile back. It came out crooked.
Craig reached in the back seat for Hallie’s present. “What’d you get her?” Kaitlan asked. She just wanted to sit here. She dreaded going into that restaurant, especially facing Chief Barlow. She’d never figured out how to read the man. If she stayed here long enough with Craig, maybe she could talk herself out of everything. Her grandfather was wrong about Craig. He was no killer, and his hand had just slipped. He hadn’t really meant to hit her.
“Scrapbooking stuff. A binder and pages, plus headlines and picture frames and graphics. You know how much she’s into all that.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
That’s what a killer did on an ordinary day. Bought scrap booking materials for his little sister’s birthday.
Kaitlan’s mind flashed to her grandfather. Was he figuring out what to do? She couldn’t take much more of this.
They got out of the car. Craig put his arm around Kaitlan’s waist as they walked toward the restaurant. An arm that had strangled a woman just hours earlier. It took every ounce of willpower Kaitlan had not to draw away.
Schultz’s—odd name for an Italian eatery—smelled of garlic and olive oil. Kaitlan’s stomach recoiled. The place was brightly lit, with ferns and gold metal railings and lots of glass. Shine and animated voices. Background music, too loud. Her senses overloaded. She wanted to close her eyes, stop up her ears. Most of all, get away from the smell of food.
How was she going to eat?
The host directed them into a party room at the back of the restaurant with large double doors open wide. People milled inside. Loud, laughing people.
Guided by Craig, Kaitlan walked numbly into the room.
Her eyes flicked over the group of about fifteen people. Some she didn’t know. There were three friends of both Craig and Hallie from the Gayner police force—Steve Arden, Joe Babisi, and Eddie Sanchez. The Three Musketeers, Craig called them. Steve was tall, lanky, and loud. Brown hair, coarse and curly, cut short. He was the clown of every party. Or at least he tried to be. Kaitlan had wondered at his antics. It seemed like they were almost driven, as if hiding a hungry soul that craved attention.
Joe’s hair was thick and dark, almost black, his body muscular. He didn’t talk much and was kind of a mystery to Kaitlan. She’d tried to figure what was going on behind those thoughtful eyes. He looked at her a lot. Something told her if she wasn’t dating Craig, Joe would have made a move.
What would he do if he knew Craig had hit her?
Eddie, a detective, was older, around thirty. Divorced, with three kids. He had a friendly face and quick smile, but he pulled no punches. Eddie had a way of looking you straight in the eye and saying just what he thought, good or bad.
Was he one of the investigators on the murders? Did he know about Craig?
“There you are. It’s about time.” Chief Barlow strode over, his hard brown eyes landing on Kaitlan. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s my fault.”
Like frames from a movie, scenes flashed in her head. The body on her bed, the footprint, Craig’s expression as he slapped her.
“You know women, Dad,” Craig said lightly. “Always have to wait while they get ready.”
Chief Barlow grunted. He raised his hand, holding a bottle of beer, and gestured. “Your sister’s in fine form.”
Hallie stood near the far wall, surrounded by chattering friends and their dates. Her pixie face was full of animation as she told a story complete with wild hand gestures. She delivered an apparent punch line, and everyone around her broke into laughter.
