Dead of Winter (Cold Case Psychic #15) - Pandora Pine Page 0,49

took the time to see beyond her rude manner to what was behind her attitude.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I didn’t see it at first either. Skye’s had a lot of years to build this wall around herself. It’s not going to come down with a simple trumpet blast.” Bertha laughed again.

“That makes me wonder if Skye knew her killer.” Shit, what Bertha was telling him put an entirely different spin on the case. Ronan and Cisco wanted him in on this case to help clear things up, not to muddy the waters.

“You’re not muddying anything,” Bertha said kindly. “Not every spirit or every murder case is black and white. There’s a reason this case hasn’t been solved in thirty-five years. Whoever did this covered their tracks well. Based on what happened to Jennifer, they’re willing to go to any lengths to keep their identity a secret.”

“I’d been thinking the same thing,” Carson agreed.

“So, what now?” Ten’s head was spinning. “What if we interview the next friend and she ends up murdered too?” Ten was glad he hadn’t eaten any of the cookies in the bag. They’d be making a return trip with the way his stomach was tossing.

“Let me see if I can find Jennifer.” Bertha looked back and forth between Ten and Carson. “I have a feeling that might be easier said than done.”

Over the years, Ten had come across spirits who were terrified of their killer from the other side. He had a feeling Jennifer Baldwin Blake might be one of those spirits, on the run and desperate to remain hidden.

If anyone could find her and sort this out, it was Bertha.

21

Ronan

Ronan’s heart was pounding with anticipation. It had been far too long since he last interviewed a potential murder suspect. He stood outside the interview room at the Salem Police Department watching Charles Blake through the one-way glass. The man wasn’t what Ronan expected.

Jennifer’s widower was seventy-five years old, at least. If Ronan didn’t know any better, he would have guessed this man was the dead woman’s father rather than her husband.

“What do you think?” Cisco asked from behind him.

“Under other circumstances, I would say Jennifer Baldwin was a gold digger, but seeing as how her best friend was brutally murdered, this marriage makes perfect sense.” Ronan knew it was a mistake to make assumptions of a situation based on a few facts, but it seemed obvious what attracted Jennifer to her much older husband: the protection he could provide.

“I ran a background check on him. He’s never had so much as a parking ticket. After they were married, Mr. Blake turned over a sizable donation to his wife so she could form her own charity. It’s called Jennifer’s Place and has been helping single mothers and their children with a variety of services.”

Ronan turned to Cisco. “That name sounds familiar. Why do I know the name of that charity?”

“Because it’s two weeks till Christmas and they’re having a gala event on Friday night. It’s their biggest fundraiser of the year. I got an invitation in the mail the other day. Luca is so excited to go.” Cisco rocked back on his heels.

“That’s it. We got one too. I wanted to send a check, but Tennyson was interested in going. We don’t get a lot of nights out and he was looking forward to dressing up. Do you think it will be canceled now that Jennifer is dead?”

“Why don’t we ask Charles Blake?” Cisco grinned like the cat who caught the canary.

Cisco smelled blood in the water, no doubt about it. Ronan turned back to the glass. He watched the grieving husband dab at his eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. “Let’s do it. Are you going to be good cop?”

“Maybe. I want to get the lay of the land before we drop the hammer.” Cisco grinned at Ronan before steeling his spine and taking a deep breath.

“I can’t wait to drop the hammer. It’s been way too long.” Ronan could feel adrenaline surging through his body. He’d been away from his first love for far too long.

“Hold on a second, Rambo. We’re going to treat him like the grieving widower he is. With the party only a few days away, I don’t want him on our bad side.”

Ronan’s hands fisted at his sides. “So your husband can play Cinderella at the ball?”

“No, asshole, because that party will be rife with potential clues. I want to see how our grieving husband acts. Getting to show off