Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,18
the boathouse to retrieve her gear from a locker and change into flip-flops. When she came out, Sam was at the water cooler dumping in a bag of ice.
“Saw you out there,” Sam said. “You were really hauling.”
“It’s nice out.”
Sam replaced the lid on the cooler. “Supposed to get hot later. Hundred and two by lunchtime. That’s what the radio said.”
Bailey filled a paper cone with water and took a cold gulp. She looked at Sam, glad to have a chance to talk to him alone.
“So, did you work Saturday?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“You see anything unusual on the trail?”
His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Any suspicious people or cars? Any unusual noises?”
“Like . . . maybe a scream for help?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head. “Couple of cops were just here, asking me the same thing.”
“Really? When?”
“Just now.” He nodded toward the parking lot.
Bailey turned and followed his gaze. Past a row of boat trailers, she spotted an unmarked police car. No detectives in sight. She looked around and noticed a blond woman in a dark pantsuit standing beside the trailhead, interviewing a guy in running shorts.
“Hard to believe it happened just up the trail,” Sam said.
“I know.”
“I mean, that’s freaking creepy.”
“Yeah.” Bailey scanned the area for Jacob. Was the blond woman his partner or some other APD detective assigned to the case?
“They think it happened Friday night or early Saturday morning.”
Bailey looked at Sam. “What’s that?”
“The murder. That’s what the detective said, anyway.”
“And you were working both days?”
“Friday I was off. I was scheduled Saturday, seven to three. But we pulled all the boats out by one because of the rain.”
Bailey spotted Jacob at the water fountains, and her heart rate kicked up. He wore dark pants and a dress shirt today, sleeves rolled up already, and he was interviewing a woman with a stroller.
What was it about this man? Maybe she was light-headed from her workout. Yeah, right. That would definitely explain why the mere sight of him made her heart start to pound.
Bailey had done some asking around, and she was pretty sure she’d found the “something” Hannah had heard about Jacob. Last summer he and another off-duty officer had had an altercation in the parking lot of the Ice House, which was a cop hangout downtown. According to Bailey’s dispatcher friend, the other cop had been talking trash about Jacob’s partner. The dispatcher didn’t know the details, but whatever was said must have been really offensive because Jacob had given the guy a split lip over it. He didn’t seem like the type to lose his cool over something petty.
Bailey glanced at Jacob’s partner again, wondering if maybe there was some sort of love triangle involved.
She turned back to Sam, but he’d returned to the dock to help someone launch a kayak. Bailey shouldered her backpack and started up the trail. Jacob was watching her now as she approached him. He had that intent look about him, and she could tell he was in cop mode. No hint of the smile he’d given her last night when he needed a favor.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
“Just finished my workout.”
His gaze dropped to her flip-flops.
“I row,” she said.
“With a team or—”
“Single scull.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“Why?”
“I figured you for a runner.”
“Nope. Not for me. I like the water.” She nodded at the trailhead behind him. “What brings you out here this morning?”
A pair of cyclists whisked past, and Jacob touched Bailey’s arm to guide her to the side of the trail. Her skin tingled from the contact.
“We’re conducting interviews,” he said.
“You’re looking for regulars?”
“People tend to stick to routines, especially when it comes to exercise. We’re looking for anyone who saw something out of the norm.”
She turned toward the boathouse. “Well, there’s the boathouse staff, but I hear you talked to them already. There’s also a running club that meets by the nature center every morning at six thirty. You could talk to them.”
“We did.”
She gazed up at him and was struck once again by those serious dark eyes. He’d shaved since she last saw him, and she caught the faint scent of his soap or cologne. She suddenly felt self-conscious of her sweat-soaked clothes. She took a step back, and he gave her a quizzical look.
“We posted your photos,” she said. “Any new leads?”
“Not yet. But the local news stations ran them, too, so that’s good. We’re hoping to get an ID soon.”
“Give me a heads-up when you do.”
He nodded, but it was