glad you remembered where you’d seen him before.” Jack didn’t sound all that impressed.
“I told you I was good with faces.”
Silence.
“I know you’re busy packing, but there’s one other thing I thought you’d like to know. The reason I remembered Detective Kirkpatrick? He dated Liz Jones in high school.”
CHAPTER SIX
Jack stood listening to the dial tone, then slowly hung up the phone. Why hadn’t Denny mentioned that he knew Liz? No, not just casually knew her but dated her for a while in high school. It wasn’t as if something like that would slip your mind. Especially Denny Kirkpatrick’s. He had a photographic memory when it came to women.
For several heartbeats, Jack stared at the clothes strewn across his bed and the half-full duffel bag he used for a suitcase. Denny and Liz. Swearing, he stuffed everything into the duffel, grabbed his jacket and his gun, and headed for his Jeep.
He found Denny on the roof outside his penthouse apartment, sitting in a lawn chair, his cigarette glowing in the dusk, the faint smell of smoke drifting on the breeze.
“You didn’t tell me you knew Liz,” Jack said, wishing it didn’t sound so much like an accusation.
Denny didn’t seem startled, not even surprised to see him, as if he’d been waiting. “That was a lifetime ago. I wasn’t even the same person then.”
Jack had to ask. “The married woman you’ve been seeing—” He could feel his friend’s dark-eyed gaze harden.
“It wasn’t Liz.” The words hung on the breeze, both of them knowing he could be lying. He’d lied before. And about a woman. It had almost destroyed their friendship.
At least Denny wasn’t the man Karen had seen Liz with at the hotel. At least Karen didn’t think so, anyway. Jack supposed that was something. But that man might not have been the killer, either, Jack reminded himself.
The silence between them had taken on a weight and substance. God, what was Denny not telling him? Something.
“When was the last time you saw Liz?” Jack asked, sounding like a cop. Hell, he was a cop and that was something he couldn’t take a vacation from. Not even on Captain Baxter’s orders.
Denny dragged on his cigarette and stared out into the darkness. “I saw her last week,” he finally answered, sounding as if it had taken pliers to pull it out of him.
Jack swore. Lately, Denny had been acting oddly. More oddly than normal.
“It wasn’t like that,” Denny said. “Liz and I just had a drink together for old times’ sake at The Ox. That was it.”
“Whose idea was that?”
Denny stared at the burning end of his cigarette. “Hers.”
“She tell you about the man she’d been seeing?”
“It never came up,” he said, but Jack could feel there was more, a whole lot more that Denny wasn’t telling him.
A faint light leaked out of the apartment, spilling across the roof into the growing darkness. Jack moved so he could see Denny’s face better, so Denny could see his. “I’m going after the killer.”
Denny laughed softly. “So it’s like that, huh? Just blow off your probation for a woman you just met. She isn’t even your type.” He frowned. “You know Baxter isn’t going to like this. You freelancing. This could get you fired.”
Jack didn’t give a damn about Captain Baxter. But it could prove to be a problem. He had absolutely no authority to get involved. But dammit, he was involved. Personally involved. Which was the worst.
“I’m not going to let this guy kill Karen, too,” he said, the warning clear. If Denny was mixed up in this, not even their friendship could save him.
Anger shone in his friend’s eyes. “I didn’t kill Liz. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I’d like to hear the truth, all of it, but I don’t think I’m going to get it, am I?”
Denny picked up a half-full beer bottle from beside his chair. It was too cold to be sitting out here tonight. Or maybe Jack was the only one chilled. He watched Denny take a long drink.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with the murder,” Denny said after a moment.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Denny dragged on the cigarette and squinted at him through the smoke. “It’s a private matter.”
“Involving a woman.”
He didn’t deny it. “I’m going to have to ask you to trust me.”
That wasn’t good enough, Jack wanted to say. Instead he stared at his friend, thinking of all the times he’d trusted Denny Kirkpatrick with his life. So, why