“You got it.” Jude followed behind his partners as they left the house. He hurried back into the kitchen where Cope sat wearing a self-satisfied grin.
“Good work,” Jude said, pulling Cope into his arms. “How the hell did you know about the baby?”
“A little bird told me.” Cope waggled his eyebrows.
“Let me guess, Bertha?” Jude chuckled.
“Yup.” Cope chuckled. “Apparently she’s been stuck to Angie like glue from the moment she left Oliver’s house the day we interviewed him. She sings to the baby. Angie is obviously very attached. Promise you won’t go at her too hard. We don’t want to put the child in danger.”
“The only person who’s going to be in danger tomorrow is Oliver.” Not only had Oliver killed his wife, but their unborndaughter. Jude would do everything in his power to make sure that same fate wasn’t awaiting Angie and her baby.
16
Cope
Sitting in the backseat of Fitzgibbon’s SUV, Cope couldn’t believe how calm he was. They were going to Oliver’s house to confront the man about killing his wife. Cope figured he’d be a bundle of nerves, but, in fact, he’d never been more at peace.
After Ronan and Fitz left the night before, he and Jude sat at the kitchen table going over possible questions to ask Oliver, along with ways to get Angie to turn on her lover. He didn’t want to say or do anything that could hurt Angie’s child, but at this point, the bigger danger came from Oliver. If he could kill his pregnant wife, it wouldn’t bother him to kill a pregnant girlfriend.
“Cope?” Fitz asked from the driver’s seat. “You good to go?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Cope offered Fitz a tentative smile in the rearview mirror. “The last time we did this together, we were on our way to rescue Jude.” His mind flashed back to that awful day. With Cope’s emotions running high, his gift had been useless. It had been Ronan and Fitz who’d found and saved Jude from his tormentor. “My gift is working and I’m ready to catch a killer.”
“Angie’s car is in the driveway,” Ronan said as Fitz parked down the street from Oliver’s house.
“We knew she would be here.” Jude hopped out of the SUV and walked to the other side to help Cope out. “Thank goodness the media has died down.” Where there had been media vans and glammed up reporters with microphones, now the street was quiet with neighbors going about their daily business which didn’t include picketing Oliver’s house.
Cope was glad too. He knew that sometimes the Salem Police Department got pushback from residents when Ten was involved in solving cold cases. The notoriety usually gained West Side Magick more customers, which Cope loved. Today, though, he wanted to fly under the radar. Use the bit of knowledge his gift provided and bring Frankie’s killer to justice. “Do you ever feel like you get to know the victims?” Cope asked when he met the detectives at the head of Oliver’s driveway.
Ronan nodded. “All the time. I use that as fuel when I feel like we’ve run out of evidence and suspects. From everything we’ve learned, Frankie was a giver. Now it’s time we return the favor and give her some long overdue justice.”
“Damn right.” Jude bumped fists with Ronan. He started for Oliver’s front door, shoulder to shoulder with his partners.
Cope found himself glad he was on their side. If these three detectives showed up on his doorstep while working an active murder case he would have shit a solid gold brick. Probably two.
Oliver opened the front door and wilted at the sight of the detectives. “My lawyer’s not here. I’m not speaking to you.” He moved to shut the door in Fitzgibbon’s face.
“We’re not here to speak with you.” Fitz pushed past Oliver and into the house.
Cope watched Oliver’s look of shock turn to fear. The last thing he wanted was for his girlfriend to speak to Salem Police detectives. With Oliver’s attention on Angie, that would give Cope the perfect opportunity to get inside Oliver’s head.
“Good morning, Angie,” Fitzgibbon greeted, walking into the kitchen.
Angie whirled around from the sink, where she’d been washing dishes. “What the hell are you all doing here? You know you can’t speak to Oliver without his lawyer.”
“Well then it’s a good thing we’re here to see you.” Fitz offered a bland smile.
“Me?” Angie sounded outraged. “Who the hell do you think you are bursting into Oliver’s house? I don’t have to say a word to you.” Grabbing a nearby dish towel, Angie dried her hands.
“You’ve got two choices,” Ronan began, “have a seat and answer a few quick questions about your best friend, Frankie, or we perp walk you out the door and take you downtown. I’m sure the video of you being shoved into a police cruiser will be all over Facebook before we even leave the neighborhood.”
Rolling her eyes, Angie took a seat at the kitchen table. Oliver sat beside her. When the three detective’s sat opposite, Cope took the opportunity to sit at the head of the table closest to Angie.
“What do you want to know about Frankie?” Angie asked. “I would have thought by now that you’d have gotten all the information you needed.”
“We just want you to tell us about your friendship with Frankie.” Ronan sounded almost gentle.
“We met in middle school and had been best friends for life.” Angie shrugged. “We were the maids of honor in each other’s weddings, hung out every weekend, and Frankie was there for me when my husband left me for another woman.”
