Their Baby Bond. Karen Rose Smith

      It was obvious he didn’t want to linger. He’d eat her stew, have the talk and get out of her house as quickly as he could.

      Jake waited for her to sit before he lowered himself into his chair. “It smells good.”

      He was making conversation, but she could tell he was on guard.

      “My mother’s recipe. She used to prepare most meals before she left for work. Then we had more time to spend together in the evenings.”

      “It was just you and your mom?”

      “My father left when I was nine. My mother went to night school and became a paralegal.”

      Something in her voice must have hinted at the hurt still there. “Are you in contact with your dad now?”

      “No. A few years ago I heard he and his fourth wife moved to Missouri.”

      “Fourth wife?”

      “He falls in and out of love easily. At least, that’s what my mother always told me. But I don’t think it’s love at all. He finds a woman who suits his needs for the moment, and when she doesn’t, he moves on.”

      After a few spoonfuls of stew, Jake remarked, “That’s the way some people look at marriage.”

      “Your parents stayed together.”

      “For all the wrong reasons. Their marriage kept them both in a prison. My father’s resentment made him mean. From what I can see, marriage is a trap.”

      Tori could understand why Jake believed as he did. Yet… “Maybe if two people marry for the right reason—”

      Her phone rang and she murmured to Jake, “I’ll just let the machine take that.” But a few seconds later when she heard, “Ms. Phillips, this is Detective Trujillo from the Santa Fe Police Department. The jewelry store a few shops down from yours was robbed this evening and—”

      Jumping up from her chair, Tori grabbed the handset. “Detective Trujillo? This is Tori Phillips. Did someone break into my gallery?”

      “We don’t think so, ma’am, but we’d like you to come down here and check things over. We’d like to see if your security system was tampered with.”

      “I can be there in ten minutes. Should I meet you out front?”

      “That will be fine.”

      Putting the cordless phone back in its stand, she looked at Jake. “I’m sorry about this, but I have to go to the gallery. The detective wants me to make sure the thief didn’t try to get inside.”

      “I know Phil Trujillo. We went to the academy in Albuquerque together. Do you want me to come with you?”

      “Do you want to?”

      “No,” he said with a slow smile. It was the one she remembered from so long ago. “But I might be able to get information from Phil that you can’t. Detectives investigating a case are tight-lipped.”

      She had the feeling that Jake was itching to get back into police work, but something was stopping him. Maybe she’d find out what that was tonight. “I’d be glad to have you along. I’ve never had an almost-break-in before.”

      “Then let’s go see if your security system kept your gallery safe.”

      Perceptions was located in a small plaza with a string of other shops. Tori’s shop, situated at the closed U end of the parking lot, was white stucco and attached to a bakery on the right. On the left, a brick pathway ran parallel to the narrow driveway that led to the rear entrance. There were two police cruisers, their lights still flashing, blocking the entrance to the walkway that wended to Tori’s shop, the bakery, and the adjoining building, where the jewelry store was located next to a leather boutique.

      Jake and Tori climbed out of his truck, then angled around a cruiser to her gallery.

      The detective who was standing at the door, his arms crossed over his chest, recognized Jake immediately. “Galeno! What are you doing here? Going to join the Santa Fe PD?”

      “I was with Tori when she got your call. Just thought I’d come along as a concerned friend to find out what was going on.”

      “Not much,” the detective said. “We’re waiting for the owner of the bakery and that leather shop. Just wanted to make sure nothing else was tampered with. As you can see, we dusted for prints on the knob and around the door. Same thing at the back entrance. But even if we find prints that match any at the jewelry store, that doesn’t mean we’ve found our guy. Shoppers, especially tourists, go from one shop to the next. That right, Ms. Phillips?”

      “Yes, it is.” Taking her key from her purse, she asked, “Is it all right if I open the door?”

      The detective nodded, watching her closely. She noticed Jake was watching her, too, and then she saw why. There were scratches around the keyhole. She didn’t know what they were from, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t been there earlier when she’d locked up.

      She pointed them out to the detective.

      “Yeah, we noticed them,” Trujillo offered. “We were waiting to see if you said anything. Any guesses as to what they’re from, Galeno?”

      Phil knew Jake would recognize the scratches. “Possibly a pick that slipped. But I don’t get why he would even attempt the front door.”

      “The back door’s solid steel, the lock obviously heavy-duty. This one is, too, but it’s not quite so cumbersome,” Tori explained.

      “Right on the mark,” Trujillo said.

      Taking a few steps back, Jake studied all the stores in the layout. “He might’ve just been making a quick run through here, seeing what was possible and what wasn’t. What happened at the jewelry store?”

      “This guy doesn’t have much finesse. If you walk down there, you’ll see he broke the window, set off the alarm, crashed some cases and grabbed what he could. The good stuff was all in the safe, so he didn’t get to that. But the store’s security service tried to call the owner before they called us, so the unsub—unidentified subject,” he explained to Tori, “had time to hightail it out of here. My partner’s interviewing everybody he can find within a decent radius. Ms. Phillips, how about if you turn off that alarm system. I’ll see if anything’s amiss inside.”

      Tori opened the door and pressed in the security code. A green light came on. “It’s off,” she murmured.

      Detective Trujillo stepped past her, his hand inside his suit coat, as he ordered, “Wait here.”

      Tori wasn’t sure what to think, and she looked up at Jake.

      He placed a hand on her shoulder. “He just wants to make sure this guy is gone…and was acting alone.”

      A few minutes later, the detective beckoned them inside, and Tori took a cursory look around, then made a more detailed search. “I locked up myself tonight a few minutes early. Nothing’s been touched.”

      She saw Jake studying the pictures on the walls, the sculptures on stands, the case of unique jewelry and pillboxes, the rack with hand-carved walking sticks. She’d decorated the gallery in the mountain colors of rust, green and blue. It blended with everything she sold, making the ambience of the gallery welcoming, yet sedate, unpretentious, yet undoubtedly exclusive.

      Already, Phil Trujillo had opened the door into the room beyond. “Is this for storage?”

      “Yes. Right now it’s crammed full of work I’m going to display for Christmas and an artist’s opening coming up.”

      She hurried after the detective, saying to Jake, “He needs to be careful with my inventory.”

      Jake caught her elbow. “Phil’s no bull in a china shop. He knows what he’s looking for.”

      Jake’s