“You won’t find her unless she wants to be found,” Iris said.
“That may well be,” Cook responded, “but I was hoping that perhaps Mr. Flynn would be able to give us a lead on where she might be located. Your reputation,” he addressed Connor, “for tracking things down is legendary, and with your vested interest in the matter, I thought perhaps you would be willing to do a little off the record investigating of your own.”
Connor puffed up with the praise, but his response was cautious. “Jilo is a slippery one, Detective. I’ll be happy to give it a go, but I suspect that if she don’t want to be found, I ain’t going to find her.”
“I’d appreciate any help you can offer in the matter—” Cook’s sentence was cut short by the ringing of his cell. He pulled the phone out of its holder, his gaze drifting back to Oliver. He seemed to have a hard time not looking at Oliver; it was as if his eyes were hungry for the sight.
“Cook,” the detective answered his phone. “Yes. That’s correct. I am here with the family now.” As he listened, his reaction indicated bad news—his nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “He what? How the hell could he do that? All right. You sure as hell had better. You tell March I want to talk to him the second I get there.” He turned off his phone and looked at us. “Martell Burke disappeared—literally disappeared—from his cell, and I want you all to tell me just how the hell that could have happened.”
“Detective Cook,” Aunt Iris said with raised eyebrows, smiling with only the right side of her mouth. “We want Ginny’s killer brought to justice. I certainly hope you’re not suggesting that we would free the man you suspect of killing her?”
“No ma’am, I don’t think you’d free him, but I sure as hell better not find myself stumbling over his body in a day or two. I need to get back to the station, but y’all can help me by getting me the names and contact information of any relatives who’ve been here for the funeral in case I need to get in touch them.”
He gave Oliver a cold and pointed look. “And don’t you even think of leaving town, Mr. Taylor. If my suspect turns up looking any less than healthy, you, sir, will be the first person I pay a visit. I would suggest you send up a little prayer for Martell’s prompt and safe return to custody.” Cook stared at Oliver for a moment more before slamming out the door.
“We should all keep an eye on each other until they catch this guy,” Connor stated flatly as the sound of Cook’s steps faded away.
“But how could this Burke fellow up and disappear?” Ellen asked. “Unless Mother’s behind it?”
Connor laughed. “Mother ain’t got the juice to pull this kind of stunt off.”
“It appears you are mistaken,” Emmet responded, “as it is unlikely anyone else would have had the motivation to free the man.”
Iris shocked us all by slamming her hands down on the table. “Oliver. Tell me you had nothing to do with this disappearance! You swear to me!”
Oliver’s eyes widened as he shrugged and tried to look innocent. For once he succeeded. “I didn’t Iris. I swear. I didn’t do a thing to Burke.” We all fell quiet and waited. “Nor,” Oliver continued in a somewhat hurt tone, “did I convince anyone else, including Burke himself, to do anything. I really and truly have no idea where he is, or how he managed his Houdini, unless Mother somehow pulled it off.”
“Damned shame.” Connor chuckled. “I would have respected you more if you had. But it is what it is, and we have bigger fish to fry. Let Cook try to round Burke up. We need to deal with the lot drawing. Once we get that handled, we can turn our attention to Burke.”