Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) by Alexa Grace Page A
Authors: Alexa Grace
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burner cell. He’d been smart so far. Why deviate now?
Chapter Twenty-three
Bobbie and Anthony
It would have been hard to miss the Cooke house on Washington Street. It was the only Cape Cod home in town, painted a soft yellow with white trim. Two cars were in the drive, so Cameron was relatively certain he’d be able to talk to both Bobbie and Anthony and get it over with.
He’d received a text from Bryan before he left the office. Both notes had been examined, but no fingerprints or DNA. The blood coating the rock was not human. Not the best of news for someone who wanted to apprehend his suspect as soon as possible.
Bobbie Cooke answered the door and led him into a small living room where Anthony sat watching television.
“Hey, Cameron. It’s been a long time.” He flicked off the TV and swiveled in his chair. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I just made a pitcher of sweet tea,” said Bobbie. “I’ll get you a glass.”
As soon as his wife left the room, Anthony looked Cameron squarely in the eye. “Is your visit personal or professional?”
“I’m afraid it is professional.”
Bobbie returned, handed a glass of sweet tea to Cameron, and sat down in a chair near him.
Obviously not a man who favored chit-chat, Anthony asked, “What’s going on?”
“I’m investigating some vandalism at the Lucas place.”
“We saw the article in the paper this morning. What does that have to do with us?”
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Bradley and Tisha Lucas?”
Anthony stiffened. “That’s not what you want to know. You’re asking if we would want to hurt them.”
“Oh, Lord no.” Bobbie blinked and clenched her hands in her lap. “Those poor people. Someone tried to hurt them?”
“Poor people? Are you serious, woman? Those people raised the teenagers who killed our Destiny. How can you feel sorry for them?”
Her voice turned soft and low. “Anthony, if you don’t forgive, you can’t move on.”
Becoming agitated, Anthony waved his hands expressively as he talked. “I think I’ve heard about enough about your forgiveness campaign, Bobbie. I want no part of it.”
He turned to Cameron. “Unlike her mother, I cannot forgive Destiny’s killers. Bored, rich teenagers looking for their next thrill. No, I can’t forgive them, or the parents who brought them into the world. I know both Tisha and Bradley Lucas. Cold, self-centered and pompous, both of them. I sure don’t feel sorry that someone struck out at them. Not a bit.”
It was then that Cameron noticed Anthony’s hand was wrapped in white gauze. “What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, I burned it last night when I threw a match on some paper under kindling in the fireplace. Hurt like a bitch.”
Cameron heard the front door open and then shut. Justin Andrews, dressed in his state police uniform, entered the room. Bobbie jumped out of her chair to hug him.
Justin nodded at Cameron. “I saw your SUV outside. Good to see you.” He shook Cameron’s hand, while Bobbie rushed to the kitchen for another glass of sweet tea. Moving next to Anthony’s chair, he placed his hand affectionately on the older man’s shoulder. “So what’s going on?”
“Anthony was just telling me how he burned his hand when he lit his fireplace kindling last night.”
Taking an openly protective stance, Justin focused on Cameron. “So you think Anthony is the guy who torched the Lucas mailbox?”
“I didn’t say that. But I would like to know where Anthony was last night around midnight.”
Bobbie came back into the room and handed Justin a glass of sweet tea. “I can tell you where he was. He was lying next to me snoring to beat the band. I know the time because I rolled over to look at the clock and saw it was twelve-thirty. I pushed Anthony onto his side to stop the snoring and went back to sleep.”
Anthony’s face flushed with anger. “You got a lot of nerve coming here with your insinuations and questions.
Chapter Twenty-three
Bobbie and Anthony
It would have been hard to miss the Cooke house on Washington Street. It was the only Cape Cod home in town, painted a soft yellow with white trim. Two cars were in the drive, so Cameron was relatively certain he’d be able to talk to both Bobbie and Anthony and get it over with.
He’d received a text from Bryan before he left the office. Both notes had been examined, but no fingerprints or DNA. The blood coating the rock was not human. Not the best of news for someone who wanted to apprehend his suspect as soon as possible.
Bobbie Cooke answered the door and led him into a small living room where Anthony sat watching television.
“Hey, Cameron. It’s been a long time.” He flicked off the TV and swiveled in his chair. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I just made a pitcher of sweet tea,” said Bobbie. “I’ll get you a glass.”
As soon as his wife left the room, Anthony looked Cameron squarely in the eye. “Is your visit personal or professional?”
“I’m afraid it is professional.”
Bobbie returned, handed a glass of sweet tea to Cameron, and sat down in a chair near him.
Obviously not a man who favored chit-chat, Anthony asked, “What’s going on?”
“I’m investigating some vandalism at the Lucas place.”
“We saw the article in the paper this morning. What does that have to do with us?”
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Bradley and Tisha Lucas?”
Anthony stiffened. “That’s not what you want to know. You’re asking if we would want to hurt them.”
“Oh, Lord no.” Bobbie blinked and clenched her hands in her lap. “Those poor people. Someone tried to hurt them?”
“Poor people? Are you serious, woman? Those people raised the teenagers who killed our Destiny. How can you feel sorry for them?”
Her voice turned soft and low. “Anthony, if you don’t forgive, you can’t move on.”
Becoming agitated, Anthony waved his hands expressively as he talked. “I think I’ve heard about enough about your forgiveness campaign, Bobbie. I want no part of it.”
He turned to Cameron. “Unlike her mother, I cannot forgive Destiny’s killers. Bored, rich teenagers looking for their next thrill. No, I can’t forgive them, or the parents who brought them into the world. I know both Tisha and Bradley Lucas. Cold, self-centered and pompous, both of them. I sure don’t feel sorry that someone struck out at them. Not a bit.”
It was then that Cameron noticed Anthony’s hand was wrapped in white gauze. “What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, I burned it last night when I threw a match on some paper under kindling in the fireplace. Hurt like a bitch.”
Cameron heard the front door open and then shut. Justin Andrews, dressed in his state police uniform, entered the room. Bobbie jumped out of her chair to hug him.
Justin nodded at Cameron. “I saw your SUV outside. Good to see you.” He shook Cameron’s hand, while Bobbie rushed to the kitchen for another glass of sweet tea. Moving next to Anthony’s chair, he placed his hand affectionately on the older man’s shoulder. “So what’s going on?”
“Anthony was just telling me how he burned his hand when he lit his fireplace kindling last night.”
Taking an openly protective stance, Justin focused on Cameron. “So you think Anthony is the guy who torched the Lucas mailbox?”
“I didn’t say that. But I would like to know where Anthony was last night around midnight.”
Bobbie came back into the room and handed Justin a glass of sweet tea. “I can tell you where he was. He was lying next to me snoring to beat the band. I know the time because I rolled over to look at the clock and saw it was twelve-thirty. I pushed Anthony onto his side to stop the snoring and went back to sleep.”
Anthony’s face flushed with anger. “You got a lot of nerve coming here with your insinuations and questions.
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