“Like seeing him romantically.”
Jamison barked out a laugh. “Oh, right.” Then he caught Pierce’s sober expression. “You’re kidding, right? That’s supposed to be funny. You can’t be … I mean, you’re not serious.”
“Not kidding,” Pierce assured him.
Jamison shook his head, his dark hair catching the lowering sun’s rays. “No way. I mean there’s just no way.”
“Old boyfriend,” Pierce pointed out.
“Oh, come on.” Jamison snorted, then gave Pierce a long look. “Well … yeah, they were together a long time ago, but—” He held up both hands, palms out as if warding off any arguments. “No.Thatwas over a long time ago. The guy’s a loser. Was way back when and still is. She ditched Quinlan as soon as we got together.”
“I remember. But old feelings die hard.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Just letting you know. When we talked a while back, you mentioned that you and Naomi had hit a rough patch in your marriage.”
“Everyone has them,” he said defensively, his back starting to go up. “It’s natural and, you know, midlife. But it isn’t a big deal. Just a communication problem. We were going to fix that this weekend.”
“And try for another baby.”
“Rrrighhht,” Jamison said, but his thoughts were seemingly churning, his eyes growing dark. “Naomi wouldn’t … I mean there’s just no way she would …” His voice trailed off.
Pierce could only guess that Jamison was remembering. A feeling of unease? That something wasn’t quite right? Dates that had been unexpectedly broken? Hours unaccounted for? Times when his wife was distracted, in her own world? Or had he found little clues that didn’t add up and wondered about what secrets she kept?
Well, now Jamison knew.
And he didn’t appreciate it.
“I find it hard to believe,” he said tightly, his anger surmounting his fear.
“They’ve been seen together at the riding academy.”
Jamison’s expression hardened. “Naomi takes Shana there. Maybe they ran into each other. Knox, he’s a rancher, probably supplies some of the livestock or …”
“Nikki talked to him. He didn’t deny it.”
“Nikki?” Jamison repeated, his face flushed, nostrils flaring. “Your wife? A reporter? He told her. But not the police?”
“Not yet. But he’s coming in for questioning.”
“He volunteered?” Jamison asked in obvious disbelief.
“No. He was reluctant but didn’t argue about it. I’m on my way back to the station now.”
“Fine.” Jamison reached into his pocket for his car keys. “Let’s go!”
“No. Just me.”
“I’m the ADA,” Jamison declared.
“You’re the husband,” Reed reminded him.
“Exactly! And I want answers.”
“You know how this goes. Protocol.”
“Fuck protocol!” Jamison was already striding along the edge of the pool toward the garage and his BMW.