Silent Witness (16 page)

Ellen laughed. “For someone who made fun of my vegetarian pizza, you sure ate a lot of it.”

“Well, I had a little room left after I finished off mine. You know, us starving hill boys can't be choosy.”

At the glint in his eyes, Ellen felt her face turn hot. How she wished she'd stop blushing. That teenage reaction had stopped when she graduated from high school. Why was it starting again? She noticed shad
ows playing across his boyish face. Jim had a disarming quality. She liked the way his mouth stretched into a lazy, almost contented smile.

“I feel like I'm with a different person tonight,” Ellen murmured. “Don't you?” Glancing up at him, she saw his gaze was tender and assessing. How badly she wanted to kiss him. The urge was so real Ellen had to force her hands to remain at her sides as they slowly walked along together. Sometimes their hands brushed as they wove through the crowded parking lot.

“A hog can't change its spots. I'm the same person, different uniform, gal.”

“Nice try, Jim. You act differently, so it's more than just the clothes you're wearing. I'm glad I got spontaneous and asked you out.”

“Look at you,” Cochrane said, pointing to the body-fitting jeans she wore. “You're out of your hippie clothes. Right now you look more like a college student.” She was shapely and didn't look like a skinny fashion model. Jim liked women with flesh on their bones. Ellen was filled out in all the right places as far as he was concerned.

“Oh, please,” she protested, touching her flaming cheek. She saw the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Reckon us thirtysomethings can look twentysomething at times.”

“You sure do,” she said. “I'd never have thought you'd wear a pair of ratty—I mean—”

Chuckling, Jim opened the car door for her. “Ratty's
the operative word, Ms. Tanner. Us hill folk don't dress fancy for anyone. Growing up, I was usually in a pair of ragged Levi's that needed the knees patched, and a holey ole T-shirt and no shoes. Ma could never understand me preferring my old clothes instead of others that were in better shape. I used to exasperate the daylights out of her with my choices.”

As he stood holding the car door open, Ellen heard the pride in his voice and saw it in his face. “I think your hill upbringing gave you some solid values, no matter what you wore.”

“What do you know? A woman who can see the man and not his clothes.”

Grinning, Ellen settled into the seat. “Are you stereotyping me again?”

“I wouldn't dream of it, Ms. Tanner. No, you defy description yourself,” he said conspiratorially as he shut the door.

Ellen wasn't about to let him get away with that statement. “Don't you think it's about time men and women started treating one another as individuals and not as stereotypes?” she asked as he settled in his seat.

Starting the car, Jim gave her a lazy smile. “It would help. When you came down from changing clothes at your new apartment, you surprised me. I thought you were going to be wearing some hippie outfit, but instead you looked like a young' un, jeans and all. This West Coast sunshine must be rubbing off on you.”

“So that's why you gave me that odd look. I couldn't
figure out whether you liked what I was wearing or not.”

“You sort of reminded me of my past, my growing-up years.”

Ellen remained silent, digesting his words. She had thrown on a pair of comfortable jeans and a pink tank top, and tamed her hair back into a ponytail. She stole a look at Jim now as they drove through El Cajon. His face was expressionless again. His voice, however, was anything but devoid of feeling.

Ellen nervously knit her fingers in her lap, unsure how to take his compliment. If it
was
a compliment. For the first time since her husband had died, Ellen felt an exhilarating emotion enter her heart—a giddy, spiraling sensation that left her a little breathless. Absently, she touched the center of her chest, feeling wonder that, of all people, Jim had stirred her so, made her want to start living again.

Ellen slanted him a quick glance. Jim seemed unaware of her thoughts and feelings. Why wouldn't he be? She wasn't communicating and he wasn't a mind reader.

“Tell me about yourself, Ellen. About your growing-up years,” Cochrane urged. “How about your parents? Any brothers or sisters?”

Pleased that he was interested, she said, “I'm the oldest daughter of three. Both my sisters are policewomen. They followed in Mom's footsteps, while I followed in Dad's. He used to tell us nonclassified things about his
job with the FBI. I fell in love with detective work, then.” She smiled wistfully. “Growing up, I was the quiet little girl in the back of the room. Really shy at the time.” She touched her red hair. “I know you think I'm a brazen woman, but I'm not.”

“Only around me,” Cochrane chuckled.

“Yes, I guess you bring out that side of me,” Ellen said with a grin.

“What got you into psychology?”

“My parents. My mother had to take courses for her police training and I used to pore over her books at home. My dad was a natural at human psychology. I used to sit with them and ask them both questions.” She shrugged. “I guess people and their behavior have always fascinated me.”

“Sounds like you got the therapist genes from your parents, for sure.”

“Even now, I call them about once a week. There have been many times when I've asked their opinion on something that stumped me. Of course, I'd never mention the case or names, but they were always helpful, giving me information based upon their decades of experience.”

“It sounds like you're close with your family, too.”

“Oh, yes. My dad loves to fish. In Minnesota we have over ten thousand lakes, and my parents built a cabin up on Rock Lake, about three hours north of Minneapolis. I went up there on weekends. I loved the quiet of the lake, of nature, and the loons that lived there. Their call is so haunting.”

“Nature girl,” Jim said. “That's what I had you pegged as. Not a city slicker, even though you came from D.C.”

She absorbed his pleasure. “Give me a choice, I'll take the country, Mr. Cochrane.”

“I'm with you on that, gal. I found it healing to jog the rocky hills around San Diego County,” Jim confided. “When Jodi split the blanket with me, I did a lot of hiking out there, trying to figure out where I'd gone wrong.” He gave her a sad look. “The hardest thing was no longer having someone to share things with or hold in my arms at night. You get used to that stuff.”

Touched, Ellen studied his profile. “I missed that the most after Mark died.” Opening her hands, she whispered, “I guess we're both walking wounded of a sort. At least, that's how I see myself. These last two years have been a special kind of hell for me. I took for granted what we had, never dreaming I'd lose Mark or our happiness so soon.”

“Has coming here to San Diego helped or hurt?”

“It's helped.”

“How?”

“I threw myself into this project. Getting out of Washington was a godsend.” Ellen gave him a searching look. “You're a tough taskmaster at times. I knew from the moment we met that you didn't want me around. I felt you couldn't trust me to do a good enough job, so I worked harder and put in longer hours to make up for my investigative deficiencies.”

Cochrane pulled onto the freeway leading back to the heart of San Diego. The sulfur lights along the highway made huge amber splotches on the black asphalt—light against darkness. “I didn't mean to be hard on you, Ellen. You probably don't believe me, but that's the truth.”

“I do believe you,” she said.

“I think you're a softy at heart.” Cochrane exited off the freeway at B Street. “Being a softy isn't all bad,” he told her. “When I was fourteen, I fell in love with a little red-haired, freckle-faced girl name Pansy. She was like you—all feelings. She used to cry at the drop of a hat over some poor bug getting smashed, or some animal being hurt. She used to cry for me….”

Ellen didn't want the car ride to end, but her apartment was coming up. Jim was revealing himself and she wanted to continue exploring him. “Why did she cry for you?”

“Pansy was my first true love. I fell head over heels for that little freckled face of hers. I followed her around like a lovesick puppy. My grades slipped because when I wasn't with her, I was up in my tree house, daydreaming about her. I didn't do my homework, and my pa reminded me I got what I earned.”

Jim braked the car and pulled into the pink stucco apartment complex surrounded by stately palm trees. At the entrance he parked the vehicle. Shifting, he turned toward Ellen, resting his arm across the back of the seat. “Pansy was the first to realize that I'd gotten
a whipping for my failing grades after I took my report card home. She cried for me and it did something to me. Something…good and warm.”

“That's because she loved you,” Ellen whispered, looking up into his darkened gray eyes, so alive with feelings. She stifled an urge to touch those errant strands across his forehead.

“I'd never had anyone cry over me before,” Cochrane said, his voice oddly off-key. He shrugged. “I saw the same look in your eyes a couple of times when I told you about my divorce problems with Jodi, or when I talked about Merry.” He reached out, his fingertips lightly touching her ponytail. “And you remind me a little of Pansy. Maybe that's why I call you ‘gal' when I can get away with it.”

His stroke was electric on her unruly hair. Scalp tingling wildly, she swallowed, caught in the burning intensity of his searching gaze. Unconsciously, Ellen parted her lips, and saw longing in Jim's eyes—the kind that made her feel desirable. Shocked by the revelation, she panicked and reached for the door handle. She had to escape the sudden emotional intensity swirling between them.

“She had your kind of hair. Did I tell you that? Wild, frizzy curls like a red halo around her face.” Cochrane saw Ellen's anxiety and lifted his hand away. “Pansy used to keep it in pigtails so the other kids wouldn't tease her so much about her funny-looking hair.”

“Naturally curly hair like ours is hard to deal with,” Ellen admitted in a small voice. Would Jim caress her
again? Did she want to be touched? Her feelings were seesawing violently, and she disliked herself for being such an emotional coward. Jim didn't deserve this.

Swallowing hard, she asked in a low tone, “Do you think we have any kind of a future, Jim?” There, it was out. The words had been wanting to come out all night. It was so hard to be courageous in a relationship. Given their backgrounds, their jobs, could they ever make it work?

“I'm not sure,” Jim admitted quietly. “As you know, I really didn't want you as a partner, but as the days went by, I found myself eager to see you, to know you'd be there in the office.” His mouth pressed into a sad line as he held her gaze. “Ellen, I'm mixed up. I have this ongoing battle with Jodi over visitation rights to see Merry. I'm trying my darnedest to be there for my daughter when she needs me, but my workload these last two years has been brutal.” He lifted his hand and gently touched her hair. “And then there's you and me. I don't know what you think and I'm still finding out what all these unexpected discoveries mean to me and my heart. One thing's for sure—I'm glad you've come into my life.”

Ellen smiled tenderly. “Me, too. Like you, Jim, I feel like I'm betwixt and between right now. I'm leaving my grief behind. Like you, I wake up in the morning looking forward to coming to work. Part of it is because you're there. It's great to discover I'm not dead inside.” She touched her heart and held his hooded gaze. “I'm scared spitless, if you want the truth—and I always
want to be honest with you. The fact is I feel good. The depression I had is almost gone. It's an amazing thing. Frankly, I didn't expect to meet another man who would ever interest me like Mark had. And yet—” she sent Jim a lopsided smile “—here you are.”

Running his palm tenderly along the top of her shoulder, Cochrane said in a low tone, “I'm glad to know you feel good about me being in your life. It's mutual.” Sighing, he added, “This is complicated, Ellen.”

“I know it is. More for you than me. Death has a finality to it. Divorce doesn't, especially if a child is involved. I understand why you're so torn, Jim.”

Nodding, he frowned. “I wish things were easy and straightforward here, but they're not.”

“More than anything, I want you to always see your daughter and be with her whenever you can. That's your first priority.” She saw relief in his eyes. His fingers stroked her shoulder gently, and her flesh tingled. His caress was wonderful. Her whole body cried out to be stroked like that.

“Thanks, gal. I really needed to hear that.” Studying her in the dusky light, Cochrane said, “In the Navy we have red light for stop, orange for caution and green for go, as a way to communicate between a man and woman. Between us, which is it?”

Shrugging, Ellen said, “A combination of orange and green?”

He laughed softly, “Only you would combine them, gal.”