by Rachel Lee
“Understandable.” Bud looked at the burger in his hand and put it down on the plate. “You think a threat might have followed him out here?”
“We don’t know,” Cat said swiftly, wanting to quash that rumor before it even got started. “But that’s why we’re asking if you heard anything about his work from Larry. To be sure.”
“I get it.” Bud’s eyes darkened. “Makes more sense to me than some high school kids wanting his electronics.”
Cat answered him. “Keep that under your hat, please. It’s only a remote possibility.”
At that, Bud’s face relaxed. “I thought it was strange that Larry would come to the back of beyond just to write a book, but the idea that someone followed him out here? Even wilder.”
Cat couldn’t disagree. It did seem wild, and very unlikely. Chances were, Larry hadn’t even told anyone where he was going. But no matter where he’d gone, he’d have received cell phone messages. Only law enforcement agencies could have tracked him, and there was no evidence for that.
Duke insisted on picking up the entire tab. Bud left, promising he’d think more about it, but Cat didn’t expect anything.
“He played close to the vest, all right,” she said to Duke as they walked back to the car.
“That’s Larry. Damn it.”
“The ultimate proof is that Ben didn’t have any idea, either. Imagine not telling your significant other even the least little thing about what you were working on.”
“Imagine not telling your brother you were about to wreck his career.”
She looked at him over the roof of the car. “Do you think he could have known that?”
Once again, she watched him stare into the distance as he thought. It was as if he’d learned long ago that answers might not be right under his nose. A trained response?
He shook his head a bit, then folded himself into her car. She followed suit and turned over the ignition.
“He may not have known,” Duke said as she steered them out of the lot. “But he might have ticked someone off farther up the chain of command.”
“No way to know anything about this case,” she remarked sourly. “God, I hate this. Usually there’s a link to someone or to an event that gives us direction. We’ve got no direction here. We need someone to spill a few beans.”
“Good luck with that.”
It often proved to be exactly that kind of luck that nailed a criminal. For some reason she would never understand, people seemed to need to talk or brag about what they’d done.
Duke was disappointed, even though he’d admitted yesterday that his original plan had deflated. She wondered if she should set up meetings with the other five poker buddies anyway. Just to settle Duke’s mind. Although at this point, if he thought it was a waste, he wouldn’t want to pursue it any further.
Like Bud, she wasn’t buying the teenage home-invasion theory. She’d had trouble with it since she’d discovered Larry’s body. Too savage, too brutal to be kids who just wanted to steal. It would have been much easier for them to hightail it.
“You know,” she said to Duke as they pulled into her driveway, “it would not be smart for us to start following a single theory about Larry’s murder. It could blind us to something important.”
“I agree.” But that was all he said as he followed her into the house.
Now they were faced with reading more of his brother’s articles. Or at least the stories that seemed as if they could have lit a fire somewhere.
Like the one about murder for hire in the Army. That was the most recent investigative piece, and considering what had been happening to Duke, someone had been disturbed. Maybe more than disturbed.
Then she remembered Duke’s reaction when he learned the crime scenes were too clean. “Did Larry ever write about corrupt cops?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t read everything he wrote, even the big stories. He rarely mentioned them to me, so basically I never thought about it.”
Thus, it appeared, they were going to wade through the work product of a very prolific man.
“I can’t imagine being a reporter and having to write on such tight deadlines.”
Duke followed her down the hall. “Larry seemed to thrive on them.”
“He’d have to.”
* * *
EVENING WAS SETTLING in with dim light, and once again the colder temperatures settled in with it. Spring around here could even mean snowstorms, but right now Cat thought she detected dry air with the cold.
Duke took himself out for a run. She watched him leave, loping easily. She wished she could find such a comfortable pace while running.
Then she headed for her refrigerator to see if she could rustle up something for dinner for the two of them. She didn’t think Duke was going to want to stop reading after a meal. Dog with a bone, she thought, not for the first time.
He might even want to stay up all night. She wouldn’t be able to blame him, but she groaned inwardly anyway. Lack of sleep never made any investigation easier. She’d had to do it plenty of times, but when the brain got tired, so did its thinking.
Of course, she hadn’t been out to shop for two. Her fridge stared back at her with little that would stretch that far. She headed for the cupboard that served as her pantry and started scoping out the other foods.
All of which was a distraction from thinking about how dead in the water this case had grown.
Nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cupboard and nothing in the file.
Remembering the Hodgeses, she called. Mark Hodges was willing to meet with Duke. As an instructor at the junior college, he had a more convenient schedule for setting up an interview. His wife, Marjory, taught kindergarten, however.
“I don’t think she could manage meeting Duke until tomorrow night,” Mark said. “Will that do?”
“Absolutely. I appreciate this,” Cat replied.
Mark Hodges sighed audibly. “Some of the questions from the cops who came to investigate made me uneasy.”
Cat instantly grew alert. “How so?”
“Well...” He hesitated. “Frankly, I wondered if they were trying to connect it to the murder last week. It’s not anything they said, but a feeling I got. It bothered me because of what happened to Larry Duke. Are Marjory and I alive only because we were out of town?”
Cat wanted to reassure him and sought a way to do so without denying what might be true, however remotely. “I don’t think it’s likely, Mark. I mean, the two crimes probably aren’t related to begin with. Otherwise, from what I read in the file, they aren’t at all similar in terms of the burglaries.”
The last part wasn’t exactly true. The fact that both scenes seemed to be clean of physical evidence seriously gnawed at her. But Mark sounded relieved, and that was what mattered.
After she hung up, she thought about dinner again, then just shrugged it away. She didn’t have anything to cook other than eggs and toast, she didn’t really feel like cooking, and if Duke was hungry, she could bring out the peanut butter, jam and bread.
She might be a woman, but that didn’t make her responsible to cook for him. Heck, he wasn’t even a guest so much as a necessary invitee.
Satisfied, she resisted the urge to go to the computer again because he’d just want to go over it all again. She doubted he’d be happy with her deciding what was important.
And my, wasn’t she working herself into an absolute tear of a mood?
“Aagh,” she said to the empty room, then settled in to wait for Duke. At this rate, she was going to want action as much as Duke. She wondered if he was exacerbating her impatience.
Go exercise, she told herself. She had the time.
* * *
WHILE DUKE WAS pounding the pavement and Cat was pounding her treadmill, the three men out in the gorge huddled around a fire.
“I’m not used to this cold anymore,” the third man said. “I know it was worse in the ’Stan, but I’m feeling the freaking cold now.” Grousing came with the territory.
“It’s not the cold that’s getting to me,” said the second man. “I am so sick of being stuck. We’ve got to get this laptop charged. We’ve got to find a way to get Major His Mightiness Duke out of the way.”
“Seriously?” The first man was past being patient. He was growing angry, maybe because of the way they were stuck. “Getting rid of Duke might be the stupidest thing we’ve done yet even if we want to. Scrub it from your brain cells.”
“He’s slowing us down.”
“Bull!” said the first man. “We’re stuck because we found out that Larry Duke might have passed data to someone for safekeeping. We’ve already made what may have been a wasted break-in, because we didn’t know exactly what we were looking for. I’ll decide about him.”
The other two exchanged looks, wondering again if Man One might have a stake in this beyond money.
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered the second man. “I gotta recharge this laptop and cell. How in the name of whatever am I supposed to do that?”
“You could just go into town and do it,” said the third man.
“Oh, for...” said the second. “Haven’t we been trying to avoid being seen? Place this small, someone would notice and remember.”
“Yup,” said the first man. “I’m getting tired of sitting on our butts stuck, just like y’all. But I’ve also been trying to figure out what kind of diversion would get that cop away from Larry’s house, and what kind of surveillance we should do on another target around here.”
“But we don’t know what we’re looking for,” argued the third man, sounding just a bit whiny.
“Exactly,” the first man agreed. “Exactly. I’m thinking about driving into town.”
Silence greeted his words initially. Then the second man waved his hand.
“Hello?” he said. “We discussed this. No town.”
A snicker escaped the third man. The first man let it pass.
Instead of responding directly, he said, “I’ve got to figure out a disguise. Then, after we get some intel, we can act.”
“What intel?” the second man demanded.
“To find out more people that Larry Duke interacted with. More hiding places to look. I can probably do a recharge there. Enough waiting for the cop to disappear. It’d be better if no one broke into that house while we’re still here.”
He looked at each of them individually. “I’ll figure this out, because you’re not the only ones tired of spinning your wheels. Damn messed-up operation. I’m going to have to fix it somehow. And if I decide Major Duke has the info, I’m going to send him to the next world.”
The other two didn’t doubt he would.
Chapter Eight
Cat was waiting for Duke when he returned. He carried two large paper bags into the kitchen.
“I got us some dinner,” he said. “And I hope it’s okay that I parked my rental on the street.”
She noticed his hair was still damp. “Thank you, the parking is okay, and how about we change the terms of this arrangement?”
He turned from putting the bags on the counter to look at her. “How so?”
“Just check out of the motel and bring your stuff over here. This is ridiculous. As near as I can tell, you’re using the motel only for clothing storage and showers. Well, I’ve got the room for your clothes, and I’ve got a working shower.”
He hesitated visibly. “I’m intruding too much on you.”
“Really? This would be more convenient. Just get your damn stuff and move in. I can spare the room. I even have a washer and dryer that I hereby permit you to use.”
At that, a twinkle appeared in his eyes. “You sure?”
“I sound sure, don’t I? Or maybe I wasn’t emphatic enough.”
“You were,” he allowed. “Okay, I’ll move in. Now, dinner? Maude was making some fried chicken. I hope you like it.”
“I think I’d like anything that came out of that woman’s kitchen.”
He smiled. “Good, because the deed is done.”
* * *
HE GOT THE dishes for them, then spread the food out on the kitchen table.
“You know,” she said, “you don’t have to keep buying meals for us.”
“Sure I do.” He passed her a stack of napkins. “I don’t want you cooking for me, and my cooking skills are limited. When you live a military life as a single guy, you get used to chow halls and restaurants. Or in the field you heat up rations. I have a kitchenette in my quarters, but it doesn’t see much use.”
“I didn’t feel like cooking,” she admitted.
“I don’t blame you. And if you feel like you need to cook for me, stop. That’s not your job. Hell, you don’t have to be polite, either. I’ve moved in on you.”
“At my invitation.”
He sat across from her again. His chair now, she supposed. He spent enough time in it. Not that she had a problem.
While they ate Maude’s fried chicken and her homemade potato salad, they chatted casually.
“You were lucky to get the potato salad,” she remarked.
“Really? Why?”
“Maude only makes it once in a while, because it’s time-consuming. When I complimented it one time, she groused, asking me if I had any idea how long it took to peel that many potatoes. Point taken.”
He chuckled. “Never having made it, I don’t know.”
“I’ve made it, but once I imagined how many potatoes she’d have to peel and turn into cubes, and slices of celery she’d have to clean and chop...never mind the quantity of eggs and onions...” Cat shrugged. “I got it. Four servings is one thing. A ton for all her customers who want to eat it? A whole other game.”
“I like Maude. She reminds me of more than a few drill instructors.”
She had to grin. Having only seen them in movies, Cat could easily see Maude in that role.
Holding a piece of half-gnawed chicken leg, Cat was the first to dive into the interrupted conversation about the case. “I’m getting as impatient with all this as you are. I know better, but frustration is making me want to erupt.”
Duke nodded. “I understand.”
“I bet you do. In fact, I know you do.”
“I’m that transparent, huh?”
“Maybe. It’s not like you’re trying to conceal it. Or are you?”
“Nah. It’s an evident fact. I kind of announced it when I got here. You think of anything?”
Cat wondered how much she should wade into the morass in her mind right now. She didn’t want her feelings to ratchet his up. On the other hand...
“Duke? What you said about the crime scenes being clean. I’ve been thinking about that, too. It bothers me. I mean...”
“Yes?”
Cat looked toward her kitchen windows over the sink. Dark outside now, she could see the reflection of the kitchen in them. Time to close the curtains, but she didn’t move.
“What bothers you?” he asked.
She sighed. “Since I read the reports, I’ve been telling myself that people have learned a lot from TV and movies about evidence at crime scenes. Sometimes that doesn’t mean a whole lot, but sometimes it could. If you start by wearing gloves and a hat over all your hair, then there’s a whole lot less to worry about. Most people probably get that much. But what else is common knowledge? And if the knowledge isn’t common, then you have to wonder who knows it.”
“You’re right. Eat, Cat. You didn’t finish your burger earlier. So where is this leading you?”
“I wish I knew. But it certainly mitigates against teens, don’t you think? Even knowing this stuff, they might not think of it in the rush of the moment. I’d actually expect them to be d
isorganized.”
“I hear you.”
Loud and clear, she thought. His tension had increased slightly since she brought it up. “I have some good news, though. The Hodgeses will see us tomorrow evening. I hope you can wait that long.”
“I’ll have to, won’t I?”
“Uh, yeah. Anyway, I don’t know what you expect to find that the techs didn’t come across.”
“I don’t know. I want details, of course. I want to look around. I want their impressions, not a list of missing items.”
“Okay. We’ll see if it helps any.”
She resumed eating her chicken and potato salad, deciding she should let him lead the conversation. At this point she was willing to look in any direction for a useful tidbit.
“Were you born here?”
The question surprised her, seeming to come out of left field. “No. My mom moved here to take a teaching job at the college. I visited a few times before I moved here to take care of her.”
“She was sick?”
“Terminal cancer. At least I could help.”
“That’s a tall task. I hear it wears people out emotionally.”
“I don’t know. She was the only thing on my mind. I didn’t have anything else to worry about. Anyway, I stayed on after her death because Gage offered me a job.”
He nodded, then pushed his plate to one side. “You were in law enforcement before, right?”
“Yes. Which is why I’m hating this whole situation right now. I know from experience how frustrating cases like this can be, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
Duke surprised her by reaching across the table to gently grip her forearm. It was a brief touch, but it sent her mind careening in a different direction. Right then, she’d have been happy to forget the case and focus instead on the warm honey he’d sent running through her veins. On the even more pleasant tingle she felt between her thighs.
God, bad timing. She wrestled herself back into line. “I understand that a lot of this job is sedentary. Paper trails, reading about evidence, making phone calls. Hoping that someone will spill the beans to someone else. Looking for bad relationships. An investigator needs to depend on a lot of other people, too. But no matter how many times I experience it, I will never like it when a trail goes cold.”
