by Cassie Miles
“Was Slocum working for Haymarket at the time?”
“No, he was transferred shortly after his mistake. From all reports, he latched on to the general like a leech and did everything for him.”
“By the time I met him,” she said, “Captain Slocum was firmly attached. I’ve got to tell you that I’m glad the general wasn’t somehow responsible for what happened to your brother.”
“Maybe he was.” Noah shrugged. “The military has so many levels of authority that it’s nearly impossible to assign blame. You know what I mean.”
“I understand.”
He gazed down at her. His dark eyes gleamed like polished obsidian in the starlight. “For example, suppose you learned beyond any doubt that Warrick was responsible for the explosion that injured you and killed your team. You’d hate him. You’d curse him. But you wouldn’t kill him.”
“Bad example.”
“Seriously, you wouldn’t.”
Oh, but she would. She’d fantasized about killing him slowly and painfully. If she owned irrefutable proof that Warrick was guilty, she’d be hard-pressed to hold back. Her unbridled rage clashed with the warm, pleasant feelings she was beginning to have for Noah. She shook herself and looked away from him. “We ought to get back to the house. You and I need to talk to the investigators. We’re key witnesses.”
“And I’m a suspect.”
“Yeah, you are. You’ve got a motive, and you were the last person to see Slocum alive.”
“Not exactly,” he said. “He was dead when I saw him.”
Now that his brain seemed to be functioning as usual, she wondered if his memory had improved. “Tell me about when you first went into the library.”
“Again?”
“Maybe you can remember more.”
“I opened the door. The room was dark.” He paused. “Not total darkness. There was light coming in through the windows. One window was open with the drape floating in the wind. I could make out forms in the shadows. Wait!” He squeezed his eyes shut, probably to concentrate. “I saw someone...just a silhouette of someone standing behind the sofa.”
Anxiously, she asked, “What did this person look like?”
“Can’t tell, didn’t see clearly, this...person...could have been male or female.”
“Tall or short? Big or small?”
He threw up his hands and shook his head. “Average, that’s all I got...”
“But you’re saying there were two people in the room, the one who zapped you, and the other who stood behind the sofa.”
“It could have been Slocum, but I don’t think so.”
A second killer in the library complicated things. How had that person escaped? Were there two horses? Slocum’s murder seemed to be turning into a conspiracy.
“Let’s be clear on this,” she said. “When you entered the room, you didn’t see Slocum’s body on the sofa.”
“That’s correct. And I didn’t smell anything.”
She’d been present at enough death scenes to know that the smells could be horrendous. The open window in the library might have allowed the stink of blood to dissipate. “Did you hear anything?”
“The event was in full swing with the band and lots of conversation. There were no sounds from the library. When I reached for the light switch, I got hit by a stun gun, zapped twice.” He rubbed at his left side. “It’s sore over here and also on my neck.”
“Let me take a look.” She went up on her tiptoes to see the place where he was pointing under his left ear. “Tilt your chin up.”
“Don’t push.”
The firm skin below his short-cropped hair was marked with a bruise and twin red punctures. “Looks like you were bit by a vampire.”
He winced. “It’s starting to sting. Whatever drug they gave me is wearing off.”
She transferred her attention to the wound on his side, lifting his untucked shirt to see the mark left behind by the stun gun. This bruise spread over a rectangular area on his rib cage; probably the attacker had hit Noah here first and hardest. She reached toward the injury but didn’t touch, not wanting to cause any more pain. “First thing we do when we get back to Haymarket’s house is to have the paramedics take a look at you.”
“Not necessary.”
“I agree that there’s not a lot they can do other than give you painkillers.” Which he’d probably refuse because he wanted his mind to be clear. “But it would be smart to have the EMTs draw your blood and run a tox screen.”
“Why? You’re not back on the thing about the poisonous flowers, are you?”
“You were drugged, Noah.”
“And so?”
“You’ve got to start thinking like an investigator. A tox screen could indicate narcotics in your system and give a factual basis for your claim to being drugged.”
“My claim?” He bristled. “You saw me staggering around. You’re a witness.”
“I also saw you leave a bloody handprint on the window, escaping the room where Slocum was stabbed.”
“Not my finest hour.”
“And I wasn’t the only one,” she reminded him. “Zoey was right behind me. And Mitch Murano.”
“What was he doing there?”
“He chose that moment to introduce himself to me.” Murano’s timing was suspicious. Why was he interested in meeting her? “If he hadn’t distracted me, I would have seen Kenneth Warrick enter the library.”
Noah grinned. “You really don’t like that guy.”
“So true.”
“But did he murder Slocum?”
Gennie knew she wouldn’t make a good witness against Warrick because her hatred of the man was well-known. But she’d seen him. He wasn’t a ghost or a figment of her imagination. He’d been in that corridor. After they reviewed the footage from the security cameras, the police would have a crystal clear picture of what happened, and Warrick would be the number one suspect.
Finally, he’d get what he deserved.
Chapter Seven
At the ambulance stationed in the driveway in front of the Haymarket mansion, a uniformed EMT seated Noah on the rear gate, lifted his shirt and prodded the bruise on his left side. “Does this hurt?”
“It’s a little sore.” Noah clenched his jaw. The pain was more than a twinge but not enough to make a fuss.
“I’ve never been hit by a stun gun.” With his floppy hair and loose-lipped grin, the EMT looked much too young to be performing medical procedures. “Some of these zappers shoot a hundred-million volts. Am I right, dude?”
“Those claims are misleading. Thirty-thousand volts is just about the max.” He couldn’t help wincing as the kid continued to poke at him. “Electrocution is painful.”
“An understatement,” Gennie said. She leaned down and read the name stitched to the EMT’s shirt. “You’re Cody.”
“Last time I checked.”
“Well, Cody, I’d like your opinion. Should I take my friend to the hospital for X-rays?”
“Those ribs might be cracked,” Cody said. “It might be kinda good to do X-rays.”
No way. Noah refused to go to a hospital ER and wait around for the X-ray technicians to take pictures of his side. He needed to be here, facilitating the investigation. Having a murder take place while ARC handled security was a major negative for the company’s reputation. This stain had to be erased as soon as possible.
“Forget my ribs,” he said. “I was drugged, and I want you to draw blood and submit it for a tox screen.”
“For medical reasons?” Cody asked.
“Investigative,” Noah said. “I want to be able to prove I was drugged.”
“Sorry, dude. No can do.” Cody pushed his bangs off his forehead. “If it’s part of the investigation, I need a cop to oversee the process. That’s the drill. It’s all about the chain of
evidence and stuff.”
“No problem,” Gennie said. “I already talked to Tony. He’s on his way to join us and he’s bringing an officer with him.”
Though Noah appreciated her efficiency, he wished he’d been giving the orders. Without his earbud, microphone, gun and cell phone, he felt exposed, vulnerable. And that just wasn’t right. He ought to be in charge. There were about a million things he needed to do, starting with a phone call to Anna Banana.
Before he could commandeer Gennie’s cell phone to make that call, he saw Tony striding along the well-lit driveway from the house. A uniformed cop accompanied him.
After a nod to Gennie, Tony asked, “What’s up, boss? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” He introduced himself to the officer and explained that Cody was going to draw blood that would be used as toxicological evidence. “I want to know what substance knocked me out.”
While Cody gathered his syringe and vials, Noah asked Tony for a report.
“You go first,” Tony said. “How’s my bike?”
“She’s fine,” Gennie said as she handed over his keys. “A sweet ride.”
He pocketed the keys. “Did you catch the guy on horseback?”
“Never even saw him,” Gennie said.
Noah didn’t want to go into details about their futile pursuit. When he talked to the investigators, he’d suggest a search of the houses in the area. “Tell me what’s going on here.”
“We’re working with the local police,” Tony said. “They’re taking names from all the guests and asking questions. Nobody is allowed to leave until the primary investigators show up. I’m guessing that the FBI will be in charge.”
Noah had worked with the feds before. Some were friends. Others? Not so much. “Do we know who they’re sending?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you spoken to the general?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And?”
“It’s not good news.”
Tony folded his arms across his chest and tried on a scowl. Noah remembered that Slocum referred to Tony as a pretty boy, and the description was apt. No matter how Tony distorted his face—crossing his dark brown eyes, sticking out his tongue or pursing his mouth like a fish—he looked like a male model. He made his unprofessional outfit of jeans and a University of Colorado sweatshirt seem classy.
“Does the general have a problem?” Noah asked.
Gennie gave a short laugh. “Other than the bloody, gruesome murder of his aide?”
“Not funny.” Maintaining a level of decorum was important. Slocum’s death needed to be taken seriously.
“The murder upset the general,” Tony said. “Not that he busted into tears or anything, but you could tell that he was sad to lose one of his men. Also, he was embarrassed in front of his fancy friends. This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen at his house.”
“What else?”
“He’s mad. I don’t think he’ll be hiring ARC again in the near future.”
“He blames us,” Noah said. The sad fact: the general wasn’t wrong. The ARC team had failed miserably. At the very minimum, providing security meant protecting the people in the room and keeping them safe from harm. Instead, they allowed a murder to happen. Worse, the killer got away.
Sitting very still, he watched as Cody prepared to draw blood from his arm. The young EMT had an unexpectedly gentle touch with the syringe. Noah barely felt the needle slide into his vein. Crimson blood flowed through clear tubing. Cody collected three vials before he pulled out the needle and pressed a cotton ball onto the puncture site.
“Nice job,” Noah said.
“Thanks, you’ve got good veins.”
After the cop tucked the blood samples into an evidence bag, which he marked and sealed, Noah stood and took a step away from the ambulance. A rush of vertigo threatened to disorient him for a brief moment. He took a breath, concentrated and regained his equilibrium. There was no time to waste. He needed to hit the ground running. “Thanks for taking the reins, Tony. Sounds like you’ve done a thorough job, but I’m ready to step up and run this team. We need to rebuild ARC’s reputation.”
“I have a suggestion,” Gennie said. “Change out of the blood-stained clothes.”
He always carried a fresh shirt in his car, which was parked a short distance away from the Haymarket mansion. “Walk with me. Both of you.”
The quiet in this exclusive neighborhood had been disturbed. Not that the area was seething with hectic activity. But there were vehicles driving along the winding road between the large houses and corrals. Neighbors had come onto their porches to see what was happening. The noise from the fund-raiser crowd rolled across the grounds outside the general’s house like thunder before a cloudburst. Noah’s pace was brisk. The farther he got from the mansion, the more his head cleared. A refreshing breeze swept through the night.
“I’ll need new earbuds and a mic,” he said to Tony. “Has my phone been recovered?”
“The cops found your cell phone and gun in the library. I asked if they’d give the stuff back to me, but they said no.”
Noah understood. “Those items need to be processed for prints and fibers. No big deal. I’ve got another gun in my car, and I’ll borrow a phone.”
“I don’t think the cops are going to return your stuff right away,” Tony said as they reached the SUV. “They want to check your phone contacts and run ballistics on your gun.”
“Why?” Slocum wasn’t shot.
“You’re a suspect, Noah.”
Though he and Gennie had discussed this possibility, Noah hadn’t really believed the cops would grab that conclusion. He’d been a cop and still knew guys in Denver PD, plus he’d heard that the county sheriff was a sensible guy who wouldn’t rush to judgment. Still, the circumstances didn’t look good. This whole thing was humiliating.
He opened the rear door of his SUV. Lucky for him, the killer hadn’t taken his car keys or his wallet. In a compartment under the floor, he kept his extra weapon in a locked box. After he returned Gennie’s gun, he retrieved his Glock, loaded a full clip and slipped the gun into his holster.
He straightened his shoulders. “That feels better.”
“We’ll clear up the suspicions as soon as we get to the house,” Gennie said. “It’s an easy fix. All we need to do is review the surveillance footage from the camera at the rear of the house. We’ll see the real killer escaping. With a little bit of luck, we’ll be able to identify him.”
“Except for one thing.” Tony sounded another note of doom. “The camera that was pointed toward the library window wasn’t working.”
“That’s not possible,” she said. “We verified all surveillance before the event.”
“Right,” Tony said. “I talked to the guy who did the check on the outdoor cameras, and he said they were operational.”
Noah didn’t like the way this was shaping up. “The killer must have disabled the camera after the check was done. What about AJ on the roof? Did he see anything?”
Tony shook his head. “Nada, boss.”
“Not even the horse? He didn’t even see the horse?”
“We focused surveillance on the road and the circular driveway leading up to the house. When people started arriving, there was a lot of confusion with the valet parking guys running around and the caterers coming in and out. Even with twelve operatives, we were overwhelmed until after most of the guests arrived.”
From a gym bag in the SUV, Noah took out a fresh white shirt still in the package. He didn’t have another suit coat, but his gym bag held a black windbreaker to go over his shirt and hide his gun holster.
Gennie patted his arm. “You look presentable.”
“Good.” He appreciated her support. “I should start by talking to the person in charge.”
“They’re waitin
g for you,” Tony said. “The cops need your statement. They also want to talk to Gennie. She’s in almost as much trouble as you.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why?”
“Nobody thinks you’re the killer,” Tony explained. “How could they? When you broke into the library and found the body, there were witnesses, including Murano. But they want to know why you went charging through the corridor to the library.”
“I saw Kenneth Warrick,” she said. “I knew he was a problem. The general told us to watch out for him. Warrick ordered the poisonous flowers. He’s the one the cops should be looking for.”
“Hey, I believe you.” Tony held up his hands and took a backward step. “Here’s the thing. Nobody else saw this guy.”
Noah had never seen anyone get so mad so fast. In an instant, her cheeks were burning with righteous fire. Her blue eyes slashed like lasers through the night.
It was his turn to support her. He linked his arm through hers. “We’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re innocent.”
“Damn right.”
* * *
ON THE SECOND floor of the Haymarket mansion, Gennie perched at the edge of an attractive but uncomfortable horsehair bench outside the room where interrogations were taking place. Noah had been inside for less than fifteen minutes, but time passed so slowly that it felt like she’d been sitting there for hours. Even before Noah had been taken into the room, they’d had to wait for the county sheriff who then insisted that they wait for the FBI agents who were taking over the investigation.
Though she didn’t have much training or experience as a detective, she wasn’t impressed with the apparent lack of procedure. Collecting information from a couple of hundred people wasn’t easy, but the deputies and the police were creeping through the guest list like a pack of lethargic turtles. Almost two hours had passed since she’d picked the lock and flung open the library door. As far as she could tell, nothing much had been accomplished. They hadn’t even moved Slocum’s body. The crime scene wouldn’t be touched until the forensic people from the FBI arrived.
