“How about you use that sharp mind—and tongue—of yours and apply it to the case instead of using it on me?” he suggested.
Kenzie stopped walking for a second and smiled up at him. He didn’t trust that smile of hers. For one thing, it was way too distracting,. “I fully intend to, Brannigan. We’re on the clock on this, so much as I like telling you what I think of you, I’m going to have to put that on a back burner until this killer is caught.” She saw the look of mild surprise on Hunter’s face and took that to mean that he was wondering why she would put a clock to their case. “This is the first time the chief of Ds personally put his seal of approval on my task force. I am not about to disappoint the man and come up empty.”
“In case you missed it, it’s not your task force. The chief gave it to both of us,” Hunter reminded her.
She surprised him by saying, “Exactly. So if you have any thoughts of dragging me down so that I fail, just forget it,” she ordered. “You’ll wind up burning yourself, as well. It’s not happening.”
“Is that how you think?” Hunter marveled. “That this is all just a big case of one-upmanship to you and that I’m going to be looking for ways to trip you up?” One look at the expression on her face told him that he had guessed correctly. “I don’t know who you’ve been dealing with, but I’m not that kind of cop.”
“Actions speak louder than words,” she said before adding, “Prove it. Now, you go and get your ‘second in command.’ We’ll meet back in my squad room. I’ve got something to take care of first.”
He wasn’t about to be sent off like a schoolboy. Instead, he caught hold of her shoulder to keep her in place as he said, “What?”
Anger clouded her eyes. “Being in command jointly doesn’t mean that you get to keep track of my every move, Brannigan.”
He disagreed and he wasn’t about to back off until he had his answer. “What is it you need to take care of?” he asked again.
Kenzie’s eyes narrowed.
It was obvious to anyone who passed by at that moment that she didn’t like having to tell him anything, but she also knew that if she didn’t tell him what she was about to do, he would just follow her.
The words felt bitter in her mouth as she told him. “I don’t have any excuse to put it off,” Kenzie said. “CSI unearthed those body parts. In all likelihood, Mr. Kurtz’s torso and legs were among that batch that was found. I have to go tell Connie that her missing father isn’t missing anymore.”
He knew for a fact that being the one to deliver that sort of bad news was wearing on the soul. He didn’t need to have anything else put her in an even worse mood. “I’ll come with you.”
He’d made the offer earlier and she’d already turned him down. She took his insistence to mean that he thought she needed to lean on someone. Even if she did, it wouldn’t be him.
“I don’t need you to come and hold my hand, Brannigan,” she told him.
“I’m not coming to hold your hand,” Hunter informed her.
“Then why would you come along?”
“To find out everything the victim’s daughter can tell us about who her father interacted with in his last month or so,” he answered.
Okay, so he did have a reason. But she still wasn’t going to have him come with her. “Connie already told me that she and her father were estranged. That means she hadn’t seen him.”
“I know the meaning of the word estranged. I do crossword puzzles,” Hunter told her glibly. “But the funny thing about people is that sometimes they don’t know what they know. While you’re comforting your friend, it’ll be my job to delve into that.”
Okay, it was time that she took a stand, Kenzie thought. Hands on hips, she glared at him. “You can’t come with me.”
He remained unfazed. “You know, the nice thing about being joint partners on a task force is that you really can’t order me around any more than I can order you around. That being said—” he gestured ahead of him “—let’s go.”
She mumbled a few choice words under her breath as she walked in front of him back to the elevator.
Chapter 7
The eight-mile drive to the newly built Spectrum Apartment Homes, located on the south side of Aurora, felt like one of the longest drives that Kenzie had ever undertaken. At the same time, part of her was wishing for a sudden traffic jam that would impede her route, but there really weren’t any.
Kenzie reached her destination a great deal faster than she was happy about. She could feel her heart pounding hard in anticipation of what she was about to experience.
Pulling up into the underground parking area that housed guest parking, Kenzie turned toward the man who had silently occupied the front passenger seat next to her. He hadn’t said a word since they had left the precinct, which in itself was a huge surprise. It wasn’t like him.
“You’re awfully quiet, Brannigan. Regret coming?” she asked. “You can stay in the car if you’ve changed your mind about this.”
Hunter noticed that although she’d released her seat belt, she hadn’t gotten out yet. It told him that he had read her correctly. Despite all of her bravado about not wanting or needing anyone to hold her hand, it was obvious to him that Kenzie was dreading having to tell her friend about the woman’s father.
It looked like Kenzie was human after all, he concluded.
“No, I don’t regret coming,” he told her, unbuckling his seat belt. “I just felt that maybe you needed the quiet to help you pull your thoughts together.”
Kenzie opened her mouth to say something flippant about always welcoming a break from his steady stream of unwanted opinions, but then she abruptly shut her mouth again. She realized that it might seem like she was protesting too much, which might get Brannigan thinking that she was hiding the way she actually felt about him. It was better not to say anything at all.
So instead of a wisecrack, Kenzie said, “Thanks,” then got out of the vehicle.
Hunter’s feet were on the ground a second later. The fact that Kenzie had been polite to him had left Hunter momentarily speechless. He had a feeling, though, that if he made any sort of response, the truce would be over in an instant, so he merely nodded and fell into place beside her.
Thinking it was safe to say something about where they were, he commented, “This is a pretty big complex. It’s more like its own little city.” He looked at her. “Do you know the woman’s apartment number?”
Kenzie blew out an exasperated breath. “No, I’m just going to ring doorbells, yelling out her name, until I find her. Yes, I know her apartment number,” she told the detective.
And she’s back, Hunter thought.
Out loud, he asked, “What is it?”
“Number 730,” she answered as she scanned the parking structure where they were.
He made a guess as to what she was looking for. “The elevator’s over there,” he told Kenzie, pointing to the far wall on the left.
“How do you know that?” she asked, then immediately answered her own question. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Most likely with one of the scores of women Brannigan escorted to those clubs she’d heard that he frequented, she thought.
“Nope,” he answered in an easy voice. “But I can read and there’s a sign pointing to the elevator.” He indicated it now.
Kenzie frowned, annoyed with herself that she hadn’t seen that herself. She made her way over to it. Brannigan easily kept up with her. She practically punched the button. The elevator arrived quickly. It was empty as they got on.
Reaching around her, Hunter pressed “7.” She shifted to get farther away from him.
“Offer still stands,” he told Kenzie, settling back.
“Offer for what?” she asked. “For you to withdraw from the investigation?”
She knew that wasn’t what he meant and that she was back to being flippant,
but right now, flippant answers temporarily got her mind off what she was about to do.
“No,” he answered patiently, “for me to break the news to John Kurtz’s daughter so you don’t have to go through that.”
Kenzie slanted her eyes in his direction. “My case, my responsibility,” she answered stoically.
He shrugged as if her answer was what he’d expected. “Just so you know that I’m here.”
She laughed shortly. “Trust me, Brannigan, I know you’re here.”
The elevator reached the seventh floor all too quickly and the door opened. They got out. But once off the elevator, Kenzie stopped walking.
“Something wrong?” Hunter asked her, quietly adding, “Other than the obvious.”
She needed to say this quickly before she changed her mind and didn’t say it at all. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that. I know you’re trying to be decent about this and I haven’t made it easy—”
Taking pity on her, he stopped Kenzie before she could get any further. “Look, I get it. This isn’t easy and everyone deals with having to break this kind of news in their own way.”
He was being decent about it, even providing her with excuses, and it just made her feel that much worse. Kenzie opened up before she could think better of it. “I just know how I’d feel if someone came to tell me that my father had been hacked to pieces.”
“Then don’t focus on that,” he told Kenzie. “Get her to focus on finding who did this to him.” He saw the doubt on her face and assured Kenzie, “Revenge can be a surprisingly galvanizing feeling.”
Kenzie blew out a breath as she squared her shoulders. “I suppose that it is,” she agreed.
Hunter let out a low whistle. “Well, this is certainly a red-letter day for me.”
Kenzie stared at the cold case detective, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You apologized to me and said I might be right all in the space of a few minutes. That deserves to be noted down in my book,” he told her.
“Don’t get used to it,” Kenzie warned him as she started walking again, but Hunter noticed that one of the corners of her mouth curved just a little bit. She was definitely softening, he thought.
“I don’t plan to,” he told her easily, “but I can still savor the moment.”
“Savor fast,” she ordered. “The apartment’s right here.” Kenzie pointed to the apartment that was two doors down.
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, Kenzie pressed the doorbell.
The door swung open before she even had a chance to remove her finger.
Connie Kurtz stood in the doorway. The woman looked even worse than she had when she had come down to the precinct to file a missing person report on her father. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two people standing on her doorstep.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” she said in a quavering voice.
“What makes you say that?” Hunter asked the woman kindly.
Connie looked as if she was having trouble breathing. “Because Kenzie brought backup with her.”
Kenzie realized that she hadn’t made the proper introduction. “Connie, this is Detective Brannigan,” she said.
She was stalling. As long as she didn’t say those awful words, Your father’s been murdered, Connie could go on believing that her father was alive, at least for one more minute.
Connie’s eyes darted from the woman she’d known in better days to the detective Kenzie had brought with her. Her breath turned raspy, as if it had just stopped moving in her lungs.
Connie licked her dry lips, afraid that the words would stick to them.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked Kenzie in a frightened voice.
There were words Kenzie wanted to say, words to prepare her friend for the shock of what she was about to hear. But faced with Connie’s blunt question, Kenzie had no recourse except to answer, “Yes.”
The moment the word was out, Connie’s eyes rolled back in her head and her knees just gave way, sending her crumbling.
Hunter caught the woman before she could hit the floor, scooping her up. Holding the unconscious woman in his arms, he made his way to the first place where he could lay her down, a turquoise-and-white flowered sofa that seemed to be the main piece of furniture in the living room.
He pulled aside a pillow and tucked it under her torso rather than her head.
“What are you doing?” Kenzie asked him. Connie looked contorted.
“Trying to get the blood to flow back into her head—unless you’ve got smelling salts on you.” He said the last part as if it could be a possibility.
The next second he knew that it wasn’t. He tucked a second cushion under Connie’s torso.
Kenzie looked around the apartment to orient herself, then suddenly hurried off to the kitchen. She was back a second later carrying a wet towel in her hands.
“No smelling salts,” she told him. “But this might help.” Kenzie indicated the wet towel.
“Well, it can’t hurt,” he told her, taking the towel and placing it on Connie’s forehead.
The woman stirred ever so slightly, moaning. It was another few seconds before she opened her eyes. When she did, there was a haunted, horrified look in them.
“How?” she asked Kenzie in a raspy voice.
“You don’t want to hear the details now,” Kenzie told her in a firm voice.
Pulling off the wet towel, Connie sat up, then wavered slightly before getting hold of herself. She was struggling for control over herself, if not the situation.
“Are you sure it was my father?” she asked, her voice sounding a tiny bit stronger now.
Hunter intervened, taking the burden of answering that from Kenzie.
“I’m afraid that we’re sure,” he told Connie in the kindest tone he could manage. “Do you know if your father was seeing any new people, doing anything different these days than he normally did?”
Connie covered her mouth. “I don’t know,” she cried. The color was slowly returning to her face, but she still looked pale. “I don’t know,” she repeated, frustrated and helpless.
“Connie and her father were estranged,” Kenzie explained to Hunter so that the young woman didn’t have to suffer through having to say the words that seemed so much more hurtful now than they had initially. There would be no healing the rift, no words of forgiveness in the offing now.
There would only be guilt.
“Can you tell us where your father lived?” Hunter asked.
She looked up at him. “In the house where he always lived. In the house where I grew up,” she whispered, then asked, “Why?”
“Connie,” Kenzie said in a gentler voice than Hunter could recall ever hearing her use, “we need your permission to go through his things.”
“Why?” the woman asked, looking from Kenzie to Hunter. “What are you looking for?” An expression of total horror came over Connie’s face. “Did—did someone kill my father?”
“I’m afraid that someone definitely killed your father,” Hunter told Connie, thinking that the response would be too painful for Kenzie to have to tell her friend at this moment.
Connie stared at him, her face a mask of incredulous disbelief. “You think my father knew who killed him?” she cried.
“We really don’t know right now,” Kenzie admitted. “But we have to start somewhere. Maybe he saw people that you don’t know about, or they saw something that made them think he was a danger to them,” she suggested, jumping around from subject to subject.
But Connie shook her head. “My father wasn’t the kind of man who made friends easily. I told you, after my mother died, he just withdrew into himself. Like a hermit.”
“Still, if there’s anything in his home that could possibly give us a clue about how he spent his last few days, it would real
ly be a great help,” Kenzie told the grieving woman.
Connie was crying now, tears spilling down her cheeks. She kept wiping them away, but they refused to stop flowing. Swallowing, she nodded her head. “Of course. I’ll take you there.”
But Hunter put his hand on the woman’s arm, stopping her movement. “Why don’t you just give us the address and we’ll take it from there,” he told her gently. “You don’t need to put yourself through this.”
“I have keys,” Connie told him. She was breathing hard, desperately trying to stop crying, but it took more than a few minutes to get under control. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks, trying to dry them. “I’ll let you in.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Kenzie asked her, concerned. “Why don’t you stay here?” The woman looked so lost, so incredibly stricken. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” Kenzie asked. “I promise that I’ll bring your keys back, Connie. I just don’t think you’re in any shape to go over there right now.”
Connie pressed her lips together, holding back another sob. She nodded, struggling to collect herself. “Maybe you’re right.”
Doing her best to get hold of herself, Connie gave them the name and number of a friend. Kenzie called the number and quickly explained the situation to the woman who answered. Sherry Peters promised to be right over.
Kenzie and Hunter stayed with Connie until her friend arrived.
* * *
“You know, in college Connie was this warm, friendly social butterfly who was always throwing parties and organizing get-togethers. I never saw her look this lost and lonely before,” Kenzie confided as she drove her vehicle to John Kurtz’s house.
“Growing up is no picnic,” Hunter agreed. He glanced in Kenzie’s direction. “You know, she still doesn’t have a clue how her father was murdered.”
“I know.” She’d stopped herself from volunteering any details. “I don’t think she’s going to get much rest tonight. I didn’t want her having nightmares on top of that.” She slanted a quick glance in Hunter’s direction. “I’d rather keep the details between us until we have something a little more concrete to go on. Might as well give it to her all at once instead of in dribbles and drabs.”
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