by Mallory Kane
Angry? No. It was just as much his fault as hers. Takes two, as they say.
Nope. Scared spitless was more like it. And overwhelmed. How was he going to deal with her pregnancy and solving his parents’ murder all at the same time?
Sighing, he glanced at his watch. It was after six. He might as well go ahead and shower. No way was he getting back to sleep.
He got up, grabbed his clothes and headed toward his room. He almost made it, too, but just as he stepped to his door, the guest room door opened and Rachel came out, heading for the hall bath.
She stopped, startled, when she saw him. “Oh!” she said, staring at his nakedness.
“Hey,” he said. “Where’d you disappear to?” Without thinking, he reached out to push a fallen strand of hair off her forehead. She drew back, just enough that his hand touched nothing but air.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She avoided his gaze, avoided looking in his direction at all.
He smiled wryly. “Sorry,” he said. “If I’d known you were up—”
She bit her lip. “That’s—okay. I’m just going to—” She gestured toward the bathroom.
“Go ahead. I’ll make coffee.”
Nodding, she ducked her head and slipped through the bathroom door and closed it behind her.
So, that took care of that question. From the way she acted, Rachel obviously regretted the night before more than he did. He tossed his T-shirt and underwear onto the master bathroom floor and pulled on his jeans, then went into the kitchen to make coffee.
His thoughts slammed him in the face like an unexpected echo. Regretted? Something about that word stopped him cold.
Maybe Rachel regretted what they’d done, but although he knew his loss of control the night before had been a really bad idea, he couldn’t regret it. Sex with her had always been surprisingly erotic.
Damn it. He had enough on his plate right now without the complication of a renewed relationship with the one woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind.
He’d just fixed himself a cup of coffee when he heard Rachel turn off the water. Taking his cup with him, he headed into his bathroom to shower and shave.
By the time he emerged, clean and combed and dressed for work, Rachel was sitting at his kitchen table, sipping at a glass of ice water. She was dressed, and her hair was damp. She had on makeup although he didn’t know why she bothered. He thought she looked better without it.
“No coffee?” he asked, holding up his cup.
She nodded toward her glass. “Pregnant—and nauseous,” she said, her voice slightly raspy.
He refilled his cup, then leaned against the counter. “I guess we should talk about that.”
She eyed him narrowly. “That?” she echoed. “You mean this?” she said archly, pointing at her stomach and shaking her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Nothing to talk about? Of course there is.”
She was shaking her head. “No. I mean, listen to you. You think of your child as that.”
“Rach, I don’t think of—” He stopped when she lifted her chin pugnaciously. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I need to concentrate on finding the man who murdered my parents. I’d like to know what you intend to do, so I don’t have to worry about it.” He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he’d said the wrong thing.
Rachel stiffened. She stood and picked up her glass. “Please, Ash, don’t worry about it. I am perfectly happy—in fact, I prefer—to have and rear my child myself. He doesn’t need a father who has too much on his plate, and whose dating habits are prime watercooler conversation.” She walked past him out of the kitchen, her back straight and her head high.
In a couple of minutes she reappeared, carrying her purse and her overnight bag. She marched straight to the front door without even glancing his way, unlatched it and left.
Ash stared at the door until he heard her car start up and drive away. He lifted his cup to his mouth, then grimaced. Suddenly the coffee was bitter and cold. His mouth curled wryly. He didn’t miss the metaphor. He turned off the coffeemaker and grabbed his keys.
“Good job, Kendall,” he muttered. “That went well.”
RACHEL HAD CALMED DOWN a little by the time she got to her desk. Her chest still burned with anger, though. She should have known that Ash hadn’t meant what he’d said last night. His declaration that he wanted to be there for his child was obviously just a ploy to get into her pants. And of course it worked.
She needed to get out of his apartment. Having him so close ripped away her protective shields. What an idiot she was. Leave it to her to fall in love with Ashanova.
Anger swelled again, this time at herself. One good thing about fury, it knocked the queasiness right out of her. Still, she nibbled on crackers and sipped cold water as she ran through her email and edited an analysis report that Neil Chasen was waiting for.
When she called Detective Chasen to let him know the report was ready, she asked him about her apartment.
“I was going to give Kendall a call this morning. We’ve released it as a crime scene, and the cleanup crew has finished. As far as SLMPD is concerned, you can get in there and get clothes or whatever.”
“Thank goodness! I’ll be back home tonight.”
“I thought you were going to stay with Kendall for a while, just to be safe.”
“No,” she said shortly, then continued. “I haven’t seen a DNA report from my case. Didn’t any trace evidence show up?”
“A couple of hairs, but we didn’t get a hit in CODIS.”
She sighed. “That’s so frustrating.”
“Yeah. Listen, if you notice that anything else is missing—other than that DNA report, let me know. Meanwhile, I’ve been ordered to turn this over to the task force looking into the Christmas Eve Murders.”
“Oh. Do they understand that he must have followed me when I delivered that report? Otherwise, how would he know I had a copy? They need to check the security cameras around the commissioner’s office.”
“I can’t tell you what they’re going to do. It’s all very hush-hush.”
Dismay flooded her, but she lifted her chin. “I understand. Thanks, Neil,” she said.
Then she remembered the car she’d seen the night before. She’d been so angry at Ash, she’d forgotten to mention it.
“I said, I’ll be over to pick up that report in a few minutes.”
Rachel hung up and then dialed her friend in the Department of Motor Vehicles. “Can you run a license plate for me?” she asked, then provided the tag number. “It’s a Missouri plate.”
“Sure,” her friend said. “You owe me lunch.”
“You got it. We’ll get together next week sometime.”
“Sounds great.”
“You’ll call me with the info?” Rachel asked.
“Actually I’ve got it right here, unless you need an official report.”
“Not right now. I just want to find out whose name is on that registration.”
“The name is Campbell.”
Her friend said more, but Rachel didn’t hear it. Her brain zeroed in on the name Campbell. It was Rick Campbell. The name could not be a coincidence.
Rick Campbell was stalking Ash.
ASH WAS CALLED OUT TO A home invasion shooting just as he was pulling out of his driveway. That plus finishing a few reports took him all morning. Just as he was about to go to lunch, he got a call from the officer who’d done the canvassing of Rachel’s apartment building.
“Nobody saw a red compact,” he told Ash. “I couldn’t find anybody who’d seen anything.”
Ash sighed. “Thanks for rechecking,” he said. He hung up and called Devin. “Hey,” he said when his brother answered. “How’s everything?”
“You mean other than finding out Campbell’s innocent and dealing with Uncle Craig’s breakdown?”
“Breakdown?” Ash repeated, surprised. “What happened?”
Devin sighed through the phone l
ine. “It’s not literally a breakdown, although I wonder what a psychiatrist would say if he talked to him. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Yeah, the other night I thought he was going to have a stroke, he was so mad.”
“I don’t know, Ash. This doesn’t seem as much like anger as it does fear. I think he’s scared to death.”
“Of what?” Ash asked.
“That’s what I can’t figure out. I’m angry and worried, especially about Natalie. But Uncle Craig’s reaction—it’s just bizarre,” Dev said. “I actually considered making him go to the hospital.”
“Well, they’ve assigned a task force to reopen the case. I just hope they find the real murderer fast, for all our sakes.”
“Yeah. Me, too. This is ridiculous. It’s been twenty years, and suddenly we’re right back in the middle of it.”
Devin paused. “Have you talked to Thad?”
“Not since the press conference,” Ash said. “I left a message letting him know that Campbell has been released, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
“Maybe we should contact the magazine?”
“He told me that he’d be home as soon as he can catch a ride.” Ash took a long breath.
“Dev, that night—we’ve never really talked about it much. Was Natalie screaming the first thing you heard?”
“That’s right. I’d just gotten in. I thought she was screaming with excitement—Christmas morning, you know.” Devin cleared his throat. “But then it hit me that she was literally screaming in fear.”
“Your bedroom was closest to the parents’ wing. You didn’t hear the glass break or the gunshot?”
Devin sighed in exasperation. “I told you, no. Nat’s screams were the first thing I heard.”
“Did you remember that Dad was killed by a gunshot?” Ash asked.
“Yeah, sure. Why?”
“I didn’t, not until last night. It’s strange that the man shot him but strangled Mom.”
Devin cleared his throat. “Yeah. I remember the policeman—I guess it was Hammond, saying he probably didn’t want to shoot twice, afraid somebody would hear it.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever.”
“Ash, our parents were murdered on Christmas Eve. What about any of it does make sense?”
“Yeah. Let me know how Uncle Craig’s doing,” Ash said, then hung up.
He walked down the hall to Chief Hammond’s glassed-in office. The interior blinds were open and Ash could see the chief at his desk, reading a report. He rapped on the door.
Hammond looked up and gestured for Ash to come in. “What’s up, Detective?”
“I’d like to ask a few more questions about the murder.”
Hammond set aside the report and frowned at him. “The murder? You mean your parents’ murders? I thought we covered that. I still say that the DNA was contaminated. Campbell was guilty then and he’s guilty now.”
“Rachel told me if the sample was contaminated it would have DNA from two different people. It would be obvious.”
Hammond leaned forward. “Not if somebody switched the samples. I’ve got a couple of buddies on the task force. They’ll take another look at the DNA. Maybe have an independent lab run it.” Hammond picked up a pencil off his desk and fiddled with it. “They met yesterday for the first time.”
“One of the members told you that they’re going to rerun the DNA?”
“They’ve had one meeting. They haven’t talked about it yet, but they will. I’ll guarantee you.”
Ash wondered if Hammond really had influence with the task force, as he was implying. “I’ve been thinking about some things,” he said carefully. He didn’t want to give the chief any hint that he’d been reading the case files. “I know you said the case was open-and-shut, but it seems like there were a lot of loose ends.”
“Loose ends?” Hammond glared at him. “What the hell are you talking about? Loose ends, my ass.”
Ash shifted in his chair. He’d already put Hammond on the defensive. He doubted there was any way to avoid it, but he had hoped to get in some questions first. “Well, I’m sure the task force will address them. It’s just a few things that never got answered, like what happened to my mother’s ring.”
Hammond narrowed one eye and his brow furrowed. “Right. The ring. We figured Campbell dropped it. A shame we never found it for you kids.”
Ash nodded. “And the gun. It never turned up, either.”
“Guns are probably the easiest thing in the world to get rid of. Hell, there were two ponds and a creek between your folks’ house and where we picked up Campbell.”
Hammond got up and paced in front of the windows. Ash had to turn in his chair.
“Have you looked at the newspapers from back then?” Hammond asked.
“My aunt Angie saved them, I think, but no. I haven’t.”
“You ought to. There was a public outcry like nothing I’ve ever seen. Your parents were prominent in the business community and among the social set. The whole city was up in arms, wanting justice. We were afraid there might actually be riots.”
Ash nodded. “I remember something about a second prowler. That Campbell said he saw a man running from the area of the mansion. Did you look into that at all?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d gone too far. Hammond’s neck turned a splotchy red, and the color crept up to stain his face.
“I’m gonna ask you again, Detective Kendall. What the hell are you talking about?” His voice grew louder. “Are you suggesting I fell down on the job? I’ve cut you a lot of slack because of how your folks died, but you’re treading on thin ice here.”
Glancing out through the inner glass walls of Hammond’s office, Ash saw that people in the outer office had turned and were looking at them. Hammond’s voice had risen enough that it could be heard outside the room.
Ash held up his hands. “I’m not suggesting—I know that twenty years ago you didn’t have all the tools we have nowadays,” he said. Hammond could make his job a living hell if he wanted to, and Ash did not want to antagonize him.
While Ash was speaking, Hammond closed the blinds. Then he stood over him. He took a long breath, then another one, obviously trying to calm himself. “We checked out every lead, every wacko phone call and habitual confessor. My men didn’t find a single footprint from that night except Campbell’s. Now, I get that you’re upset, son. I am, too. But by God, Campbell’s guilty,” he said, jabbing the air with the pencil. “And one way or another, he’ll pay. I may not be on that task force, but I’m still the best detective you ever saw.”
He sat back down behind his desk. “Now get the hell out of here before I get angry and fire you.”
Ash got out. He’d hoped that talking to Hammond would make him feel better about the reopened investigation of his parents’ murders, but it didn’t.
All it did was fill his head with more questions. It sounded like Hammond had covered all the bases. What if Hammond hadn’t found Campbell conveniently burglarizing homes in the neighborhood? What if he’d been forced to look farther for a suspect?
A week ago, if he’d even thought about it, Ash would have been naively assured that his parents’ murderer was behind bars. He had issues, as did his brothers and sister, stemming from that traumatic event. But at least he hadn’t been tortured by the knowledge that the man who’d viciously murdered his mom and dad was out there somewhere, free.
Chapter Eleven
It was almost five o’clock. People would be headed home for the evening, and Rachel hadn’t tracked down Rick Campbell’s address yet. She hung up her lab coat, made sure the lab doors were locked and headed upstairs.
Ever since she’d found out that the car she’d seen the night before belonged to Mrs. Martha Campbell, Rick’s mother, she’d been thinking about what she was going to do. Then, right in the middle of a procedure to isolate DNA from a hair sample, it had hit her.
She had the information in her desk. The unsanitized report,
that the commissioner’s chief of staff had handed her just before the press conference, had addresses listed.
Back at her desk, she retrieved the report from her file drawer. She laid the report on her desk as she glanced around. Almost everyone was gone. Vanessa had left before Rachel had gotten upstairs, and Jack and Frank, the other criminalists, were at a crime scene.
She opened the folder and right there, at the top of the form, Campbell’s parents’ address was filled in. Rachel got out her phone and entered the address and phone number into it. Then she scanned the rest of the form. In a section labeled Other Address was Rick’s address. While the top part of the form was computer generated, Rick’s address had been filled in with a pen.
“Yes!” Rachel whispered, and entered the address, which was an apartment not far from his parents’ home, into her phone. There was no separate phone number listed.
Just as she inputted the last digits, she heard footsteps. She closed the folder as Ash walked around the corner.
“Hey,” he said with a small smile.
She picked up the folder as casually as she could and stuck in back into the open file drawer. “Hi,” she replied.
“I thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine. I was just about to leave.”
“Yeah. I figured you might be. D’you want to grab some dinner?”
Rachel frowned. What was he up to? Had he talked to Neil? The way she’d left it this morning, she’d figured she might have to get a hotel room, but now that she knew her apartment was clear and clean, she was planning to go back there. She’d packed up everything, making absolutely sure she wasn’t leaving a thing behind, not even a tissue, this time. “Why?”
Ash rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d like to have a chance to apologize for being a jerk this morning.” He stepped closer to her.
She fought the urge to step backward. When he was too close to her, she couldn’t think clearly.
“I do want to be involved, Rachel. That’s my—” He stopped. “I’m the baby’s father, and I want to go with you to your doctor’s appointments and help you with—the breathing classes or whatever.”
