Challenging Matt

by Julianna Morris

  “Yeah, I should have been more diplomatic.”

  “But I see your point.” Aunt Dee yawned. “You know, I may actually be able to sleep tonight. Stay and we’ll have waffles in the morning before you go to work.”

  “Deal.”

  An hour later Layne crawled into bed in the room at the end of the hall and smiled happily. If she accomplished nothing else with her investigation, she’d taken one weight off Aunt Dee.

  Layne snuggled deeper into her pillow. She’d enjoyed talking to Uncle Rob. He rarely made it home for the holidays or other visits. He was the youngest of Grandma Adele and Granddad Brian’s children. Grandma Adele had figured her family was done after Aunt Dee was born, but nine years later, when she was in her forties and Granddad in his sixties, she’d gotten pregnant. According to Aunt Dee, Granddad had taken it in stride, the way he’d taken everything.

  Turning on her side, Layne drew her feet up, remembering how she and Matt had sat on the end of the bed and talked. He was different than she would have expected a playboy to be. At least he had a good sense of humor and seemed to care about people. And he’d gotten Detective Rivera to agree to another meeting and was going with her to the police station.

  Layne yawned and closed her eyes.

  She wasn’t going to let Matt Hollister keep her awake. Not tonight. Not when she’d been able to give Aunt Dee good news for the first time.

  * * *

  ON SATURDAY MORNING Layne parked the Mustang near the police station. She was tense and Matt pulled her arm through his as they walked out of the lot. The police station was in the back of the city’s administrative center—all very modern and lacking in charm. Obviously Carrollton didn’t believe in spending money on architectural frills for their official buildings.

  They didn’t have a chance to give their names at the front desk; an unsmiling Detective Rivera was waiting and he immediately took them upstairs to a private room—one without a mirror this time.

  He shut the door and drew a deep breath. “Ms. McGraw, I’m not breaking any laws, but I’d appreciate your keeping this meeting confidential.”

  Layne blinked. “Of course.”

  Rivera pulled an envelope from inside his coat and fingered it for a minute. “I don’t enjoy political pressure,” he said surprisingly. “But I can honestly say that I believed your uncle was guilty when my superiors insisted on disbanding my team. The only question mark was the missing money. It was never clear to me that William Hudson had sufficient computer skills to make money vanish that way, while other employees at the firm undoubtedly did. Several worked in the computer industry prior to being employed at Hudson & Davidson.”

  Layne sat down in one of the chairs. “But that wasn’t enough for you to keep looking.”

  “The evidence against Mr. Hudson was compelling and the D.A.’s office was satisfied. They felt it was a waste of public funds to continue. After all, the man who everyone believed responsible for the thefts was...”

  “Dead,” she finished flatly.

  “His suicide did appear to be an admission of guilt. But what you said about the printer and the suicide note got me thinking.” Rivera opened the envelope he held and took out a picture. “Please take a look. This is a shot taken the night William Hudson died.”

  Layne braced herself, but it was simply a photo of Uncle Will’s bookshelf with the printer in the middle. A sheet of paper with a few lines of print was visible in the tray, oriented as if it had just been deposited by the mechanism.

  She handed the photograph to Matt.

  “You told Layne that her uncle could have put the note on the printer to be seen easily,” he said, examining it closely. “But the print on the note is upside down to someone walking up to the printer.”

  “Exactly. And then I recalled thinking there was something unusual about the paper, so I checked the file. The report indicates it was probably sixteen pound—”

  “That’s why you asked me what kind of paper Uncle Will used,” Layne interrupted, looking at the detective with renewed respect.

  “Yes. And since Hudson & Davidson uses the same paper as Mr. Hudson did in his home office, where was that note printed? Sixteen-pound bond isn’t common.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to start investigating again?” Matt asked. There were lines of strain around his mouth, and his gray eyes were so dark, they seemed black.

  The detective sighed. “Not officially. I spoke to the D.A.’s office and they still don’t feel it’s sufficient to warrant a new investigation.”

  “That’s outrageous,” Matt exploded, slapping the photo down on the table. “If William Hudson didn’t kill himself, he was murdered.”

  “Take it easy. They simply need more to back it up. I’m hoping Ms. McGraw may be able to find something else to show her uncle was innocent. Even if it’s circumstantial, I’m willing to push the D.A. again.”

  “You mean you want her to do your job.”

  Layne put her hand on Matt’s arm, hoping to calm him down. “Detective Rivera, I’ll keep searching and may already have something to alibi Uncle Will, but having more information would make it easier. Mr. Hollister has explained the outlines of the case, but if you could tell me the dates and times the illegal transfers occurred, I’ll have a better chance of getting the necessary proof.”

  “I figured as much.” The detective held out the envelope in his hand. “I believe what you need is in here.”

  Layne took it, hardly daring to breathe for fear he’d change his mind. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. A copy of the autopsy report is also in there—they aren’t pleasant to read, especially for the family. Your best bet are the dates the transfers occurred. If you can demonstrate your uncle was somewhere else, the D.A.’s office will have to reopen the case.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” She put the envelope in her canvas purse and zipped it shut. “I won’t tell anyone where this came from, Detective Rivera.”

  “Thank you. As I said, I’m not breaking any laws, but nobody above me wants this case dragged out again.”

  * * *

  THEY SHOOK HANDS with the detective and hurried back to the Mustang. As soon as the doors were shut, Layne grabbed the envelope from her purse, ripped it open and began reading. Matt resigned himself to a wait and watched her shifting emotions, his own gut churning.

  Damn.

  A single tear slid down her cheek.

  He concentrated on his breathing, wanting to rip the papers from her hands. A second tear followed. Then another until there were too many to count.

  “Layne...” Matt said helplessly.

  She wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept falling and Matt finally leaned across the hand brake to pull her into his arms as she wept.

  A shudder came from deep within him. Layne had been closer to her uncle than Matt had ever been to anyone, even his mother. Her grief was wrenching to see.

  Matt eased the sheaf of papers from Layne’s fingers and glanced outside the Mustang. Fortunately they were parked in a less traveled part of the lot and didn’t have any curious onlookers to deal with.

  He closed his eyes momentarily. Peter was asking questions, trying to find out where the investigation was going, and Matt had found himself avoiding the inquiries, or making ambiguous responses that didn’t reveal anything useful. And he still needed to ask Layne about the proposed sale of Hudson & Davidson to be sure it wasn’t being mishandled.

  After a long time Layne’s tears slowed and she tipped her head back. Matt handed her a tissue. “I think that’s been coming for a while.”

  Layne nodded and let out a shuddering sigh. “It’s almost like going through it again.”

  Her arm was looped around his neck for support and he looked down at her face. Unlike some women when they cried, Layne w
asn’t red-eyed and puffy; she looked like a lovely, sad little pixie. It stirred an annoyingly impractical chivalry in him—he was quite certain Layne wasn’t the type of woman who waited around to be rescued, and he was hardly the man she’d count on for it, regardless.

  Still...he dipped his head to kiss her, unsure if he was being insensitive or not. It took a moment for Layne to respond, but her arm finally tightened on his neck, drawing him closer.

  “That’s nice,” Matt whispered before deepening the kiss, an ache growing around his heart. He shifted, trying to get better access to the small swell of her breasts, and his elbow sharply rapped the dashboard.

  Crap.

  Matt lifted his head and gazed into Layne’s face.

  “We’re in a Mustang,” he muttered.

  “A classic Mustang,” she corrected with forced brightness. “I’ll bet you wanted to make out in a nifty car like this when you were sixteen.”

  “It’s nifty all right, but a sixteen-year-old boy is mostly obsessed about making out, not where it happens. And broad daylight, a block from the police station, isn’t the place I would have picked back then, no matter what.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  They untangled themselves and were finally standing on the asphalt, flushed and breathless. Matt’s groin throbbed, but it was just as well they’d been in her small Mustang—it would have been easy to forget himself in the moment.

  Layne leaned inside to collect the papers Detective Rivera had given her. “Here.” She handed him the keys. “Why don’t you drive?”

  “Not if you’re going to start reading that thing again,” Matt said bluntly.

  “I’ll read it again another time. I just...” She shrugged.

  Matt took the keys. It was flattering that Layne trusted him with her car, and as long as she wasn’t going pull out the autopsy report again, he would enjoy taking the wheel. After all, he’d driven a wide variety of vehicles, but never a 1966 Mustang.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY WERE on the road, Layne drew a calming breath. It had been an emotional moment and having Matt put the brakes on was understandable. And it was just as well he hadn’t wanted to continue; she’d been upset and people made bad decisions at times like that.

  She looked up. “Uh...go left here.”

  The town of Carrollton lay northeast of the university district and she preferred taking the back roads. She directed Matt through several turns, retracing the route they’d taken earlier that morning. The Seattle area was beautiful and there were little hidden wild areas that could take you by surprise. Yet as they made another turn, she saw Matt frowning.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t want to make you nervous, but the same car has been behind us for ten minutes and we’ve taken several different roads. Is this a common route to the University of Washington?”

  “Not that I know of—it’s just my favorite way.” Layne twisted to look out the back window and saw a dark gray, nondescript SUV behind them. The sight of the driver gave her a shiver. She thought it was a man, but despite the warm summer day, he was wearing a heavy overcoat, a hat pulled down close to his eyes and sunglasses. “Uh...go right at the next—”

  Even as she spoke, the SUV suddenly swung into the opposite lane, roared up and turned sharply against them. She gasped and the impact threw her against the door as they veered toward the ravine at the side of the road. The sound of screeching tires filled her ears and she instinctively pressed her foot to the floor as if hitting the brake.

  Matt turned the steering wheel into the skid and she couldn’t breathe as he worked to bring the Mustang under control. It seemed like forever but could only have been a few seconds before they were motionless at the side of the road.

  He looked at her.

  “Thank you for not screaming.”

  Layne swallowed. “Thank you for keeping us out of the ravine.” She unbuckled her seat belt and tried to get her pulse under control.

  “I raced cars for a while. It helped.”

  Right. She remembered he had a history with extreme sports, including race-car driving.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, just a little shaken up,” Layne deliberately didn’t touch her right collarbone; he’d want to check it and she couldn’t handle a platonic inspection of her body at the moment. “How about you?”

  “I’ve gotten worse falling out of bed.”

  “With or without company?” She tried to sound flip to cover the way she was shaking from head to toe.

  “I wouldn’t have been getting out of bed if I had company.”

  Layne glanced around. She’d never see this stretch of road in the same way again—she’d loved it, driven it hundreds of times in her little turquoise car, and now...she sighed. It was hard to comprehend that someone had attempted to kill them, or at least had tried to cause a serious accident. And they might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Matt’s expertise.

  “I don’t suppose anyone is really pissed at you...a former girlfriend, maybe?” she asked hopefully.

  “Not that I know of. I think you may have rattled somebody with your investigation.”

  Yup.

  That’s what she thought, too.

  Layne pressed a hand to her abdomen. The sun was shining, the air scented with growing things and someone had just tried to kill them.

  “I’d better call the police. Or sheriff’s office, rather, since I think we’re outside any town limits.” Layne pulled her phone from her purse, dialing 911 and talking to the dispatcher as calmly as she could manage. They promised to send an officer within the hour. When she was done she glanced at Matt. “Not that they can do much. The license plate was covered, though it happened so fast, I couldn’t have gotten the number anyway.”

  “We’ll have to let Detective Rivera know what happened.”

  He got out and walked around to open her door. The gentlemanly act almost made her smile until she saw the crumpled rear fender.

  “Dammit.”

  “Hey, it can be fixed.”

  “That’s not the point. Uncle Will and Aunt Dee gave me this car. How dare anyone damage it or try to intimidate me out of investigating? No way they’re getting away with murder and theft. I’m finding whoever’s responsible and putting them in jail where they belong. And I hope they rot there forever.”

  She kicked a spray of gravel toward the ravine and glared in the direction the SUV had disappeared.

  * * *

  MATT MARVELED AS Layne stalked up and down the side of the road, cursing a blue streak. Most of the women he knew would be a basket case after an attack like this one, but not Layne McGraw. She might be pint-sized, but inside, she was a six-foot Amazon with a steel backbone.

  The possibilities with a woman like that were...exhilarating.

  Annoyed with himself, Matt pushed the thought away. He had much more serious concerns than hot sex with an unsuitable partner—somebody had just tried to kill them. Layne’s classic Mustang, with its turquoise color, was highly distinctive, and they were on her favorite back route to her home from Carrollton. It had made her an easy target.

  Too easy.

  A chill of anger and fear went through him. An SUV had followed them until reaching a deserted stretch of road next to a deep creek gorge, then the driver had tried to force them into it.

  Keeping an eye on her, he pulled out his cell phone.

  “What?” Connor answered on the first ring.

  “Meet me at Layne McGraw’s house. Someone just tried to run us off the road in her Mustang.”

  “Injuries?”

  “Mostly to her temper—if the guy was here she’d take him apart with her bare hands. The Mustang was a gift from the Hudsons and she’s taking the damage personally.”

  �
��Attempted vehicular homicide is personal.”

  A shriek of fury came from Layne as she stopped and surveyed the crumpled fender again, followed by another string of curses and threats. In any other circumstance, Matt would have grinned. She had a remarkable command of the English language.

  “I heard that,” Connor said casually. “She’s in a fine mood.”

  “Yeah. Sparks are flying. We’re waiting for the sheriff to arrive and take a report. Then we’ll head for her house. I want a team on both Layne and her aunt around the clock.”

  “Fine, but I’ll send Riley to meet you instead of coming myself.”

  Grim amusement filled Matt. “That’s right, I forgot you’ve been courting Mrs. Hudson. You wouldn’t want Layne to put two and two together and realize her aunt’s new Irish friend is actually my security chief.”

  “I’m not courting Dorothy Hudson,” Connor growled. “She just lost her husband in December, for God’s sake.”

  “Then why are you seeing her? You gave me the final background check on Layne and Mrs. Hudson ages ago.”

  “None of your damned business. Is the Mustang drivable?”

  “Yeah, but I want an expert to do the restoration for Layne. In the meantime she’ll need something safe to drive.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Ms. McGraw likes dogs, so I’ll tell Riley to bring his German shepherd to stay inside with her. We’ll talk later.”

  Matt barely blinked as the call disconnected abruptly—when Connor was done talking, he was done. He pulled up another number he’d programmed into the phone and dialed the Carrollton Police Station, asking for Detective Rivera, saying it was urgent. When the detective came on, Matt quickly explained what had happened.

  “You’re sure it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Positive. They followed us for a long distance, through numerous turns, and Layne says the license plate was covered.”

  “Could be gang related. We’ve had cases where a vehicle was singled out for no apparent reason.”

  “You don’t seriously believe that’s the explanation?” Matt asked drily. “It’s no secret that Layne is looking into what happened with her uncle. She’s called a number of the employees who worked with Mr. Hudson, and some of them already knew she’d been asking questions. I think someone is worried about what she may uncover.”