White Collared Part Three: Revenge

by Shelly Bell

  He pulled her into an embrace and held her tight, breathing hard. “Are you okay? God, Kate, when Jaxon told me about Hannah . . .” He stepped back. “How is she?”

  “Someone stabbed her in the back.” The irony of those words dawned on her. “When I found her, she was unconscious. The paramedic said her lung collapsed, and they were taking her to Detroit Receiving.”

  Nick squeezed her shoulder. “They’ll take care of her.” He frowned. “We need to call her parents. Do you have their number?”

  Her stomach plummeted. How could she explain what had happened? “No, but they live in Grosse Pointe.”

  Maybe he read the panic in her eyes because he nodded to her and said, “I’ll call them.”

  She heard more footsteps on the stairs.

  “Police,” a man in blue announced at her door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  The young black officer waved two others inside her small apartment, one carrying a camera and the other carrying a silver case. He joined her by the couch and flashed his badge.

  “Kate Martin? I’m Officer Michael Price. I’ve brought Officers George and Hannon to collect evidence while I take the report.”

  They moved closer to the kitchen table, allowing one officer to take photographs of the blood saturating Kate’s carpet. She’d never again look at the carpet without seeing Hannah’s nearly lifeless body lying there.

  Nick handed Officer Price his business card. “Nicholas Trenton, Ms. Martin’s attorney.”

  The cop’s eyebrows arched with suspicion. “Is there a reason she called an attorney?”

  “Ms. Martin interns for me at Joseph and Long, as does the victim,” Nick said. “But she didn’t call me. Mr. Deveroux did.” He motioned with a jab of his chin toward Jaxon.

  The cop’s lips tugged up in a mocking smile. “Bodies just seem to turn up when you’re around, huh?”

  A muscle in Jaxon’s cheek twitched, but otherwise he didn’t react. “The same could be said about you, officer.”

  Officer Price smiled. “Touché. And what is your relationship to Ms. Martin?”

  Jaxon didn’t blink. “She’s part of my legal team.”

  “And that’s why you’re at her apartment on a Sunday night? To work?” the officer asked with a clear implication in his words.

  “Yes,” Jaxon said, not giving the cop anything to work with.

  Officer Price moved closer to her. “Is that true, Ms. Martin?”

  She froze. A prickling sensation crawled down her spine, and a cold sweat broke out on her neck. The scents of sulfur and fresh leaves joined the copper of Hannah’s blood. As if someone turned off the lights, a curtain of black descended over her eyes.

  “Katie, tell us the truth. We won’t get mad. It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

  “Can I wash my hands?”

  The beefy cop frowned. “You already washed your hands after the nice officer took samples. Don’t you remember?”

  She flipped her palms over. They were streaked with brown. “It won’t come off. I can’t get them clean.”

  He nodded but didn’t even look at her hands. “We’ll get you some special soap. Katerina, you’ll have to forgive me for having a hard time believing it was an accident. You’re the town’s best shooter.”

  “It was an accident. I loved my father and he loved me.”

  “Did he touch you inappropriately? Beat you or your mother? You can tell us and we won’t judge you.”

  She clenched her fists. “That’s disgusting. You know—everyone in this town knows—he was the most decent man in the world. He never hurt me. Never even spanked me. I’m done answering your questions. Don’t I have a right to an attorney?”

  He paused and then smiled like they were best friends. “Learn that in school, huh? You don’t need one. You’re not under arrest. We were just talking until your mother gets here. But if you don’t want to talk, we’ll take you to another room.”

  She pushed back from the table. “Let’s go. I’m done talking until my mother gets here.”

  Ouch. Who pinched her hip?

  Jaxon stared at her with concern.

  Her heart sped dangerously. She needed a pill or she’d faint.

  Nick’s spine straightened. “Officers, you’re treading on dangerous ground. Any communication between Ms. Martin and Mr. Deveroux is protected under the attorney-client privilege.”

  The cop scowled and held up his hands. “I’m just trying to figure out how a suspected murderer wound up at the same place as the victim. What was the victim doing at the apartment? Is she part of the legal team as well?”

  Dizzy, Kate collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. “No. I don’t know what she was doing here.” If she’d only listened to Hannah at the office, her friend probably wouldn’t have come here tonight.

  Officer Price pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “Start at the beginning.”

  She twisted her blood-splattered hands together and glanced nervously at Nick. He gave her a subtle nod. “I got home about a half hour ago. My door was unlocked. When I came inside, I found Hannah, and I called nine-one-one.”

  “Did you touch the weapon or any part of the victim’s body?”

  Slicing pain darted from her chest into her back as if she’d been the one stabbed. “Not the knife, but I did touch her face. I may have touched other parts accidentally, but I don’t remember.” She turned to Jaxon. “Could you get me a couple pills from my purse?”

  He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he’d refuse. Then he gave her a sad smile before going to dig them out of her purse by the front door.

  The cop raised a brow. “Is there something wrong, Ms. Martin? Do you require medical treatment?”

  She pushed her hair back from her eyes. “No. I have an anxiety disorder. My doctor prescribed medication to treat my panic attacks.”

  Jaxon came back and dropped two pills in her waiting palm. She couldn’t read his expression. Was he disappointed in her? Concerned? She hated not knowing.

  “Sorry to hear that, ma’am.” Officer Price’s suspicious gaze bounced between her and Jaxon. “You said you found her when you came home? Where were you?”

  Her breath caught, and she pressed her lips together.

  Nick held up his hand. “Ms. Martin, if it was related to Mr. Deveroux’s case, I’d advise you to invoke the privilege.”

  She exhaled. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry, officer, but my whereabouts were in relation to my client’s case and is privileged information.”

  Officer Price grimaced. “Convenient. You said your door was unlocked?”

  She nodded. “Hannah had a key.”

  “So she’s more than just another intern,” the cop said.

  A vice squeezed her heart. “We’re . . . friends. Since college.”

  “Do you know why she was here?”

  The guilt ate at her insides and burned her throat. When would those damned pills kick in? “I have no idea.”

  Liar.

  “Has she used your key before?”

  The flash from the camera startled her, and she jumped in her seat. “No, but we gave each other our keys in case we got locked out.” And for Hannah, it had happened on a regular basis.

  Officer Price’s eyes narrowed, and her chest constricted. She recognized that look. She’d seen it in the cops’ eyes in her hometown. Seen it in Officer Lawrence’s when he’d interrogated Jaxon.

  Disbelief.

  He was going to arrest her. Put her in handcuffs and lock her up behind bars.

  “When was the last time you spoke with her?” he asked.

  Breathe. “This morning at work.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  She crossed her legs. “Just girl stuff like periods and yeast infections.”

  He didn’t smile. “Right. Now what did you really talk about?”

  If she told him the truth, she’d be giving him a possible motive. He’d pin the crime on her. “Nothing. It was so
meaningless I don’t even remember.”

  He paused, scrutinizing her. “Is there any reason someone would try to kill her?”

  “No.” And that was the truth. Other than Kate, who had reason to hurt her?

  “What about you?” he asked, as if he’d plucked it from her thoughts.

  “Excuse me? I didn’t do it.” Her voice cracked, and Jaxon patted her back a few times, reassuring her.

  It wasn’t enough. She wanted him to hold her and tell her it would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not now. In front of Nick and the police, they were simply attorney and client.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Officer Price said. “She was in your apartment. Is it possible she was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  Nick placed his hand on her shoulder. “Ms. Martin, don’t answer that question. It’s speculation. How would she know?”

  Officer Price ignored him. “Do you have any enemies? Anyone want you dead?”

  Bile choked her throat, and the room tilted. If she’d been standing, she would’ve fallen to the floor. Had the knife been meant for her?

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  The officer flipped his notepad closed and stuck it in his pocket. “I think we should go to headquarters and continue this conversation.”

  Even as the pills’ effects kicked in and slowed her heart rate, panic slammed into her, turning her blood to ice.

  “Is she under arrest?” Nick asked.

  The cop frowned. “No, but—”

  “Then she declines your request.” Nick gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, reminding her that this time she had an attorney on her side. “Process the scene and get out of here. Ms. Martin has had an extreme shock. She needs rest, and then I’m sure she’ll want to visit her friend in the hospital.”

  Officer Price waved over one of the other cops. “I’m going to have Officer Hannon take some pictures, and Officer George will take a couple samples from you. Then we’re going to need your clothes and shoes. You can change in your room.”

  She got up from the table, surprised that her trembling legs supported her weight. Jaxon inched a bit closer, as if afraid she’d fall, while Nick watched with a professional eye.

  The cop had her hold out her hands. She flinched as the camera clicked several times. He thanked her, moved out into the hallway, and photographed the front door.

  Officer Hannon used a Q-tip to swab some blood from her hands, clipped a fingernail, and then took her fingerprints. He handed her a small, white plastic container with a hazardous materials sticker. “Please remove your clothes and shoes and place them in here.”

  At Nick’s nod, she hurried off, eager to change her clothes. But first she took a detour to the bathroom and washed the blood off her hands, knowing the longer she waited, the more difficult it would be to clean. Scrubbing with soap and hot water, she was able to at least erase the visible presence of Hannah’s blood. As she entered her bedroom, she popped another pill and kicked off her shoes. After removing and folding all her clothes, she put them all in the evidence collection container and sat on her bed to catch her breath.

  She dropped her head in her hands and rubbed her pounding forehead. What would the police say when they realized she and Hannah were wearing the same clothes? In her mind she heard Hannah’s voice calling her “sister.” Kate knew they looked alike, but she never imagined anyone could mistake one for the other. Was it really possible the knife was meant for her? Why would anyone want her dead?

  Going for both comfort and a professional appearance in case she ended up at the police station, she threw on black pants and an oversized blouse and then slipped on another pair of heels. She returned to the main room and handed Officer Hannon the container. He and Officer George waved to Officer Price, who was speaking on his phone, and then left the apartment.

  With pity in their eyes, Jaxon and Nick watched her every move as if they expected her to break down at any moment. She joined them at the table and waited nervously, chewing on the inside of her cheek and wishing for a glass of gin.

  When the cop ended his call, he shocked her by giving her a small smile. “My fellow officers have just busted a robbery in progress a block away from here. A guy broke into a liquor store, cleaned out the till, and then stopped to have a drink. He had blood on his hands and clothes. We’ll check to see if it’s your friend’s, but I’d say there’s a good chance we caught the assailant. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” He handed her a business card and a piece of paper. “Here’s a receipt for your personal items. You can have them back at the completion of our investigation.”

  Relief rushed through her, and she exhaled. It was a burglary gone wrong. No one was out to kill her.

  Officer Price departed, leaving her behind with a bloodstained carpet and two men, each with a multitude of emotions swirling in his eyes. Her secrets were piled higher than the local landfill, and knowing Nick, he’d want to uncover all of them, layer by layer.

  In the stance she’d come to recognize as his interrogation pose, Nick folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “Now tell me the truth. What was she doing at your apartment? You were fighting this afternoon. Is she jealous I gave you second chair?”

  She looked at her feet, gathering the courage to admit the truth. “A couple nights ago, I caught her having sex with my boyfriend.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked softly.

  The truth was she didn’t know why she’d kept the breakup from him. Ignoring the hurt in Nick’s eyes, she pretended to misunderstand the question and said, “I lied to the police. I didn’t want them thinking I stabbed her out of anger.”

  The corners of his lips twitched. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. But, Kate, where did you go? You weren’t supposed to leave without one of us.”

  She glanced at Jaxon. He gave her a slow nod. “I went to Martha Webber’s. Remember, the woman we met at the funeral? I had to learn more about her daughter Stephanie’s murder.”

  Nick’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

  “A hunch. I didn’t want the press to blindside us by tying the murders to Jaxon. I found out that when they discovered Stephanie’s body, she had blue rope around her wrists and ankles.”

  “Anything else? Any whip marks on her skin? The number thirteen?”

  “No. Just the blue rope and her connection to Jaxon.” She knew it wasn’t much, but the tingling at the base of her neck had grown more pronounced since speaking with Martha.

  Nick inched closer and palmed the back of her head. “I’m glad you weren’t here.”

  “Why would you say that? Hannah’s lying in the hospital because I wasn’t here.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t you see? Hannah wasn’t the intended victim. She must have not locked the door behind her. You two look alike. The perp wasn’t trying to kill Hannah. He was trying to kill you.”

  She jerked away from him, uncomfortable with the intimacy of their position and the truth of Nick’s words. “No. You heard Officer Price. They got the guy who did it.”

  He glanced at the unusually silent Jaxon before returning his gaze to her. Then he picked up a silver case by the door. “I brought this with me.” He plunked it down on the table and flipped open the top.

  “A gun.” A Glock 19 to be exact. Not her favorite, but in her hands, it was deadly.

  “If Hannah’s stabbing doesn’t convince you your life is in danger, what will?” Nick caressed her hair. “I don’t want anyone to be able to touch one strand on your beautiful head. I don’t want that phone call, Kate. It would break me.”

  Jaxon got up from the table. “I’m with Nick. Tonight you caught a lucky break when you disobeyed our orders. If you had been home . . .”

  I could’ve died. “I’ll take your gun, but don’t even think about kicking me off this case.”

  Since her daddy had drilled into her the importance of the constitutional right to bear arms, she’d go
tten a concealed pistol license as soon as she’d legally been able. He’d explained that, like a passport, it was a smart thing to have in case of an emergency. Of course, he never would’ve imagined his daughter, a champion shooter, wouldn’t own a dozen guns.

  Jaxon turned her to him. “Kate, I’m not worth risking your life over.”

  Knowing the modern gun could not accidentally discharge but trembling nonetheless, she picked it up and slipped it into her purse. “I disagree. Whoever called me and sent that message—”

  “Message? What message?” Nick asked.

  Damn it. Too many pills had loosened her tongue. “This morning someone sent me a message through Facebook.”

  Nick clenched his hands. “I want to see it. Now.”

  She brought up the e-mail on her cell and then handed him the phone. “It came to my personal e-mail address, and then they posted as me on my timeline with some pictures.”

  He perused the message. “Show me the timeline.”

  “I can’t. Logan froze the account.”

  “Logan? Who’s Logan?”

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “Logan Bradford. He interns for Mr. Reaver. He came by my desk this morning and caught sight of it. I wouldn’t have gotten him involved, but as it turns out, he’s a computer whiz. He’s going to trace both the e-mails from Eric Graham and the IP address of whoever accessed my account.”

  Nick’s jaw tightened. “You forwarded the e-mail from Graham knowing it was confidential?”

  “Logan works for the firm,” she said in her attorney voice. “The confidentiality extends to him. Besides, isn’t it better to have someone in the firm helping us rather than hiring an outside computer specialist or private investigator?”

  “You should have spoken to me first about it. I am your boss.” Nick kept his voice calm, but she heard the underlying anger. “You’re keeping secrets that affect this case, and it needs to stop now. What if Reaver discovers his intern is doing work for me and confronts me about it? Do you know how that would make me look?”

  She’d disappointed him. Ashamed, she took full responsibility and looked him directly in the eyes. “I didn’t think about it that way. I’m sorry, sir.”