“Have you had dinner?”
“No.”
“Come over and have dinner with me, and I’ll fill you in.” The invitation sounded appealing. He had nothing edible in his refrigerator and would have to pick something up. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue a relationship with Kristen.
“Come on, Mac. It’s not like I’m asking for a commitment. Just a little company while I eat. I have some roast beef and potatoes in the crockpot. Andrew’s asleep and I’m sitting here alone in front of the fireplace feeling sorry for myself.”
“All right.” Mac told himself it was the roast beef and potatoes that did it. Not the catch in her voice or the fact that he didn’t much like being alone either. Of course he had Lucy, but that was different. “I’m on my way. Should be there in ten.”
“Perfect.”
Kristen opened the door before he had a chance to knock. “Hey.” Her hair looked stranger than usual—like she’d slept on it. She touched her head. “Whoops. I must look wild. I laid down with Andrew and fell asleep.”
Mac smiled. “Actually it looks pretty much like it always does.”
She punched his shoulder. “Gee, thanks.” Kristen stepped back, allowing him entry. The fireplace and living room looked inviting, and the distinct scent of meat and seasonings took him back a few years to when he’d lived with his grandmother McAllister. Her kitchen always smelled like heaven. He slipped off his rain jacket and draped it on the end of the couch. “Smells great.”
“Thanks. I enjoy cooking—when I get the chance.” Kristen gestured toward the table. “Dinner’s ready to go. Have a seat.” She’d set it for two, much like she’d done the previous evening when he’d brought takeout.
Mac felt a little like he was walking into a trap, but the bait was too good to pass up. He tossed off the feeling, willing himself to relax and enjoy the moment and the food.
The food was everything he’d hoped for and more. Perfectly seasoned roast—melt-in-your-mouth tender. Kristen had mashed the potatoes with butter and garlic and cream. As sides she’d served baby peas and a tossed salad.
“You were going to eat this kind of meal alone?” Max dabbed his mouth with the cloth napkin and took a drink of the sparkling cider she’d poured earlier.
She cocked her head. “Yeah. My mother served every meal with a certain amount of pizzazz. I don’t always get the chance with my schedule being what it is, but I try to carry on the tradition. At home I always felt special, you know. Like we were all royalty to her. Company never got better treatment than we did.”
Mac grinned. “This meal was fit for a king, that’s for sure.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “Well, your highness, you are about to turn into a scullery maid. Time to help with the dishes.”
“Another tradition?”
“Yep.” She got up, gathered some dishes, and headed for the kitchen. Mac pitched in, not minding the task at all. His grandmother had expected him to help her as well—not that Kristen was anything at all like his grandmother. When he’d finished clearing the table, he leaned against the counter of the small kitchen and watched Kristen rinse the dishes and place them into the dishwasher. He fought off the urge to go up behind her and wrap his arms around her, drawing her back against him and kissing . . .
Whoa. Mac folded his arms, effectively closing out the thought. Where had that come from? He moved out of the kitchen and into the living room. This was bad—too domestic. Too tempting.
Kristen was too eccentric for his tastes. Not his type at all.
So what are you doing here? he asked himself.Why did you call her,and why did you accept her invitation?
Mac settled on the sofa and watched the fire, then leaned his head back for just a moment.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Kristen’s voice penetrated the thick fog infiltrating his brain. “Wake up, Mac.”
He jerked his head up, eyes flying open. “What . . .?”
“Relax.” She touched his arm. “You fell asleep. I thought about letting you spend the night, but I’d rather not have to explain your presence to Andrew in the morning.”
Mac closed his eyes for a moment to get his bearings. “Right. We wouldn’t want that,” he murmured.
“No, we wouldn’t.” Kristen’s gaze caught his for a long, heart-stopping moment.
Mac couldn’t say who’d made the next move, but his arms went around her and her lips were only a heartbeat away. He kissed her then—a sweet, lingering kiss that roped his stomach in a thousand knots. She leaned into him, and he panicked.
“I’m sorry.”
Kristen grinned. “For kissing me or for stopping?”
“Both.” He remembered to breathe. “We shouldn’t . . .”
“Why?”
“I . . . uh . . .”
Kristen sat up. “Forget I asked, Mac. It’s okay. I thought maybe you felt something too.”
I do. Mac couldn’t put voice to the thought. Kristen had a strange effect on him for sure, but he wasn’t ready to get involved. He’d put sadness in her eyes and hated himself for doing that. But the last thing he wanted was to lead her on. He still cared too much about Dana. Mac rubbed his forehead. Why did women have to be so complicated?
“I made a positive ID on the corpse you found in the fire.” Kristen got up and walked closer to the fire.
EIGHTEEN
GET SOME SLEEP LAST NIGHT?” Kevin asked as Mac dragged into the office at seven-thirty, still in the process of looping his tie around his neck.
“A little. I’d love to have slept in though.” Mac didn’t mention that an hour of his sleeping had been done on Kristen’s sofa, or that he hadn’t gotten home until almost midnight.
“I know the feeling.” Kevin turned back toward his own office. “Once you get a cup of coffee, let’s meet in the briefing room—say in about fifteen minutes. Dana and Jan ran out to get scones or something; they’ll be right back.”
Mac peered into the briefing room, surprised to see Philly and Russ already inside and jawing about yesterday’s events.
Don’t these people ever sleep in? Mac finished with his tie and then bought a cup of coffee from the carafe in the break room. He didn’t exactly buy it. They had a donations cup to keep them supplied. Taking a sip of the bitter stuff, Mac wished he’d taken an extra few minutes to pick up some Starbucks on the way in. He met Dana and Jan on his way back to the briefing room. They were both laughing.
“My, aren’t we chipper this morning?” Mac growled. He stepped aside so they could enter the room first.
“It was hard getting up,” Dana said, “but I feel a lot better after hitting the gym.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Mac paused the coffee midway to his mouth.
Dana laughed. “I wish I weren’t. I should have gone to the gym. Truth is, I rolled out of bed after hitting the snooze alarm a half-dozen times.” She sat down next to Mac and waved a small paper bag in front of him. “Here, grumpy, I brought you something. I didn’t know if you’d picked up breakfast or not.”
He opened the bag and sniffed appreciatively at the icing-covered pumpkin scone. “Mmm, my favorite. Thanks, Dana.” Mac pulled off a huge chunk and stuffed it in his mouth.
“I figured you could use a little pick-me-up.”
Mac washed down the bite with a swig of coffee. “You guessed right. I was thinking I might pour the coffee on my head this morning and let it soak in through my pores. I didn’t sleep all that well last night.”
Fortunately, Dana didn’t ask why. “Me too. It takes a while to make up for an all-nighter. I never got used to it, even on patrol. Working graveyard then going to court all day—not my idea of a good time. All you feel like doing on your days off is sleep.”
“Hey, what’s this?” Philly brushed remnants of a powdered donut from the front of his shirt. “You buy a scone for Mac and not me?”
“Like you really need another treat, Phil. What are you up to this morning, five?”
“Four, b
ut who’s counting. Besides it takes a lot to fill my tank.”
Dana grinned at him. “Just saving you from yourself, big guy.”
Mac wolfed down another huge bite of scone and washed it down with coffee as Kevin and Sergeant Evans walked in. “Glad to see you were all able to make it,” Frank said.
Kevin lowered himself into the chair beside Jan. “You still in on this one with us?”
“As much as I can. Unfortunately, with the dedicated funding position I’m in, I can’t become too involved. The State Fire Board is paying most of my position now, and Polo was purchased by the feds so I have to dedicate most of my job to arson investigation rather than homicide. I’d be glad to help with the background work; I just can’t get involved in anything that would tie me up in court.”
“Understood,” Kevin said. “If you can give us an idea of how and where that fire got started, we’d be much obliged.”
“And if you could tell us who started it,” Mac said, “you’d really make our day.”
She laughed. “If I can prove a fire setter, you’ll be the first to know.”
Sergeant Evans set his notes on the table and took his usual place beside the podium. He took a long sip of coffee before speaking. “Okay, let’s get started here.” He then took one more sip from his cup before setting it down. “Mac and Dana, let’s start with you on the update.”
Mac gave Dana a nod. Finishing the scone was his most important objective at the moment, and since he couldn’t talk with his mouth full, he’d let Dana give the report. She didn’t seem to mind.
Dana stood. “We struck out in our attempts to locate Dan Mason last night. He didn’t show up for work—clerk says he called in sick. The powers that be at Terminal 9 refused to give us a current address, and we couldn’t locate him through the phone book. We’re hoping Kevin was able to come up with an address. Mac put out a call to our patrols with a description of his vehicle and plates. We’ll head out there again this morning. If and when we find Mason, I’d like to hook him up to a polygraph. Of course, the way things are going, I doubt he’ll cooperate. We’re thinking the lawyers for Terminal 9 might have a hand in all this as well.”
“I’m curious as to why Mason’s prints were on Clay Mullins’s chair,” Frank said. “We need to get a statement from him one way or the other. Find out where the guy was the night Clay was killed and during the time of the fire.”
“Right.” Mac wiped his mouth with his hand. “We’ll get him one way or another—unless he’s left the area. Considering his priors, that’s a possibility.” Mac hesitated. He needed to let the others know about the positive ID. “One more thing. I called Dr. Thorpe on my way home last night. She told me we had a positive ID on the corpse found in the fire. It is definitely Jacob Mullins. That means we’ll be paying another visit to Clay’s daughter.”
“Right.” Sergeant Evans glanced down at his papers. “I got the fax just before I went home last night. Figured you two would want to take care of it.”
“Thanks. We need to talk to the husband too.” Mac glanced at his watch. He doubted they’d catch either of them at home this morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Okay, Philly and Russ, what do you have?” Frank asked.
Russ stood and told the group about their efforts to find Tyler Cohen, which had been unsuccessful so far. “We’ll head back out to Columbia County again today. Plan on spending some time in the transient camps along the rail line also. Thought we’d check around for potential witnesses to the arson incident. As far as the maid goes, we know where she lives and have an appointment to talk with her today.”
“Sounds good. Kevin and Jan, were you able to come up with anything?”
Jan stood first. “I’m still waiting on the arson evidence from the lab. Sorry it’s taking so long, but . . .” She spread out her hands. “You guys know how it is. In the meantime, I’ll keep working with Kevin on the background checks. I think Kevin received some news back from the credit inquiry, didn’t you, Kev?”
“Sure did. Looks like Clay Mullins had a bank account at the U.S. Bank in St. Helens. He didn’t have any credit cards or make any house or car payments. The only bills he had electronically removed from his account were for his insurance payments to State Farm, and his post office box and a safety deposit box at the bank.”
“Good.” Mac mused. “It’ll be interesting to see whose name is listed as a beneficiary on his insurance policy.”
“I’ll see if I can get that information. In the meantime, I’ll work with the D.A. to get a grand jury subpoena over to the bank, see what Mr. Mullins kept in the box. I’ll page Mac and Dana as soon as we get the go-ahead to pick it up.”
“Great. Thanks, Kevin,” Mac said. “If we have time today, I’d like us to hit up the real-estate agent who’s been pestering Clay’s daughter on the land.” He glanced at his notes. “Reagan McCloud. I’d also like to touch base with the lawyer who represents Clay’s estate.”
Frank nodded. “I’ll make sure that insulin kit gets down to the lab for processing too. I’ll have them check for prints on the bottles and examine and weigh the contents of his prescriptions. Maybe that will shed some light on Clay’s medical condition.” He frowned. “I know we’re tapped for resources, but we have homicide teams ready to go from some of our southern field offices or McMinnville if needed.”
“When pigs fly.” Philly snorted. “They couldn’t even find their way through their own towns. No way are we going to let another OSP office work our tickets.”
Frank shook his head, a smile evident in the tip of his mouth— a telltale sign he personally agreed but would never admit it professionally. “Get out of here, and you all be careful.”
The detectives filed out of the room, and minutes later Mac and Dana were in the Crown Victoria, heading toward Copper Mountain, which was about half an hour away.
“You want to do the interview?” Mac asked as they pulled up to the curb.
“Sure.”
Mac was surprised when Kelly opened the door. This time she was wearing a mint green pantsuit and what was probably a silk blouse the color of rich cream. She had accented the outfit with a string of pearls. “Did we catch you at a bad time?” Mac asked.
“I was just leaving for work.” She stepped back to let them in. “I thought I’d be seeing you two again. I suppose you’re here to tell me about the fire. I’m surprised it’s taken you so long. I read about it in the paper.”
“Actually it’s more complicated than that,” Dana said. “Do you mind if we all sit down?”
“Sure. Come on in.” She led them to the great room. “Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks.” Mac glanced around. “Is your husband here?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s out of town for a medical convention— Atlanta.”
“How long has he been gone?” Dana asked. She didn’t seem as intrigued with the house as she had on their first visit.
“He left yesterday. Since he’s a guest speaker, he couldn’t very well cancel.” Kelly perched on the arm of the sofa.
“When will he be back?”
“Hopefully the day after tomorrow. He hated leaving right now and said he’d try to come home early. What’s this all about?”
“There’s no easy way to tell you this, Mrs. Cassidy.” Dana gentled her tone. “We found a body in the fire at your father’s place.”
“A body?” She clasped a hand over her mouth and after a moment she said, “I don’t understand.”
“The medical examiner has positively identified the victim as your brother.”
“Jacob? Jacob was at the house?” Kelly sprang to her feet and began pacing. “What happened?”
“We believe he was murdered. It’s possible the fire was started to cover up his death.”
“I can’t believe this. Why would he go out there?”
“We were hoping you might help us figure that out.” Dana shifted so that she could track Kelly’s movements. “Did you talk
to Jacob after your father died?”
“Yes. He called me. He was so worried about not getting his share. Can you believe that? Not one word about feeling sad about Dad’s death. He must have gone out to look at Dad’s things.” She sighed and sat down on the arm of the chair again. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s so sad. Dad loved his collection of railroad artifacts and memorabilia. Now it’s all gone.”
“Kelly, I hate to ask, but we need to have the information in our files. Would you mind telling us where you were on Wednesday night?”
“You think I killed my brother and . . . and started that fire?”
“Not at all,” Dana smoothed. “Like I said, we need to ask. And we need a statement from you for our records.”
“I was at the office until seven, then went to a political fundraiser. You can ask the mayor. I sat next to her through dinner and spent most of the evening chatting with her. I got home around one and fell into bed.”
Dana nodded. “Thank you. I really appreciate your cooperation.”
“There’s no reason not to cooperate.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe Jacob is dead. Who would want to kill him?”
“We’re hoping to find that out.” Dana tipped her head to one side. “Did he have any enemies that you know of? Did he say anything at all . . . ?”
“No, nothing.” She stood up again. “As for enemies, I wouldn’t know. Like I told you the other day, we didn’t have contact with him.”
“When he called, did he give you any indication something might be wrong?”
“Only that he was afraid of being left out of Dad’s will. I told him he didn’t have anything to worry about. I felt certain Dad would be fair. He wasn’t very nice. If he treated others like he treated his family, I imagine he had a lot of enemies.”
“Did he know about all the railroad artifacts?”
“Of course. Dad spent his entire life collecting. We never really thought anything of it, but I would imagine some of his collection was worth a lot of money.”
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