by Jami Alden
Kate felt her mouth stretch into a grin at the thought. She knew she’d better wipe the goofy look off her face before she got to the hospital or she’d have no hope of hiding the fact that she’d spent most of last night rolling around in Tommy’s massive bed.
It wasn’t just the sex that had her smiling like a fool at nothing in particular. It was the fact that despite all the time and all the battle scars between them, despite the desperate circumstances that had brought them back together, the connection between them was as deep and undeniable as it had ever been. And now, if what Tommy said was true, it looked like they were both ready to stop fighting it and see if, finally, they could find the happiness their bond had once promised.
The sight of the reporters crowded around the entrance to the hospital sobered her up. No matter how amazing it felt to have Tommy back in her life, she knew if the press got wind of it, they’d turn it into something ugly and dirty.
Eventually, if she wanted to be with Tommy—and she did—she knew she’d have to deal with some fallout, but hopefully by the time they went public, there would be enough distance from Tricia’s case to soften the impact.
She gave a polite “no comment” to the reporters who peppered her with questions. She noticed with relief that Maura Walsh wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
The door to Tricia’s room was ajar, and when Kate pushed it open, she found Brooke curled up next to Tricia on the bed, a magazine spread out between them while Jackson dozed in a chair next to the bed. Though her eyes were heavy with fatigue and there were bruises visible on her cheeks, Tricia otherwise seemed well on her way to recovery, laughing as Brooke whispered something Kate couldn’t hear.
There was a pinching sensation in her chest as Kate watched the sisters. She and Lauren used to sit like that, heads bent close, having quiet conversations about things they’d never share with anyone else.
They would never have that kind of bond again. While at times like this she felt the ache of missing her sister like a brick to her chest, today it was softened by the fact that this time, with this case, things had ended much differently. And if this start was anything to go by, instead of tearing them apart, this near tragedy was going to pull the Fullers closer together.
She cleared her throat to get their attention. Brooke looked up, her mouth stretching into a wide smile as she recognized Kate. “Dad, wake up.” She gave Jackson a little nudge with her bare foot. “Kate’s here.”
Jackson stirred and opened his eyes as Kate came forward to introduce herself to Tricia. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”
Tricia started to smile but it was interrupted by a yawn. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m still so tired. I think I slept for at least two days straight.”
“It’s because that asshole drugged you,” Brooke said, an unmistakable edge to her voice.
“Brooke,” Jackson admonished, “watch your language.”
Brooke cocked her eyebrow at her father. “Dad, the guy kidnapped Tricia and hurt her. I can think of a lot worse things to call him.”
“But you don’t have to say them in front of visitors,” he said, inclining his head in Kate’s direction.
“Trust me, I’ve heard a lot worse,” she said, flashing a grin at Brooke. Her smile softened as it landed once again on Tricia. “CJ says you never got a good look at the man who took you?”
Tricia shook her head, her mouth tight with frustration. “He always wore a hoodie, even though it was hotter than a sauna in there. He always had it pulled up around his face, and he made sure I never saw his face in the light. I keep thinking maybe it’s back there and I’m just blocking it or something.”
“It’s okay. You’ve been through a serious trauma. Sometimes it takes awhile for all the circuits to start firing again.”
Tricia nodded glumly. “I just want the police to catch him. It’s scary, knowing he’s still out there. What if he comes after me again?”
“I’ll put a bullet in his head,” Jackson said, in a voice so hard it sent a shiver down Kate’s spine. “But you don’t need to worry about it.” He reached out and squeezed Tricia’s hand. “I won’t let anyone near you.”
“Me neither,” Brooke said. “Never again.”
“The best you can do is share anything you can remember, even if you think it’s silly. Every detail helps. Other than that, you focus on getting better.”
To that end, Kate had pulled together a list of therapists both local to Sandpoint and close to the Fullers’ new home in California.
Jackson bristled, a reaction Kate had long since become accustomed to. She was quietly, firmly explaining why having the three of them go, both separately and together, was necessary for them to deal with the aftermath of this latest trauma when they were interrupted by one of the nurses.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the tension between Kate and Jackson. “But somehow this got separated from the rest of your things”—she held out her hand to Tricia, revealing a gold chain dangling from it—“and I wanted to make sure it got back to you.”
Tricia’s eyes widened in unmistakable horror, and she tried to scramble away from the nurse’s outstretched hand.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked at the same moment the nurse, confused, said, “Don’t you want your necklace back?”
“Get it away from me! It’s not mine! He put it on me. Get it away from me!”
Jackson was on the phone immediately to CJ. Kate wrapped her own hand in a tissue—no doubt a futile gesture at this point, but at least there would be one less set of prints for the lab to sift through, and held her hand out to the nurse. “I’ll give it to Sheriff Kovac when he gets here.”
The nurse nodded, her distress evident on her face. “I’m so sorry—I had no idea it would upset her so much. On the news they said she was wearing a necklace when she disappeared. I just assumed that was it.”
“It was a locket.” Tricia sobbed. “A locket my mom gave me. And he took it and put that, that stupid flower thing on me instead.”
Instinctively Kate looked down at the necklace nestled in her palm. Her breath froze in her throat, her body going hot then icy cold as her gaze locked on the gold charm attached to the fine gold chain. It was a flower, leaves of gold fanned out to mimic the shape of a lily. In the center a one-carat diamond threw off the sunlight streaming through the window.
She heard someone talking to her but it was muffled, like she was underwater. A hand waved in her face and she looked up at Brooke, her brows knitted in concern. “Kate? Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”
For a few seconds Kate’s mouth moved, no sound coming out as she struggled to process what was happening, struggled to come up with an explanation less horrible than the truth staring her in the face. “This necklace,” she finally managed. “I recognize it. It was my grandmother’s. I haven’t seen it since the night my brother was kidnapped.”
When Tommy arrived at the sheriff’s station late that afternoon, he found Kate in CJ’s office, huddled in one of the guest chairs. She looked shell shocked, so pale and off kilter it sent his protective instincts into overdrive until it was all he could do not to gather her in his arms.
But with her need to keep their relationship under wraps, he knew that would only add to her stress. As for telling her that the cat might already be out of the bag, based on his encounter with that barracuda of a reporter?
Out of the question. The discovery of the necklace had already knocked Kate for enough of a loop. Right now they needed to figure out what the hell was going on and whether Tricia’s kidnapper was in any way involved with what had happened to Kate’s brother.
“This—this doesn’t make any sense,” CJ said, shaking his head as he studied the open file spread out in front of him. “It was an open-and-shut case. Emerson Flannery’s truck was seen fleeing the scene, and for God’s sake, the man left a suicide note apologizing for what he’d done. I don’t see how the two can be related.”
>
“Maybe we were wrong, and Emerson didn’t do it. How else can we explain how my necklace—which went missing the night Michael was killed—ended up on Tricia?” Kate said, her voice higher than usual, her body tight with stress.
CJ shook his head. “You don’t know that for sure. Think about how hectic the days were after Michael died. Isn’t it possible that you lost it then? It could have easily transferred hands several times between then and now. Maybe Tricia’s kidnapper picked it up in a pawn shop somewhere.”
“Come on, CJ, you know how far-fetched that is,” Tommy said.
“No more far-fetched than thinking someone else killed Michael and pinned it on Emerson before killing him too,” CJ shot back.
Kate shook her head, staring blankly at the wall. Her lips moved but no sound came out. “Arthur Dorsey,” she said softly. “His mother thinks that’s what happened. Maybe Emerson…” She cut herself off, threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know. All I know is that the Bludgeoner used the same cream that was sitting in my dresser drawer, and he put my necklace around Tricia Fuller’s neck.”
And maybe others, Tommy thought, grimacing as he remembered the ligature marks on the other girls’ necks. Kate looked so small, so shocked, he wanted to take her in his arms.
“Emerson would have provided an easy scapegoat,” Tommy said.
CJ shook his head again. “You two have been watching too much CSI. Nine times out of ten, the simplest answer is the right one.”
“And sometimes it’s not,” Tommy shot back. “Are you telling me that you won’t acknowledge the possibility that this could be more than a coincidence?” He shook his head. “Then again, you FBI types aren’t exactly known for thinking out of the box.”
CJ shot him a glare, then leafed through the folder one more time. His brows knitted and he uttered a soft curse under his breath.
“What?” Tommy asked.
“I missed this the first time through. It said Erin Flannery came in a few days after her uncle was found with Michael. Sheriff Lyons wasn’t around to take a statement, so they told her to come back later.”
“What did she say?” Kate asked.
“That’s just it,” CJ said. “There’s no record of her statement.” He looked up at Kate, then Tommy. “I was planning to talk to her anyway, since one of the few details Tricia remembers is her kidnapper bringing her a sandwich from Erin’s restaurant. I can ask her about this too.”
“We can ask her,” Kate said, pushing to her feet.
“I can’t have you interfere with official police business—” CJ started.
Tommy silenced him with a raised hand. “You know we’ll question her on our own if we have to. Might as well get the same information at the same time.”
CJ made an exasperated sound but didn’t protest further. “Fine. But when we get there, I’ll ask the questions.”
Chapter 26
Though Kate had eaten Erin’s food several times this week thanks to the woman’s generosity toward the volunteers, this was the first time she’d gone inside the restaurant Erin had taken over from Mary Monroe three years ago.
Kate’s mind was racing too fast to notice more than the barest details. But she did register that Erin had changed the place substantially from a homey mom-and-pop diner. Erin had replaced the old-fashioned counter with a long mahogany bar. Behind it was a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall, tuned to a local station.
At this time of day, between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd, there were only a few tables with customers. Erin herself seemed to be the only one working the floor.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she said as she caught them out of the corner of her eye. She finished taking an order and turned to them, her bright smile fading to wariness when she recognized them.
“What’s up?”
“We were hoping to ask you some questions,” CJ said.
Erin’s gray eyes narrowed. “About what?”
“About Tricia Fuller’s kidnapping.”
“Why would I know anything about that other than what I’ve seen on the news? And since my brothers are both already in jail, there’s no way they had anything to do with it—”
“Jesus, Erin, we’re not here to accuse you or anyone in your family of anything,” CJ snapped, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his tone was gentler. “Please, it won’t take long, and it’s possible you have information that could help.”
Erin cocked an eyebrow. “Wow, the sheriff asking a Flannery for help? Isn’t this a day of firsts. Let me put this order in and get someone to cover the floor.”
She returned a few minutes later and directed them to her office in the back. “Sorry it’s a little cramped in here,” she said as she closed the door. Kate didn’t miss the way she skirted around CJ, giving him as wide a berth as possible given the confines of the small room.
Kate and Tommy perched on the couch tucked against one wall. Though she didn’t dare give in to the urge to scoot closer and take his hand, she took comfort in his big, solid presence beside her. The sight of the necklace, passed down to Kate after her grandmother’s death, had sent her reeling. But even the sound of Tommy’s voice on the phone when she’d called him with the news, the fact that he’d dropped everything to be with her then, went a long way in soothing her.
He had better things to do, she acknowledged with a pang of guilt. Like trying to trace the name behind the shell corporation that owned the land. But even her guilt couldn’t overcome the amazing feeling of security she got from knowing he was there for her in any way she needed, no matter how big or small. It had been so long since she’d been able to fully trust, fully depend on someone. She’d forgotten how good it could feel.
CJ leaned against one end of the desk while Erin stood at the other end, arms folded as she leaned back against the wall.
“Before we start,” CJ said as he pulled out a digital recorder from his pocket, “you need to know that everything we talk about here has to remain confidential. I don’t want any information getting out that could jeopardize the investigation.”
“No problem,” Erin said.
CJ gave her a hard look. “I mean it. This case is getting a lot of media attention. I can’t have you and your family trying to run off and sell a story somewhere.”
Erin gave him a long stare, full of meaning Kate couldn’t begin to decipher. “Someday you’re going to stop lumping me in with the rest of my family,” she said finally. “I promise. Whatever we talk about won’t leave these four walls.”
CJ nodded, apparently satisfied. “Unfortunately, Tricia didn’t see her captor closely enough to give us a description, but she did mention he brought her several things he thought she’d enjoy. One of those things was a sandwich off your menu.”
Erin’s head tilted in inquiry.
“It was the…” CJ paused a few moments, flipping through his notebook. “Ah, it’s the grilled chicken with roasted red peppers, arugula, and provolone. Any chance you remember who bought one on Monday?”
Erin gave him a helpless look. “That’s one of the most popular items on my lunch menu. This time of year with the Labor Day crowd, I might sell a hundred of them or more a day. Wait.” She pushed away from the wall and went over to her computer. “I can run a report for you that links order details with credit card numbers.” The sound of keys tapping filled the office.
“Your system can do that?” CJ asked.
“How do you think I manage my food buys if I don’t know what’s selling?” she replied peevishly.
CJ lifted his hands as though in surrender. “Just a question,” he said as the printer on Erin’s desk hummed to life. “What about security cameras, surveillance video?’
“Mary had one installed years ago, but I never replaced it when I did the renovation. I figure, it’s Sandpoint. Nothing really bad ever happens.” Her gaze shifted to Kate, her eyes opening wide in horror as she realized what she said. “Oh my God, Kate, I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Kate said. “But speaking of bad things, and that thing in particular, we were also hoping to ask you a few things about the night my brother was kidnapped.”
Erin’s expression went wary again.
CJ told her about the note they’d found in the case file about her going to the sheriff’s station to make a statement. “You never went back.”
“I called three more times, but I never was able to talk to Sheriff Lyons,” Erin said sharply. She shrugged. “I finally gave up. It wasn’t like they’d believe me anyway. No one around here puts much weight on what a Flannery has to say.”
Kate’s interest piqued as something seemed to ripple between the other woman and the sheriff. “Well, I’m not from around here, and I’d like to hear what you have to say,” Kate said.
“I don’t think Uncle Emerson was capable of kidnapping and killing your brother,” she said in a rush.
“The evidence—” CJ said, shaking his head.
“I know all about the evidence,” Erin broke in, “and I can see how it was pretty damning. Look, I’m not even claiming that Emerson wasn’t capable of murder. God knows what he did those years in Viet Nam and afterward. But based on what I saw earlier that day, I don’t think he was physically capable of pulling it off.”
“How do you mean?” CJ asked.
“Well, first off, he was drunk as a skunk by two in the afternoon that day.”
Tommy made a scoffing sound. “No offense, Erin, but from what I knew of your uncle, that was pretty much what he did every day.”
“No kidding, but he’d hurt his back a week before, so in addition to the usual handle of bourbon, that afternoon he was also popping OxyContin like they were Tic Tacs. He passed out around six and was still totally out of it when I drove him home later that night.”
“What time was that?” CJ asked.
Erin looked at the ceiling, searching her memories. “Nine? Ten o’clock?”
Kate exchanged a look with Tommy. Michael had been taken shortly after midnight.
