Kit wanted to groan. Instead, she tossed her water cup into the trash can and saw Noah approaching. “Brian, you’re a nice guy, but one I’m very frustrated with right now . . .” It was her turn to cut herself off. “Look,” she sighed. “Maybe we do need to sit down and talk, but now’s not the time. I’ve got a case to solve.”
He stopped her one more time. “Fine, I understand that, but what happens when we get a call and I’m the only one who’s available to be your gun?”
For a minute she didn’t answer, then said in a low voice, “You’d better obey my signals.”
Brian swallowed hard and looked away. Finally, he tossed her an indistinguishable look and headed down the hallway without another word.
Noah had slowed his approach and studied the walls. Now he stood beside her. She looked at him and asked, “What do you think?”
“About Marlowe or Brian?”
“Marlowe. Brian is a taboo topic.”
“I believe him. Except for the part about how he lost the knife.”
“Why do you believe he didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m generally pretty good at reading people. He’s coming across as telling it straight. Except for the part about the knife.”
“Rats.”
“You were hoping I’d disagree with you.”
Surprise lifted her brow. “You are good at reading people. And yes, I caught the thing with the knife too.”
“So, I guess we cut him loose and see if we can track down the real bad guy.”
She grimaced, not just because they had to cut the creep loose, but because her arm throbbed. “Have at it. I’m going to make a phone call.”
He saluted and turned to walk back into the interrogation room. Kit glanced at her phone. It had been vibrating off and on for the past two hours.
Her mother was calling her. Her adoptive mother.
Not that that was terribly unusual, but the woman had sworn she’d wait on Kit to call. A brief sliver of concern shot through her. Had something happened? Was she all right? Was something wrong with her healthwise?
But she hadn’t left a message.
As angry as she was at her mother, she didn’t wish any ill will toward her. Quite the contrary.
Kit hit the speed dial.
Three rings later, her mother’s familiar voice came on the line. “Hello, Kit.”
“Hi, Mom.” Sudden tears clogged her throat, taking her by surprise. She cleared them away and said, “You called?”
“I did. I wanted to . . . ask when you thought you might come home?”
“Not anytime soon, Mom. I told you why I was here. That hasn’t changed.”
“How are . . . they?”
“You mean Charles and Claire Cash? The two people who gave me up for adoption so you could have a child?” A swift indrawn breath told Kit her arrow had found its target. Remorse followed. “I’m sorry. I’m . . . sorry. I’m just . . .”
“Angry,” her mother finished with a whisper.
“Yes. I am.” But the pain in her mother’s voice pierced her. She’d been cruel. And that was uncalled for. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that. No matter how angry I am, there’s no reason to be mean about it.”
“I understand your anger . . . and truly, I don’t suppose I really blame you.”
Love for the woman who’d raised her swept over her, blindsiding her for a brief moment. “Regardless, I need to work through this and I believe this is what I have to do. We’ve talked about this. You agreed not to interfere. To let me get to know them without heaping guilt on my head.”
“I know.” Subdued and quiet, her mother said, “I just wanted to hear your voice, Kit. I miss you.”
“I . . . miss you too. I really do. I miss the way things used to be,” she whispered. Then the anger returned and she swallowed before she said something else she’d regret. “Look, Mom, I need to go, all right? I’ll call you later.”
A pause. “All right, Kit. I’ll be praying.”
A lump formed in Kit’s throat. Of course she’d be praying. That’s what her mother did. Kit hung up without another word. When she went to hook the phone on the clip at her waist, she noticed her hand trembled. Emotions she’d kept under lock and key for the past six months seemed ready to spill over and cause a mess if she wasn’t careful. Since finding out about the adoption, speaking to her mother had become such an effort. Kit hadn’t lied. She did miss the way things used to be. The easy companionship she and her mom found in just being together, the fun they had shopping, joking and laughing.
Her mother’s teasing about settling down and making her a grandmother.
“Hey Kit, we’re finished up here. You ready to head out and find our next suspect?”
Noah’s voice pulled her from her unhappy thoughts and she made a huge effort to push the anger aside. Clearing her throat, she said, “Sure.”
“Everything okay?” Concern tinged his voice.
Forcing a smile, she said, “Yep.”
Doubt lingered in his eyes, but he didn’t press her. “I just got a text that Bonnie’s father is home. I thought we’d go back by Bonnie’s parents’ house, talk to her father, then get some pictures of the jewelry to see if we can find out where it came from.”
“Sounds good.”
13
Noah pulled into the driveway of the Grays’ house and shut off the engine. He looked at the front door and frowned. “I hope our coming here doesn’t upset Mrs. Gray any more than she’s already suffered.”
“There were two cars parked around the side in front of the garage. I’m guessing she has someone, a family member, with her.”
“Bonnie’s father, I hope. Let’s go.”
They walked up the steps and Noah rang the bell.
Seconds later, footsteps sounded in the foyer followed by the door opening.
A tall, gray-headed man stood there, eyeing them. “Can I help you?”
Noah and Kit flashed their badges and the man’s face hardened. “Did you catch the man who killed Bonnie?”
“No sir, not yet.” Kit’s voice oozed sympathy. “But that’s why we’re here. Are you Bonnie’s father?”
“Oh yes, yes, I’m sorry. I’m Robert Gray. I just arrived home a few hours ago.”
“We need to ask you a few more questions if that’s all right with you,” Noah requested.
The door opened wider. “Fine. We can talk in my office.”
They followed him through the house and down a back hall to a room that looked like a professional office—plush carpet, large mahogany desk, and a comfortable leather chair took up most of the area’s space. Pictures lined the walls and smaller framed photos were proudly displayed on the hutch behind the desk.
Mostly pictures of Bonnie, Noah noticed. Sympathy for the man’s grief twisted inside him.
He and Kit took the seats Robert gestured to, and the man seated himself on the couch opposite them. It said a lot to Noah that he didn’t sit at his desk. This wasn’t business. This was about a daughter he’d obviously loved.
“How can I help?”
“We talked to several of Bonnie’s friends at the law school, and one of them seemed convinced Bonnie was seeing someone. Do you know who that might have been?”
Bonnie’s father frowned. “No. I know she was seeing that Justin kid,” he grimaced as he said the name, “but she came to her senses pretty fast when she found out he was involved in drugs.”
“You knew about that?” He couldn’t see Bonnie sharing that information. Then again . . .
“Bonnie didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I overheard an argument they had right before they broke up. Justin came over here and he was high. I was going to order him out of the house, but before I had to intervene, Bonnie was yelling at him to leave and never come back, that she was finished with him. I simply faded back into my office to wait until it was over—and was there to step in if I needed to. I didn’t.”
“Okay, so
she gets rid of Justin. How long after that until you noticed she wasn’t so down anymore? She wasn’t sad and moping around?”
The man steepled his fingers and placed them under his chin. “I left on a business trip not too long after that, but it seems to me when I got back, she seemed almost like her old self. Smiling, excited about graduating.” He shrugged. “I figured she’d just determined to put that bad experience behind her and moved on.”
Kit clasped her hands together in front of her and said, “When we were in your house right after Bonnie’s death, I took a look at her room. She had some nice pieces of jewelry on her dresser. Any idea where those came from?”
“Bonnie has a lot of nice jewelry. Could you be more specific?” He stood. “Or better yet, why don’t you show me?”
They exited the room and made their way to the stairs. At the top, they made a left turn. At the first door on the right, Bonnie’s father stopped and took a deep breath before he pushed it open and stepped into his daughter’s room.
It still smelled like the expensive perfume she must have used every day. Noah decided he preferred Kit’s combination of vanilla soap and strawberry shampoo.
Kit moved to the dresser. “It’s not here. Did you move it?”
He frowned. “No, I haven’t been in here since she died.”
“What about your wife?”
Shaking his head, he said, “No. She can’t climb the stairs.”
Kit and Noah exchanged a glance, and Noah asked, “What about your maid? Mary, isn’t it?”
“She hasn’t been here since she found . . .” He trailed off, clearing his throat.
“But you’ve had visitors, right?”
“A lot. Too many to count.”
“So any of them could have come up here.”
He sighed. “Easily.”
“Do you mind if I look around and see if I can find the boxes they came in?”
“No, not at all.”
Kit started her search, opening drawers, going through Bonnie’s closet, and looking under her bed. She sat back on her heels and sighed. “Nothing.”
Then she spied an end table and pulled open the bottom drawer. “Bingo.”
“What did you find?” Noah asked.
“A box from Roxanne’s.” She held it up. “Looks like it might have held that sporty emerald and diamond tennis bracelet.”
Noah let out a low whistle. “Roxanne’s isn’t cheap.”
“No kidding.”
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Let’s go find out who bought it.”
14
Noah parked on the street in front of the jewelry store. Kit pushed open the door and stepped inside, and a little bell sounded a warning that she’d entered. Noah followed behind.
A small Asian woman of indeterminable age hurried to greet them. “Hello. Welcome to Roxanne’s. What can I help you with?” A sly grin crossed her smooth face. “A ring perhaps?”
Kit felt a flush start and wondered at the brief pang she felt in the vicinity of her heart. What would it be like to pick out a ring with the man beside her?
Clearing her throat, she pulled out her ID and said, “No ma’am, we just wanted to ask you a question about a piece of jewelry that was purchased from your shop.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Certainly.”
Noah handed the box over and she took it, studying it. “This box? Yes, it came from here. What was in it?”
“We’re not sure, but we think it was an emerald and diamond tennis bracelet.”
“Ah.” The light went on in her eyes. “Yes, very expensive. A man came in and said he was looking for something for someone special. I suggested that piece.”
“And you remember this?”
“Oh yes. Because he pulled out a wad of cash and paid for it with one-hundred-dollar bills.”
Kit felt her hope deflate. Cash. Untraceable.
“Did you know who the man was? Get his name?”
“No. Just a very nice-looking gentleman. Probably about fifty years old or so. But he had a baseball hat on and he kept his sunglasses on. I couldn’t see his eyes. He said he had just come from the eye doctor and the light still hurt his eyes.” She gave a little laugh. “At first I thought he might be here to rob me so I kept my hand on the alarm button, but then he pulled out all that money, paid for the bracelet, and left.”
“So Bonnie was seeing an older man,” Kit murmured.
“Married?” Noah wondered.
“Hence all the secrecy.”
“When was this?” Noah directed the question to the woman.
“Hmm.” Michelle rubbed her chin as she thought. “Maybe three or four weeks ago?”
Spying the camera in the corner of the shop, Noah asked, “Would you have security footage from that long ago?”
“No, I’m sorry. We keep about a week at a time, then recycle. That long ago would be gone by now.”
“Well, thank you for your time.”
“I will see you again.”
“You will?”
“Someday. Have a wonderful day.”
They exited the store and Noah gave a grunt. “Huh, wonder what she meant by that.”
“Maybe when she has to finger the guy at the trial after we catch him. Because I have a feeling whoever bought Bonnie that jewelry is somehow involved in her death.”
In May, the sun hung in the sky longer, making the days seem like they would never end, even at 7:30 in the evening. However, the sky had turned overcast, the clouds swelling with their liquid burden, ready to burst and empty their contents onto the world below. Excitement tingled through him. Number three. The perfect number.
The Judge watched the woman toss her backpack into the back of her truck and climb in. She’d just finished taking care of her grandchildren. Her class started at 7:50 and would end at 9:15. She cranked the truck and spun out of the driveway. The killer followed at a distance, his mind humming.
Could he do this? She was fifty-three years old and had probably never done anything wrong in her life.
Except what she’d done to him.
He almost hesitated as he hefted the gun in his right hand. Walter and Bonnie had been easy. But this one . . .
He thought about his own grandmother. She’d been kind when she’d come to visit. Had made him feel like he was important. But even she hadn’t saved him from his father.
He thought about the time she’d come over on a surprise visit. He’d been up in the tree, desperate to get away from the swinging fists and blistering, soul-shattering words. She stood at the bottom of the tree and talked him into coming down. Then she took him inside and bandaged the cut above his eye and the scrapes on his hands and knees caused by the rough bark.
She cupped his cheeks. “Now, darlin’, what’d you do to make your dad so mad at you?”
“Nothin’,” he muttered, eyes downcast. “He just hates me.”
At that, she’d blinked really fast and turned around for a few minutes. When she turned back, she wiped the back of her hand across her nose and said, “I wish I could take you with me, little one, but my house ain’t much better. You know your granddaddy is twice as mean as your daddy.”
As far as he was concerned, any place was better than his home. “Take me with you, Nana, please.”
“I can’t, boy. Now come on and I’ll tell you a story. Your daddy’s passed out for the next few hours and won’t bother us none.”
So, he’d climbed into her lap, thinking he was getting too big to be sitting there. At eleven years old, he shouldn’t want hugs and kisses and stories.
But he did.
And he listened to her talk about men who grew up and had money. Men whom everyone looked up to.
Men who commanded respect and oozed power.
The kind of man she wanted him to be one day.
The kind of man who was exactly the opposite of his father.
The kind of man who would have a son who would look at him with love in his eyes.
&nbs
p; Respect. That was very important to her.
And the Judge determined he’d have respect. Because that would be important to his child one day. He had to make a name for himself so his son would be proud.
He watched the grandmother’s truck sputter to a stop on the side of the highway. She’d managed to go a little farther than he’d anticipated. But there were enough trees to give him the cover he needed. Oh yeah, when he held a gun to her head, she’d respect him then, wouldn’t she?
He remembered his own grandmother leaving him alone that night and his father waking up. The thundering curses, the crash of fist on bone. The hospital emergency room and his father stating his idiot kid had crashed his moped.
He flashed to another scene and remembered their looks of impatience, the tapping of the woman’s toe against the wooden floor. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the sighs of disrespect and the little snickers of mockery that had come from the woman who now stood at the hood of her truck looking for help. He checked the gun and slid it into the waistband of his jeans.
Yes, his grandmother had messed up that day. She should have taken him with her. He remembered the last conversation he had with her before she’d had a massive stroke and died the next week. “Now you get your education, you hear me? You must have an education to grow and be someone important, then you’ll be able to have that family you want. You’ll have the perfect family, darling. You’ll be the perfect daddy with the perfect wife and the perfect child.”
“I want a sister too.”
She gave a little laugh. “Well, that might be a little hard to manage, but I’m sure you’ll find a ‘girl’ friend who’ll feel as close as a sister. One day, boy, one day. I expect great things from you, ya hear?”
“I hear, Nana.”
And then she’d died, leaving him in the vicious grip of a man who hated everything and everyone.
But that wasn’t important now. The woman leaning over the engine of her truck needed his full attention.
“You need some help, ma’am?”
A Killer Among Us Page 10
