Web of Deceit

by Susan Sleeman

  Except when Kait was around.

  Stupid Kait, always ruining everything. Her abrasive personality always taking over and erasing the memories of Abby—everything they’d shared vanished, and all he had left was darkness.

  Kait had to know that same darkness. First as he toyed with her, then in death.

  Yes. Darkness in death. Permanent.

  He patted the cooler on the passenger seat and felt his mood lift. He’d wanted to leave his little surprise tonight, but tomorrow would do as well. There was always tomorrow. Except for Kait. Her tomorrows would be limited to just a few.

  KAIT SETTLED ON a chaise lounge with a plump cushion and tucked her feet up under her body. Sam took in the small backyard, secluded even in the middle of the city with tall trees and bamboo ringing the property. A small play structure took up the middle, and every variety of flowering plant crowded the remaining space, all of it dramatically lit with landscape lighting. His unease about being here disappeared.

  “Wow,” he said, leaning against the deck rail and inhaling the scent of sweet jasmine that reminded him of her perfume. “I didn’t take you for someone who remodeled homes, or gardened, for that matter.”

  She leaned back, looking relaxed in her space. “I find them both relaxing and therapeutic.”

  “Hah,” he said. “I’ve seen some reality home renovations shows. Those people were far from serene.”

  “That’s because they didn’t take the time to learn about the project they were working on.” Warming to the topic, she sat forward. “Gardening and renovating are basic. Use the right tools and materials, follow the steps, don’t get lazy and skip any, and you’ll get good results.”

  “Still.” He shook his head. “There are so many things that can go wrong in both areas that I figured someone with an analytical brain wouldn’t embrace them.”

  “It’s a lot like building a computer or writing code. Sure, I can’t control the weather, bugs, or diseases, but I can learn how to deal with them and adjust accordingly.” Her lips curved in a playful smirk. “It surprises me that you didn’t see that. I thought as a detective, you might be a better judge of people.”

  He took a sip of his wine, then set the glass on the table. “I’m good at my job. You’re just hard to peg.”

  “How so?” She sounded as if she were enjoying this conversation.

  He sat on the end of her lounger and took her free hand in his. The ice-cold fingers surprised him for a moment, but he turned her hand and studied it. “Nails not chipped. Clean. No stains or discolorations at all. Smooth skin. Soft. Not at all what I’d expect from someone who digs in the dirt and lays tile.”

  “Have you ever heard of gloves?” she asked, sounding slightly breathless.

  She met his gaze full on, and a buzz of awareness flared between them. The same buzz that had flickered all day when they’d gotten close. What would it be like to date her? To kiss those lips that were pouting ever so slightly right now. To feel her fingers, soft and warm on his face.

  Not something he had a right to think about.

  He all but dropped her hand and grabbed his glass, taking a long drink before getting up to rest on the railing. The fresh breeze rustled through the greenery. It should cool him off, clear his head, but it only made him notice the distance between them even more. He wanted to go back. To take her hand and ask her out for dinner or to a movie. But he wouldn’t. His gut said she was complicated, deep, and worth knowing. She was the kind of woman you couldn’t help fall for. Fall hard. And off limits for him.

  He focused on plants swaying in the wind—the landscape lights casting weird shadows through their leaves—and felt her watching him. He didn’t have to look at her to know what she was thinking. He was thinking the same thing. They had that instant chemistry. He’d had it with Hannah, too. But look at the way that relationship had ended.

  He looked down, caught sight of his empty ring finger.

  Face it, Murdock. You fail at important relationships.

  Even if Hannah and their son had lived, they would have split up. The job had come between them, like it often did for cops. When he’d lost his partner, he’d let it eat at him until he’d thought about little else. Hannah claimed he’d shut down and was incapable of feeling. She was wrong. Way wrong. He felt plenty. Just none of it positive.

  Until he’d learned about her pregnancy. Then he’d started fighting his way back to the living. But it was too late. She didn’t trust him to be the father Danny would have needed, and she was going to leave him.

  He pressed his fingers on his chest, feeling for Danny’s dog tag. Hannah had been right. He wasn’t whole back then. Wasn’t sure he was whole now.

  So this—this thing he felt for Kait—had to stop, and he needed to get out of here before he forgot all about why he’d be leading her on and acted impulsively. He turned back to tell her he was leaving.

  “If you’re here to find out what I discovered about Congdon on the Internet,” she said before he could utter a word. “I can save you the trouble of asking. I didn’t get to it.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Lily’s having issues adjusting,” she rushed ahead. “I was supposed to look for a counselor for her today, but when the whole Fenton thing came up, I forgot about it. So I’ve been searching the web since I put her to bed.”

  “Um, actually,” he said, wondering why she felt a need to explain. “I wasn’t expecting you to do anything tonight.”

  “Really?” She arched a brow. “You came across as pretty intense at the crime scene. I didn’t expect you to be so laid back about this.”

  He thought to walk away now while he could, but talking about work was safe, and he felt like she needed an explanation. “I’m in this job for the long haul. If I spend every waking hour on a case, I’d burn out. That wouldn’t do anyone any good.” Good advice. Even if I don’t have much of a life other than the job, he thought, but kept it to himself.

  She nodded as if his comment fit the sage advice category. “Wish I could be like that. I figure the faster I solve a case, the fewer people are victimized, so I have to fight the urge to work all the time. But then there’s Lily. She’s so amazing.” A warm smile lit her face. “My mom’s always telling me I neglect her in favor of my job. That I’m not a good mother.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Mom would be all over me if she found out Lily was having issues and I chose a murder scene over finding her help.”

  “I doubt you’re a bad mother, Kait. Just a working one.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Did your mother work when you were growing up?”

  “Nah, she was the quintessential PTA card-carrying, cookie-baking, devote yourself to raising your kid kinda mom.” She sighed. “Sorry. That came out all wrong. I totally respect women who make that choice. Abby did, and she was so happy. Shoot, maybe I’d even consider it if I wasn’t the only breadwinner in the family.”

  “You don’t seem like the stay-at-home type to me.” He smiled. “But then, after seeing your home remodel and this garden, maybe I’ve read you all wrong.”

  Their gaze connected again. Things heated up. She bit her lip and tipped her head while studying him. He had to stop this. Stop making her think he was coming on to her when he didn’t intend to go anywhere with it.

  He took another long drink of wine and set down the glass to leave.

  “I’ll get to the Internet search first thing in the morning,” she said, and he was thankful for the change in topic.

  “Don’t rush on my account. I have Congdon’s autopsy at eight and won’t be able to talk to you about it until after that.”

  “So you’ve positively ID’d the deceased?”

  “Yep, it’s Elliot Congdon,” he said. “We ended up having to locate his dentist and get him out of bed.”


  “Don’t tell me you drove all the way over here just to tell me you’d officially identified him.”

  “Turns out I only live a few miles away,” he sidestepped. “We’re practically neighbors.” He watched her, wondering how she’d feel about having him nearby.

  Her blank expression didn’t even hint at a response. “I was hoping you found something to link Congdon to Fenton.”

  Ah, yes, Rhodes. Everything is about Rhodes with her.

  Sam needn’t have worried about hurting her. She wasn’t thinking about him in the same vein as he was—just as someone who could help catch her brother-in-law. “At this point, we don’t have anything to link Congdon to anyone, much less Rhodes.”

  “Our team may be on to something,” she said, not at all fazed by his statement. “I just got off the phone with one of our analysts. The hard drives were removed from two of the computers like I suspected, but they did find Congdon’s screen name on the operational one. It’s RebelNinja. That should turn up some leads.”

  “How’s that going to help?”

  “Computer geeks bond with others who speak their language. Congdon most likely had an online family of sorts, and if he did, we should be able to track his screen name, and that will lead us to the family.” She didn’t add, lead them to Rhodes, but Sam knew that was what she was thinking.

  Made him angry that she only focused on Rhodes when he couldn’t seem to quit thinking about how she looked in the moonlight. “Is that what you do, make friends online?”

  “What?” She laughed good-naturedly. “Are you calling me a geek?”

  “I guess I am. Although, I’d have to say you have a lot more personality than many techies I’ve run into over the years.”

  “I don’t live for computers like a lot of my associates do.”

  “What do you live for, Kaitlyn Knight?” he asked, and when her smile fell and she shivered, he wished he hadn’t.

  Rubbing her arms, she got up and strolled to the railing on the far end of the deck.

  He’d said the wrong thing. Gone where she didn’t want to go. Somewhere, he kept telling himself, he didn’t want to go either. He should mind his own business. Leave it alone. Leave her alone. But he couldn’t.

  He took off his jacket, went to her, and settled it over her shoulders. “What’s bothering you, Kait?”

  “It’s nothing, really.” She looked at him as she tugged the lapels closer, her eyes shimmering with the tears he’d expected to see all afternoon. “You simply reminded me of my priorities. I live to fulfill my promises to Abby. To raise her daughter, find Fenton, and make him pay. Until that happens, nothing else matters. Nothing.”

  “Is that enough for you?” He hoped she might say no, but he knew she wouldn’t.

  “It doesn’t really matter does it?” Sheer determination washed away the tears and consumed her expression. “I promised Abby I’d find Fenton and make him pay. I never break my promises. Never. No matter the cost.”

  Chapter Eight

  COLD AND CLINICAL, the morgue gave Sam the creeps. Always had. He’d hated it from his first autopsy seven years ago. He’d heaved into a garbage can and seriously thought about going back to patrol. Didn’t happen, though. Not once he realized he was skilled at helping people at a horrific time when few others could.

  Marcie handled her job the same way. Helping families find closure gave her life meaning. Still, it took a special person to deal with death on a daily basis. At least, without growing sour and jaded. Marcie was neither, and he was thankful each time she caught a case with him. Even if she did nag him about moving on from Hannah.

  Dressed in protective clothing, she approached the metal table holding Congdon’s lifeless body. She adjusted a lapel microphone used to record her findings, slipped on a plastic face shield, then pulled the instrument tray into place.

  “Let’s get started.” She lifted the sheet, and Sam cringed at the putrid smell filling his nostrils and at the gaping hole in Congdon’s chest. Even if done postmortem, this kind of mutilation was brutal and cruel. Kait needed to find closure in her life, but she’d be far better off if this murder had nothing to do with Fenton Rhodes.

  “By the way,” Marcie said. “I took nail scrapings when we got him back here yesterday. No blood or skin cells.”

  “He definitely didn’t fight, then. If he wasn’t drugged, then he knew and trusted the killer.”

  “But obviously, he shouldn’t have.” Marcie’s lips curled up in disgust, then she started describing the victim into her mic, her tone clinical and robotic.

  Sam stood watching as she started her external exam, focusing for a long time on the gaping hole in Congdon’s chest. The wall phone rang, the sound echoing through the sterile environment, ending her dictation.

  “Get that, will you, Sam?” she asked without looking up.

  Sam crossed the room and lifted the receiver, instantly stilling the ringing. “Hello.”

  “Agent Kaitlyn Knight is here claiming she’s supposed to attend the autopsy.” The female receptionist who was usually quite pleasant sounded ticked off at having to call them.

  Kait? Why was she here? He’d told her about Congdon’s positive ID last night, so she couldn’t possibly think this was Rhodes lying on the table.

  “Who is it?” Marcie asked.

  “Agent Knight is here. She wants to view the autopsy.”

  Marcie looked up. A slow smile spread across her face. “Well, what are you waiting for? Tell them to escort her back.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

  “The woman is looking for something, and if she thinks this is what she needs, I’ll give it to her.”

  Sam knew better than to argue with Marcie in her domain. “Bring her back,” he said before hanging up.

  “This is perfect.” Marcie gave him a quick smile and bent over the victim. “Now you can ask her to go out with you.”

  Sam groaned. “Promise me you won’t say anything to her about it.”

  “I won’t.” She finished the Y incision on the chest.

  “No,” Sam said firmly. “Look me in the eye and promise.”

  She looked up, her eyes as innocent as a child’s. He still didn’t believe her. He wanted a verbal promise, but before he got it, he caught sight of Kait peering through the viewing window. Her eyes met his for an unguarded moment before going to Congdon. They held the usual sadness and pain he’d come to associate with her.

  “She’s tougher than she looks,” Marcie said. “You have to let her work this out, or she’ll end up living in the past like you do.”

  He wasn’t living in the past. He just wasn’t moving forward. It was his choice. And he didn’t think Kait was living in the past either. She was stuck in limbo, and viewing this autopsy would do nothing to propel her out of it. Maybe he could convince her not to stay.

  He went to meet her. A shy smile spread across the gorgeous face that had kept him from sleeping well last night. Regardless of the circumstances, regardless of his loss of sleep, he was happy to see her, and he returned her smile as he took her in from head to toe. She was wearing another of those infernal business suits, black today with a gray blouse that hid all of her curves, but he remembered them from last night. Remembered how she looked with her hair down. Soft and very touchable.

  Enough. You’re supposed to be telling her to take a hike, not inviting her to spend time with you.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Kait,” he said more gruffly than he intended.

  She took a step back, her smile falling. “I guess I should have called first to ask your permission, but since my supervisor still isn’t sanctioning my involvement, I figured you wouldn’t invite me in.”

  Sam didn’t need a roadmap to understand what she hoped to accomplish, and it frustrated him even mo
re. “So instead, you thought you’d come down here and convince me to let you stay, like you did yesterday?”

  She mocked an innocent expression. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  Irritation boiled up inside, catching him off guard. Not irritation over her trying to horn in on his case, but annoyance over her using their obvious connection for gain. More annoyance than he wanted to admit. “You don’t need my permission to be here. This is Marcie’s domain, and she’s already agreed to let you in.”

  “You’re mad.”

  He shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, Sam.” She lifted a hand then let it fall to her side. “My gut still says Fenton’s involved in this case, and the autopsy might give us a clue as to how.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but she rushed ahead, “I know Fenton. His habits. His flaws. Everything about him. Better than anyone else. I might see something important here that you’ll write off as insignificant.”

  She had a point. Rhodes being involved was a long shot, but one Sam couldn’t dismiss completely without cause. He peered at her, weighing and measuring her ability to handle this. She seemed stronger than yesterday. More resolved. Maybe Marcie was right. Maybe Kait did have the internal strength to observe an autopsy when she was so emotionally involved in the outcome. If she wanted in on it, who was he to stop her?

  He opened the door and stood back. “After you.”

  “Thank you.” Her steps purposeful and determined, she headed straight for the table, her shoulders raised in the usual hard line. Though Sam hated to see her exposed to a needless autopsy, he respected her unwavering determination.

  “Hello, Kait.” Marcie looked up and smiled sincerely. “I can call you Kait, can’t I?”

  “Please.”

  Sam opened his mouth, prepared to shut Marcie down if she broached a personal topic.