Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4)

by Margaret Watson

"No. But I needed to distract you."

  She turned back to him, carefully avoiding the folder now open on the table. "I'm not a child, Connor. Don't treat me like one."

  "Sorry, babe. I needed a moment. Ready to do this?" He covered her hand with his.

  A small thing, but it gave her the strength she needed to take another deep breath. In. Out. In again. She exhaled. "Yeah."

  "Okay. I'm going to switch on the audio recorder." He reached under the table, then took her hand again. "This is Detective Connor Donovan. Lorraine Taylor is going to look at a crime scene photo of her sister, Eugenia Northrup, to ascertain if she's wearing an heirloom ring. Are you ready, Ms. Taylor?"

  Raine tensed her shoulders as if preparing for a blow. "I am."

  "Then take a look."

  She lowered her head, inch by inch. When the photo was finally in her sight, her shoulders relaxed. Connor had covered up the center of the picture, the full shot of Genie's body, with a piece of folded white paper. All that was visible were her sister's hands and lower arms.

  She closed her eyes in gratitude. She wanted to kiss him. To throw her arms around him and hold him tight.

  Instead, she studied the photo carefully. Genie's engagement and wedding rings were on her left hand, just as they always were. Her right hand was curled into the asphalt, displaying her fingers. There was no ring.

  She sucked in a breath. "It's not there." She touched the image of her sister's left hand. Without the awful details of Genie's death, it was easier to imagine this was a normal picture of Genie, one she'd seen many times before. "This is her engagement ring and her wedding ring."

  "You recognize them?"

  "Yes. I've seen them many times."

  "Where did she normally wear her mother's ring?"

  "On her right hand." She tapped the empty third finger. "Here."

  "And is it there now?"

  "No. It's not."

  "Is it on a different finger?"

  "No." She stared at Genie's empty finger. The missing ring was a small detail. But it was the first solid clue they'd found. "No, it's not on her hand at all."

  "Thank you, Ms. Taylor." Connor reached under the table again. "Recording is off." He closed the folder and wrapped his arms around her. "I know how hard that was for you."

  "You made it easy by covering up the rest of the photo," she said into his shoulder. She closed her eyes. His shirt held the clean smell of laundry detergent and the fainter scent of his cologne. And beneath both of them, Connor. The familiarity steadied her. After a long moment, she gripped his shirt and lifted her head. "I can't believe Peter let that woman wear the pendant to the party. He had to know I would wonder about it."

  His fingers dug into her shoulder for a moment, then relaxed. "Flaunting it in front of you is exactly what that arrogant asshole would do." Connor's mouth thinned. "He thinks he's smarter than everyone else. So if he did use the stones from the ring in that pendant, he probably thinks he's safe because he had them cut down. And every time he looks at Meredith Pullen wearing that pendant, it reminds him how smart he is."

  "Then how do we prove that the stones were from Genie's ring?"

  Connor smiled with grim satisfaction. "A lot of diamonds and even some expensive lesser stones have numbers etched in them. Because of the whole conflict diamond problem. So they can always be traced back to their origin. Maybe Northrup didn't know that. Maybe he was so pleased with his cleverness that he didn't bother to do his research."

  For the first time since Genie had died, Raine felt the stirrings of hope. Maybe they would be able to prove Peter had killed her sister. Maybe his arrogance had just handed them the answer. "What do we do next?"

  "We need the certification for that ring. Do you have the papers?"

  "No. Genie would have had them."

  "Which means Northrup has them. Or has already destroyed them. Do you have any idea where your father bought that ring?"

  "Tiffany's." The memory made her mouth curve. "I loved that robin's-egg-blue box I was playing with the box while Mom and Genie were oohing and ahhing over the ring."

  Connor ran his hand over her hair. "How old would you have been?"

  "Ten or eleven, maybe. It was a birthday present for our mom. The ring was pretty, but I wanted the box. That beautiful color. The shiny, slippery cardboard." Her eyes prickled, but it was a good memory. "I told my mom it was the same color as her eyes. Tiffany blue." Raine stared into the distance, remembering her happy, loving family. "I kept my treasures in that box for a long time."

  Connor stroked his hand up and down her back. "Thank goodness your father shopped at Tiffany's. They keep good records. I'll talk to them on Monday, but I'll probably need a subpoena to see the sales receipt. I'll need your parent's full names. And if you can pin down when your mom got it, that would help, too."

  "I'll take a look at my photographs. I can probably figure it out." She twisted in her seat. "But you still need the pendant. Peter's girlfriend isn't going to give it to you."

  Connor smile hardened. "Don't count it out, babe. I can be pretty persuasive."

  He took her hand and pulled her from her chair. "In fact, I may have some ammunition in the murder file. Do you mind hanging around for a few minutes while I check something out?"

  "Not at all."

  He led her to his desk and held a chair for her. When he pulled a white binder from a drawer, she grabbed her phone and checked her email. She didn't want to accidentally see anything in that binder.

  Bella had written, asking if she was going to be at school on Monday. She needed to talk to Raine.

  As Raine typed a reply, assuring Bella she'd be in class on Monday, she heard pages flipping, one after another. She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking what he was looking for. She didn't want to distract him. Or slow him down.

  A few minutes later, the pages stopped moving. She looked up from her screen and saw Connor reading a page filled with notes. Suddenly he slapped the book and looked up. His skin tightened over his cheekbones with his predatory smile.

  "Meredith Pullen."

  "What about her?"

  He leaned back in his chair, his eyes glittering. "Northrup might have done you a huge favor this afternoon."

  "What?" The memory of him blocking her way out of her grandmother's office made her shiver. "How?"

  "When he followed you and Beatrice into the house, he left his date to keep me entertained. Distracted, maybe." His cold smile made her shiver. "Maybe he thought I wouldn't be able to resist her ample charms. That I'd forget about you and Beatrice in the house, give him more time."

  "But?" She leaned forward, her heart thundering.

  "But Meredith was quite chatty. She told me she's an executive assistant for one of Peter's colleagues. She's known Peter for two years. They have lunch together." He drummed his fingers on his desk, and she heard his foot tapping the floor as his foot jiggled. "I'm betting they were having an affair before Genie was killed."

  He tapped the book. "She was the one who gave him his alibi for the time Genie was killed."

  "What?" She shot upright in her chair, dropping her phone on Connor's desk.

  "Yep. She swore they were working late the night Genie was killed. That they were together until two A.M. Which gave Northrup his rock-solid alibi, because Genie was killed between twelve and one.

  "I stopped by Northrup's house one night, right after I caught you there the first time. I knew someone else was in the house. I think Pullen was there. All I saw was a flash of red hair, but it had to be her."

  "What do we do now? Can we arrest her?"

  He tapped the open binder. "No, but we can bring her in and ask her some questions." He leaned around her and called, "Hey, Q. You working on anything right now?"

  "Paperwork," Connor's brother said with a grimace, shoving away from his desk. "You got something better to offer?"

  "I do."

  Raine watched as Quinn stood up and ambled over. His walk was different than Co
nnor's, more loose-limbed. More relaxed.

  Connor was more focused. More intense, as if an electrical field buzzed around him. She looked at Connor again. The hair on her arms rose, as if caught in his force field. Probably was why a shock rippled up her arm whenever she touched Connor.

  Quinn plopped himself on the corner of Connor's desk. "What's up?"

  Connor explained about her sister and their investigation, then summed up what they'd learned today about Meredith Pullen. Finally he said, "I want to talk to her. In here. In an interrogation room. Make it look damn serious. Like she might be in trouble."

  "Good strategy." Quinn nodded.

  "She's with Northrup right now. Probably won't be home today. Or tonight. But I'd like eyes on her apartment." He turned the binder around and showed Quinn the address on the page of notes. "Can you get that set up? Have an unmarked watching her place? I'll take Raine home – we're looking for another piece of evidence."

  The way Connor said 'home' had butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He said it so easily. Like her apartment was their place, not just hers.

  Stop it. You're making too much out of the fact that he stayed this morning. You're over-analyzing why he took you to your grandmother's party.

  "Yeah," Quinn said. "I can do that." He glanced from his brother to Raine. "When Pullen shows up, you want me to have the guy pick her up and bring her in?"

  Connor drummed his fingers on the desk. "Yeah," he finally said. "Unless she's with Northrup. Blond guy. Tall. Arrogant bastard." He nodded. "Sitting in an interrogation room will give her something to think about until I can get here."

  "You got it." Quinn stood up. "Good job, bro." The two men who looked so similar bumped fists. Quinn grinned. "And you didn't even need my help. I'm impressed."

  "You should be," Connor retorted, hiding a smile. "Maybe, if you ask real nice, I'll give you detective lessons."

  Quinn waved his middle finger at his brother, and Connor laughed. Stood up. "Let's go, babe," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "We'll look at your photographs and see if we can pin down when your father gave your mother that ring."

  He replaced the binder in his desk and locked the drawer, then stood up and came around the desk. "Okay?"

  "Yeah." She stood as well, her heart racing. She'd assumed he'd drop her off. Let her look through the photographs alone. "I can go through the photo albums by myself," she offered. "You must have other things to do this afternoon. You've been with me since yesterday morning."

  He stopped and looked down at her. "Nothing else is more important than your safety. Nothing. And putting Northrup away is the only thing that will keep you safe."

  "Okay." A warm glow started in her chest and up her neck. Settled her.

  As they headed for the stairs, Quinn called, "See you tomorrow, Con?"

  "I'll be there," Connor answered without breaking stride.

  "You bringing Raine?" Quinn asked.

  "Uh, I guess." Connor rolled his shoulders. " I'm sticking close to her."

  Connor took her hand and pushed the fire door open, and they ran down the stairs together. When they were back in Quinn's car and headed for her apartment, she asked, "What was your brother talking about?"

  "A family thing we do once a month. Dinner at my mom's." He cleared his throat. "Want to come with me?"

  "Probably better if I don't," she said, her throat thickening. He'd sounded reluctant. As if he wouldn't have asked her if Quinn had kept his mouth shut. "I have stuff I need to catch up on for school on Monday."

  "I don't want to leave you alone."

  "I'll be fine," she said, swallowing hard. "I won't leave my apartment. Won't open the door."

  He jerked the steering wheel to the side and swerved into a spot next to the curb. Slammed the car into park and turned off the engine. He turned to her, holding her upper arms so she had to face him.

  "I didn't ask you because Quinn forced my hand," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Or because I need to stick close to you." The sound filled the quiet of the car. "I didn't want to put any pressure on you. Not after today. You had a bellyful of family at that party of Beatrice's. I wasn't sure if you'd want to deal with mine, as well."

  She'd cried on his shirt earlier, and the spots had dried darker than the light blue material. Lifting her eyes from them, she studied his expression. The only thing she saw was regret. Because he hadn't intended to take her to the party?

  No. The regret was layered with sadness. Because he thought he'd hurt her. "Hey," she said, trying to smile. "Your family can't be any worse than mine was today. You stuck with me for that. The least I can do is go with you to your family dinner."

  He smoothed his hand over her hair, as if brushing it away so he could see her eyes more clearly. "My family isn't anything like Beatrice," he said. "My family is great. We're all really close." He hesitated. "I guess I didn't want to rub that in your face."

  Her eyes prickled again. "That's...that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time," she whispered. "But if you're sure you want to take me, I'd love to go to your mom's for dinner."

  "Yeah?" His hand slid to the back of her head, steadying her.

  "Yeah."

  "Don't you ever think it was because I didn't want you there," he said, his voice fierce. "You're mine, Raine. I want you with me. All the time."

  Her heart stumbled in her chest, and she wanted to throw her arms around him. Hold him close. But she forced herself to be rational. Logical.

  He was a cop. He was doing his job. He hadn't meant it the way she so desperately wanted him to mean it.

  He'd meant he needed to protect her from Peter. That he was staying close until Peter was arrested. That was all.

  But the faint possibility that he'd meant something entirely different squirmed in her chest, a ball of warmth and happiness and hope.

  Maybe when he'd said 'you're mine', he meant for more than this case. More than as part of his job.

  Maybe he really meant that she belonged to him.

  She hadn't belonged to anyone but herself for a very long time.

  Chapter 26

  Connor ran his hand over Raine's soft hair one more time, wondering about the stunned look on her face. Was she that surprised that he'd asked her to his mom's house for dinner?

  Maybe it had more to do with the 'you're mine' caveman act he'd pulled.

  And where had that come from, anyway?

  He hadn't thought. He'd just spoken. He turned on the engine and jerked the steering wheel as he accelerated back into traffic. The car bucked beneath his hands, and he gripped the steering wheel hard as he tried to steady himself.

  He never went all possessive and overprotective on the women he dated. Hell, if they didn't want to be with him, he let them go. No regrets. No painful goodbyes.

  What if Raine didn't want to be with him?

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel until the little finger bumps made his hands ache. Not acceptable. He wasn't about to let her walk away from him without a fight.

  He slanted a glance in her direction, but she was staring at her lap and he couldn't see her eyes. Maybe the way he'd gotten so scared, so bent out of shape after they'd made love two nights ago had turned her off for good. Maybe she was just putting up with him for protection. Because she'd finally figured out Northrup was a real threat.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they drove toward her apartment. When he glanced her way again, all he could see was the back of her head. She stared out the side window, apparently completely engrossed in the endless chain of seedy, neon-lit liquor stores and tired currency exchanges they passed.

  The silence in the car expanded until it seemed to suck all the air out of the tiny space. When they reached her apartment, he parked and jumped out of the car as if the seat had bitten him in the ass.

  She was already on the sidewalk, heading toward the gate into her courtyard. Squaring her shoulders, as if steeling herself for an ordeal.r />
  When she glanced at him, her expression softened. "Don't look so worried. We'll probably find some pictures. I have most of the photos from when we were kids. Genie gave them to me." Sadness flickered over her face. "She was afraid Peter would throw them away."

  Maybe she wasn't getting ready to dump him. The tense muscles in his shoulders relaxed. "Wasn't worried about the pictures." He reached for her hand, kissed it and let her go. "Let's see what we can find."

  He put his hand on the small of her back as she walked toward the gate. Pressed tight, until he felt the warmth of her skin through her flimsy dress. She didn't pull away.

  Feeling suddenly more cheerful, he held the gate open after she unlocked it. As they walked toward the door, he pulled her closer as he scanned the courtyard.

  It was the middle of the afternoon. Northrup was probably still at Beatrice's party. He wasn't lurking behind the bushes here.

  But he stayed alert as they passed through the foyer and climbed the stairs. When Raine opened her door and started to walk into her apartment, he put his arm in front of her.

  "Stay out here."

  He drew his gun out of its holster and walked into the living room. He'd left it in the car at her grandmother's party, and he'd missed its familiar weight beneath his arm. He wasn't going to leave it in the car again until Northrup was safely behind bars.

  He cleared every room, then holstered his gun as he beckoned Raine inside. "It's empty."

  She closed the door, then leaned against it. "I'll get the albums."

  She moved toward the bookcase, and he snagged her hand to stop her. "You must be hungry. You want to order something?" They hadn't eaten since breakfast, and she'd taken maybe two bites of her pancakes.

  Her expression softened as she turned to him. "Yeah. I guess I am. Thai okay? There's a place close by I like."

  "Thai's great." He'd feel better if he ate, too. The unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach had to be hunger. Nothing else.

  An hour later, the white boxes of leftover Thai were in the refrigerator and he sat next to Raine on her couch. She held a dark blue leather photo album in her lap. The edges of the pages had yellowed, as if they'd sat in the sun at some point in their lives. A tiny sticker on the spine was dated eighteen years ago. Raine would have been eight.