Guilty

by Karen Robards

  “I’ll call you if I hear anything else,” Fish said.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Tom disconnected, stuck the phone back in his pocket, and said to Kate, “They found your car.”

  She stopped in front of him. “Where?”

  “A few streets over.” With the kitchen dark and the light behind her, he couldn’t read her expression. The fact that he felt he needed to was a problem.

  He was crazy about her, no doubt about it. But that didn’t mean he was totally brain-dead. The lady wasn’t playing straight with him, and he knew it.

  Even if he hated to face the fact.

  “Are my things still in there? My briefcase? My phone?”

  “Fish didn’t say. If they were, it’ll probably be a few days before you can get them back.”

  “I really need my briefcase. I was able to get duplicates of the case files, but I need my notes.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to speed things up.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  His eyes slid over her face. “Where’s Ben?”

  “Taking a bath.”

  She might be playing him. He prayed she was not. But the niggling doubt was enough to make him just a little rougher than he needed to be when he put a hand behind her neck and angled her mouth up to his and kissed her hard, then picked her up and swung her around to perch her on the counter, still with his tongue deep in her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back for all she was worth, and he was instantly so hot for her that he was surprised steam wasn’t pouring out of his ears.

  “Mom!”

  She stiffened and pulled her mouth from his. Reluctantly, he let her go.

  Sliding off the counter, she made an apologetic face at him as she went to read Ben to sleep.

  Such were the realities of life with a kid.

  With that, he could deal.

  In the end, because Natalia called and begged; because Vicky and Tina got on the phone and said how disappointed their mom would be if he didn’t; because Charlie, fresh out of the hospital, was going to be there; and because Kate didn’t object and Ben actively wanted to, they ended up going to his mother’s for Sunday dinner. It was everything Tom had thought it would be—his relatives swarming around Kate and Ben—but the chicken parmigiana was out of this world, as usual, and he had missed it, and, if he was honest, he’d missed his family, too. And he kind of enjoyed watching Kate, demure in a knee-length black skirt and pale blue sweater set that she’d actually been nervous enough about to ask him if he thought it was “suitable” for the gathering, fielding questions and making conversation and in general interacting with the zoo that was his family.

  “She’s hot, bro,” Charlie told him in a congratulatory tone after they’d finished eating. It was probably four o’clock by that time, and the late-afternoon sun was causing the trio of fat spruces that dominated the yard to cast long shadows toward where he and Tom sat on the small patio behind the house. Tom was kicked back in a lawn chair, sipping a beer. Charlie sat beside him in the wheelchair to which he gloomily expected to be confined for the next few weeks, likewise sipping a beer. The women were in the house. The brothers-in-law were grabbing beers of their own, and would be joining them on the patio momentarily. The kids were running all over the backyard, playing some kind of game that involved a lot of screaming. Ben, Tom was happy to see, seemed to be joining in and having a good time. And he was interested to discover that he was pleased about that.

  “Yeah,” Tom agreed.

  “She a keeper?”

  Tom shrugged.

  Charlie grinned. “Mom’s over the moon. She thinks you’ve found The One.”

  “Jesus,” Tom said, revolted, but before he could add anything to that the brothers-in-law came out and the conversation got instantly general.

  By the time they got home, they were too tired and stuffed to do more than finish homework (Ben) and watch TV (Tom, and Ben when his homework was finished). Kate did a couple of loads of laundry and some stuff upstairs before heading into her office to, as she told them, go over some files for tomorrow. Stretched out in the gold chair with Ben curled up on the couch, Tom was just reflecting on how normal this was starting to feel when Ben looked over at him.

  “There were a lot of kids there today.”

  “Yeah, there were.”

  “We played some games that were really fun.”

  “Looked like it.”

  “So, are you my mom’s boyfriend now or what?”

  That got Tom’s full attention. He sat up a little straighter and gave Ben a considering look. Clearly, the kid was no dummy, but he wasn’t sure how Kate would feel about the two of them having this conversation.

  “You’ll have to ask her that.”

  “She won’t tell me anything about stuff like that. You know how she is. Overprotective.” Ben shook his head in transparent disgust.

  That was actually true. And kind of funny, coming from a nine-year-old. But the thing was, Ben was asking, and Tom didn’t want to be anything but straight-up with him.

  “I guess I am her boyfriend now. Do you mind?”

  Ben shook his head. “It’ll be a relief to have someone else to help take care of her. She can be a lot of trouble, you know.”

  Tom had to grin. “Yeah, I know. Maybe we can help each other out with that.”

  About that time Kate came out of her office, and they must have both looked guilty as hell because she said, “What’s up?” and gave them a sharp look. But Tom wasn’t telling, and if Ben did, Tom didn’t hear about it, not then and not later, when Kate came back down to do one more thing and wound up sitting on his lap kissing him good night. After that things between them got so hot they ended up getting it on in the little bathroom under the stairs, with the door locked, in absolute silence because Kate was afraid that Ben (who was sound asleep) might hear something. But then she went off to her own bed to sleep, and he sacked out on the couch, where he tossed and turned, and so her rule about not sleeping in the same bed together when Ben was in the house was preserved.

  The next day started out just fine. The weather was cold but clear and sunny, blue skies all around. He and Kate dropped Ben off at school, and the rest of the way to work she fretted about how Ben was going to fare in gym, and Tom tried to reassure her that the kid would survive no matter how the basketball thing went. He dropped her off in front of her office—this was another agreement they had going: no more half-empty parking garages for her for the time being—and drove on to the Roundhouse, where he arranged to have the Civic picked up by the rental car agency and Kate’s car released from the impound lot. Fish made a few off-color jokes and shook his head at Tom a few times over Kate, but Tom was busy and paid no attention. There were a thousand things needing his attention, and he methodically tried to work through the pile. He was checking out known associates of the two men in the burned-out U-Haul, having confirmed their identities earlier, when Kirchoff, blond and preppy, looking like he had just stepped out of a J.Crew catalog, stopped by his desk.

  Tom looked up inquiringly.

  “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got an ID on that dead guy in Mrs. White’s garage.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Kirchoff ’s telling him was a courtesy thing, because Tom had been there in Kate’s house and obviously had an interest in what was going on. But it was Kirchoff and his partner’s case, technically nothing to do with Tom at all.

  “It’s all right here.” Kirchoff tapped the manila folder he was carrying.

  “Can I have a look?”

  Kirchoff handed it over. Tom flipped it open.

  “Guy’s name was Mario Castellanos,” Kirchoff continued. “Just got out of the detention center a few days ago. Rap sheet a mile long. So far, no idea what he was doing in that garage.”

  Tom had no idea, either, not even when he finished checking the guy out. But he did have lots of ideas about lots of other things.
r />   Like some of the things Kate had been lying to him about.

  Chapter 26

  WHEN TOM WALKED THROUGH the door to her office, Kate had just returned from a makeshift courtroom in City Hall—the Justice Center was still closed—where she had argued that a motion to suppress evidence in an upcoming armed-robbery trial was unjustified, and won. Kate was at that moment on the phone, relaying this news to Bryan, whose case it technically was, although she was handling it as one of the residual cases they were both assigned to before she went totally solo. Bryan had just called to ask about its resolution, interrupting Mona, who had dropped by to offer Kate what she promised was a totally to-die-for slinky black evening gown to wear to the upcoming fund-raiser for Jim Wolff, the very thought of which was enough to make Kate groan.

  “. . . look fantastic,” Mona mouthed over her shoulder as she headed out the door, only to say, “Oh, hello,” out loud, and in a tone that made Kate, who was still talking to Bryan, look up.

  Then Tom walked in, his usual tall, dark, and hot self, and Mona, behind him, made big eyes at Kate and gave a speaking little wave of her manicured fingers before disappearing. He didn’t look any too happy, but that didn’t stop Kate’s heart from radiating a warm little glow at the sight of him.

  Where he was concerned, she still didn’t regret a thing.

  She smiled at him.

  He didn’t smile back. In fact, he looked downright grim.

  Kate began to feel the first stirring of unease.

  Finishing up with Bryan as quickly as she could, she hung up the phone.

  “What?” she asked without preamble, because it was clear from Tom’s expression that there was something wrong.

  “Come for a walk with me.” There was absolutely no intonation at all to his voice. His eyes were darker than usual and impossible to read. His cop eyes. His cop face. Kate glanced at the clock. It was thirteen minutes until five. Her eyes flew back to his. Her heart began to beat faster.

  “Where to?” she asked. Then, because something in his expression told her that this was very, very bad, her mind immediately went to the worst thing she could think of, and she started to her feet. “Is it Ben? Has something happened?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Ben’s fine, as far as I know.” His gaze swept past her, to the coatrack in the corner. “Get your coat.”

  Because it had been cold this morning, and because she’d known she would be walking to and from City Hall, she had worn her black felt overcoat, complete with a long, gray crocheted scarf, over her favorite black pantsuit and white tee, with her black flats. Puzzled but obedient, she fetched it from the rack and put it on, looping the scarf around her neck.

  “What is it?” she asked again, as she joined him. He wasn’t wearing an overcoat. His charcoal blazer, black slacks, white shirt, and red tie were what he’d left the house in that morning.

  He shook his head as he immediately started walking toward the door. Without touching her, yet.

  Her unease started to turn into real anxiety.

  “I don’t want to talk about this here,” he said.

  So they didn’t talk, not one word, at least not to each other. Kate told Mona, whose head popped out of her office as they passed, that she had to run an errand. She waved at Cindy and exchanged a few remarks with other people she knew on the way out of the building. But Tom, beside her, remained silent as the Sphinx.

  Finally, once they were on the sidewalk moving at a brisk pace away from the building, she tugged at his sleeve.

  “Would you please tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me to death,” she said, exasperated.

  Tom cut his eyes at her, then glanced around at the jostling crowd they were in the midst of, at the dozens of pedestrians waiting to cross with them when the signal changed, at the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Dozens of chattering voices combined with the sounds of the traffic and the whoosh of wind through the concrete canyon into a low roar. The smell of car exhaust was strong. Sunlight glittered off the cantilevered tops of the skyscrapers, limning them with gold.

  “In a minute,” he said, and caught her elbow to propel her through the intersection as the signal changed. His grip wasn’t gentle. It was hard—and purposeful.

  Two blocks later they were in the paved center courtyard of the Masonic Temple, a circa-1873 architectural treasure that was actually a series of meeting halls with various courtyards and its own museum. Only steps away from the busy street, the parklike square was all but deserted. Surrounded on three sides by ornate stone walls complete with arched leaded windows and fantastical carvings, the courtyard boasted fountains, statues, and benches. A flock of cooing pigeons pecked placidly at some crumbs that had found their way into cracks among the paving stones. The scent of burning candles from the nearby chapel wafted through the air. The autumn sun, apricot-colored this late in the day, hung just above one of the Gothic towers. The sky, which earlier had been a clear, pale blue, was just starting to turn pink to the west. It was warmer than it had been that morning, and there was no wind in this secluded enclave, but Kate was still glad of her coat.

  Tom stopped walking near the base of a large bronze statue of a man on horseback and swung her around to face him. A few tourists were climbing the steps of the temple across the way, but no one was nearby. If he’d been seeking privacy here in this crowded part of the city, this was probably as good as it was going to get.

  “So, what?” Kate demanded.

  Jamming his hands into the front pockets of his pants, he seemed to be studying her face.

  “Does the name Mario Castellanos mean anything to you?”

  Kate felt a sudden constriction in her chest. Little curls of panic swirled like ice shavings through her bloodstream.

  “Why?”

  Tom’s lips compressed. “That’s the name of the man who was found shot in your garage.”

  Kate didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to lie anymore, especially not to Tom. But she couldn’t tell the truth, either. She pressed her lips together with what she hoped looked like firm resolve, and stood her ground.

  “I checked him out,” Tom continued, when she didn’t answer. “He’s got a rap sheet stretching all the way back to when he was a kid in Baltimore. You know what’s funny about that? He lived in Baltimore at the same time you did. Same general area, too.”

  He paused, obviously waiting for her to reply. His face was tight with tension.

  Kate said nothing. Her stomach was in the process of tying itself into knots, and the constriction in her chest had spread to her throat. She could feel her heart thumping against her breastbone.

  His jaw tightened when it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything.

  “Okay, how about we go for another coincidence? He was in the Criminal Justice Center Monday to testify in a trial. They lost track of him in all the confusion, but when they found him again as they were evacuating the building, he was in a holding cell all by his lonesome on the second floor.” He smiled at her, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Oh, and you want to hear something else funny? Castellanos was left-handed.”

  Kate suddenly found it impossible to breathe. She felt like she’d just taken a blow to the stomach, one that had knocked all the wind out of her. Mutely, she looked at him. His jaw was set now. His mouth was a thin, straight line, with white triangles of tension at the corners. His eyes bored into hers.

  “Say something, damn it.” His mouth twisted violently, and he reached out and caught her by her upper arms. Kate jumped. She could feel the strength of his fingers through the layers of her coat and jacket. He didn’t shake her, didn’t hurt her, but he pulled her closer and loomed over her, his eyes blazing angrily down into hers.

  “What do you want me to say?” She was surprised at how cold and clear her voice sounded. He glared at her. Dark color had risen to stain his cheekbones. His face could have been carved from stone.

  “I want you to tell me the truth. Did you know Mario Castella
nos?”

  The thing about being a lawyer was, it had taught her one important rule: When the going gets tough, keep your damned mouth shut. She had to stay mute. He was on the trail of her terrible secret, although he clearly didn’t know anything for sure, or yet have an inkling of the worst of it. But knowing something and proving it in a court of law were two very different things. They might be involved, she might have spent a good part of the weekend in his bed and in his arms, but when it came right down to it, he was a cop. With that in mind, she had to remember that she was once again fighting for her life.

  “Get your hands off me.” She tried to pull her arms free, but he only tightened his grip.

  “I take that as a great big yes.”

  “You can take it any way you want. Let go of me.”

  He ignored that. “Castellanos was the second man Charlie saw back there in the secure corridor, wasn’t he? You knew him, he was back there in that corridor with you, and I’m willing to bet anything you want he’s the one who shot Rodriguez.” Kate felt the color leaching out of her face. Tom’s face tightened with anger. His voice turned harsh with it. His eyes glittered like pieces of jet. “Goddamn it, Kate, tell me you didn’t have anything to do with getting those guns in there, or setting up that escape attempt.”

  “I already told you that.”

  “Yeah, and I believed you, too, like the damned fool I am.”

  He let go of her suddenly, walked a few steps away, ran his fingers through his hair, and turned back to look at her.

  “Look, do you think I’m the only one who’s going to be asking you these questions? I just put it together quicker than anybody else because I have access to the files from Castellanos’s murder and the murders at the Justice Center. And I know something about your background. But I can’t keep it a secret. I can’t fucking keep this a secret.”

  “So why did you bring me out here? To warn me?”

  His eyes flashed at her. “You want the truth? I was hoping I was wrong. I was hoping there was an explanation. I was hoping you would deny everything.” He laughed bitterly. “But I’m right on the money. I can see it in your goddamned face.”