"Thanks, Danni. Bye."
"Bye."
Danni punched the Off button.
"Well?" Nick demanded.
Danni slumped in her chair. "Two days before Dad died, one of his boys was arrested for trying to unload some stolen merchandise. Dad asked Beth, the lawyer I share office space with, to defend him. Last night the kid slit his wrists. He's dead."
"What was his name?"
"Matt Arbor."
Nick dropped his head back and rubbed his eyes. "Goddammit."
"You knew him?"
"Yeah. At the center. He didn't strike me as the type who'd take suicide as a way out."
"Beth doesn't think he did either. She said he was going to make a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"She didn't say. Maybe he was going to give up his accomplice. I don't know." She stood, feeling three times her age. "I'm going to the rest room. I'll meet you at the truck." She tossed him the keys and picked up her backpack.
In the ladies' room, she splashed cold water on her pale face. Blindly, she reached for some paper towels and dabbed her cheeks. Good thing she hadn't put on her usual makeup this morning, even if she did look like death warmed over.
She tossed the towels into the refuse container and gripped the edge of the sink. Leaning into it, she stared at her reflection, at the haunted eyes.
Were the two murders related? Were they murders? Or was she simply caught up in Nick Sirocco's theory? Although all the evidence was circumstantial and the product of gut feelings, Danni couldn't help but believe her father hadn't committed suicide. Was it because Nick believed it so strongly? That could be part of it. But now, with the suspicions regarding Matt Arbor's death, another finger pointed at criminal conspiracy.
They needed the common denominator and the motive. The common denominator was simple: the youth center, which her father had mentioned in the message he'd left on Nick's answering machine. And Nick had been involved with the kids, too.
So had Nick been the target of the driver last night?
Or had it merely been an accident?
With her mind going in circles, Danni exited the rest room and joined Nick in the truck. He sat in the driver's seat, but she didn't feel like arguing.
"I thought we could stop at my place first so I can pack a bag and get some dog food for Gus," Nick said.
"All right. Then we'll go to the station." She wrapped her arms around her backpack and held it close to her chest like a shield.
Nick didn't start the truck, and she looked up, only to find him studying her.
"Are you okay with all of this?" he asked.
The compassion in his face made her eyes burn, but she didn't want his sympathy. She wanted to learn the truth.
"No, I am not okay." Anger was much easier to deal with than the grief that kept trying to escape. "I'm not okay with some bastard murdering people and making it look like suicide. I'm not okay with almost being turned into hamburger on the street. And I'm definitely not okay about having to look at people I've known for years as murder suspects."
"I know." He squeezed her shoulder lightly before starting the truck.
She stared out the window as Nick drove. She rarely sat in the passenger seat of her truck, and it unsettled her, just like everything else that had happened since her father's death.
Nick pulled into an average-looking apartment complex and found a parking place close to the entrance. She opened her door and almost struck Nick as he came around the truck. He appeared exasperated but didn't say anything.
Danni realized he'd come around to open her door. For as long as she could remember, she'd fought to be equal with her peers, and that included opening her own doors. But she supposed it was kind of nice of him in a quaint, old-fashioned way.
He unlocked the front door, and they entered the foyer where Nick checked his mailbox. Danni didn't see anything but junk mail: a credit card offer, an ad addressed to Occupant from a local office supply store, a Cabela's hunting catalog, and a fishing magazine.
Frowning, she followed him up one flight and down the hallway to number 207. She surveyed the typical dingy-colored carpeting in the hall—it was easier to hide the dirt. The walls were a neutral tan, just like her own apartment complex.
"Son of a bitch!"
Nick's bellow startled her out of her musings, and she peeked around his broad shoulders to look into his apartment. Either he was a slob, or someone had broken in while he was gone and trashed the place.
His reaction told her it was the latter.
Chapter Six
Danni reacted instinctively, using her body to shove Nick to the side, away from the open doorway. She grabbed her revolver from her shoulder holster and held it two-handed, the four-inch barrel aimed at the ceiling.
"They could still be in there," she hissed at Nick. Pressed against his side, she felt his muscles bunch.
"It's empty," he argued.
"You don't know that."
"If the burglar was in there when we got here, he's gone now." He started to move away.
Danni gripped his sleeve and jerked him back. Her lips nearly touching his ear, she said, "Dammit, Sirocco, stay put. We need backup. Call nine-one-one."
Nick glared at her. "You call. I'm going to see what they took." His glare shifted to her hand still on his arm, his message clear.
Apprehension filled Danni, and she shook her head. "We don't go in until the police get here."
Nick's lips pulled down in a scowl, and he slumped against the wall. Relieved that he saw things her way, albeit reluctantly, Danni released him. With her left hand, she fumbled in her jacket pocket for her cell phone and thrust it at Nick when she found it. "Here."
He took it, although Danni could tell he didn't want to. She divided her attention between listening to Nick call it in, and his apartment, straining to determine if there was anyone inside. Only the sound of the traffic on the street and Bob Barker's "Come on down!" on a neighbor's television down the hall intruded on the quiet.
"Somebody's broken into my apartment at 4398 Wintergreen Place, apartment 207," Nick said into the phone.
Danni couldn't make out words, only the unruffled tone of the operator. She listened to Nick as he gave his name and answered the standard questions: Did anyone require medical assistance? Was he in any danger? Were the perpetrators still in the vicinity?
Damned good question.
Nick pushed the End button on her cell phone. "He said the police should be here in about ten minutes."
Nick held the phone out to her, and Danni dumped it back in her pocket. He suddenly shoved away from the wall. She made a grab for him, but the fool disappeared into his apartment before she could stop him. Grumbling her choicest expletives, she rose to follow him.
She stood at the edge of the doorway, her muscles tense and her stomach reinforcing the warning signals in her head. Readjusting the revolver in her damp palms, she licked her dry lips.
Move it, Officer Hawkins.
The voice was so real, Danni almost glanced around for Scott. But he'd been gone for over two years now.
She gritted her teeth and charged into the apartment. Her finger rested on the trigger guard as she dropped into a firing stance and swept the room with her gun and gaze.
Nick's eyes widened, and he raised his hands. "Easy. It's just me."
Danni examined the room before relaxing her pose, but not her temper. "Have you checked out the rest of the apartment?"
He shook his head.
"Stay here." She moved down the hallway and swept the bathroom, bedroom, and office. Empty.
She deposited the weapon back in her holster as she strode back to the living room where Nick stood.
"What part of 'Stay put' didn't you understand?" she demanded.
"I knew the apartment was empty."
"And how the hell did you know that?" Danni was too angry to bridle her sarcasm. "Are you a psychic as well as an idiot?"
"Look, I figured whoever
had been here was gone by now, and if by some long shot he was still here, I might be able to catch him," Nick said, his temper obviously rising.
"Catch him? What if the perp had a gun or a knife?"
"I was trained in hand-to-hand combat."
"Hell of a lot of good that would've done if he shot you."
Nick's jaw muscle corded. "What's your problem?"
"Besides you?" Danni held Nick's seething gaze, refusing to give an inch. Or offer any more of an explanation for her blistering reaction. She had no intention of slicing open an artery and letting him watch her bleed. Her past failures weren't any of his business.
Unless they get him killed, too.
Danni swallowed her caustic guilt, wishing she could work the case alone. But even if she was granted her wish, there was no guarantee that Nick would remain safe if someone was after him.
I'm damned either way.
Danni looked away from Nick's exasperated face and released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "So, is anything missing?" she asked with feigned casualness.
"I don't know." His hooded gaze surveyed the surrounding mess.
"Don't touch anything."
"Don't worry. I've watched CSI once or twice."
Danni couldn't stop the twitch that caught her lips. She turned her attention to the chaos around them, and her humor faded.
Throw pillows, magazines, and books lay carelessly across the living room floor. The cushions had been tossed off the sofa and recliner. The galley-sized kitchen hadn't been spared, with canisters' contents spilled across the counter and cupboard doors left ajar with dishes, glasses, and mugs—some broken, some not—littering the counters and floor.
She picked her way down a short hallway and inspected the bathroom. Towels were heaped in the tub, and the gaping shower curtain hung by only a hook or two. The medicine cabinet contents had been swept into the sink.
She continued to the next room, which was obviously Nick's office. A fairly new computer sat on the desk, but it was the only thing that seemed to be in its proper place. The monitor was dark, but the orange light beneath it indicated the power was on. Files were strewn about, books were tossed from the bookshelves helter-skelter, and computer CDs were scattered across the carpeted floor and desktop.
Danni frowned at the mess. She'd seen numerous breaking-and-entering cases when she'd been on patrol, but this didn't have the feel of a typical robbery.
Somebody had been looking for something specific.
She turned to go back to the living room and nearly plowed into Nick, who stood directly behind her. He caught her arms and steadied her, then immediately released her. But not before Danni felt his hands trembling in the scant seconds he'd clung to her. Despite his bravado, the violation of his apartment had gotten to him. Her irritation with him faded, replaced by sympathy.
"If this was a typical break-in, your computer would've been stolen," she said.
"Maybe they were in a hurry and didn't want to handle anything that big."
She glanced at Nick. It was obvious he didn't believe his own words, although he wanted to. "Is anything missing?"
"Hard to tell." Frustration sharpened his words. He moved around her, their arms brushing in the narrow hall.
Danni followed him to his bedroom but stopped in the doorway. She catalogued the Mission-style bedroom set, which included a queen-sized bed that had either been left unmade or had been torn apart by whoever had broken in—Danni supposed it was the latter. There was a matching dresser and a nightstand on either side of the bed.
She noticed Nick kept his hands by his sides as he visually searched his dresser top and open drawers that had clothing hanging out of them. Maybe CSI had taught him a thing or two about not botching up a crime scene. Not that Danni believed the perpetrator would be caught.
His brows drew together as he peered into the dresser's top drawer.
"What is it?" she asked.
He straightened and met Danni's gaze. "If you were a thief, wouldn't you steal a diamond ring? Easy to pocket and even easier to fence?"
Danni's breath stalled in her throat. Although she knew he was merely asking a rhetorical question, her mind was stuck on the diamond ring. Was it his own? Or was it an engagement ring—for a woman? If so, had he been engaged? Or was he dating someone seriously now?
Ice settled in the pit of her stomach. Even though they'd done the dirty deed last night, she knew very little about Nick Sirocco.
"Police. Freeze!"
Startled back to the present, she turned her head to see two patrol officers she didn't recognize with their revolvers aimed at them. She stifled a sigh, then laced her fingers and rested them on her head. If they'd stayed outside where they were supposed to, the police wouldn't be treating them like suspects.
Nick took a step toward the policemen. "We're the ones—"
"Hold it," the younger cop ordered, his fingers twitching.
Danni grabbed Nick's jacket sleeve and tugged him back to her side, then quickly placed her hands back on her head. Nick already had someone after him. He didn't need a nervous rookie blowing him away by accident. "Do like me, and don't make any threatening moves until they sort this out," she said to Nick in a low voice.
For a moment she thought he would argue, but he only shook his head in frustration and copied her position.
"I have a weapon in a shoulder holster," Danni announced to the policemen. "I'm a private investigator. My ID and my license to carry are in my jacket."
While the older patrol cop kept his weapon trained on them, the rookie relieved Danni of her weapon and found her ID and license. He handed them to his partner, then searched Nick.
Five minutes later, Danni took back her possessions, and she and Nick were ushered into the hall. There they were interviewed by the younger cop while the older one, Porter, checked out the apartment. Danni recognized the drill immediately. Though she tried to get ahead of his questions, Shenders, the rookie who still had acne, plodded along methodically.
"Was anything stolen?" Shenders asked after he'd gotten their names and addresses.
"Not that I could see," Nick replied. "But I haven't done a thorough search."
"Anyone who might have a grudge against you? Maybe someone has a reason to think you have something of theirs?"
Danni crossed her arms and caught Nick's quick glance. She shook her head minutely.
"Nobody I know of," Nick replied, his tone neutral.
The older cop, Porter, joined them. "I couldn't find any sign of a forced entry."
"So you think I just invited someone in to do this?" Nick asked, waving a stiff arm at the apartment.
Porter's narrowed eyes were almost lost in his fleshy face. "I'm not suggesting that, sir. I'm only stating what I found." He hitched his belt up under his belly. "Who else besides you has a key?"
Nick hesitated just long enough for Danni to notice. "Nobody."
She frowned, suspecting he lied. Why wouldn't Nick tell them? Maybe the woman who he intended to give the ring had a key?
She struck the nagging thought down but found she couldn't dismiss that damned ring from her mind.
"Not even your... friend?" Porter asked. There was a short but discernible pause before 'friend' as the veteran cop's knowing gaze slid to Danni.
"She's not a friend. She's a business associate," Nick said.
She wondered if he made a habit of sleeping with business associates. Then she couldn't decide if she should feel insulted or not.
"We'll check the door and windows for fingerprints, but that's all we can do." Porter's sour expression told Danni he didn't believe Nick's claim about their relationship.
"Don't you bring in people who collect physical evidence?" Nick asked.
Danni laid her palm on Nick's forearm. "Not in cases like this. It's impossible to send a team out to every B and E. Every cop is trained to gather fingerprints."
"How do you know that, ma'am?" Shenders asked, his young voice sur
prised.
"I used to be patrol."
Porter stared at her. "Hawkins. I remember you." He nodded slowly. "It was your father who killed himself last week."
Danni gritted her teeth, feeling the tug of her jaw muscle in her cheek. She should've kept her mouth shut. "Yes."
"Poor bastard," Porter muttered, then cleared his throat as his round cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hawkins. I didn't know him well, but from what I heard, he was a good cop."
Danni's throat tightened, cutting off her ability to speak. She merely nodded.
"I'd like to go inside and start cleaning up. I want to find out if anything was stolen," Nick said.
Danni was grateful for his timely intervention, whether it was deliberate or not. One glance at his blue eyes, and she knew it was intentional. She was surprised by the choked feeling in her throat.
"Give us fifteen minutes," Porter said, then turned to his partner. "Run down and get the fingerprint kit."
After taking the fingerprints on the door and windows, the two cops also fingerprinted Nick and Danni to eliminate theirs from the ones they'd found. They also interviewed the few neighbors who were home, but nobody had seen or heard anything.
The older policeman handed Nick a card. "If you find anything missing, call this number and leave the information."
"Thanks," Nick said, accepting the card with the precinct's phone number.
The two cops didn't offer Nick any false hopes, but wished him luck in taking care of the mess, and left.
Danni leaned against the wall as she used a handwipe to try to remove the ink from her fingertips. She glanced up from her futile task and watched Nick do a slow three sixty in the middle of the living room, which looked like Hurricane Elmo had paid a visit.
"What were they looking for?" Nick asked, abandoning the pretense that it was a simple robbery.
"Good question. We figure that out, and we'll probably figure out what Dad discovered."
"Something that got him killed."
Danni nodded, feeling twitchy and restless. "Yeah."
"There's another thing," Nick said quietly. "Paddy was the only other person who had a key to my place."
Arouse Suspicion Page 8
