Midnight Rain

by Dee Davis

  The woman was fast moving into the realm of mind-reader. She met Flo’s gaze head-on. “It was my understanding John hadn’t told anyone else about the money.”

  The best defense was always a good offense. How many times had her father told her that?

  “He hasn’t.” Guilt washed over her face, guilt followed by regret. “I found the withdrawal myself.” Flo nervously fingered the thin edge of the teacup. “I found it four months ago.”

  “And you didn’t tell anyone?” Katie tried but couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “Not even John?”

  Flo put down the cup on the tray, the china clattering as it landed. “He wasn’t in any shape to find out. As I said, the doctors didn’t expect him to live. And when he did, it was still touch and go. They weren’t certain he’d ever walk. Not to mention the memory thing. I’d hoped that there’d never be a need to explain it.”

  “But sooner or later someone was bound to find it, Flo.”

  “I know. I thought about doing away with the evidence, but that seemed to be going too far. I mean, it was his money, after all. I guess I just wanted to protect him. Is that so wrong?” The woman looked at her in askance. As if somehow Katie had the power to make everything all right.

  If only she knew just how wrong she was. The guilt Katie had been fighting for the last few days surfaced again, surprising her with its force. What the hell was happening to her?

  “I’m not the person to say, Flo. I wasn’t there when he was in the hospital. So I don’t know what he could have handled. But I do know that he has a right to know everything. He’s not the sort of man who likes playing from a blind deck. And there are enough holes in his memory without you complicating the fact by withholding information from him.”

  “Oh God.” Flo sank onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands.

  Katie moved to sit beside her, sliding her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “It’s all right. He knows about it now. And your motives were good ones. He’ll understand.”

  She looked up, her eyes filled with tears. “I’d never do anything to hurt him. I just wanted to protect him from it all. For as long as I could.”

  “And you did.” Katie patted her back, wishing she could magically make the pain go away. But she couldn’t. And these people, despite her growing attachment, were strangers. Strangers who’d made a bed that they must now lie in.

  “I’d do it again.” The tears were gone, Flo’s chin lifting in a stubborn tilt. “He’s been through too much. It’s not fair for him to have to go through this now. He didn’t kill Derek Miller. And whatever reason he had for taking that money with him, it was solid. I’m sure of it.”

  “Then we’ll just have to find out what it was all about. Maybe John can’t remember, but there were other people involved. His broker. The man who lent him the cabin. Someone will know something.” Flo’s certainty was catching. “We will get to the bottom of this, Flo. I promise.”

  Good or bad. Incriminating or not. She was here to find answers.

  At least that much wasn’t a lie.

  Chapter 11

  “Get to the bottom of what?”

  Katie and Flo both jumped at the sound of another voice, and John almost regretted the intrusion. Almost. It was early. Too early for civilities. He stood in the doorway, his gaze moving first to Flo and then to Katie. “Does one of you want to tell me what this little tea party is all about?”

  He already knew. He’d heard enough to know that they’d been discussing him. But it wasn’t clear exactly what they’d been talking about. Although he had a feeling. And if he was right, his trust in Katie had been a mistake.

  “We were talking about the money you took to Mexico.” Katie’s voice was soft and melodic—caring. But it meant nothing. Nothing at all. Disappointment washed through him, clouding his anger with a pain almost physical.

  He’d been so certain that she was different. Magical. Maybe he really was addled. More than just missing synapses.

  “You told her.” The three words came out on a harsh whisper, his anger crescendoing inside him. He tightened his good hand into a fist, trying to control the riot of emotion, his eyes locked on Katie.

  She shook her head, her eyes still soft, and a little sad.

  He’d trusted her. Trusted her. He took a step forward, intent on reaching her, but Flo stood up, blocking his path, the concern on her face almost worse than Katie’s betrayal. He didn’t need anyone to take care of him. He didn’t need anyone. Period. He’d been lying to himself to think anything different.

  Flo’s hand closed on his arm. “She didn’t tell me, John. I already knew about the money.”

  And as quickly as it had come the anger departed. His mind spinning from the overload of endorphins and adrenaline. He stared down at his hands, relief warring with acute embarrassment. She hadn’t betrayed him.

  Katie seemed to materialize at his side, her touch separate from Flo’s, warmer, her energy seeping into him, giving him strength. “You had no way of knowing. If I’d have overheard our conversation I’d have thought the same thing.”

  “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry.” He didn’t use those words often and they had never seemed more important. He waited, holding his breath, praying that she’d understand.

  Her answering smile wiped the last of his confusion away. Warmth spread through him, cleansing in its heat. “I already said it’s okay.”

  Flo sat down across from John, her face still torn with regret. “I should have told you.”

  He pulled his bedazzled mind away from Katie to focus on Flo. “How did you find out?”

  “I was trying to keep your private affairs in order. You’d given me the passwords, so I was reconciling some of your accounts. I found it that way.”

  He nodded, trying to order his thoughts. “But you didn’t think you should tell me?”

  “You were in the hospital, John. I didn’t think it was the most opportune time to ask about the money. And you have to understand that I didn’t think much of it. In isolation it was odd maybe that you’d liquidate that many assets. But it certainly wasn’t sinister. I figured it could wait.”

  “And now? In light of everything else we know, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was afraid. Things were spinning out of control so rapidly. And I wasn’t sure how you’d take the news. I still don’t believe it means anything, John. You’ve got to believe that. It’s just that—” She broke off, chewing the side of her lip, her gaze locked on his.

  “You thought it was the final straw.”

  “No. I just thought it might be more than you could handle.”

  “Better I hear it from you than the police, Flo.”

  “How would they know?” Flo’s brows drew together, her eyes narrowing with worry.

  “They can access bank records. Probably already have. The check to Miller was enough to give them cause.

  “It’s still only circumstantial,” Katie said. “There’s no motive, and some of the evidence is contradictory. I mean, why would you pay the man and then kill him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I was involved in something really off-color. Something that would justify a payoff to Miller. Something that ultimately got him killed.”

  “There’s no point in speculating. It doesn’t accomplish anything.” Katie’s matter-of-fact tone did a lot to help him control his careening emotions. She was right. There was nothing to be gained by giving in to panic. “What you’ve got to do is concentrate on gathering facts. You still have things you need to follow up on. Like the check, and you said you were going to talk to this Andy fellow.”

  “Andy Martin?” Flo asked. “What’s he got to do with any of this?”

  John shrugged. “Probably nothing. But he’s the one who mentioned the cabin. So I figure maybe he remembers more about it than I do.”

  “It’s worth a shot, I guess.” Flo sounded doubtful.

  “Of course it is,” Katie was quick to reass
ure. “The idea is to turn up every loose stone. The majority of them will be worthless, but you never know when one of them will yield gold.”

  John smiled at her. “You’re sounding like an expert again.”

  She shrugged. “My father was in security. Anyway, I think you should exhaust all avenues and then take what you know to the police.”

  “And hope they don’t come to me first?”

  “Well, that would be a bonus.” She leaned back against the windowsill. “But if they do, you tell them what you do know then, and it goes from there. I don’t think sitting on it a few more hours is going to change anything one way or the other.”

  “Except if they think he was trying to hide what he’s found.” Flo sounded unconvinced.

  “Katie is right, Flo. I need to find out what I can, and then present it to D’Angelo. Anything I tell him now is only going to confuse the issue. I have facts but no explanation. Maybe after talking to some of these people, I can get a better understanding of why I did what I did. And who knows,” he tried for a smile but knew he didn’t quite make it, “maybe I’ll find something that clears it up once and for all.”

  “Fine, then, we’ll see what turns up.” Flo started to gather the tea things, placing cups on the tray.

  He turned to face Katie, worried suddenly that he was asking too much. “And how do you feel about being dragged into all of this?”

  “It’s my job to see to your well-being, and finding out what happened would be the best possible remedy. So you can count me in.”

  There was a message in her eyes. One he didn’t want to read. Yet. But it gave him hope. Hope that there would be another day—another time—when all this was behind him. And maybe, just maybe, there’d be a chance for something more between them. Something he hardly dared to imagine.

  But not now.

  All things considered, definitely not now.

  “You’re looking well.” Andy Martin sat back in his chair, the dim lighting of the Texas Chili Parlor combining with the smoky haze to mask his expression. “To hear the talk, I thought you were this side of death’s door.”

  “I was.” John shrugged and reached for his burger. There was something obscenely normal about a burger at the Texas Chili Parlor, despite his reasons for being here, or maybe because of them. “But I’m better now.”

  “I’ll say. You look almost normal. No scar. I expected a shaved head or something.”

  John’s hand went involuntarily to the tender ridge of scar tissue above his ear. The hair was shorter there, but not noticeably. Time, it seemed, did heal all wounds. Or at least hid them. “You just can’t see it.”

  “So is the bullet really still in there?” Andy leaned forward, eyes glistening with morbid curiosity, and John remembered why he hadn’t liked the man.

  “Yeah. Lodged somewhere in my frontal lobe, a perpetual memory.” Which was ironic in and of itself. He forced a smile. “But I can’t feel it.”

  “Cool.” Andy immediately looked regretful. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that the brain is an amazing thing.”

  “Believe it or not, I actually agree with you. Although I’d much prefer it was your brain being amazing.”

  Andy made a great play of opening a sugar packet, obviously embarrassed by his insensitivity. “Why did you want to have lunch? On the phone you sounded sort of intense.”

  Intense seemed to be the word of the moment where he was concerned. His whole life had taken on a level of intensity he’d never have thought possible preshooting. But then, he’d never thought he’d be using the word preshooting in context to himself either. So that explained a hell of a lot.

  “I need to know about Mexico. About the villa.” He hated admitting he didn’t remember. Even if it was common knowledge, it was still hard to face it head-on, to talk about it. “I know you offered it. But unfortunately that’s about all I remember. I’m hoping to maybe clarify things a bit.”

  “There’s nothing to clarify really. I mean, I offered you the retreat and you turned me down cold.” Andy shrugged. “Said you didn’t believe in those kinds of perks.”

  “I remember that. But didn’t I come back later and accept the offer?”

  Andy reached for a tortilla chip, his confusion more than apparent. “You didn’t. At least not from me. As far as I know, you never agreed to use the place. In fact, I was surprised when the news broke that you were in Mexico.”

  John frowned, trying to place the new information in some kind of logical context. “So as far as you know I wasn’t heading for Torreon?”

  Andy dropped the chip on his plate, holding up both hands. “Look, as far as I knew, you weren’t even in Mexico. You told me in no uncertain terms your opinion on vacations. When news of the shooting broke, you could have knocked me over with a feather. But hey,” he shrugged, “everyone’s got a right to change his mind.”

  “Is it possible I asked someone else about using the retreat?”

  Andy shrugged again, reaching for another chip. “Anything is possible. But if you did, I sure haven’t heard anything about it. I can ask around, if you want.”

  “Thanks. That’d be great.” John resisted the urge to rub his temple. His head was pounding, but he hated public signs of weakness—and somehow, revealing his pain to Andy was more than he could bear.

  “Why do you want to know? Surely under the circumstances it doesn’t matter anymore.” Andy’s expression had changed to speculative.

  “I’m just trying to piece things together. You know, fill in the gaps. It’s about peace of mind, I guess. Closure of some kind.” It seemed he was making a practice of lying, and the prospect didn’t sit well at all. But he couldn’t risk telling someone like Andy Martin the truth.

  Whatever the hell that was.

  “I guess I can understand that.” Andy drained the last of his iced tea. “Sorry I didn’t help.”

  John pulled out his wallet, and then reached for the bill. “I appreciate your meeting with me.”

  “No problem. Got a free meal out of the deal.” He stood up, obviously ready to end their conversation. “And hey, I wouldn’t worry about the trip. So you didn’t use the Hobson retreat. It’s not that big a deal. You probably just got a better offer.”

  Which was, of course, the question of the hour.

  With the real issue being the kind of offer he’d accepted, and whether it was something that had cost Derek Miller his life.

  It was past time for John’s workout, and despite the fact that Katie was merely a stand-in, she wanted to be certain he kept at it. No matter what else was happening. She walked through the living room toward the study, the thought of seeing him igniting fires she’d best be keeping tamped down. Not that there was any controlling pheromones.

  She stopped short in the doorway, realizing that he was not alone. Three men sat in front of the desk. She recognized Detective D’Angelo and his partner Tony Haskins, but the third man had his back to her, his face blocked by the back of a chair.

  John saw her and motioned her forward just as she was about to beat a hasty retreat. The last thing she wanted was to interrupt. Or worse still, do something to make the detectives curious about her. But there was no graceful way out.

  “I was just coming to see if you’d forgotten your workout, but I can see you’re busy.”

  John’s smile was for her alone, and despite herself she shivered, the result of little explosions of electricity dancing along her spine. “I’m almost finished.” Underneath his smile he looked tired. Really tired.

  A muscle in his cheek twitched, the only physical indication of his stress. But Katie was getting to know him better, and part of that was learning to recognize when he was fighting fatigue. “I’ve just been discussing my financial activities with these gentlemen.”

  D’Angelo stood up, offering her his chair, and despite the situation, Katie was struck by his gentlemanly conduct. Surely a rarity in law enforcement.

  She walked farther into the room, a
nd stopped as suddenly as if there had been a barrier of some kind. The third man in the room was standing as well, smiling politely at her with the expression of a curious stranger.

  Except Edmund Roswell was not a stranger.

  She forced herself to move, to sit in the chair, wondering what in hell he was doing here, risking her operation with just his presence. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She sought John’s gaze and was reassured to see that he hadn’t noticed anything awkward about her entrance.

  “We’re almost finished. You know the detectives, but I don’t think you’ve met Edmund Roswell.” He gestured toward Roswell, his eyes narrowed speculatively. “Agent Roswell is with the FBI. Evidently they’ve taken an interest in Miller’s death as well.”

  Roswell smiled absently in her direction, his attention centered on John. “We’re just following up some loose ends on a related investigation, and D’Angelo here was kind enough to invite me along for the ride.”

  Based on the look passing between the two detectives, Katie was fairly certain that Roswell’s intervention was anything but welcome. She kept her attention on John. “Why don’t I just wait for you in the gym.”

  “Katie is my physical therapist.” John’s remarks were addressed to Roswell, his smile still for her.

  She stood up, her intention to get the hell out of there, before Roswell said or did something to further threaten her position.

  “Ms. Cavanaugh, right?” Roswell turned to look at her, his interest obviously feigned. “If you don’t mind, now that you’re here, I have a couple of questions. Maybe you can help me.”

  She shot a glance at John, who nodded almost imperceptibly. With a sigh, she sank back into the chair. “I’m happy to help any way I can.”

  Roswell smiled, his eyes not reflecting any mirth at all. The guy was good, she had to give him that. “We were just discussing the convenience of Mr. Brighton’s missing memories.” She could almost feel John’s frown. “Maybe you can explain to me how it is this sort of thing happens.”