Beyond Danger

by Kat Martin

  “Looks like you’re ready,” he said, joining her at the door.

  “Ready and hopeful.”

  They made a quick stop in the kitchen for another cup of coffee and some of the orange Pillsbury refrigerator rolls Mrs. O’Halloran kept for him that he’d stuck in the oven. Then they headed out.

  Beau opened the door leading into the garage. “Time to find out what Emily Watson has to say.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On the way down the drive, Beau stopped to speak to Will Egan. A man in his forties, Will had prematurely gray hair and an easy disposition.

  “Any problems last night?” Beau asked.

  “Not a thing.”

  “We’ve got a meeting, then we’ll be back.” He was driving the Ferrari. Maybe it was the incident last night, or maybe he just needed to clear his head. Driving a car with that kind of power always seemed to help.

  With very little Sunday traffic, he easily located the address in University Park that Emily Watson had given him, and pulled up in front of the family’s traditional, brick façade, two-story home. Making their way up the stone walkway to the plank front door, Beau rang the bell, and a few seconds later, Emily Watson pulled it open.

  A slender woman, midforties, medium brown hair with the first fine threads of gray, she smiled at Beau, then spotted Cassidy and her look turned wary.

  “I didn’t realize you were bringing someone with you.”

  “Emily, this is Cassidy Jones. She’s a private investigator working with me on my father’s murder. Anything we discuss with you will remain strictly confidential.”

  The woman returned her gaze to Cassidy, took in her conservative clothes and the concern in her face and apparently approved.

  “Thank you for coming.” Emily stepped back, inviting them inside. Hardwood floors gleamed throughout the house as they walked into the entry. The residence was immaculately clean, everything in its place, though Beau could hear children’s voices coming from the second floor.

  Emily started walking, expecting them to follow. “The kids are upstairs. I thought we could talk in the living room. I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”

  “I’d love a cup of coffee,” Cassidy said, which Beau had learned was a technique she used to put people at ease when there were going to be questions.

  They followed Emily into a modern stainless kitchen with white cabinets and granite counters. Emily poured them each a mug, added cream to hers, but Beau and Cassidy took theirs black.

  From the kitchen, they made their way into a high-ceilinged living room with dark wood beams. Beau sat next to Cassidy on a sea-foam green sofa while Emily sat down in a matching chair. An ivory and green floral carpet warmed the wood floor beneath the walnut coffee table.

  “I was very sorry to hear about your father,” Emily said, taking a sip from her mug. “Such a tragedy. How is your investigation coming?”

  “Slowly,” Beau said. “We have some ideas about what might have happened, but nothing concrete. We’re hoping you can help.”

  Emily set her mug down on a coaster next to the brass lamp beside her chair. “Perhaps I can. As I told you on the phone, Scott passed away a little over a month ago. He died of anaphylactic shock. It was terrible for all of us.”

  “I saw the article in the newspaper,” Cassidy said. “Losing someone is even more painful when it’s completely unexpected.”

  “Yes, it is. Which is the reason I began to question how it happened. Scott was always extremely careful. I had taken the girls to my mother’s for a visit that day, so Scott was home by himself. We don’t keep peanuts in the house. None of us would ever bring them home. Apparently, he made himself a sandwich and somehow the peanut got inside. I can’t imagine how.”

  “Odd things happen sometimes,” Cassidy said.

  “Yes, but even so, Scott always kept an EpiPen in the top drawer of his desk. He was sitting there when they found him. He often sat at his desk to eat lunch. All he had to do was open the drawer and take out the pen. He had used one before so he knew how to do it. But no pen was found in the room.”

  Beau sat forward, his half-finished mug of coffee in his hand. “Did you mention that to the police?”

  “Not that day. All I could think of was Scott, how I was going to tell the girls. What I was going to do without him. Later, I thought one of the EMTs must have taken it. I asked the police about it, but no one seemed to know where it was. When the autopsy came back, it showed he never used an EpiPen. And that makes no sense.”

  Beau looked at Cassidy, whose thoughts must have been running the same. “Is there a chance someone killed your husband, Emily?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled a tissue from beneath the sleeve of her sweater and dabbed it against her eyes. “I haven’t pursued it. I have to think of my children. But when Charlotte mentioned you were looking into your father’s murder, I thought there might be some connection.”

  “Why would you think that?” Cassidy asked.

  Emily straightened in her chair. “Two weeks before Scott died, Senator Reese came to see him. They spoke privately. I had no idea what about. But later, when I asked Scott what the senator wanted, he said Stewart had asked him for a favor.”

  Favor. The word put Beau on alert. “Go on.”

  “Scott was chairman of the Joint Oversight Committee on Government Facilities. The members were planning to hand out contracts worth six hundred million dollars for deferred maintenance and new construction in the capitol complex.”

  “And the favor?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. I think it might have had something to do with granting a contract to a particular company, someone your father wanted.”

  “Did Scott agree?”

  “He didn’t want to. He grumbled about it, said he didn’t have any choice. Apparently he owed Senator Reese for a vote he had cast on a bill Scott wanted passed. I didn’t press for more. As the wife of a politician, I’ve learned when to push and when to let something go. Now I wish I had pushed harder.”

  Beau set his mug down on the coffee table. “There’s no reason to believe the favor Scott did for my father had any bearing on what happened to him or my dad. But there’s always a chance it could be important. Whether it is or isn’t, I appreciate your telling me.”

  “As an investigator,” Cassidy said, “I’ve learned that any little scrap of information can turn out to be helpful. You never know what it might be.”

  They stood up from the sofa and Emily stood up, too. She led them to the front door. “Thank you for coming. I feel better just telling someone about my suspicions.”

  “We’ll do our best to follow up,” Cassidy said.

  “If it turns out to be something, I’ll let you know,” Beau said.

  Emily set her hand on his arm. “Whatever you find out, I don’t want to know. Can you understand that?”

  A thread of unease filtered through him. He thought of the hit-and-run driver, the man who had run Cassidy off the road. “I understand,” he said.

  “Thank you again,” Cassidy said. Turning away, they headed down the stone walkway to the car.

  * * *

  “Your father wanted a favor,” Cassidy mused as the Ferrari rolled toward home.

  “That was definitely the way he did business.”

  “We know your dad visited Watson two weeks before he died, so about six weeks ago. If I remember right, that was about the time he paid back most of the money he borrowed from Vaughn.”

  “Most but not all,” Beau said.

  “Maybe he paid the rest with a favor—something Vaughn wanted.”

  “Yeah, like getting a big fat construction contract for one of his clients.”

  Cassidy started nodding. “Let’s work with that. Let’s assume your father got Watson to convince the members of the committee to give the contract to the company your dad wanted. Two weeks later, Watson is killed so there wouldn’t be any connection.”

  “You’re making a pretty big le
ap.”

  “Yes, I am. And here’s where that leap takes us. Watson was a loose end. Your father was a loose end, too. Both of them knew about the deal. Vaughn wasn’t taking any chances. He had both men killed.”

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “We need to find out if Scott Watson recommended a particular company and if so, how much the contract was worth.”

  “Emily said the state was spending six hundred million for deferred maintenance and new construction. That’s big bucks.”

  Beau’s gaze sharpened on hers. “Yeah, plenty of motive for murder.”

  The sky was clearing, clouds drifting away, exposing patches of blue. But the streets were still wet as the Ferrari drove back toward the house.

  “The contract might be public record,” Cassidy said, thinking out loud. “Some kind of public filing or something.”

  “If it isn’t, I might be able to find out. My father was a politician for eighteen years, a senator for the last twelve. I can make some calls, talk to some people I know, try to get the information we need. Tomorrow’s Monday. Even the politicians will be back at work.”

  Cassidy sat back in her seat, enjoying the roar of the powerful engine as the Ferrari moved effortlessly along the road. They had almost reached Beau’s house when his cell phone started ringing. He checked the number, answered it on the hands-free.

  “Hey, Missy.” He smiled.

  “Hi, Beau. I hate to . . . umm . . . bother you, but you said to call if we found something.”

  He flicked a glance at Cassidy and his smile widened. “So did you?”

  “We did. Me and Mom found the perfect little house. It’s got three bedrooms and there’s two bathrooms plus a little powder room off the entry. There’s a park right across the street and it’s just a couple blocks from the café, so Mom can walk to work. Me, too, once the baby is older. Do you have time to, you know, come and see it?”

  Beau looked at Cassidy and she read his expression, easily read his thoughts. They didn’t have time. They were trying to catch a murderer. And there was the not-so-small matter of trying to keep from getting killed.

  “We can be there in an hour and twenty,” he said. “That work for you?”

  “Oh, that would be so great. The real estate lady said anytime today would be good for her. And the house is empty, so if you like it, we could move in right away.”

  “You’re the one who has to live there, sweetie. Let’s just make sure it’s in good shape, okay?”

  “Okay. You should see Evie, Beau. She’s the best little girl. She’s already sleeping most of the night.”

  “That’s good. We’ll make this work, I promise.” There was a smile on Beau’s face when he hung up the phone. “She says the baby is doing great.”

  “I love babies. I can’t wait to see Evie again.”

  Beau’s gaze swung away from the road back to Cassidy. For an instant something warmed in his eyes; then it was gone.

  The hour-and-twenty-minute drive to Pleasant Hill passed quickly. The entire time, Beau kept watch to make sure they weren’t followed.

  They met Josie, Missy, and the baby at the house. The Realtor, Diane Ellison, was a busty redhead with a friendly smile. As Missy had said, the single-story home on Shady Lane was just a couple of blocks from the restaurant, nothing fancy, but from the outside, at least, it appeared to be in good condition. And as Missy had said, a shady little park with benches beneath the trees sat just across and down the block from the house.

  Cassidy held little Evie while the Realtor gave Beau, Missy, and Josie a tour of the interior, which, being empty, made an inspection fairly easy. The house was only ten years old, with an open kitchen, a breakfast bar and eating area that looked into a family room with an antique brick fireplace. There was a fenced yard out back and a two-car attached garage.

  Cassidy gently held the sleeping baby in her arms as she glanced around the house, which had new carpet, drapes, and paint, and included a refrigerator in the kitchen, plus a washer and dryer. The house looked good, and if repairs came up, the cost wouldn’t be a problem for Beau.

  The tour ended and the small group walked back into the living room. “So what do you think?” Missy asked Beau. When he wasn’t looking, she grinned at Cassidy, turned so she could see Missy’s fingers crossed behind her back. Cassidy grinned back. It was obvious how much mother and daughter loved the house.

  “If you like it,” Beau said. “Then I like it, too.”

  Missy’s eyes teared. All of them smiled in relief. Cassidy gave Missy a secret thumbs-up, growing more and more fond of the teenage girl who’d had to grow up too soon.

  Beau focused his attention on the Realtor. “Make it happen, Diane, and soon. All cash. No contingencies. Just like we discussed.”

  Missy squealed and threw her arms around Beau’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Half the women in town had a crush on Beau, but Missy seemed to see him more as an older brother, a healthy relationship Cassidy was sure pleased him greatly.

  Missy took the baby, cuddled her, and tucked the soft pink blanket around her. “You want to hold her, Beau?” Before he could answer, the girl settled little Evie in his arms. Beau looked down at the infant and the expression on his face hurt Cassidy’s heart. He should have had children in his life. He deserved it. He turned and smiled at her; then his expression slowly changed. His features went from soft to hard, and whatever he’d been thinking was gone.

  He handed the baby back to Missy. “As soon as the sale closes, you can move in. Josie, you need to call the moving company, arrange for them to pack your things. Tell them to send me the bill.”

  Josie just nodded, a little shell-shocked at their good fortune. “I’ll call them right away.”

  Beau checked his watch. “We have to get going.” He set a hand at Cassidy’s waist, urging her toward the door. “Keep me posted.”

  The drive home to Dallas was a mostly silent journey, though Cassidy wasn’t sure why. Beau seemed to be somewhere far away, and wherever it was, it wasn’t warm and fuzzy.

  Unease slipped through her. Whatever Beau was thinking, she was sure it wasn’t good.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  All the way back to Dallas, Beau kept replaying the scene in his head, him holding the baby, Cassidy looking at him with a soft smile on her face, him smiling back.

  Like a lunatic, he thought now, a guy caught up in something he didn’t completely understand and would never experience.

  That kind of thinking was over, long in the past. It had died with Sarah, and he wouldn’t allow it to return.

  Memories arose, long summer days on campus, he and Sarah making plans, talking about having a family, how many children they wanted.

  It was only a few weeks later that the cancer diagnosis had come in. Terminal. Nothing they could do but accept the inevitable. They didn’t want to believe it, flatly refused to give up hope. But as Sarah slowly wasted away, there was no use denying the outcome. Sarah’s anguish and suffering had been intense. In a different, less obvious way, so was Beau’s.

  He thought of Cassidy, his deepening feelings for her, the way her smile somehow warmed him inside. The way she steadied him, helped him deal with the problems he was facing.

  The last thing he needed was to fall in love. He’d made a life for himself. One that didn’t include a wife and kids. He was comfortable. Safe. He thought of the agony of losing Sarah. He’d be a fool to let down his guard and take that kind of risk again. Since he wasn’t a fool, he needed to back away.

  He’d talk to Linc, find a way to ensure Cassidy was protected until this was over, set up security twenty-four hours a day.

  He was deep in thought, running over his options, discarding possibilities, when he pulled up to a stop light on Lovers Lane and noticed a car in his rearview mirror. It was a fairly new white Toyota four-door sedan, a family car, though the driver appeared to be the only person in the vehicle at the moment.

  The Ferrari was idling,
satellite radio playing soft rock tunes. A few other cars were on the busy street, a Ford F-150 facing him on the opposite side of the intersection next to a Subaru Outback, a Chevy with a dent in its right fender behind the Toyota, nothing that looked threatening.

  He checked the mirror, saw the turn signal on the Toyota go on as the driver pulled into the right-hand lane on Cassidy’s side of the car and came to a stop beside them. Beau glanced over at the driver, a guy in a ball cap, noticed the window was rolled down. The driver’s arm came up.

  “Gun!” Beau shouted. Both of them ducked as two quick shots smashed through the glass in the Ferrari’s passenger window, tearing into the headrest, missing Cassidy’s head by inches, the other shot shattering the window on the driver’s side of the car, exactly where he had been sitting.

  Cassidy popped up and fired through the broken window as the Toyota charged into the intersection, squealed around the corner, and roared off down the block.

  Beau jammed his foot on the gas, punching into the intersection, slinging Cassidy hard against her seat belt just as the light changed and the F-150 lurched toward him. Beau steered hard to the right to miss a collision and stay behind the fleeing car.

  “Keep low!” He pressed harder on the gas pedal, and the Ferrari leaped ahead like a panther after a gazelle, engine growling, gaining on the white Toyota at breakneck speed. He’d almost caught up when the car braked and cut in front of two slower-moving vehicles, blocking Beau’s approach. He jammed on the brakes and managed to duck in behind them, followed for a few seconds before the Toyota screamed through a yellow light, turned left as the light changed to red, and shot off down the block.

  Cursing, Beau downshifted and hit the gas, running the light, shooting into the intersection to the sound of blaring horns and the squeal of burning rubber, barely missing a Cadillac coming the opposite way. He cranked the wheel, made the turn, and raced after the Toyota, which cut in and out with more skill than Beau expected.