A Critical Tangent

by Reily Garrett

  Keiki hesitated, unsure where her responsibility stood as far as client confidentiality. Since she was hired by the PI and not the client. A fine detail could throw her into a different light in a judge’s eyes.

  In counterpoint, he could go ahead and arrest her for spying in his home. He’d have no reason to believe her about surveillance for Tucker unless she proved it.

  “Okay. Let me open the files.” Turning back to her computer, she gave him complete access. At this point, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  Most of the clips were short and revolved around a spouse’s infidelity. One insurance scam and another involving theft in the workplace also presented opportunity for the detective to make assumptions and see she told the truth.

  She didn’t object when he took screen shots and recorded notes with his phone. Each case produced a barrage of questions and required an abundance of details.

  For reasons she didn’t understand, her PI boss preferred to have still shots along with video recordings. She never turned over audio files unless the subjects were located in or near an area of public access. It didn’t mean she didn’t record information, however; she just told the PI she couldn’t get closer because the drones made too much noise.

  “Will these clips fit on a flash drive?”

  “Yes.” She wasn’t surprised he’d wanted a copy. “It’ll take me a minute to load them.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  She understood how swirling thoughts forced him to pace the small apartment. The entire space, sans bathroom, was open to his inspection. Suddenly, he flinched, his focus narrowed in the direction of her bedside table.

  Damn. The picture.

  Soundless steps carried him to her bedside where he picked up the frame by the lamp. Without a word, he turned to face her.

  His jaw fell open as he shuffled back a step. A low bark of laughter drifted off as cunning awareness took over his expression.

  The photo was a captured moment in time at the college when he’d knelt in a modified shooter’s stance. A face-off with her drone with his gun drawn and intense focus mirrored that of an action hero.

  “Um, a reminder of how dangerous you are to me?” Heat engulfed her entire body, her thoughts conjuring a deep dark hole that would swallow her without leaving a trace.

  “And the small heart on the frame?”

  “Is next to my drone. My source of protection.”

  All types of possible reactions crossed her mind where he lay on her bed and beckoned with a smile to one in which he threw her over his shoulder and carried her to his own bed.

  A knowing grin acknowledged the power he’d gained in that simple moment in time. Her only defense was to ignore.

  He replaced the photo and returned to the kitchen with a particular lightness in his step.

  His heavy sigh brought them back to an ominous reality. “If the uniformed officer had died, you would’ve been charged with homicide considering no one else saw or heard the intruder.”

  “I know. I’ve called the hospital to check on the officer. He’s recovering.” The catch in her voice broke up the apology. “I’m a walking magnet for death and destruction.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Nolan lifted his hand but stopped short of her shoulder. “It wasn’t.”

  “Had I been with Shelly that morning—”

  “Then we’d have two homicides to solve.”

  Keiki took a shaky breath. “Maybe.”

  “Something’s still not sitting right with you. Spill.”

  “What? You’ve got copies of all the recordings.”

  “Which doesn’t preclude you from knowing or suspecting something or someone else. You can either tell me or—”

  “Damn it. All right.” The last thing she wanted on her record was an arrest for spying, a definitive end to a career that hadn’t yet started.

  “The piece of drone you found buried in the flowerbed? I’ve proven it wasn’t mine.”

  “Yeah, so.”

  “The way it was jointed, not many people do that. It’s an extra step, a corner they could cut in the process to save money. Then there’s the lettering. They were mine, true, but not placed by me.”

  “You’re thinking Harock or someone in his employ is setting you up?”

  “Harock wouldn’t. I come up with new designs and Harock builds them. The killer made a mistake with his drone, the engraving. A stupid oversight, but one that proves my point.”

  “They’re not paying attention to details.”

  “Exactly. I still think there might be an answer in my boss’ building. There has to be a clue somewhere, and I don’t know where else to look. I’m thinking a connection between the killer and one of the engineers at Harock Industries.”

  She waited, giving him time to sift through her logic.

  “Since you’ve proven it’s not a drone his company made on your behalf, there’s no way we can get a court order to search his files.”

  “You can’t go in, but I can. No one would think twice of my talking to the R&D guys. I do it often enough,” she countered.

  “That isn’t where you’re going to find the evidence. However, you can give us the names of the engineers and technicians with whom you generally confer. That’s where I’ll start.”

  “You’ll need more information than that and you know it.”

  “Keiki, you are not going to fly one of your little demons in there. The risk is too high—among other issues.”

  She wouldn’t think of risking her babies. She could do the job herself. Entering undetected would be a piece of cake. The tough part was fooling the detective who seemed to be omniscient where she was concerned.

  He wasn’t convinced she’d be content to stay in the background. Confirmation was written in the narrow slits of his focus and the way he raked his fingers through his hair.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. She had an obligation to find Shelly’s killer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nolan waited on his couch and watched the screen on his phone. The camera he’d tucked into a branch behind Keiki’s apartment waved in the stiffening breeze. His instincts never misfired when it came to a suspect’s behavior.

  There’s a big difference between suspect and victim.

  Youth and circumstance would drive her to a recklessness that endangered her life.

  Bingo!

  Sometimes he hated being right.

  Dressed like a burglar, except for a hat so ridiculous only a college student could wear it, she crept down the wooden stairs not realizing Carolyn slept like a log.

  Puzzlement halted his stride to the front door when, instead of heading to her car, she headed for the woods and melted into the shadows. A faint light skimmed back and forth across the branches. Toward my house? Why?

  There were no other homes nearby and no well-traveled roads for miles. If she needed to be outdoors to clear her mind, he could give her that space. She deserved it.

  Minutes later, however, his dog’s soft whine morphed into audible discontent when a shadow darted toward his SUV. Ambient light caught the strip of red in her cap. If she raised the hood, he’d intervene. Otherwise, he’d wait until action declared intent.

  Reason scattered when she got into the passenger’s side and bent forward.

  What the hell is she doing? Flashbacks of pranks pulled between officers made him grimace. If his assessment was correct, she withheld a whole lot of rage and enjoyed a knack for practical jokes.

  The door’s closing offered more noise, which set Horace to barking and him to smiling when she bolted toward the woods.

  “Well, boy. She wasn’t in there long. If she turned on the radio and wipers thinking to startle me when I cranked the engine, she’s gonna be disappointed.”

  Again, he waited for her return to the apartment. Katherine Tallerman was an enigma wrapped in barely restrained anger, driving motivation, impetuousness, fascination, and altogether too alluring.

  Judging b
y the picture at her bedside, she contained equally confusing emotions.

  Her steps slowed at the edge of the woods then paused. She waited, watching as if expecting someone to grab her. Nightmares of her friend’s death would invade her sleep for months to come. Knowing she’d heard every second of the attack, he understood her paranoia.

  Instead of heading back up the steps, she slipped around the side of the garage.

  Shit. She’s going for a ride.

  Snatching up his jacket by the front door, he’d headed out, now wondering what she’d done to his vehicle. It wasn’t as if she could’ve accessed the onboard computer in that time.

  Once his door clicked shut, he checked his phone again, the second camera hidden by the driveway letting him know which way she’d gone.

  Gotcha.

  With a soft throaty rumble, the engine turned over before he shoved the gear in reverse. When time dimmed the memory of Clare’s vehicle in the far spot, he’d park in the garage again.

  Because the temperature dropped with the front bringing cooler temperatures along with the threat of rain, he didn’t wait for the interior to warm up before turning the heater on to full blast.

  “Shit!”

  He expected cool air. What he got was so much more.

  The strong gust of cold brought a cloud of sticky confetti from both driver’s vents to cover his face and chest. Tiny bursts of color swirled in the small confines and stuck to his hair, skin, and jacket.

  The damn stuff glowed in the moonlight and reminded him of the Foam Glitter race.

  “Son of a bitch.” He hadn’t been pranked since his rookie days.

  He’d known after finding her mechanical spy in his home—the kid would continue to snoop, and so, he’d planted the cameras in preparation. Meddling was written in every line of her aura. Grief for her friend and compassion for others was etched in her heart.

  Keiki thought she’d seen the rougher sides of life due to her orphan status, but she’d barely scratched the surface. She had no idea what lurked in life’s underbelly. Keiki’s not equipped for this shit.

  Undisclosed awareness often surfed below the stormy blue depths of her gaze, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to shed.

  In the time they’d spent together, he’d observed her interaction with his dog, her grief over so much loss, and even her panic when holding his niece.

  He should’ve called his partner, but instinct held him in check, instead taking extra caution in remaining out of her sight. He knew the roads well enough and could navigate with ambient light.

  * * * *

  Keiki had never been the kid who snuck out of the house. Fear magnified the adrenaline surge coursing through her chest. It equaled the thrill of working for Tucker, whom she’d debated calling for backup, the type Nolan couldn’t provide.

  No honest cop would approve her plan, and Nolan’s instincts were sharp. The unfortunate combination warranted extreme caution.

  Less than stellar computer skills necessitated finding physical evidence in her sneak and peek. Too bad she wasn’t sure if she’d recognize it if and when she saw it.

  She was in over her head.

  Scant traffic along the isolated road allowed time to review her plan without constant vigilance in the rearview mirror. She could think of only one cop who’d be driving this route at this hour.

  Quiet reigned over the industrial parking lot. Lack of working third shift meant it lay empty. Despite that, she still had the feeling of being watched. Both detectives had assured her she couldn’t be traced to Carolyn’s.

  She wasn’t so sure.

  Why Harock chose such an isolated setting for the business baffled as well as frustrated. In counterpoint, thickly wooded land increased her chances of getting in and out without being detected.

  Several faux trails splitting off the main road into the surrounding woods offered a place to leave her car, shrouded in the abundance of bushes and branching pines. Luck and the night’s stillness should have engendered a sense of encouragement and relief instead of dread taking hold.

  Dark memories surfaced to shake her confidence. Her parents hadn’t been sneaking around, and their deaths had no correlation with what she now attempted. Yet, the specter of their disapproval flashed in her mind.

  Even if the killer knew Keiki’s legal name, he couldn’t deduce her whereabouts. There were no blood ties between Carolyn and Nolan, and none between herself and Carolyn.

  The initial part of her plan entailed veiling her approach. For that, she used one of her handed devices.

  A stunted breeze whispering admonitions through the leaves broke the late-night solitude while her drone soared over the structure. The thick swatch of cloth in its tiny metal grip flapped in the air currents.

  Once hovered over the employee entrance’s video camera, it settled on the rim in a stable perch. Increasing wind buffeted the north side of the building with remnants sifting the cloth back and forth over the lens.

  Nothing in life is ideal.

  Gaining entrance proved easier. The worst part entailed fifty yards of clear space to the side door.

  Shelly’s swipe card stuck to her glove. Closer inspection induced a flashback of drinking coffee at her table and her friend’s gentle rebuke. My caramel latte. If she were still alive, what would her friend think of the night’s endeavor?

  The keycard slid through the slot and preceded an audible click.

  Once inside, she forced bile down and straightened her spine. She knew where to go. Defining pertinent evidence remained the mystery. Her thoughts drifted over each known employee.

  One young man, Calvin something or other, asked her out every time she called. He was handsome, smart, and enjoyed an abundance of dry wit. In all the conversations they’d had, she never received a spark like the cop had delivered within five minutes of their first meeting.

  She didn’t have to see the detective to know when he was near. Like the bumble bee with its mechanosensory leg hairs which responded to opposite charges, she felt his presence like a jolt to her nervous system.

  Tomb quiet and deathly stillness reigned while she rummaged through the research and development section.

  It was a little after one in the morning when she huffed a sigh of defeat. She’d sifted through everything she could find and come up with zilch. All appeared as she suspected it should.

  The last space to investigate involved a foray into Harock’s office. An ultimate betrayal to someone who’d consoled her when her parents died, continued to support her work, and now grieved the loss of his second child.

  Keiki was an absolute heel.

  Halved stairwells led to the second floor where administration divided responsibility in running the company into various departments. Passing each door of the wide corridor, she recalled employees’ faces and normal greetings.

  Harock’s office took up the far end of the wing, allowing him to enjoy the view through floor to ceiling windows.

  Over the years, sitting with Shelly across from his desk had become a normal pastime. Intervals spent there allowed the heiress to keep her finger on the heartbeat of the company. Various files took up a small footprint of desktop, its polished surface a reminder of the grandeur surrounding the family. None of it would comfort them now.

  The longer she remained in the building, the more the hair on her arms and nape stood on end. Her sixth sense rarely failed or proved inaccurate.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. She wouldn’t have the courage to snoop again. And, the longer she took to unravel the mystery, the greater the likelihood of the killer finding her.

  She’d never considered his net worth until sitting in the stylish, velvet-draped seat and felt dwarfed by the workspace.

  Franklin’s desk formed an L shape which allowed him to work at his computer or survey the countryside. Photos of the family’s many vacations demonstrated heartfelt smiles amid various activities on built-in bookshelves lining one wall.

  Daylight w
ould offer Harock picturesque, lush autumn colors in early afternoon sun—undulating hills that could soothe the roughest soul. Now, however, she saw darkness, death, and a bleak future.

  When Shelly wanted to conceal critical information, she wrote it on the back of one of her calendar pages. That way of thinking might be a family trait.

  Keiki turned over the calendar and examined the back of each page.

  Nothing.

  The drawers wouldn’t open. Special tools hidden in her belt wouldn’t be of help against the more sophisticated locksets.

  A single, archaic opportunity to collect information sat beside the lamp, a rotating spindle of index cards. Keeping a list of business contacts and friends in such an old-fashioned way dated the man she considered a second father.

  Using her phone, she used the light to search the listings.

  Some of the people she’d heard of, but their contribution to the company was fuzzy at best. The business end of operations was more Shelly’s bailiwick.

  Toward the middle of the spindle, one card snagged her attention. It was an address. No name, no identifying information, nothing except a street number and name. Curiosity dictated she take a snapshot of it for future reference. If her memory proved correct, the noted road led to neither an industrial nor residential area.

  Outside, a roll of thunder strained the last of her inner Zen. If the wind knocked her drone off its perch, she’d be toast. The unanticipated, late-season storm forced her to realize planning could make the difference between success and failure.

  One of Tucker’s teachings.

  The creep factor of her illegal visit ramped her pulse high enough to force a brief moment to collect herself. Closing her eyes, she willed her mind to calm and her heart rate to slow.

  She couldn’t find anything else to search and decided to call it a wrap. If she approached him right, Tucker might teach her how to pick locks other than handcuffs. That would mean a return visit.

  Meanwhile, she’d swing by the peculiar address on the way home. It wasn’t like she’d be able to sleep soon anyway.

  Flashbacks of a conversation where Harock detailed his plan for expansion came to mind. She might find a vacant lot. Her phone’s app would mark the spot well enough.