Harlequin Intrigue, Box Set 2 of 2

by Julie Miller

  Okay, so there were a few things about the woman that made him a little crazy—like holding back details after starting a conversation and refusing to explain herself. Like those damn rules, which he supposed were some kind of survival code in her mind. Still, those were just quirks he had to work around; they were challenges he was willing to meet. Trent tried to think of one thing she could do to make him not want her in his life and came up empty. But until she came around to the idea of a relationship, until these threats against her could be stopped, he’d better concentrate on the job at hand. And maybe get back inside the warmth of his truck. “Come on, Padre.”

  The tan-and-white collie mix trotted along beside him while Trent noted an older woman coming out of Katie’s building, trading a friendly nod and a smile with the man who held the door open for her before hurrying in out of the cold. A businessman was backing out of his parking space in the lot while a family was bundling everyone into a minivan. One of the children said something to the mom and she grumbled, fishing her keys out of her pocket and sending him back inside the building to retrieve whatever he’d forgotten. The maintenance super tossed the last of his rock salt on the front steps and pulled the key fob from his retractable key ring to open the door and go in.

  Trent glanced up at the kitchen window again. Katie’s shadow had moved on to another part of the apartment, leaving him blind to her exact location. Losing track of her for a few seconds shouldn’t make him antsy like this. His tired brain needed to tune in to what was off here.

  His gaze shot to the front door again. The skin at his nape burned with suspicion. “Ah, hell.”

  The man who’d held the door for the older woman hadn’t used a key fob to enter the building like everyone else. He hadn’t needed to.

  Trent’s breathing deepened, quickened as he glanced around. Everybody else except for the jogger was dressed for the snow-shrouded December morning. But that man...

  Brown hair. Long wool coat. Dress shoes.

  The alarm going off in his head must have traveled down the leash. Padre danced around his legs and woofed.

  “Padre, heel.” Teaching the dog a new command, he gave a sharp tug on the leash. Padre broke into a run beside him as they made a beeline for the front door. Trent knocked on the window and peered through the glass to see if anyone was inside the lobby. Where had the man gone? “Katie?”

  Then he turned to the bank of mailboxes and buzzed her apartment. “Katie? Tyler, you in there?”

  When there was no immediate response, he shook the front door handle. He wondered if he could break the lock with a ram of his shoulder, or if he needed to fire a round into it.

  “May I help you?” By now he’d gotten someone’s attention. The super in the tan coveralls strolled across the lobby, pointing to the no-pets sign on the glass. “I’m sorry, sir. But that dog—”

  “KCPD.” Trent slapped his badge against the glass and made the startled man read that sign. “Open it now. You’ve got an intruder in there.”

  “An intruder? But this is a secure—”

  “Now!”

  “Yes, sir.” Jumping at Trent’s harsh command, the older man pulled the fob from his belt and swept it over the lock. “Are we in any danger?” he asked, pulling open the door.

  “Katie!” Rushing past the super, Trent sprinted up the stairs to the second floor. Padre kept pace, whining with nerves or excitement when Trent skidded to a stop in front of the elevator. Just as he’d feared, the perp had gotten off on the second floor. Katie’s floor. A door opened close by and Trent flashed his badge to shoo the curious tenant back into her apartment. “Police, ma’am. Get back inside.”

  With a quick scan up and down the hallway, Trent saw the rest of the doors were closed or were clicking shut as other curious tenants retreated at the sight of the hulking detective and vocal dog charging down to Katie’s door.

  “Katie!” His gaze dropped to the nickel-finished doorknob and easily turned it. Ah, hell. He traced his gloved finger over the telltale scratch marks there and on the dead bolt lock higher up, sure signs that both had been tampered with. He glanced up and down that hallway again. One of those closing doors might be hiding a stalker. One instinct said to pursue his suspicion, but another, stronger urge made him flatten his palm and pound on the door. “Katie Lee! Answer me.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Trent, you’ll wake the neighbors.” The dead bolt turned and she opened the door. Pulling the dog along with him, he pushed her inside and quickly shut the door behind him and locked the dead bolt. “Come in,” she muttered sarcastically. “Bring the beast, too. What’s a little fine from the tenants’ association? Were you the one buzzing to come up?”

  “No one came in? No one’s here but the two of you? Why didn’t you answer?”

  “Slow down, Detective.”

  Her irritation gave way to confusion as he handed the dog’s leash off to her and pushed by to make sure everything was as it should be. A blue-eyed woman with damp, freshly shampooed tendrils bouncing against her neck was running around in gray slacks and a flannel pajama top, carrying a blouse she was probably getting ready to change into for work. Breakfast on the table. Lunch being packed. “Where’s Tyler?”

  “In the tub. Why is the dog here? What is going on?”

  He went straight to the bathroom door, pulled off his watch cap and leaned his ear against the wood, relieved to hear the sounds of a little boy playing with ships in the water on the other side. He checked both bedrooms and the hall closet before rejoining Katie in the main room. “Someone tried to break in.”

  “Inside the building?”

  “At your front door. I must have scared him off.” Her knuckles turned white around the dog’s leash. He should be outside, checking for signs of the intruder’s escape route, making sure he wasn’t still lurking in the building. But he couldn’t leave Katie unprotected, not until he understood what the hell was going on and had a plan to deal with it. “He’d gotten your knob unlocked. Fortunately, you had the dead bolt in place. You didn’t hear anything?”

  “No. I was running a bath for Tyler.”

  Speaking of, a barefoot boy in superhero underpants ran out of the bathroom. “Padre!”

  “Tyler,” Katie cautioned, “where are your clothes?”

  “Mom, Padre came to see me.” Dropping to his knees, he hugged his arms around the dog’s neck. There was licking and giggling and tail wagging and petting before Tyler jumped to his feet and the dog bounded after him. “Come on, boy. Let’s eat.”

  Tyler paused to give Trent a quick hug around his hips, then ran back to follow the dog as Padre sniffed his way around the apartment. The little boy stopped at the table to scoop up a forkful of scrambled eggs and stuff it into his mouth. Then he stabbed another bite and dropped it to the floor, where the skinny dog gobbled it up.

  “Tyler,” Katie chided. “Not at the table.” She hurried to the kitchen window, where Trent was pulling open the blinds to check outside. Where had that guy disappeared to? If he was still inside, Trent would have to do a room-to-room search, and with eighteen apartments in this building, the guy could stay one step ahead of him, sneaking out while he cleared each space. If he’d already made his escape... “Padre can’t be in here. Tyler, you need to finish dressing before you catch a cold.” She latched on to Trent’s sleeve when he brushed past her to get another view from her bedroom window. “This isn’t a friendly visit for Tyler’s sake, is it? What’s going on?” When she peeked out the window behind him, her tone changed from suspiciously annoyed to simply suspicious. “Who are you looking for?”

  Trent looked over the top of her head to see a blur of movement. Son of a... The alarm in his blood reengaged. He caught Katie by the shoulders and turned her attention to the man in a long coat stumbling through the snow. “Him, Katie. Do you recognize him?”

  Trent was alr
eady backing toward the door as she shook her head and faced him. “Who’s that? Why is he running?”

  “I intend to find out.” Trent pulled open the apartment door. “Lock up behind me. No one comes in except me.”

  “Trent—”

  “Lock it, Katie!”

  He had to get to that pervert before he reached whatever vehicle he was headed for. Once he heard the secure click of the dead bolt sliding into place, Trent booked it into overtime, running down the stairs, skipping a few with each stride. He shoved open the outside door and rushed straight across the snowy ground. “Police! Stop!”

  The man with the dress shoes might have cold feet, but he was fast. He dashed across the street and climbed into a black sports car. He had the engine revving before Trent reached the pavement. What the hell? Who was this guy? What did he want with Katie?

  Trent held up his badge and pulled his gun. “Police! Get out of the car!”

  But the perp showed no signs of cooperating. He jerked his wheels to the left and floored it.

  Trent planted his feet and took aim as the driver swerved out of his parking stall. “Stop! Or I’ll shoot!”

  He squinted and turned his face from the pelting of slush and ice crystals. The car roared down the street, and by the time Trent could look back and get a bead on the fishtailing back tires, he realized he didn’t have a clear shot. There were too many people around, frozen in their morning routines, some ducking behind their vehicles, others standing in open ground, staring at him—including the curvy brunette with her face pressed to the second-story window.

  “Son of a...” His breath whooshed out on a frustrated curse as the car veered around the corner and sped away. There wasn’t even time to get to his truck and get turned around to pursue the suspect.

  But he wasn’t about to give up on finding the answers he needed and putting a stop to the danger escalating around Katie and Tyler. With a wave of reassurance to the people around him, Trent holstered his weapon and pulled out his phone.

  Max’s gruff voice answered. “It’s early, junior, and I’m in bed with my wife. This better be good.”

  “Apologies to Rosie. I need you to run a plate for me.”

  The tenor of Max’s tone changed instantly and Trent imagined his partner rolling out of bed with an urgency belying his burly stature. “You need backup? Everything okay?”

  “No. But I’m not sure what I’m dealing with yet.” He strode back up the sidewalk “A guy just tried to pick the lock on Katie’s apartment. He drove off after I chased him from the building.”

  “Hell, I’d run, too, if I had a defensive tackle chasing me down,” Max teased, writing down the number Trent gave him.

  His partner didn’t even question that he was at Katie’s this early in the morning. “The perp matched the general description of the guy taking pictures at the theater last night. I want to know why he was here.”

  “I’m on it. You stay with her. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.” He heard Max exchanging a kiss and muttering some kind of explanation to his wife. “Anything else?”

  “Just get me the info, Max.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  Katie was waiting for him when he knocked on her door. Trent pushed inside and locked it behind him. Baggy plaid flannel draping over those generous breasts shouldn’t trigger this instant desire in him, but he’d had a lot of practice ignoring those traitorous impulses around Katie. It was harder, though, to ignore the concern in those wide blue eyes, or to turn away from the wary frown that dimpled her forehead. Trent pulled off his glove and brushed her hair away from her worried expression. He’d barely felt a sample of her warm, velvety skin before she pulled away from his touch.

  “Did you catch him?” she whispered, darting her eyes toward Tyler and Padre playing on the floor beside the Christmas tree.

  Right. The rules. Although Trent wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and feel with his own two hands that she was safe, she was in touch-me-not mode this morning. He shook his head and unzipped his coat before crossing to check the lock on the kitchen window. “I got the plate number on his car, so hopefully it’ll be enough to ID this guy.”

  He peered outside to see the sun glinting off the snow and the world turning back to normal before heading through the apartment to ensure that all the access points were secure. A parade of mom, dog and boy followed him through the apartment.

  “How did he get in?” Katie asked.

  “It’s not that hard if you bide your time and have a charming smile.”

  “He conned his way in here?” She snapped her fingers and shooed Tyler and Padre across the hall when they reached her bedroom. “Clothes. Now, young man.” Departing on a three-toned sigh, Tyler grabbed Padre’s collar and went into his room. Once she was certain her son was changing for school, Katie tugged on the sleeve of Trent’s coat and pulled him into her bedroom. “You’re going to scare Tyler if you keep this up.”

  The fresh, flowery scent that was all Katie was stronger in here. But he conquered the urge to draw in a deep, savoring breath and crossed to the curtains to secure the window and fire escape outside. “The dog will distract him.”

  “Not entirely. He’s a sensitive kid.” He shivered at the touch of her fingers at the nape of his neck. But what he’d mistaken for a caress was pure practicality. She held up a palmful of road slush that was melting on his collar, then carried it over to the damp towel tossed across the bed from her morning shower to wipe her hand. “My God, you’re a cold mess. You were out there all night, weren’t you?”

  “Most of it.”

  “I thought I saw your truck. I couldn’t sleep, either, after our...discussion.” She reached up and used the towel to dab at the moisture still beading on his neck and jaw. Ah, hell. Now, that was a caress. Goose bumps prickled across his skin in the wake of her touch, and her soft sigh teased something deeper inside. But she must have realized she’d crossed the very boundary she’d asked him to respect and quickly pulled away to stuff the towel into the hamper in her closet. Her shoulders came back with a forced resolve and she crossed to the desk she used as a home office. She picked up a stack of papers from the printer there.

  “So I did some work, too. I compiled a list of Leland Asher’s known associates and ran them through my database to see if there were any hits that matched up. I’ve been doing it backward—lining up the cases and then looking for connections between them to pop. This time I plugged in a bunch of suspect names we’ve been tossing around and ran them through the cold case data.”

  Fine. They were safe for now. He couldn’t do a damn thing until he heard back from Max. So he let her turn the conversation to work. “Did you find anything?”

  Katie nodded and handed him the papers. “Isabel Asher—Leland’s sister—was a sorority sister of Beverly Eisenbach’s at, get this, Williams College.”

  He thumbed through the stack. “The place where you and Tyler are doing the play?”

  She pointed to the grainy printout from a twenty-five-year-old college annual. “The blonde in the front row is Isabel. Dr. Eisenbach is on the far left.”

  “Eisenbach’s the shrink who counseled Matt Asher and Stephen March as teens?” He recognized the younger images of the two women who’d each held a spot on the person of interest board at the squad’s team meeting earlier in the week. “You think that’s how Dr. Eisenbach and Leland met? Through Isabel?”

  “You’d have to ask Bev Eisenbach to find that out.” She pointed to the date at the bottom of the photo. “But there’s a reasonable chance that she knew the Asher family years before she counseled Leland’s nephew. This is dated before he was even born. Maybe she’s more than Leland’s latest girlfriend. Having the previous acquaintance could be the reason he selected her to counsel his nephew, Matt. But if they�
��ve known each other since they were in their twenties, isn’t it possible that their relationship has gone on for a lot longer than we realized? Maybe she counseled Leland for some reason—grief, stress, dealing with his sister’s addiction? She might have confidential information on him that we could use in our investigation. Maybe he even confessed to some of his crimes, or the hits we suspect he paid for. Dr. Eisenbach’s practice is one of the offices I’ve sent requests to for information. They confirmed that Matt Asher and Stephen March were former patients, but any requests for a complete patient list have been ignored.”

  “This is good stuff, sunshine. Maybe even enough to ask the lieutenant for a warrant to get a look at Eisenbach’s records.” Trent looked at another picture, this time of a young man with long blond hair or a blond wig, dressed in a Shakespearean costume. “What’s this?” The actor’s dark, beady eyes looked familiar. “Is this the Grim Reaper?”

  Katie hugged her arms in front of her, clearly feeling a little less comfortable with this piece of information. “Francis Sergel about twenty-five years ago. I found him through my facial recognition software.”

  Trent squinted the name beneath the theater program picture into focus. “Frank Reinhardt?”

  “Sergel must be a stage name he adopted. Looks like he’s playing Hamlet.”

  Trent couldn’t imagine that walking, talking skeleton of a man playing anything heroic. “He has ties to Asher?”

  “Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor didn’t ask me to pursue him as a suspect, so I didn’t exactly have permission to dig through criminal records. But after the last few nights at the theater, I wanted to know if I should be worried about him.”

  Was that what had her squirming inside her own skin—that she’d broken a procedure rule? “I’ll request it.”

  She offered up a wan smile. “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. I didn’t like Sergel or that Doug Price, either. I want to make sure they check out.” He flipped to the next page and skimmed the information. “So Sergel, er, Reinhardt, has a record?”