by Cassie Miles
“Doubtful.” Liam shook his head. “Cops don’t like it when amateurs like us get involved.”
“Why not?”
“There’s one big, fat, obvious reason,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”
But she was already in danger. As they drove into her cul-de-sac, Kate’s mind was racing. She had no intention of sitting idly by while the police followed up on leads. The truth was hers, locked in her memory. All she had to do was find the key.
At her front door, Detective Clauson himself removed the yellow crime-scene tape so she could enter, and she thanked him warmly. She wanted to have the detective on her side.
After Clauson deployed his men to search the house and set up a perimeter at the end of the driveway for the reporters who had followed, she invited him into the living room. Kate sat on the sofa with her feet tucked up under her. “Detective, I’m not sure if I’ve said this before, but I want to do everything possible to help you.”
He remained standing, keeping his distance. “Have you remembered something that might help us locate Wayne Silverman?”
“I’m still thinking about his car.” Carefully, she broached this difficult topic where her memories diverged from the factual evidence. “I was so certain that we had that car in the mountains.”
“It’s possible,” Clauson conceded. “However, his Ford Explorer is now at his home.”
“It might help me remember if I could go to his town house and see the car for myself.”
Liam joined them. “That’s true, Detective. Kate’s memory is stimulated when she comes in contact with physical objects.”
The detective laced the fingers of his large hands together in an attitude that reminded her of prayer. He seemed wary as he considered her suggestion. “I need for you—both of you—to understand one thing. There will be no investigating on your own. If you have questions or suspicions, tell me.”
“Of course,” she said.
“I’ll arrange for you to visit Wayne’s town house.” He went to the door. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Detective.” She closed the door behind Clauson and turned to Liam. “Would you come upstairs with me for a moment?”
He followed her up to the bedroom, where he closed the door and leaned against it. “You’re up to something.”
“Solving the crime.” She went behind the half-closed door of her walk-in closet to change clothes. “I certainly don’t want to just sit here, locked up like a prisoner in my own house.”
“Even if it’s safe,” he said.
Quickly, she slipped out of her cream silk outfit. From the gym bag she’d packed at her mother’s house, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a collared jersey shirt. It was green—the color of money. “I won’t be safe until this is over.”
Though her new clothes were two sizes smaller than usual, they were still roomy. She frowned as she pulled out a handful of material at the hip. It was taking a while to become accustomed to this skinny body. A month ago, she’d been confident in her appearance, knowing that her curves were all in the right places—well-toned and shapely. Her formerly long hair had been an asset. And now?
She emerged from the closet. Her hands were on her head, wildly tousling the hairdo that had been created with such care by a stylist. “I hate mousse,” she muttered.
“Big, mean animals,” he said.
“And even worse in your hair.”
She crossed her bedroom to the bathroom, where she washed off the heavy makeup that had been necessary for the glaring scrutiny of the camera. When she looked up into the mirror above the sink, she was disappointed. Had her chin always been that sharp? Her neck was like a pipe stem. Her thinner face seemed too sharply angled. Unfeminine. Scrawny. Plain.
Needing reassurance, she stepped out of the bathroom and faced Liam. “How do I look?”
Much to her surprise, his eyes warmed. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Wow.” She was taken aback. “I didn’t get a ‘gorgeous’ when I was all dolled up.”
“I like you better this way. Natural.”
“Are you sure?”
“The way I see it, there are two Kates. One is classy and well-dressed. A corporate woman.”
She nodded. “You don’t care much for her.”
“She’s like everybody else,” he said with a shrug. “Proper and predictable. Always doing the right thing. Putting up a good front.”
“And the other?” she asked.
“Outdoorsy. The other Kate enjoys sports. She wants to establish a mountain-survival camp. She’s a little bit wild, untamed.” His voice lowered to an intimate level. “A little bit sexy.”
His compliments lifted her self-esteem by several notches. She could feel a blush rising in her cheeks, but she didn’t quite believe him. Kate could see all sides of herself in the mirror. And none of them were particularly attractive.
Cautiously, she approached Liam. Unlike her, he had no reason for self-doubt. Any woman with eyes would rate him high on the macho scale. Any woman with breath in her body would be glad to have him hold her in his arms.
His smile invited her closer. Did she dare test his words? Kiss him? She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “You’re being too kind.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
Though she trusted him implicitly when it came to friendship, she wasn’t so sure about other areas. If she offered herself to him and he pulled away, she’d be crushed.
Quickly, she took a couple steps back. “Are you ready to see yet another side of me?”
“Let me guess,” he said. “Nancy Drew, girl detective?”
“I’d choose a more grown-up role model. But, yes, I think we should be investigators.”
“The police can handle this.”
“I know more than they do,” she said.
“Only because you haven’t told them,” he pointed out. “Kate, this isn’t a game. Somebody wants you dead.”
A glimmer of fear rose up inside her, but she suppressed it. “The only way to figure out what happened to Wayne is if I start remembering, and I don’t trust that it’ll come to me in a dream. I have to go after it, to chase the truth.”
He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve been around you too long. You’re beginning to make sense to me.”
“Then you agree?”
“I’ll help you, but we take no risks. Is that clear?”
“Clear as the crystal goblets in my kitchen cabinets.” She headed toward the bedroom door. “Which reminds me, isn’t it time for dinner?”
She padded along the upstairs hallway toward the staircase. Though she’d outlined her goals and Liam had agreed, she didn’t feel satisfied. There had been a missed opportunity in her bedroom. A promise of intimacy unfulfilled. She should have kissed him. Or maybe not. After all they’d been through together, she didn’t want to do anything that might mess up their friendship.
Descending the stairs, she realized that, once again, she was operating from fear. In spite of all her stated bravado, she was scared that he didn’t really want more from their relationship, that he didn’t want her as a woman.
AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE, beneath a chandelier made of intertwined antlers, Liam closed the lid on an empty pizza box. The melted mozzarella and pepperoni formed a pleasant lump in his belly. He took a sip of Coors.
“You know,” Kate said as she licked a bit of pizza grease from her fingertip, “I’m a great cook. I should have made dinner.”
“How? You’ve got nothing in your refrigerator.”
“No problem. There’s plenty to forage in the backyard.”
“Oh, yeah, Nature Girl.” Though he didn’t doubt her cooking skills, the idea of edible xeriscape was definitely not a turn-on. Sarcastically, he said, “Too bad our bodyguards told us to stay inside.”
Liam was inclined to follow orders from these three CCC volunteers. All retired military, their hair might be gray, but their bearing was sharp as reveille in the morning. These three me
n were tough old birds. Two of them kept watch in her yard. Another, named Tony, wore a Navy SEAL patch on his leather bomber jacket. He patrolled inside the house.
“We ought to be safe,” Kate said. “We’ve got the bodyguards. And there’s a patrol car parked out front.”
He nodded agreement. For once, imminent peril was not an issue.
“Plus,” she said, “there are still three or four newspeople who appear to be spending the night. Speaking of reporters, I should return Mickey’s phone calls. He’s left a whole stack of messages on my cell—all of them are supposedly urgent.”
Though Liam had a natural antipathy toward journalists, he had to admit that the weird little guy had provided some good information the last time he’d invaded Kate’s property. “Do it. I want to ask him about his connection with your stepbrother.”
While she made her call, Liam finished off his beer. Because they were well protected tonight, he intended to let his guard down and relax. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Kate disconnected her call. “Mickey says he has new evidence, and he’ll be here right away.”
Before Liam could react, there were sounds of a disturbance from the front of the house. A screeching voice identified himself as Mickey. Apparently, “right away” meant “right now”!
Liam and Kate hurried toward the front door and arrived simultaneously with Tony.
“It’s okay,” Kate said to him. “I called this guy. His name is Mickey Wheaton.”
The former Navy SEAL shot Liam an unsmiling glare. “In the future,” he said, “inform me of any arriving guests.”
Outside the front door, they could hear Mickey’s unintelligible yelling.
“Step back inside, ma’am,” Tony said. His next order was for Liam. “When I open the door, disarm the security system.”
“Right.” If Kate hadn’t been the victim of two prior attacks, he would have considered the bodyguard’s attitude to be excessive. Under their current circumstances, he was grateful for Tony’s vigilance.
When Tony opened the door, Liam caught a glimpse of Mickey Wheaton, cuffed and facedown on the sidewalk. Another CCC bodyguard loomed over him.
Tony hauled the little reporter inside. “Is this your guest?”
“You bet I am,” Mickey snapped. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, his shoulders whipped back and forth. He looked like an angry bantam rooster.
“That’s him,” Liam said.
Quickly, Tony removed the cuffs. He offered no apologies as he stepped back into the shadows.
Mickey strutted toward the dining room, muttering about how he ought to sue. His feathers were ruffled. Grudgingly, he said to Kate, “Good job at the press conference. You didn’t give away any of the good stuff.”
“It was all good,” she said. “Information about wilderness foraging and camping is useful.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand, brushing away her comment. “The mountain-survival story is okay, but you know what people really want.”
“What’s that?” Liam asked.
“Sex and violence,” Mickey said. “That’s what sells.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Kate said briskly. “On the phone, you mentioned new evidence.”
“I’m tracking down a lead on Wayne Silverman, but I need your help. My source won’t see me, but she’ll talk to you, Kate.”
“Who is this person?”
“Not so fast.” He waggled a finger at her. “If I tell you, you could set up a meeting without me. I’ve got this arranged for tomorrow at one. At Shelby’s Café.”
“I know where it is,” Liam said. “Not far from downtown Denver.”
“At one,” Mickey repeated. “Now, tell me about last night. Somebody came after you, right?”
“Whoa.” Liam sat at the kitchen table. With his foot, he pushed out a chair for Mickey. “Sit. I’ve got a question for you.”
Mickey lowered himself to the chair. He seemed even more high-strung than the last time they’d seen him. “What’s up? What’s the prob? What’s happening?”
“Earlier today, we spoke with Kate’s stepbrother. He mentioned that he knew both you and Wayne. That you hung out.”
“Tom Rowe said that?” Mickey squeaked. He sounded like Mickey Mouse. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Liam knew a lie when he heard it. And this was a lie. “What’s the connection with you three?”
“I guess, maybe, we all spend time in the same places. You know, the brewpubs in LoDo. But we’re not pals. Me and them? Those guys are high-maintenance hot-shots, and I’m—”
“A future bestseller,” Liam prompted. Mickey’s aspirations were high enough to match either Tom’s or Wayne’s. “A movie mogul.”
“Not yet,” he said. “And until I hit the big time, guys like Tom and Wayne aren’t going to be buddies with a guy like me.”
Liam still didn’t believe him. “This is a dangerous situation, Mickey. If you know anything, you need to tell us.”
“I don’t.” He turned to Kate, who had taken a seat beside him at the table. “About last night? Who came after you?”
“I probably shouldn’t say anything.”
“Give me a crumb,” he pleaded. “Everybody else got stories. Give me something good. An exclusive.”
She turned to Liam. “Should I tell him?”
There were a couple of details that shouldn’t be divulged to the press. Like the fact that the assassin had a key and knew the code to disarm her alarm.
However, the police had a full report on last night’s incident, and Liam knew it was only a matter of time before every tiny item was leaked to a more well-connected reporter, someone like pretty, blond Joyce and her ever-present cameraman. Liam took a perverse pleasure in the thought that the big news teams would be scooped by Mickey, the underdog. “Might as well give this man his exclusive.”
She started talking, vividly describing the dark house and the experience of being stalked by a professional assassin. As she spoke, Liam sat back and watched the change of expression on her face. Her blue eyes darkened, then flashed wide. Her hands pantomimed holding the gun. Her slender shoulders hunched as if she were, at this very moment, hiding on the staircase.
A good storyteller, she caught and held Mickey’s attention. He leaned forward, hanging on her every word. If Liam hadn’t been there himself, he might have been drawn in, might have considered those intense moments of fear to be nothing more than a great adventure. But he knew better. He knew how terrified she’d been.
Her skill at hiding her true feelings amazed him. And it worried him, too. She was better than some pathological liars he’d come in contact with when he’d been a prosecutor. How much was she hiding from him? Was she capable of theft? Of murder?
His instincts told him no. Her ability to keep secrets was a survival technique—necessary in the complex world where she lived. In her family, she needed an iron-clad shell. But those defenses made it hard for him to understand who she really was and what she really wanted.
When she finished her story, Mickey was drooling for more.
Liam said, “Not until you tell us about this person we’re meeting and their evidence.”
“No way.” Mickey shook his head. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“We’ll see you then.” Abruptly, Liam took him by the shoulders and aimed him toward the door. Tony appeared and whisked Mickey back outside.
As soon as the reporter departed, Liam belatedly recalled something else he’d meant to ask about. He had wanted to check out Mickey’s story about Peter Rowe making a copy of the diamond necklace.
“Give me your cell phone, Kate. I’ve got another question for Mickey.”
He pressed Redial and was connected to Mickey’s cell phone. As soon as Liam identified himself, Mickey said, “Miss me already?”
“You told us about a jewelry store,” Liam said. “Peter Rowe went there.”
“That’s right.”
“What was the name of the jeweler?”
“I don’t remember,” Mickey said too quickly.
He was lying, again. No way would a reporter forget the details about such an important piece of information. “Where was it? The location of the shop?”
“I can’t recall that, either. It’s probably in my notes at home. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
As Liam disconnected the call, he knew that Mickey Wheaton was playing his own game of secrets. Like Kate, he had something to hide.
Chapter Thirteen
Less than an hour later, Liam said good-night to Tony, the bodyguard, and followed Kate into her bedroom. It was after nine o’clock. Night had settled quietly in her cul-de-sac. Even the dog next door had stopped barking. There was no reason to feel apprehensive, but Liam’s antennae were up. Something was going to happen tonight.
Kate grabbed a notepad and pen from the bedside table, then bounced to the middle of her bed, where she sat cross-legged. She was high on pizza and full of pep, revved on all cylinders. “This is the part where we make notes and cleverly solve the crime.”
If only it were that simple. He settled into a white brocade chair beside her dresser, watching as she bent over the small notebook and energetically scribbled. With her head tilted downward and her elbows out at sharp angles, she was damn cute.
Thanks to her mother’s stylist, Kate’s wilderness hair had been tamed into calmer streaks of blond but was still tousled and wild. Her full lips parted slightly as she concentrated on the notepad in her hand. When the tip of her pink tongue ran across her lower lip, he was tempted to kiss her teasing little mouth, to pull her into his arms and…
Stop! He knew better than to play that dangerous game. Kate danced through life like a princess, taking what pleased her at one moment and discarding it the next. A kiss meant nothing to her.
She held up the notepad for him to see. “This is what we know.”
He read. “A murder. The loot. Wayne missing.”
The facts were as sketchy and vague as her memory. He suggested a different approach. “Let’s talk about motive. Somebody is after you. Why? Who benefits from your death?”
