“Is it? Adams is the one challenging the will, not Edward.”
“Of course he’s not, because he knows he has no legal leg to stand on.”
“And you think Adams does? She’s the one who was intimately familiar with Leacock’s tastes and habits, had access to the toxic ingredients, and had the opportunity to slip them into Leacock’s tea.”
“The same could be said of Edward, or of Darryl Kish, or of the waitress at A Cup or Two, for that matter. You have no proof.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I have a sworn affidavit by Gordon Laslo, one of Leacock’s interns. He claims Miss Adams has a stash of dried tagete leaves and that he saw her brew tea for Leacock on more than one occasion.”
“Laslo came here? When?”
“Yesterday afternoon. Hutchinson took his statement.”
Tom paced the room. Kate couldn’t have known Gord planned to come in. The fact she’d suddenly named him as a possible suspect was merely a coincidence. More than likely Laslo had heard the police were looking for him. “Did the kid also mention that Miss Leacock planned to expel him for plagiarizing a research paper?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Kate told me.”
“Kate told you . . . How convenient.”
“Well, if this kid saw her brewing toxic tea, why didn’t he stop her?”
“He didn’t know the tea was toxic until he read the newspaper account of Daisy’s death.”
“How convenient,” Tom shot back, mimicking Hank’s sarcasm.
Officer Hutchinson appeared at the door and Hank waved him in. “I’ve got that search warrant you requested, sir.”
“Give it to Parker. I want you to go with him.”
Tom snatched the paper out of Hutchinson’s hand. “What’s this about?”
Hank motioned the rookie to wait outside. “A warrant to search Adams’s lab. If you find any tagete, I want her arrested. I won’t tolerate a detective on my force who’s willing to turn a blind eye because he finds a suspect attractive. Face it, Parker. She played you.”
Tom fought the urge to crush the page in his fist. “After we turn her place upside down and find nothing, I’ll expect an apology.” Tom stalked out. How dare Hank suggest he fixed a case, let alone demand he make an arrest on such flimsy evidence? Even if he found tagete, it proved nothing. Gordon’s testimony would never stand up in court.
Then again . . . Tom could just imagine the prosecutor twisting the reason for the kid’s sudden disappearance into threats from Kate, especially if her name change turned out to be true.
Annoyed that he hadn’t insisted on interrogating Laslo before executing the warrant, Tom climbed into the passenger side of Hutchinson’s cruiser.
The rookie started the car and sped out of the lot without comment. But from the way he kept glancing sideways, Tom knew Hutchinson itched to talk.
“The chief said you took Laslo’s statement,” Tom said.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Did he seem nervous?”
Hutchinson tilted his head from side to side. “Sure. A little, I guess.”
“How long did you question him?”
“I just asked him for his contact information. He had a statement already typed out, so I attached it to one of our forms and had him sign it.”
Tom scratched his forehead. “And that didn’t seem strange to you?”
“The chief didn’t have a problem with it. You think this warrant is a waste of time?”
No, I think Hank’s pushing my buttons because he likes the sense of power a little too much. Or maybe this was some elaborate get-the-rookie gag. It would make a whole lot more sense than Hank’s irrational behavior.
Not to mention that after Tom served Kate with a search warrant, he could kiss good-bye any hope of convincing her to go out with him again. And the fact that this bothered him more than the time wasted serving a warrant—time better spent tracking down suspects—should be sounding all sorts of alarms in his head.
“So the chief didn’t tell you what I turned up on Adams?”
“You?” Rookies were supposed to be out on the street writing up traffic violations, not investigating non-suspects in a non-investigation.
Hutchinson filled Tom in on the lead that prompted him to check into Kate’s background. “It turns out her old man used to work for GPC.”
“Should that mean something to me?”
“GPC is the pharmaceutical company that plans to move to town. Kate’s dad was arrested for stealing company secrets.”
“That’s hardly relevant. Her parents are dead.” The cynicism Tom managed to inject into his voice belied the way his heart had lodged in his throat.
“I’m just telling you what I know.” Hutchinson pulled into a visitor’s parking spot in front of the main entrance to the research station.
Dark clouds loomed overhead and thunder rumbled in the distance. The fruit trees that two days ago had been bursting with colorful blossoms now stood ravaged by the gusty winds.
Tom had no doubt that Kate would feel equally violated if he didn’t handle this search just right.
He led the way inside, but before he could intervene, the overeager rookie jockeyed past and reported their business to the receptionist behind the security glass in the lobby. The first time Tom came here, the same receptionist had happily escorted him to Kate’s lab. This time she took one look at Hutchinson in his uniform and buzzed security to do the honors.
The security guard swiped his card across the sensor that unlocked the hall door and escorted them to the lab. With a brisk tap on Kate’s door, he opened it and said, “The police have a warrant to search your lab.” Then he left, as if this kind of thing were a routine occurrence.
Kate’s welcoming smile turned to a frown the moment Hutchinson stepped into the lab behind Tom. Kate held a trembling hand to her throat. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing to worry about.” He closed the distance between them, hoping to speak to her without being overheard by the overzealous kid in a cop uniform. “The chief has reopened Daisy’s case.”
Hope lit Kate’s eyes, and her hand dropped to her side. “That’s wonderful news.”
Hutchinson meandered toward them, scoping out jars along the way.
Kate edged along the table, keeping Tom between them, and jutted her chin in Hutchinson’s direction. “Why’s he here?”
Tom handed her the search warrant. “I’m afraid the police chief has evidence to suggest we might find tagetes in your possession. This grants us permission to search.”
“Of course I have tagetes.” She reached to the shelf above her head and took down a glass jar filled with dried petals. “I experiment with plants.” She handed him the jar. “I have hundreds of samples in the lab.”
Her innocent expression, and the whole exchange, reminded him of how well she’d played the part of his forgetful date when he arrived at Kish’s Friday night. A natural, he’d thought at the time. Couldn’t have acted the part better if they’d planned it. The burn in the pit of his stomach festered.
What if Hank was right? What if Tom was blind to Kate’s true personality just like his partner had been to Zoe’s?
Hutchinson snapped on a latex glove and lifted the jar from Tom’s palm.
Kate’s face paled.
Tom steeled himself against a rush of empathy and took out his notebook and pen. “Why would you use a flower that contains a known toxin?”
She backed away, her gaze flicking from Hutchinson to him. “Lots of toxic substances are beneficial in small amounts. Digitalis, warfarin—aka rat poison—to name a couple.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had this bottle during my initial investigation?”
“You never asked.”
The hurt in her eyes, whether genuine or meant to gain his sympathy, only fueled his smoldering resentment.
Kate pushed a hank of hair behind her ear. “How could you think I’d hurt Daisy after everything tha
t’s happened? You know me. You saw the car following me. You saw how freaked out I was when Edward showed up here.”
Yeah, he’d seen her fear. Had believed it . . . at the time. If he hadn’t been so relieved that she was all right, he might have remembered to be spitting mad that she’d disregarded his instructions by going alone to the deserted research lab in the first place.
Hank’s accusations—she played you—screamed through Tom’s mind. For all he knew, Kate lured Edward to the research station, knowing Dad was watching. Tom only had her word that Edward had burned one of Daisy’s journals and that Beth’s car had been following her for blocks. Now that he thought about it, once he identified the car, she’d seemed intent on forgetting the whole thing.
“Is your real name Kate Baxter?”
Her mouth formed a small “oh.”
The disappointment that at first had merely pinged his chest like a stone chip in the windshield now streaked through him, shattering what was left of his trust.
“My mom reverted to her maiden name after my dad died.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Kate shrugged. She didn’t say “It never occurred to me” or “Why would I?” She shrugged, like she’d deliberately not told him and wasn’t about to tell him why.
Tom searched her eyes, hoping to find a truth he could believe in, because he didn’t want to believe she was connected in any way to Daisy’s death, let alone responsible for it.
Yet Hank’s tone had been clear: If you don’t arrest her, I will. And if I have to, you’ll be out of a job.
From the way Hutchinson continuously fingered his handcuffs, Tom knew if he didn’t convince Kate to accompany them quietly, Hutchinson would haul her out with her hands shackled behind her back.
“Am I under arrest?” she whispered.
Tom shot Hutchinson a back-off scowl.
“I’m sorry. My orders were to bring you in if we found evidence on-site.”
The day Kate stormed into the police station and demanded he reopen the case, Tom had accused her of wanting to believe in Daisy because of the person she thought her friend was. The irony that he now felt the same way about Kate left a bitter taste in his mouth.
15
“You can’t think that I—” Kate must’ve been staring at Tom with her jaw hanging open because suddenly her mouth felt so dry she couldn’t finish the sentence. She moistened her lips and swallowed hard.
“The chief wants to ask you some questions,” Tom said by way of explanation.
The lab around Kate blurred. She braced her hand on the bench. Tom had believed in her, befriended her. He couldn’t think that she’d . . .
I think you’ll want to talk to me.
The cryptic message left on her answering machine replayed in her mind. Had the caller known someone intended to implicate her in Daisy’s death?
Or had the caller gone to the chief with his incriminating fairy tale because she refused to play his little blackmail game?
Clearly, ignoring the message had been a mistake. And from the icy expression on Tom’s face, an explanation about her name change at this point would be too little, too late.
The stormy gray in Tom’s eyes blotted all traces of the faith she’d thought he had in her. “If you’re willing to come to the police station voluntarily, I won’t need to arrest you.” His gaze flicked to the uniformed officer holding the jar of marigold petals—their evidence.
“I never made tea for Daisy or anyone else with those petals.”
“I have my orders,” Tom said, his tone as unyielding as rock-strewn clay. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Kate frowned at the name printed on the jar’s label. She never would have mistaken tagete petals for calendula. If only she were as adept at spotting the imposters amid people. “If I had something to hide, don’t you think I would have gotten rid of that jar?”
“Criminals rarely act sensibly,” Tom said in a backhanded reference to the time she’d asked him if he knew of any criminal in his right mind.
The other officer reached for his belt, and she heard the clink of metal.
Handcuffs?
Tom wouldn’t slap her in handcuffs and lead her out like a criminal just to answer a few questions. Would he?
Sweat slicked her palms. She skimmed them down her lab coat. Desperate to rein in her racing heart, she moved automatically, clinging to the normalcy of routine. She turned off the Bunsen burner, returned the leaf samples to the freezer, powered down the centrifuge.
The other officer stepped toward her, but Tom halted him with a raised hand.
“I’ll be happy to answer all your questions.” Her words came out in a rush that sounded as jittery as she felt. “Anything that will help track down Daisy’s real killer.”
The corner of Tom’s lips tipped up at her emphasis on the word real, but he made no comment.
Kate removed her lab coat, hung it on the hook by the door, and grabbed her purse.
Tom and the officer waited for her to lock the lab door, then flanked her as they walked to the main entrance. Curious colleagues gathered in their respective doorways. The officers said nothing. Not even their shoes on the tiled floor made a sound. All she could hear was the thump of her heart. How ironic that with the building full of people, she felt more scared and alone than she had on Saturday while walking this same hall with Edward.
Once outside she motioned toward the side lot. “I’m parked over there.”
Overhead, thick gray skies threatened rain.
Tom cupped her elbow, but unlike on the day he’d escorted her from Beth’s apartment, his touch felt far from protective. “We’ll drive.”
“Is that really necessary?”
He looked at her with eyes as flat as his voice. “It’s preferred.”
Tom opened the rear door of the cruiser and placed his hand on her head as she ducked into the backseat. When he closed the door, she thought she might be sick. The interior stank of heated vinyl and stale beer tinged with body odor, no doubt left behind by the last person they’d arrested.
Not that she was under arrest. It just felt like it.
She tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. A heavy screen separated her from the front of the car where the uniformed officer now sat in the driver’s seat and Tom in the passenger seat. A few of her colleagues stared at them from the lawn.
Her chin trembled. She wanted to yell, “This isn’t what it looks like!” Instead, as the car drove out of the parking lot, she pressed her forehead to the window much like her dad had done the day the police took him away. He hadn’t been under arrest either. No handcuffs, anyway. But he never came back.
He never came back.
A metallic taste coated her tongue. She cupped her hand over her mouth to cover a whimper and realized she’d chewed her lip raw. Last week it had taken more guts than she’d thought she had to march into the police station and demand they reopen the case. But to be escorted inside like this—under a cloud of suspicion for the very crime she’d demanded they investigate—she didn’t think her legs would hold her.
What if they arrested her?
Julie would kill her. She’d warned her that being named in Daisy’s will made her a prime suspect and had begged her not to investigate.
Kate squeezed her eyes shut. After what happened to her dad in police custody, how had she thought she could trust the police to uncover the truth?
Now she’d rot in jail and her best friend would have to find a new maid of honor.
Kate shook her head. No, she couldn’t let her fears get the better of her. This was a terrible mistake, a misunderstanding that would be cleared up in no time. No time at all. It had to be. She tapped on the screen behind Tom’s head. “Um, how will I get my car later? I’m supposed to be at a bridal shower tonight.”
His expression grim, Tom glanced over his shoulder but didn’t meet her eyes. “Someone will drive you back.”
Someone. As in, n
ot him. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed away a sudden chill. She wanted to run and hide, to escape the cage he’d thrust her in, before the tears pricking at her eyes broke loose and betrayed her wounded heart.
Of course they’d assume she killed Daisy. Edward, as Daisy’s blood relative—if he really was—had more right to the estate, which made Kate look like the desperate interloper afraid she’d lose her stake to him.
The cruiser slid to a stop outside police headquarters. “You go ahead and deliver the evidence,” Tom told the driver. “I’ll escort Miss Adams inside.”
Not I’ll escort Kate. But Miss Adams. Crisp and professional.
Tom waited for the officer to climb out and shut the door, then turned to her. “You should know that you are under no obligation to answer any questions.”
“Why would I withhold information that might help you find Daisy’s killer?”
A muscle in Tom’s cheek flinched, and he seemed to mentally wrestle with what to say next.
Maybe his earlier brusque treatment had been for the benefit of the other officer. Maybe he was finally going to explain why he was treating her like a criminal.
“Before we go in there, I want you to understand that unless the chief files charges, you are free to leave at any time. You can refuse to answer any questions. You can ask for a lawyer.”
Charges? Charges! How could Tom do this to her? Just the day before yesterday, they’d gone to church together, shared Sunday dinner, even flirted a little. She searched his eyes, but a stranger looked back at her.
Scraping up her pride, she squared her shoulders. “I have nothing to hide.”
He sucked in a breath and held it a moment, as if he might argue.
But he didn’t need to say what was on his mind. She could read it in his eyes—he didn’t believe her. How many times had he warned her that people are rarely what they seem?
She just hadn’t believed he meant himself.
He held open the car door and then accompanied her inside the station. No light touch at the back to guide her. No reassuring words. No indication that she was anything more to him than a witness, or worse, a suspect.
Deadly Devotion Page 17
