What She Doesn't See

by Debra Webb

  When he’d gone, Alex winked at Shannon. “Is he bucking for some special one-on-one attention later?”

  “He can dream on,” Shannon scoffed.

  Alex saw the pink in her cheeks. Shannon had every intention of giving Bobby whatever he wanted, no matter how much she denied it.

  “First of all,” Shannon began, “I think you should share all you know with Detective Patton regardless. Taking risks is part of his job.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’re going to have to take some added precautions at home. This could be dangerous, Alex.” She put her hand on Alex’s. “This guy Murphy might not be who he says he is.”

  Alex sighed. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” She would hate to find out she’d been attracted to a killer.

  “There’s always the chance Timothy O’Neill is some sort of nutcase,” Shannon offered, hitting on a possibility that hadn’t occurred to Alex.

  “I suppose that’s possible, but I can’t see Hitch using a nutcase for any kind of analysis, official or unofficial.”

  Shannon flared her hands, showing her palms. “I’ll give you that one. Still, he may have made some sort of mistake like blowing up his own house. This whole crazy story may be about covering his ass. Maybe Hitch’s accident really was an accident.”

  Shannon made some valid points. Points Alex hadn’t wanted to consider. “All right” Why put this off any longer? Shannon was right. Patton was a cop. His job included risking his life to solve crime. “I’ll talk to Patton. I’ll give him the whole story, even the part about Timothy.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll give him the lens. Leave it in his lap and let the authorities handle it.”

  Shannon reached for the wine bottle. “I think that’s the right decision.”

  Alex poured herself another beer. “Hey, did I tell you that Marg joined AA?”

  Before Alex could continue, Bobby trotted back into the house via the garage door, concern clouding his face. “Alex, you made any new enemies lately?”

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked, confused.

  “That’s not funny,” Shannon chastised.

  “I’m not trying to be funny,” he told his wife. “Usually when you get a flat tire it means you ran over something that punctured the tread or maybe the valve went bad, but neither of those things happened.”

  “Give it to us in layman’s terms,” Shannon ordered with a puff of impatience.

  “Someone opened the valve and let the air out of your tire, Alex.” Bobby set his hands on his hips and, just in case they didn’t get it, added, “On purpose.”

  Twenty minutes before midnight Alex couldn’t take it anymore. She’d looked out the window a dozen times since she arrived home and Murphy was still there. Watching her house. She needed sleep and she could not sleep like this. She tucked her pepper spray into the back of her yoga pants and squared her shoulders. She’d given Shannon his name and description, the make of his car and license plate info. If anything happened to her, Shannon would go straight to Patton.

  She walked out of her house, thankful for the cool night air. As if he’d anticipated her frustration, he was out of the car and leaning against the door. The moonlight provided just enough illumination to cast him in a soft spotlight. Alex had a feeling there was nothing soft about him.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  She marched straight up to him and every word she’d intended to say abruptly vanished from her brain.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I take it you’re ready to talk.”

  She lifted her chin in defiance of her odd reaction to the man. “Yes. I think we should talk.”

  “Are you inviting me in?”

  She flinched. Couldn’t help it. “I am.” There was absolutely no way she was going to let this guy see how he rattled her.

  He straightened. “After you.”

  Her outrage building, she marched back into her house. When he’d crossed the threshold, she closed the door.

  “Were you planning to use that on me?”

  She faced him and frowned. “What?”

  He reached around her with his right hand, his face coming so near to hers she could see the tiny flecks of gleaming silver in his pale blue eyes. Her breath caught. He snagged the canister of pepper spray she’d completely forgotten.

  “What do you want to talk about, Alex?”

  She snatched the canister from him, ignoring the spark of electricity touching his fingers ignited. “Did you come into my house and go through my things?”

  She resisted the urge to step back from his penetrating gaze. He was so damned close and so very good-looking and impossibly intense.

  No way. This was her home. If anyone was going to back off, it was him.

  “Yes.” He drew away. “You were taking a bath. The lavender was… distracting.”

  Another little hitch disrupted her breathing. “You were here… while I…” Sweet Jesus. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly breathe, but it was the heat building inside her that unnerved her so completely.

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Any more questions?”

  “How did you get in?” It was a question, but her brain was being less than cooperative at the moment.

  “I haven’t met a lock yet I couldn’t open.” His lips twitched with the need to let that ghost of a smile spread across his handsome face.

  Unable to help herself, she watched his lips move as he spoke. Anger poked its way through the desire clouding her good sense. “Why are you watching me? Because my friend called me the night he was killed?” Her heart was really racing now. It was a miracle he couldn’t see it trying to bang its way out of her chest.

  “All you have to do is tell me what happened to the device?”

  She froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The smile made a full on appearance now. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Alex.”

  That he stood only inches from her should have unsettled her. Instead, with every part of her that made her woman she wanted to scale his lean body right this instant. “If I had whatever it is you’re looking for, wouldn’t you have found it when you searched my house?”

  “And your office.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You searched my office?”

  “I did. I also let the air out of your tire as an opportunity to introduce myself.”

  Who was this guy? “You couldn’t just knock on my door and say hello?”

  “That’s not my style.”

  For the love of God. “The local cops have never heard of you. There is no federal investigation into Detective Hitchcock’s death.”

  The smile vanished, along with all other emotion. “This operation is on a need-to-know basis only.”

  “Well, here’s the deal, Mr. Murphy,” she opened the door, “I don’t need to know.”

  “You’re making a mistake, Alex.”

  “I’d like you to leave now.”

  Before Alex could blink, he slammed the door closed and pinned her against it. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  Even then, she felt no fear. The feel of his warm breath on her lips had fire blazing through her. The tension radiating from his lean body made her want to touch him just to see if he was really made of stone beneath all that designer fabric.

  Somehow she found her voice. “Goodnight, Mr. Murphy.”

  He stepped back, giving her room to open the door once more. She watched him disappear into the darkness and she could breathe again.

  Chapter 16

  Thursday, July 24

  By dawn Alex had made up her mind about the next step. Under no circumstances was she going to trust Wyatt Murphy. Instead, she would tell Patton the whole story. He could laugh her out of his office, but she was telling him anyway. Better the devil she knew.

  She would keep the contact lens hidden for now as a sort of backup plan. She’d only give up that evidence if Patton couldn’t move forward without it. A s
miled teased her lips when she considered that Mr. Murphy hadn’t discovered her hiding place. Just thinking about him had a shiver of awareness racing over her skin.

  “Not smart,” she reminded herself.

  Before leaving the house Alex went through room after room of her home and checked the windows and doors. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been afraid in this house and she wasn’t really scared now, but she did need to ensure that she took extra precautions. If Murphy could get into her house, someone else could as well.

  There was no need to mention any of this to her mother. Marg was a fanatic about keeping her windows and doors locked—not that mere locks would stop a pro like Murphy. Alex wondered if her mother’s obsession with protecting herself had anything to do with her marriage. Those years hadn’t been easy and Alex was certain she didn’t know the worst of it.

  She checked her reflection once more before heading out to try to catch Patton before he got into a case. Hitch had mentioned on numerous occasions that he and his partner got to work by seven each morning to enjoy a couple of cups of coffee and to discuss their thoughts about ongoing cases. She imagined Patton would stick with old habits no matter that his partner was dead and that he was a new father.

  Shannon had reminded her to check her tires before going anywhere. Bobby gave his own advice, as well: Look for any drained fluids under her SUV when she backed out of a parking spot. Of course, she now knew who had flattened her tire. Still, it didn’t hurt to take precautions.

  Just days ago she’d climbed into her SUV with no concern other than if her gas tank was empty or not. She refused to acknowledge Murphy’s presence as she went through the steps. Tires were in order. She crouched down and surveyed the concrete under her vehicle. As clean as it had been when she’d parked there last night.

  She checked the backseat and cargo area before clicking the remote and climbing in.

  The Miami climate had already set itself to smoldering. Alex adjusted the air conditioning in her SUV and backed out of her driveway. As she rolled down the street, Murphy followed. She hated that she had dreamed of kissing him. He’d certainly gotten close enough to make that happen. Alex suspected he’d only been trying to intimidate her. She hoped he hadn’t picked up on how turned on she’d been.

  God, maybe she needed therapy. Or maybe just a vacation.

  Even with the air turned to max, she powered her window down and let the saltwater breeze flow into her vehicle. She had several cleanups on the schedule today, including four deaths. Two were natural causes, bodies already claimed, and two others were from questionable circumstances that wouldn’t be available for removal until after lunch.

  Hernandez would take the first two scenes while the Professor whittled away at the list of other jobs, including the removal of decaying vegetables stacked in a far north side duplex. Apparently the perishables had been stolen from a local warehouse, and then abandoned in the rented home of one of the perpetrators. A truckload of rotting lettuce, potatoes, and tomatoes. Very messy. Like people, decaying vegetables attracted a variety of predatory insects and vermin.

  When she reached the station, thankfully, Patton was already there. Alex found him in the lounge getting what he announced was his third cup of coffee for the morning.

  “Morning, Jackson.” He stirred two packets of sugar into the dark liquid. “You working a case with us this morning?”

  Any time a death had to be investigated, Alex checked in with the detective in charge before beginning her cleanup. Standard operating procedure. She followed the rules—which was the reason she was in this predicament in the first place.

  “I came to talk to you.” She didn’t mention the subject matter since anyone could walk in at any time. She needed privacy for this. “Can we talk somewhere?” Most of the detectives shared the bullpen, but there were a few private offices and a conference room or two. A senior detective like Patton would have access to a more nonpublic setting.

  He sighed. “Sure.” He gestured to the coffeemaker. “Coffee?”

  “No thanks.” Her stomach was already in knots, she didn’t need any caffeine.

  Patton led her across the bullpen to a small conference room. It wasn’t large enough to hold the morning briefings, but for a discussion between an intimate few on a shared case it would be quite sufficient. A whiteboard and conference table that seated eight made up the basic furnishings.

  When she’d settled into a seat, Patton did the same. “You here about the guy who’s claiming to be a federal agent? Seriously, Alex, he’s probably just trying to get a date with you. If you want, I can talk to him.”

  Alex could just imagine how that would go. “I’m here about Hitch.”

  His expression changed to one of resignation. “I thought we cleared things up already.”

  She braced herself and took the plunge. “I wasn’t completely honest with you the last time we talked. The eyeball I found at the Crane scene wasn’t artificial, but it did have a strange looking contact lens attached to it. I called Hitch and he came back by the scene to pick it up just in case it was relevant.”

  “To the scene of Crane’s suicide?”

  “Yes.” He was still openly skeptical, but there was a glimmer of interest. “Hitch seemed pretty excited about it. When he called me later that night, he said he’d taken the lens to a friend for unofficial analysis and that it appeared to be some sort of computer chip or advanced technology. He was really hyped. He planned to pick it up and take it to the state lab the next morning.”

  That glimmer of interest abruptly died. “His friend was one Timothy O’Neill?”

  She sure hadn’t seen that one coming. “Yes. The kid whose house blew up.” She gave him the abbreviated version of her encounter with O’Neill.

  Patton stared at his coffee for a moment. “Jackson, we’ve been had.”

  Confusion drew her eyebrows together. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “Hitch was a bit of a computer buff. Turns out he and O’Neill were friends. He was the first cop to arrest O’Neill after he dropped out of high school. He befriended the kid and tried to set him on a better path. Let me emphasize here,” Patton said, pinning her with a firm look, “O’Neill is not a legitimate source for police business.”

  Alex nodded. “Hitch told me the analysis was unofficial.”

  “Anyway,” Patton went on, “Timothy O’Neill turned himself in late yesterday.”

  About five seconds elapsed before the full impact of his words penetrated deeply enough to evoke a response. “Turned himself in?” She had to tread carefully here. Patton could be fishing. “Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?”

  “We’ve confirmed that the body pulled from the rubble wasn’t him. We just didn’t know who or why. Apparently Timothy couldn’t live with his conscience and he turned himself in.”

  “Did he tell you why his house blew up?” Turning himself in seemed logical to her. The kid feared for his life. He must have realized he couldn’t disappear as easily as he’d hoped.

  “He told me what he told you,” Patton went on. “Alex, he made the whole thing up to draw attention away from his own guilt over what really happened.”

  Alex didn’t get it. “What guilt? Someone tried to kill him.”

  Patton gave up on resisting the coffee and drank long and deep before continuing. “The explosion was an accident. He was afraid he’d be blamed for his friend’s death so he made up this elaborate story.”

  “You’re saying he used Hitch’s accident for an alibi?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Another long draw from the foam cup. “Desperate people do desperate things, Jackson. No surprise there.”

  “But what about the contact lens he analyzed for Hitch? O’Neill insisted it contained government data.” None of this made sense. O’Neill had been terrified when he returned that contact lens to her.

  “He made it up. The contact lens was just a contact lens. It blew up along with his house.”

>   Alex tensed. Had O’Neill not told Patton he gave the lens back to her? “Where is he now?” But why turn himself in and then tell this elaborate story to the police?

  “We have him in custody. He waived his right to call an attorney. We’ll keep him here, maybe get a psych eval done, until we can sort out this whole mess.”

  Her head was spinning with all the arguments she wanted to toss back at Patton but none of it mattered. O’Neill had confessed to blowing up his house. He’d insisted that everything he told Alex was a lie. Why would he do that? Jesus. He could end up doing time for negligent homicide.

  “I was going to call you this morning,” Patton explained. “Losing Hitch has been tough. O’Neill’s stupid game only made bad matters worse.”

  “Wait.” This just wasn’t right. “I went back to the scene of Crane’s suicide. The whole place was like a setup for a life that never got lived.” She told him about all the unused items.

  He leaned forward, set his coffee on the table. “Jackson, I’ve been a cop for a long time. If you really want to find trouble, it’s always there. Hitch’s death stunned us all. The way some of us deal with it is by denying the facts. We prefer to believe otherwise. Think about it. Focusing on the idea that he was murdered keeps you from having to face the reality that he’s simply gone. You can keep him alive, so to speak, by investigating his death.”

  The conversation only went downhill from there. Patton wasn’t going to buy anything she had to say. He refused to allow her to see O’Neill. She’d wasted her time coming to him.

  At least she knew where she stood with the cops on the case.

  Hitch had been murdered.

  And no one was going to find out why.

  No one—unless she did.

  Her determination increasing as she exited the building, she came to an immediate stop when she saw Murphy waiting near her vehicle.

  Her first instinct was to run back inside and get Patton, but then something else kicked in. The mere sight of him ignited her fury, propelling her forward once more. Somehow he was responsible for all this.