The game had begun.
“Inspector Darling has explained to you why I’m here,” Nate said. “Come along quietly, and there won’t be any trouble.”
Logan pursed his lips, crossed his arms over his chest. Cocking a brow, he said, “Am I under arrest, then?”
“No, but it’s early yet.” Nate motioned for the uniforms to approach. “We just want to have a word with you at the station, Mr. Sinclair. These officers are simply here to make sure it all stays official.”
As in witnesses. Aye.
An hour later, Logan sprawled uncomfortably in an aluminum chair, watching while Andie’s brother went through the motions. The wall to the left was a two-way mirror, and he knew on the other side of the dark glass, Andie stood observing the proceedings, her fingers crossed, her career on the line.
And Bostwick. Aye, Bostwick would be there as well, his greedy eyes taking it all in.
This had to work. If it didn’t, all would be lost, and Andie would suffer for it more than anyone. He couldn’t, nae, wouldn’t, let that happen.
After what she’d told him about Bostwick, what the man had demanded of her and how he was blackmailing her to get it, it was all Logan could do to restrain himself. Given the chance, he’d crash through that mirror and grab the bastard by the throat as payback for what the commander was doing to her.
And her partner. Where in the hell was Dylan Jericho; more to the point, what had Bostwick done to him?
“Listen up, Sinclair,” Nate growled, interrupting Logan’s thoughts. “We know you killed Miss Mochrie. We know you stole her necklace. It’ll go a lot easier on you if you confess and tell us where you hid it.”
“You can accuse all you like, Detective.” Logan sighed. “But the truth of it is, you have no evidence linking me to the crime at all. No prints, no witnesses, and no Star of Avril.”
And thank God for that. If Andie had indeed done as Bostwick ordered and manufactured evidence against him, he’d be behind bars right now, and even the truth of who he was wouldn’t have made a difference.
It would have been easy enough for her to do; cops planted evidence all the time. Bad cops, they were, or maybe just overeager or maybe lazy.
But she hadn’t done as her commander ordered. Of course she had not. She’d defied the man because she was brave and honorable, and he realized he loved her for all that, and more.
“Even if I did it,” he said, easing back in the horrible little chair, “while I’m not entirely clear on the methods you Yanks use to obtain convictions, I’m pretty certain you need a little thing called evidence. How many times do I have to tell ye? I’ve kilt no one, Detective, and stolen nothing.”
Before Nate could respond, the cell phone in his pocket played a tune Logan didn’t recognize. He watched as Darling retrieved the phone, flipped it open, and put it to his ear.
“Yes, sir. Yes.” His brown eyes met Logan’s, then quickly looked away. “Yes, sir. I’ll inform him.”
Slapping the phone closed, he let it drop back inside his pocket.
“Well Sinclair, it looks like you’ve attracted some powerful attention. Commander Bostwick will be joining us in a moment. Wants to have a word with you, personally.”
And the hook is set…
Logan nodded as though he could not have cared less. Inside his chest, his heart rate bumped up a couple of notches.
“Bostwick, you say? A commander? I’m hardly worth the effort, for all that.”
For a flash, Logan locked eyes with Nate, then each man blinked and looked away. Logan slumped in his chair, pretending nothing unusual was about to happen while every nerve ending under his skin felt raw.
A moment later, the door to the interrogation room squeaked open. Logan worked to maintain his casual air as Bradley Bostwick sauntered in. After he passed through the threshold, someone reached in and closed the door behind him.
Too important to close yer own fockin’ door, eh, bastard?
Bradley Bostwick looked exactly like his file photo, only more obsequious in the flesh. A self-important, preening peacock who undoubtedly felt that puffing out his chest would compensate for the fact he probably had a dick the size of a stubbed toe.
Slowly, Logan rose from his chair. Before him stood the culmination of months of planning and convoluted maneuvering. But his patience and hard work had all paid off; now the circle was complete.
So here he was, Bradley Bostwick, the man Logan had crossed twelve months’ time and thousands of miles to face down…and kill.
Though she knew Logan couldn’t see her, Andie stood motionless, focusing on him through the glass, hoping he would feel her encouragement, hear what was in her heart and mind—and fearing Bostwick somehow could.
At the moment, Logan and the commander were engaged in a staring contest, neither man speaking, each one just taking the other’s measure. And in that second, that fraction of a heartbeat, she feared for him, for what Bostwick might do to him if he suspected what Logan and she were up to.
With a slight shake of the head, she dismissed her fears but found herself unable to detach herself from her newly acknowledged feelings for Logan.
She wasn’t in love with him; there had been no time for her to fall…had there? Nate had accused her of a crush, and she couldn’t deny she found Logan charming, but love? Desire maybe, coupled with intriguing possibilities.
No, probably not love, but something most definitely circling the neighborhood, and closing fast.
She recalled the candid conversations they’d shared when he’d been honest about his background. He’d kissed her so tenderly. Had it only been physical need she’d been responding to? Or was there more to it? Had he felt something for her in return?
Her gaze drifted to Bostwick, and her eyes narrowed. She felt her nerves tighten and that sick feeling return to her stomach.
The whole time Nate had been talking to Logan, the commander stood behind the glass next to her, watching mutely, his eyes dark and cold, his fists clenched. As the interrogation proceeded, he became more and more agitated until, finally, he seemed to snap.
Without looking at her, he snarled, “You have fucked this up beyond belief, Inspector. You have failed to get any hard evidence against Sinclair, and you’ve somehow managed to let the necklace slip through your fingers.”
He turned to her then, his eyes glazed with fury. “Screwing with me is a big mistake, Andrea. A very big mistake.”
On barely a breath, she choked, “Where’s Jericho?”
He grinned at her but said nothing. With one last threatening look, he took out his cell phone and told Nate he wanted to talk to Logan, then left her to enter the interrogation room.
Now, on the other side of the glass, the two men stood facing each other, while Nate continued asking questions that Logan continued to evade.
She watched him watch Bostwick and tried to get inside Logan’s mind. Something had changed, and it puzzled her.
Something about his stance…
A new look, a feral one, had come into his eyes.
His demeanor had altered, and he suddenly looked like a wolf gauging its prey…
Or maybe like a man who had come face-to-face with a hated enemy…
Sure, they’d agreed on a plan to get Bostwick, but something more was going on here. It was almost as if…
Suspicion hit her then like a kick to the head. She thought back over all the things Logan had said, his refusal to be up-front with her about why he hadn’t gone through official channels, how he had no investigation or extradition papers, how he’d circumvented authority…
She blinked, mentally scrambling and unscrambling the pieces until they began to fit. Yes, yes, that was it.
Holy shit.
She opened her cell phone and pressed the speed dial. When Ethan answered, she said quickly, “I need a favor.”
“Done.”
“Run a check for me and run it now. Logan Sinclair Macmillan. He’s the detective with Scotland Yard.”
“The clairvoyant guy? I already checked out Logan Sinclair and gave you the data…”
As she watched Logan’s face, it became clearer by the minute what was going on, and what had begun as a nagging suspicion grew into a full-blown epiphany.
“No time for questions, Ethan. Just get me as much as you can on Macmillan and call me back. This is bad. This is very bad.”
Patience, lad, Logan said to himself. Not here and not now. Patience…
“Take a seat, Sinclair,” Bostwick ordered, gesturing to the chair Logan had recently vacated. “We may be here a while, and I wouldn’t want you to collapse from exhaustion.”
“No worry there,” Logan said evenly, then smiled. “I am at your disposal, Commander.”
Thanks to an e-mail only hours before Tolley had been murdered, Logan knew some of what had happened and guessed the rest. Tolley’s note had spoken of his discomfort with his flighty sister’s “relationship” with a married man named Bostwick, a Yank policeman who showed an inordinate amount of interest in the family’s most precious possession, the Star of Avril. Tolley distrusted Bostwick and his intentions toward Drew and the necklace.
I’m going to confront the ballsy bastard tonight, Tolley wrote. A married man, and a high-ranking police official, for all that. He’s not a fellow to be underestimated, Logan, so if I come out of this one the worse for it, look to Bostwick to have done the deed. I trust you’ll find a way to set it right…
Nate hovered in the background while Bostwick seemed to assess the situation. Finally, he said, “So you’re Scotch.”
“Nae,” Logan replied dryly. “Scotch is a whisky. What I am is a Scot. Period.”
Bostwick shrugged casually as though he didn’t care a whit for the distinction.
“Drew Mochrie was a Scot,” he said, his tone haughty. “Did you know her back in Scotland?
So sure of himself, he is, thought Logan. And so high, and about to topple on his shiny ass.
“Aye. We were acquainted.”
Bostwick’s head came up, and his eyes snapped. “You…what did you say? You knew her before?”
“Aye. And her brother, too, the unfortunate Tolley,” Logan said slowly, holding Bostwick’s gaze captive.
From behind the commander, Nate’s surprised eyes drilled into Logan’s, but he said nothing.
Bostwick’s brow began turning damp with beads of sweat. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “So you must have known about the necklace, and come all the way to the U.S. to steal it. When Drew got in the way, you killed her. That about it, Scotchman?”
Logan ignored the slur, and instead said, “Maybe I didn’t have to kill her. Maybe I didn’t have to steal it. Maybe she gave it over to me of her own free will.”
The blood drained from the commander’s face. His eyes darted around the room, then came back to Logan. “Are you saying you have the necklace in your possession?”
Logan smiled. “I’m only saying maybe, that it could have happened that way. In which case, I wouldn’t have had to kill to get it, like some might, eh, Commander?”
Bostwick glared at him as Logan prepared his final blow.
“Funny thing, about that necklace,” he said lightly. “Just before Tolley died, he wrote to me. Told me his sister was seeing some slimy guy, a married man it seems. Tolley was worried the cad would do his sister wrong and get his hands on the necklace. And maybe that’s exactly what happened, in which case, as you Yanks are so fond of saying, yer barkin’ up the wrong tree.”
Both Nate and Bostwick stood as though frozen in place, but the commander’s face had gone from white to red as fast as that.
“You’re lying,” Bostwick snarled. “You’re lying, and I’m going to—”
“Say what you will,” Logan interrupted. “I’m just saying, there’s more than one man who might could’ve done the deed. Oh, and one more thing, Commander.”
When Bostwick remained silent, Logan said, “Tolley asked me, should anything happen to him, to make it right. As a point of honor and revenge. I’m sure as an officer of the law, you understand my meaning, don’t you, Commander?”
Logan waited while Bostwick rolled this information around in his head. Abruptly, he turned and walked swiftly toward the door. Over his shoulder, he said to Nate, “He’s free to go. Get him the fuck out of here.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Bostwick flung the door open, but before he stepped out of the interrogation room, he turned back and glared into Logan’s eyes.
“If you know what’s good for you,” he bit out, “you’ll be on the next plane back to Scotland.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Logan said. “Before I go, let me say, it’s been a distinct pleasure, Commander. But I have a feeling our paths will cross again someday soon.” He smiled. “Very soon.”
Chapter 20
You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving.
Robert Louis Stevenson
By the time Logan exited the station, night had fallen, and a foggy one it was. The parking-lot lights looked like fuzzy yellow balls floating overhead as he walked out the gate onto the busy street. He went a couple of blocks, then turned a corner, listening for her car to pull up behind him. When it did, he glanced up and down the quiet, empty street, then quickly opened the passenger door and got in.
Andie said nothing to him but drove in silence for a few blocks. Just when he was beginning to think she’d planned on staying mute, she said, “You weren’t completely honest with me, were you, laddie.”
“I was as honest with you as I felt I could be at the time. I’m sorry if—”
“You came to the U.S. with the express purpose of killing Bostwick, didn’t you? For what, for revenge?” She flicked on her turn signal and took a left.
“There was no way I could explain beforehand. It’s too complicated—”
“And you didn’t feel you could trust me with the truth, is that it?” She sent him a meaningful look, then turned another corner and started up a hill.
“It’s like I said, complicated. Not a matter of trust.”
“The hell it’s not!” she snapped. “I told you everything. What Bostwick threatened, how my career was on the line, and I thought you’d leveled with me.”
“I did.”
“But you left a few details out. Details such as how Tolley Mochrie was your best friend. How you’re in the US on your own time, not Scotland Yard’s. And how you’d vowed to make Bostwick pay for killing your friend.”
He looked over at Andie, trying to keep his temper under control. He had every right to do what he was doing. He owed Tolley.
“And what about your friend, Andie?” he said. “This Dylan Jericho fellow who’s disappeared. Do you think the commander is responsible?”
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “I know he is.”
“And what do you plan on doing about it?”
Slamming her fist into the steering wheel, she bit out, “I don’t know! I don’t know where to begin looking! They’ve checked his apartment, his usual haunts. He’s gone. I’d like to tear this town apart, but I don’t know where to start! I’d like to shove Bostwick up against a wall and knee him in the groin, but that wouldn’t do any good! I have no proof he did anything to Dylan.”
She took in a deep breath and made a sound at the back of her throat. Anger, frustration, helplessness were all taking their toll on her, and he wished he knew how to comfort her…if she’d even let him.
Finally, she rasped, “I have no proof of anything…”
He watched her profile as she returned to silence. The interior of the car was dark, but light from passing cars and streetlamps illuminated her golden hair, high cheekbones, straight and honest brows. She swallowed, then said, “What do you think Bostwick’s going to do now?”
Settling back in his seat, Logan considered the question. “He knows I have the necklace, but he also knows I’m a threat on more than one level. That’ll make
him more desperate, and dangerous. He’ll have my room searched, if he hasn’t already, of course. And he’ll undoubtedly put a tail on me.”
“Nobody’s been following us,” she said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “We can’t go back to your hotel room, and he’ll probably have somebody watching my house as well, not to mention my brothers’ places.”
“Well,” he drawled. “There must be somewhere we can go that nobody will think of…”
She nodded, then took the next corner. “You’re right. There is.”
The night was moonless and dreary, the fog heavy and oppressive, and as they turned into the long driveway, Andie imagined the mansion had been waiting for her to return. She tried to put her sense of foreboding aside to focus on the fact she and Logan needed a refuge, and this was about the only place in town nobody would think to look. She still had a key; the place was still at her disposal until the case culminated, so why the hell not make use of it?
She parked behind the house so anyone driving by from the street wouldn’t notice her car. Unlocking the back door, she went inside, Logan silently following. Without a word, she walked down the hallway, turning on lights only as necessary, ones that had little chance of being seen from the outside.
When she reached the library doors, she paused.
Turning to Logan, she said, “We’re going in here. Are you going to faint again?”
His gaze met hers. “Nae, lass.”
She nodded, swallowed, then opened the doors and switched on the light. Instantly, the room was flooded with an amber glow. Nothing had changed, the books still marched along the walls, the table still held the Ouija board, but the air was different, not as musty as before, and much colder. Rubbing her arms, she said, “We might as well make ourselves comfortable. Are you hungry? There’s food in the fridge, and we can…”
That was when she noticed it—the whirring inside her head. An insistent, low humming through the walls, as though the neighbors were playing their TV too loud.
Killer Charms Page 20
