ToServeAndProtect

by KyAnn Waters

  On the drive over to the insurance agency, McKenna strengthened her resolve. She parked, grabbed her purse, and headed into the office. The morning sun was warm, and for the first time since slipping into a living nightmare, she felt herself. Instead of blood, alibis, and Detective Pearce she could think about auto, home, and life.

  “Hi, Barbara.” She greeted the front receptionist.

  “McKenna, you shouldn’t be here.” Barbara was the grandmother of the office, always ready to listen and offer advice. “After all that has happened, you should take some time off. Lord knows you need it, child.” With the full strength of her arms, she wrapped McKenna into an embrace.

  “I need this more.” She smiled at Barbara. “I’ll be fine, really.”

  She walked to her office, sat behind her desk, and tossed her purse into her bottom drawer.

  “McKenna?” Madison Frey, owner and lead agent, came into her office. “When we spoke, I thought you understood you could take as much time as you needed. You should be home putting your family’s affairs in order.” Her voice was soft but didn’t feel consoling. Madison nervously moved around the room then finally sat across from her.

  “I can’t be home, Madison. All I have is my job to keep me busy.”

  Madison fidgeted in the seat. “Oh, McKenna, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’d hoped you’d take the time and all this nonsense would blow over.” She splayed her hands wide.

  “Do I have to take the time off?” McKenna sensed impending doom as Madison slowly stood.

  “This is a business first. Barbara has been fending off reporters on the telephone. Clients have opinions, and I can’t risk the potential impact your being here could have on the agency.” Madison sighed heavily. “The attention is only going to get worse, and it’s already a distraction.”

  McKenna nodded. “Who will take over my clients?”

  “I’ll find someone.” Madison touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’ve been with us a long time. We’ll miss you.”

  “It sounds as if you’re letting me go?” She opened the drawer, grabbed her purse, and draped it over her shoulder.

  “For now, I have to.”

  “So I’ll just assume you’ll call me.” McKenna knew at that moment the call to return would never happen. Madison just stood there looking at her without a smile. The decision was final. Madison had a business to run, and she understood, even though terminating her employment wasn’t fair. “I had nothing to do with the murder of my father,” McKenna stated. “I want you to hear it from my lips.”

  She fled from the office and out the building. Once behind the wheel of her vehicle, McKenna drove down Adams Boulevard, fast. Early in the morning and late afternoon, the street was packed with people commuting to work. Olden’s hospital was a contributor to gridlock as well as the university, but midmorning offered open space for her to travel well past the posted speed of fifty mph as she raced against the tears filling her eyes.

  Tires squealed as she rounded the corner into her neighborhood. Trees reaching to the sky spread their branches overhead making a canopy of shade for the street. After the ruckus died down, perhaps she would take a vacation. Somewhere tropical yet isolated like she saw on Corona beer commercials.

  McKenna remembered riding a bike for the first time. Dawn’s dad had held the back of the seat, running beside her until she’d found her balance. Dawn’s brother’s bike had been the only bike she ever rode.

  She almost clipped a beat up truck parked too close to her driveway. Her car flew up the drive and screeched to a halt in the garage. The force of her door slamming echoed off the walls. As she passed Elliot’s car, anger from deep inside bubbled to the surface. She screamed and kicked the driver’s side door. Metal popped. Swinging back, she kicked again. And again. And again.

  Breathing hard, a satisfying laugh crossed her lips. In the center of the door, an impressive dent bore the dirty mark from the sole of her shoe.

  “Feel better?”

  McKenna jumped at the sound of Detective Pearce’s voice. Instinctively, she clutched her purse and moved around the front of the car to avoid getting close to the detective. He casually rested against the guide rail of the double car garage.

  “I had a nice visit with your neighbors. Want to know what I found out?” He put his foot on the clean chrome bumper of Elliot’s car, and looked at the scuff on his wing tip.

  “No.” She glanced out the back window of the garage and squinted. “Are those friends of yours, Detective?” Several officers walked the foothills above her home. Dogs barked as they stuck their noses into burrowed holes and dense thickets of brush.

  “Cadaver dogs.” He moved around the car and bent over so he could see what she saw. “Think they’ll find anything?”

  “It’s not a good day, Detective,” she said as she went to the wall and pressed the button closing the automatic door. “So if you’ll excuse me.”

  Instead of stepping outside, he let the door close them inside the garage together.

  “That was not an invitation for you to stay.” McKenna fumbled with her keys. She clawed her bangs from her eyes.

  “Here.” He came upon her quietly. Dark hair sprinkled across his knuckles. His fingers appeared large and tanned next to hers. He took the keys from her and held up the most obvious triangle key to which McKenna nodded.

  He entered the house ahead of her. “Excuse me.” She attempted to push him out of the way. “Could you move?” She bumped her hip against his. “I need to disable the alarm.” She went to the control panel and set the red blinking light to green.

  “Was the alarm active on Sunday night?”

  McKenna set her purse on the counter. “Have you ever driven to work and wondered whether you left the coffeepot on? Or walked into the bathroom and realized you’d forgotten to flush? It’s the kind of thing you do without thinking.” She pressed her fingers to her temple. “I remember putting Elliot’s dinner in the refrigerator. I’d come through the front door because the garage was shut, and I couldn’t find my clicker.” Detective Pearce sat at the table. She put her hand on her hip. “Since you’re staying, would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Dustin unbuttoned his suit jacket. “That’d be great.”

  Standing at the sink, she glanced over her shoulder. “I didn’t recognize you at first.” She filled the carafe with water. Dustin wore a dark navy suit with a white shirt and a maroon and navy polka dot tie. He looked like he could be in her line of work. The suit was much less intimidating. In fact, she found him attractive, which made her look away.

  “The alarm,” he pressed. “It could be important.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember if I turned the alarm off when I got home. I assume the light glowed green when I stood at the sink and drank the rest of my water because I would’ve noticed if it blinked red.”

  Dustin stood and hung his jacket over the back of the chair. “Care if I look around again?” He nodded toward the hall and started walking before she could object.

  After pouring the coffee, she followed him. He stood at the picture windows facing east in the great room. The view started with the football field of the university and stretched over the city. In the distance, pockets of trees nestled amidst clusters of small square houses. Major thoroughfares, two-lane side streets, and a town bumped up against the edge of the Rocky Mountains and stretched to the lake on the horizon.

  “Gorgeous view.”

  She stood beside him. “At night it’s even prettier.” Good hell, what was she doing? Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was doing. Sparking his interest.

  “At some point, I’ll want you to walk me through the night of the murder.” He turned to McKenna. “I understand if you’re not ready today.”

  She handed him a large, purple mug. Steam drifted above the dark roast with a light vanilla scent. “Did you want cream or sugar?”

  He shook his head and took a sip of his, and she did the same. The hint of vanilla flavor floa
ted across her tongue.

  “About that night,” he continued. “Your memory is fresh. Now is better than later, but it’s up to you.” He took another sip of coffee. “After all, you just made the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted.” He winked.

  Her shoulders relaxed. She’d never had a man compliment her on coffee. Elliot rarely bestowed gratitude. He drank his coffee in the morning whether it was instant or brewed. She brewed the best for her enjoyment. “We can talk now.”

  “Good.”

  “I came in through the front door.” She wrapped her hands around the coffee cup as if it were a magical talisman giving her strength. “The light from the lamppost shines through the window. I didn’t turn on any interior lights. Like I told you in the kitchen, I drank my bottled water then headed for my room. Do you want me to show you?”

  He nodded.

  “Elliot eats in bed.” McKenna started up the stairs. “He drives Doris, the cleaning lady, crazy. She finds dishes all over his room, the bathroom, or anywhere else hunger strikes him. Elliot has always been driven. Eating and sleeping get in the way of his work.”

  Dustin followed her up the stairs. “Did you get in the way of his work?”

  She paused before answering. He’d pinpointed the truth. “Yes.” She stopped midway up the stairs. “I thought I stepped in syrup or something. Elliot doesn’t clean up after himself.”

  She started back up the stairs. Her throat tightened as she approached the top landing. Although the floor was clean and the walls were freshly painted, in her mind, she could see the blood clinging and dripping. The floor still felt sticky. Her mind spun. She grabbed the rail. The same sickening dread washed over her. Perspiration dripped down the underside of her arm. She started to sway and couldn’t stop the black from encroaching.

  “Hey!” Dustin set his coffee down and grabbed hers, too. He reached out and braced McKenna before she could stumble backwards down the stairs. “Take a minute.” He helped her to sit on the top stair. “Put your head between your knees.” He pushed on her head until she bent over. “You’re going to pass out. After a few days a person usually becomes desensitized.”

  “I’ve only been up here once since Elliot was murdered, and that was when the cleaning crew was here.” She sat up and wiped the corners of her mouth with her finger. “I’m fine.” She pushed his hand away when he tried to help her to stand. “Let’s just get through this.” She pointed to the bathroom.

  Dustin handed her back her coffee and picked up his. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I went to wash off my feet, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t syrup, but blood.” She relived the horrible memory. “Blood was everywhere.” She turned and stared Dustin in the eyes. “I thought Elliot was hurt. I called for him. I must have slipped and tipped the table. My feet were wet and the blood was slick. I know I had glass imbedded just about everywhere.” She looked down the hall at her father’s bedroom. “I don’t remember opening the door, but I remember seeing his bed soaked with blood.” She glanced at her hands, took a breath, and then changed her mind about telling him more.

  “You were about to say something,” Dustin encouraged.

  She shook her head. “No that’s it. I woke up in the hospital.” She stood and took a step down the hall.

  “I heard you take a breath. You were about to say something else. I’ll find out eventually. You insist you didn’t have anything to do with Dr. Porter’s murder. There’s no way I’ll believe a word you say if you’re not up front with me. The truth McKenna, your choice.”

  She snapped her gaze to his. The way he said he name sent heat skittering down her spine. Albert had warned her not to trust the police. They had their agenda, and it was up to her to look out for herself. He had warned her that Detective Pearce was not her friend no matter how nice Dustin became. But then she remembered Dawn’s words.

  McKenna needed the detective on her side. She had to be honest. With dogs out the window and with whatever happened upstairs, she didn’t need to borrow more trouble. The plan was to stick to the facts and keep the detective close. Until she understood her situation and until he solved the case, they were going to become good friends.

  McKenna shifted her stare to her father’s door again. “I thought I saw him.” She slowly turned to Dustin. “Until they told me there wasn’t a body, I could’ve sworn I saw him lying there.”

  Dustin watched the walls go up. One minute she was at ease, talking with him, and now he was the enemy once again. “McKenna’s that’s not possible. There wouldn’t have been enough time between the neighbor’s call to the police and the time units arrived on the scene for someone else to dispose of his body.”

  “Someone else? As in only enough time for me to do it.”

  “That isn’t what I said, but you make a good argument for the prosecution.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Enough about the body. Ask me something else.” She stalked down the hall. “Ask me something I know, because I don’t know any more than you about the night Elliot was murdered.”

  “Okay, what happened today? You pulled in the drive like Jeff Gordon and took after Elliot’s car like Mike Tyson.”

  She suddenly looked embarrassed having a spectator for her actions. “Mike Tyson is a boxer. I didn’t punch the car, I kicked it.”

  “A technicality,” he said, following her down the hall. “Do you want me to guess? Hmm, you found a glitch in your alibi? No? Maybe your boyfriend called it splits?” He grinned. “Don’t you have something to say? Come on, just a little joke. Tell me, what happened?”

  “Fine, I got fired. Happy? I hope so because it’s your fault.”

  “My fault? I came in after the fact, remember?”

  “The police department has shed a suspicious light over me. I’m under a public scrutiny microscope. Dustin,--I assume I can call you Dustin?”

  He nodded.

  “I work in an insurance agency. Unexplained deaths aren’t good for the life insurance business. I don’t mean to sound crass about my father’s death, but try being labeled a serial killer.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  “I know. The result is still the same. I was fired.”

  McKenna opened the door to her bedroom. Why had she led him here? She’d never made it to her bedroom Sunday night. She knew why. Her room had always been her sanctuary where Elliot had preferred his office.

  McKenna’s frame barely filled the doorway to her room. Dustin had to brush against her to enter.

  “Serial killer implies responsibility for more than one death.”

  Damn, she could have bitten off her tongue at that moment. “I exaggerate.”

  “I’m sure it’s your only fault besides constantly running late.”

  She heard the skepticism in his voice. More than that, she knew what he was doing. Dustin weaved a tapestry of questions, one answer leading to another trying to find inconsistency.

  Dustin prowled the perimeter of her room. Her heart hammered. As a man, to see him among her feminine possessions spoke to her on an intimate level. Exactly where she wanted him. She hadn’t expected the flash of heat streaking to her sex. She put a hand to her chest to quell the flutter, but still her breathing grew shallow and her body warmed.

  Part of her was scared. Scared because of the horrible unreal circumstances bringing this virile man into her life, and concerned that if she followed through with her plan to get close to him, more than her body would become invested. She needed him back to looking like a detective. In her bedroom, she was far too attracted to the man, and her future was too uncertain to lose focus. Heat rushed into her cheeks.

  He walked to her bed and glanced out the window. Facing the street, the panoramic vista was more majestic than the one from the parlor. French doors opened to a partially covered balcony that stretched across to the doors leading out from her father’s room. A small wrought iron bistro-style table with two chairs sat close to her doors. In her father’s are
a, an old-time swing hung from chains.

  “Is this the first time you’ve ever been fired?”

  “Yes, and I can’t say I loved my job, but I enjoyed the work and my clients.” She sat down at the little table and took a sip her coffee. “You seem to enjoy yours.”

  He set his empty cup on the table then sat down across from her. “Most of the time.”

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  Dustin rubbed his thigh. “So let me see if I have the facts. You’re twenty-five, you live in Utah, and you’re not married, makes you an oddity. Shouldn’t you have a couple of your own kids by now?”

  She sat and quietly thought about his question. Looking out over the late morning activity, children’s laughter drifted faintly through the trees along with the squawks of magpies. Bright green leaves contrasted sharply with a flawless blue sky. Not a cloud in the sky, no haze from the industrial park, it was a perfect summer day.

  “I guess I haven’t found Mr. Right,” she said lightheartedly. “How about you?”

  Dustin stretched his left hand, focusing on the ring finger. It still looked awkward without the thin gold band. “Marriage suited me fine. But I guess my ex-wife didn’t think she’d found Mr. Right, either. I have a thirteen-year old daughter who lives with her mom.” He picked up his cup. “I’m sure I’ve overstayed my welcome, but I’d love a refill.”

  “You weren’t welcome,” she said, taking his cup, “but I’m not as rude as you.” Although her tone reprimanded, her smile was warm.

  They went back through the bedroom and into the hall. “Is there anything else you remember?”

  She shook her head. “I wish I did. I want to know what happened as much as the police do. If I could help, I promise, I would.”

  “Maybe something else will come to you. Keep rolling the night over in your mind, but also think about the days, even weeks leading up to Sunday night.”

  Back in the kitchen, she took their mugs to the coffee carafe for refills. “Then you believe someone planned this?”