by Tee O'Fallon
“Good point. That, and there’d be yellow puddles everywhere.” She picked up the puppy, cradling him in her arms and wincing slightly when he squirmed and whacked his head against her injured shoulder. “We can drop him off at the Haven for the day. Would you mind grabbing that?” She pointed to the toy.
“Sure.” He picked it up then held it to Angus’s mouth for him to grab hold. “You need to give your shoulder a rest. Let me take him.” Without waiting for an answer, he took the puppy from her.
A tiny bit of warmth bloomed in her chest, and it wasn’t from the brief contact as they’d transferred the puppy to his arms. “Thank you.” A law enforcement officer and a gentleman. Not that she should be surprised, by now. He’d been nothing but gentlemanly since the day he’d blown into her life. I wonder what he’s like when he cuts loose?
Angus promptly licked Dayne’s cheek then began squirming again. “Easy does it, little guy.” He nuzzled his chin against the puppy’s head, instantly calming him.
The man certainly had a way with dogs. And infinite patience.
After setting the new security code, they went outside. She followed Remy and Dayne down the steps and nearly slammed into Dayne’s broad back.
“Don’t move,” he said in a gravelly voice laced with warning. “Stay behind me.”
“What’s wrong?” She peered around his body, which was as rigid as a piece of sheet metal.
One of the guards on the north corner of the house lifted a hand in greeting. The other, standing a few feet away, did the same.
Dayne’s eyes narrowed and his jaw set as he searched the property. Kat didn’t see a thing out of place. The tension in Dayne’s body said otherwise.
Beneath her coat, the hair on her forearms prickled. Remy watched Dayne, her body as tense as her handler’s, although she didn’t alert. The wind blew away from them, whispering through the distant trees.
“Dayne? What is it?” When he didn’t answer, her pulse kicked up. “Do you see something?”
“No, I just…” He tipped his head to his SUV. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they drove to the Haven, Kat couldn’t stop from glancing repeatedly in the sideview mirror. She licked her lips, her tongue having gone as dry as a piece of cardboard. She couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that time was running out. On what, she didn’t know, but there it was.
Along with the firm belief that things would only get worse before they got better.
…
Two blocks from the funeral home, the streets were lined with marked police cars and dark sedans and SUVs.
Dayne drove directly to the entrance of the large white building. Only one spot at the curb in front was empty, blocked off with orange cones. A man waved them in and moved the cones out of the way.
“Is that Detective Paulson?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Dayne quickly parallel parked. “I had him reserve us a space near the front. Quick in, quick out.”
“I see.” He didn’t want her outside and exposed any longer than necessary. The man’s protective nature knew no bounds. “Thank you.”
“Wait a minute before getting out.” He lowered the rear windows before shutting off the engine and coming around to her side. As usual, he searched the street in both directions, then the sidewalks, which were filling with uniformed policemen and women, and others in dark suits, many wearing tiny badge-shaped lapel pins.
The door opened, and he held out his hand. She tried to ignore how good his fingers felt around hers and the stab of disappointment when he released it.
He accompanied her to the walkway where Detective Paulson waited. The funeral home was packed, yet a hushed silence hung over the long line of people waiting to pay their respects.
“We should have most of the lab reports later today.” Detective Paulson indicated they should follow him to a corner of the waiting area.
Several people nodded to Dayne then stared at her. Considering she was often interviewed on live TV, not to mention the fact that she’d recently been identified in the news as the person who’d found Rebecca’s body, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Lately, however, being gaped at as if she were a new species was beginning to grate like sandpaper on her already frayed nerves.
Dayne looked around the crowded room, which must have been easy for him, since he was at least several inches taller than everyone else. “We have agents stationed inside and out,” he said to Paulson. “In case Kelso Donnelly shows his face.”
Donnelly. Her stomach dropped at the mention of the ex-con. He was still out there, somewhere, and he may have murdered Rebecca.
“We do, too,” the detective said. “We’ll also have people staked out at Amy Thorpe’s wake.”
“Why would Kelso Donnelly show up here if he murdered Rebecca?” she asked. “Wouldn’t he be worried someone would spot him?”
“It’s not unheard of for a killer to return to the scene of the crime,” Dayne answered. “Or to attend the victim’s funeral.”
Kat made a face. “That’s twisted.”
“It is twisted.” Dayne acknowledged Kade, Markus, and Jaime coming in the front door. “They enjoy the pageantry of watching law enforcement at the crime scene. Makes them feel important. Seeing the distress of their victim’s family at the funeral turns them on, gives them a sick rush of excitement.”
“Speaking of which,” Paulson added, “I’ve had a patrol unit watching the Garman Investigations building. So far, no one’s come by except the press.”
“And no one’s been skulking around the Canine Haven,” Dayne added. “There’s a three-man guard unit stationed on the property at all times.”
She touched her fingers to her throat, grateful that the pink marks had all but disappeared.
Marks left by the man who tried to kill me. Donnelly? Or someone else? Someone they had yet to identify? Either way, it was impossible not to keep reliving the moment when she’d nearly died.
The first two nights after the attack, she’d had listless nights with little sleep, waking up and feeling as if she were choking to death. Last night had been her first dreamless night since it had happened.
“Let’s go.” Dayne directed her back into the crowd.
He stopped briefly to introduce her to his supervisors, Special Agent-in-Charge Mark Peters and Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge Lydia Barstow. They were about to enter the reception room when someone called his name.
A woman whose face she couldn’t see hugged Dayne, intimately rubbing his back. When the woman pulled away, Kat’s pulse raced. Was this Dayne’s wife? Until that moment, she hadn’t considered that he might be married.
Feeling as if she were spying, she turned away and took a fortifying breath. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that his wife was there, and it shouldn’t bother her so much that she was. Any loving wife would support her husband when his friend or colleague had passed away.
“Kat, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She turned back just as he wrapped an arm around the woman, tugging her to his side.
Her heart thumped harder. The idea of meeting Dayne’s wife made her anxious. Sucking up the awkwardness, she pasted on her best protocol face.
“Kat, this is Lily.” He gave Lily an affectionate squeeze. “My sister.”
“Your—” Sister?
“Hello.” Lily held out her hand. Numbly, Kat shook it.
Dayne’s sister was beautiful, with dark brown, almond-shaped eyes set against the most perfect ebony skin she’d ever seen. Her African heritage was obvious, but it was her genuine smile that had Kat forming an instant liking for her.
“I’m—”
“Katrina Vandenburg,” Lily cut her off. “I’ve seen you on TV and in the social pages. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too.” She smiled back—a genuine one, this tim
e.
“I can’t stay,” Lily said. “I have to get back to the shop, but I wanted to be here for you.” She looped her long, graceful arms around Dayne’s neck then pressed her lips to his cheek.
“Thanks for coming, Lil,” he said.
Lily cast a quick glance at Kat. “Can you make it to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow night?”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised.
“Try.” She pointed an admonishing finger at him then left.
“She seems very nice,” Kat said.
“She’s the best.” His voice held a warmth she’d never heard before. “C’mon. We’re not waiting in this line.”
He led her to the front of the receiving line, politely excusing himself along the way for cutting in front of everyone. Near the casket, which was closed, stood a man with graying hair, his face haggard and his eyes red-rimmed. Rebecca’s husband, she assumed. Beside him stood two younger couples in their twenties. One of the women held the hand of a little girl of about six, with the prettiest head of blond curls Kat had ever seen.
Dayne swung the child into his arms, twirling her around before kissing her on the cheek. “Hiya, Suzie.”
“Unca Dayne.” She giggled, kissing him back.
For such a tough guy, he had a natural way with children. Despite the somber mood, people in line smiled, including her. His big, strong hands held the little girl as if she were a delicate piece of crystal and had her wondering if she’d ever have the pleasure of watching her own husband coo at their daughter with the same adoration beaming from his face.
The image of Dayne as that man flickered in the back of her mind. Ridiculous, considering she’d known the man for five days.
Still holding the child in one arm, he held out his other hand to her. “Come meet Becca’s family.” He led her to the older man first. “This is Ted Garman, Becca’s husband. Ted, this is Katrina Vandenburg.”
It was painstakingly obvious from the man’s tortured expression that he’d just lost his entire world. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” was the only thing she could think to say.
“Thank you.” He clasped her outstretched hand. To Dayne, he said, “We’re glad you’re here.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t stay long.” He set Suzie on the floor by her mother.
“Let me know when you catch the bastard.” Ted blinked rapidly.
“Count on it.” Dayne pulled the man into a tight embrace. The bond he shared with Kade, Markus, and Jaime obviously extended to the Garman family, as well. Friendship was important to him, and she respected that.
After quick introductions to the rest of the Garmans, Dayne led her outside to the Interceptor. At their approach, Remy stuck her head out the window. The dog’s lips curled back, baring her teeth. Hair on the K-9’s spine stood straight up.
Dayne stopped walking and held out one arm in front of her. His lips tightened as he scanned the sidewalk in both directions. Again? No one lingered in the area, but something had spooked his K-9. The question was what.
He clasped her hand, urging her to follow him.
“What is it?” she asked, taking in the worry lines creasing his forehead and the deadly glint in his eyes. In her high heels, she struggled to keep up with his brisk pace.
“I don’t know.” He slowed then put his arm around her shoulder, tugging her to his side and protecting her with his body. “But I’m getting you out of here.”
As they neared the vehicle, her breath quickened, and her pulse began racing. Dayne clicked open the passenger door and opened it, again scanning in all directions as she slid onto the seat. He shut the door and started rounding the hood but stopped. Tucked beneath the wiper was a single red rose.
Dayne grabbed the rose and threw it to the sidewalk. He got in and slammed the door shut. A second later, he gunned the SUV down the road.
Remy’s pants sounded more like growls as she paced back and forth behind them. Both man and dog were agitated, which only made Kat’s heart thump faster.
A muscle in Dayne’s jaw ticked as he maneuvered the residential streets.
She took a steadying breath and let it out, still trying to slow her racing heart. “What happened back there?”
“Not sure.” He didn’t look at her, just stared straight ahead. “Remy reacted to something or someone. That rose…” His jaw tightened. “I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?” She grabbed his arm, feeling the stiffness in his muscles. “It probably just fell out of a funeral bouquet and someone stuck it on the windshield.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He eased his grip on the wheel, and the tension that had been radiating from his big body seemed to recede like the Hudson’s ebbing tide. “I think you may have a stalker. Manny.”
Her jaw dropped. “The guy who delivers my roses? I don’t believe it. He’s been delivering me flowers every week for the past two years. He’s harmless.”
“Nobody is harmless.” His phone vibrated, and she released his arm, settling back into the seat. “Andrews,” he answered. “When?” The tension that had made his body as rigid as a board only moments ago was back, worse now. “Keep me posted.”
What now? As if there wasn’t enough craziness happening all around her already.
He gunned the SUV back onto the highway. Judging by his reaction to the phone call, whatever news he’d just received couldn’t be good. She waited for him to clue her in. He didn’t.
“Well?” she prodded. This was her life on the line, and she didn’t want to be kept in the dark.
“State Police just pulled Kelso Donnelly over on the New Jersey Turnpike.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dayne shoved his hands into his pockets, waiting impatiently for Paulson to pull up the video of Kelso Donnelly’s interview. As much as he’d wanted to be the one to grill Donnelly’s ass, he couldn’t be in two places at the same time. Besides, he had enough to deal with as it was.
When they’d left the castle earlier, he could swear someone was out there. Remy hadn’t alerted, and he didn’t see a thing. It was just a feeling, one that hadn’t gone away then and didn’t now. Then, outside the funeral home, he’d been hit with the same sensation.
They were being watched.
And that damned rose. No matter how much Kat didn’t want to believe him, his gut told him it was Manny. Still, he needed more than just a gut feeling to justify filing a formal complaint, let alone slapping an order of protection on the guy.
He stole a glance at the adjacent office where she sat behind a spare desk, talking on her cell phone. He’d seen women in black suits before, but black had never looked so good. The way that slim skirt and snug little jacket hugged her curves… Hell, the woman could make a burlap sack look like high fashion.
Paulson’s monitor flickered as the video finished loading. State troopers had reacted swiftly to the nationwide BOLO on Donnelly and pulled the man in for questioning. The Newark FBI SAC office sent their two best interviewers, Diaz and Caldwell, to assist with the interrogation. That had been two hours ago.
While the interview was in progress, he and Kat had grabbed some chow at a nearby deli. While they ate, he ran a cursory check on Manny, whose name turned out to be Emanuel Gomes. No criminal record. By the end of the meal, Kat had taken no fewer than five phone calls, including making one to Emily, during which they’d reviewed several charity grant proposals. Until that moment, he’d assumed Emily did all the heavy lifting. Man, was he wrong. Being the caretaker of so much money was, apparently, a full-time job.
Paulson’s monitor filled with the interior of a holding cell. A significantly slimmer Kelso Donnelly sat in a chair, with Agents Diaz and Caldwell sitting opposite him.
“For the record,” Agent Diaz said, “the time is one p.m. Present are FBI Special Agents Thomas Diaz and Daniel Caldwell, interviewing Kelso Donnelly at the New Jersey State Polic
e Barracks in Moorestown, New Jersey.” Tommy Diaz paused then looked at Donnelly. “Where were you this past Tuesday?”
The day Becca was killed, according to the county medical examiner’s preliminary report.
Donnelly yawned, as if he didn’t have a freaking care in the world. “Driving cross country from the west coast.”
“What was your destination?”
“New York.”
Dayne sat on the edge of Paulson’s desk.
“Where in New York?”
“Tappan.”
“Specifically, where in Tappan?”
“FBI Special Agent Rebecca Garman’s office.” The grin Donnelly made was more of a sneer, his lip curling back and revealing teeth yellowed from years of chewing tobacco.
“Why did you want to see Special Agent Garman?”
Dayne knew the answer before Donnelly said a word.
“To kill her.” He spat on the floor at Diaz’s feet.
No way. This is too easy.
“Did you? Kill her?”
“Fuck, no.” Donnelly’s eyes narrowed to angry slits, and the sneer on his face now was one of pure rage. “Some asshole beat me to it.”
“So you didn’t kill Rebecca Garman?”
Donnelly held out his arms. “Haven’t you idiots heard a goddamn word I’ve been saying? No! I didn’t kill her. But I wish to fuck I had. The bitch deserved to die.”
“Can you prove where you were all day this past Tuesday?”
“How did she die? Was it painful?” Donnelly’s sneering grin returned. “I hope so.”
Dayne fisted his hands. It was probably a good thing, after all, that he hadn’t been in that cell interrogating the guy.
“Again,” Diaz said, “can you prove where you were on Tuesday?”
Dayne had already heard from the troopers that Donnelly didn’t have an EZPass transmitter on his vehicle, so they couldn’t track him that way.
“I don’t know. Somewhere between California and New York.”
