The Perfect Murder--A Novel

by Kat Martin

  “Problems always arise in purchasing a project this big.”

  “I know, but...”

  Reese’s hold tightened on the phone. “What are you not telling me, Derek?”

  His sigh came through the phone. “I really hate to put this out there without any proof, but I’m worried these delays aren’t accidental.”

  Reese sat forward in his chair. “You think someone is sabotaging the rig?”

  “I think it’s possible. That’s the reason I called. Maybe someone doesn’t want the deal to go through, or a competitor wants to buy the platform out from under us. It’s a helluva good price.”

  “Which we’ve got completely tied down. No way can Sea Titan back out.”

  “Maybe they’re having second thoughts, sabotaging the deal themselves.”

  It was possible, he supposed. Or one of the whack jobs marching around out front in a clown mask could be involved, which raised the question, how far would the protesters be willing to go to make their point?

  “Or it could just be a run of bad luck,” Derek said.

  “Let’s hope that’s it. The Poseidon’s an important part of our latest market-share strategy. It represents months of hard work by a lot of good people—to say nothing of the money we’ve invested in the option. I’m glad you took the initiative on this. Keep me in the loop and let me know if any other problems come up.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Reese.”

  Reese could hear the relief in his VP’s voice. It was never easy to call the CEO with problems, or even potential problems.

  He thought of the people waving signs in front of the office. They wanted to stop the purchase. They were using the deal to bring attention to their cause. He understood that, in many ways agreed with their concerns.

  A notion that brought another thought squarely to mind. So far the NTSB—National Transportation Safety Board—hadn’t been able to pinpoint the cause of the helicopter crash. It was some kind of equipment malfunction, of course, but there had been no indication of a problem before the day of the crash.

  He wouldn’t discount Derek’s phone call.

  But he hoped like hell his VP was wrong.

  * * *

  Kenzie spent a leisurely day at home with Griff. She could tell he was feeling better because he was starting to get restless, pressing her to let him go outdoors.

  “Mo-om.” He dragged it out like a two-syllable word, making her smile. “My head doesn’t hurt anymore and it’s boring just sitting around doing nothing. Can’t I at least go out and ride my skateboard in the driveway?”

  Unlike some kids who spent every hour on their digital devices, Griff was an outdoor kid. He loved sports and any kind of outside activity, like hiking and baseball and especially swimming. Kenzie was usually grateful. Not today.

  “The reason you’re staying home from school is to give yourself a chance to heal. You hit your head hard enough to knock yourself unconscious. The doctor wants you to take it easy.”

  “He said I was only out a few seconds.”

  “I know, but still...”

  Griff grumbled something she was glad she couldn’t hear.

  “If you want some fresh air, why don’t you take your iPad out on the patio? You can sit in the sun and play a game or do a puzzle or something. It’s not too hot today.”

  They had a small fenced yard behind their town house. Someday she wanted to buy a house with a big backyard. It was one of the reasons she was grateful for her high-paying job.

  Griff shrugged his shoulders. “I guess.” He ambled away, resigned to taking it easy at least for the next few hours. Kenzie watched him go, the fear she’d experienced yesterday still haunting her.

  At every opportunity, she had walked up and simply hugged him, or ran her fingers through his thick dark brown hair. It carried the same touch of red as her own, his eyes the same golden amber. He was finally losing his baby fat, growing taller and leaner, more like his father.

  Though that was the end of the resemblance. Griff was sweet and loving, always helpful and optimistic. Not demanding, mean-tempered, and completely self-centered, as Lee was. She liked to think Griff got his good qualities from her side of the family.

  Which turned her thoughts to Gran. Kenzie found her seated at the kitchen table, a romance novel open in front of her. A ray of sunlight illuminated the heavy silver hair she wore in a sleek, chin-length bob. At seventy, Flo Spencer was still attractive, the few extra pounds she carried minimizing the lines in her face.

  Gran looked up from her book. “You’ve been edgy all morning. I know you’re used to being at work, but an extra day off once in a while is good for you. Why don’t you go for a swim? Do something to relax.”

  Kenzie was used to working long hours and when she was home, sometimes it was hard to shift gears and unwind. Swimming definitely helped. She’d been captain of the high school swim team, still did laps after work as often as possible in the condo association pool to stay in shape.

  “Maybe I will.” But if she did, Griff, who seemed to have the same love of swimming she had, would want to go with her. Usually she was thrilled to have him along, but today she wanted him to stay quiet.

  “On second thought, I think I’ll go up and check my email. Louise isn’t used to working directly with Reese. She might need help with something.”

  Gran took her reading glasses off, folded them, and neatly set them on the table. “It was nice of your boss to take you to the hospital yesterday.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Gran had seen photos of Reese Garrett in the online digital version of the Dallas Morning News. Pictures of him were constantly in the society pages, attending one charitable event or another, always with an extremely beautiful woman. Rarely the same one more than a couple of times.

  Since Kenzie kept track of his calendar, she knew most of their names. Gran knew Reese was an amazing-looking man and extremely successful. Divorced with plenty of family money, Reese Garrett was one of the most eligible bachelors in Dallas.

  Gran closed the novel she had been reading and gave Kenzie an assessing glance. She’d always been amazingly perceptive. “In my day, it was all right for a boss to go out with one of his employees. I guess that’s all changed now.”

  Kenzie poured herself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot on the counter. “It’s completely changed, Gran. Even if Reese were interested in me as more than just an employee, which I’m sure he isn’t, there’s no way he could risk getting involved. And if I want to keep my job, there is no way I could risk getting involved with him.”

  Gran sighed. “I suppose. But it’s kind of a shame, since the two of you have so much in common.”

  Kenzie cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Like what?”

  “Like you’re both very intelligent, both career-minded, both very attractive people. Probably a lot of other things, too.”

  “Reese is a lot more than above-average in looks, and he has never shown the least interest in me, so you can just stop your matchmaking efforts right now.”

  Gran’s faint smile was unrepentant. She held up her paperback, the cover showing a gorgeous half-naked medieval warrior. “It could be risky, but the right man might be worth it.”

  Kenzie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. Gran was the ultimate romantic. She had loved Kenzie’s grandfather every day of their fifty-year marriage, loved him until the day he’d died of a heart attack five years ago. Kenzie wasn’t sure that kind of love even existed in today’s modern world.

  On that sad note, she took her cup of coffee and headed upstairs to her computer.

  FIVE

  The following morning, Reese arrived a few minutes later than usual. Reese had been out late last night, attending a political fundraiser for the mayor.

  Mark Rydell was doing a good job, had lent his support to a number of proje
cts Garrett Resources had undertaken, and in return, Reese was supporting the mayor’s bid for reelection.

  What hadn’t worked out so well was his date for the event. Reese had been seeing Fiona Cantor off and on for the past few months. She was a beautiful, statuesque blonde, an attorney at one of the big Dallas law firms. She was pleasant company and a satisfactory bed partner who didn’t expect more than being friends with benefits.

  Unfortunately, last night when he’d driven her home after the gala, things had taken an unexpected turn.

  “I’ve got a nice bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge,” Fiona had said with an inviting smile. “Or if you’d prefer, a glass of that Oban single malt I bought just for you.” She leaned over and kissed him, wet and open-mouthed, ran a red polished nail down his cheek. “Or we can just go straight to bed.”

  He’d looked into her big blue eyes and tried to muster some enthusiasm. When none surfaced, he shook his head. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Fi, and a long day tomorrow. I think I’ll head on home.”

  Fiona frowned. “I’m tired of excuses, Reese. We haven’t had sex the last three times we’ve been together. What’s going on?”

  He thought about brushing her off, telling her it was just problems at work, which was certainly true. Instead, he told her the truth. “I think it’s time we moved on. It’s been fun, but I’ve just got too much on my mind right now. I need a little space. I hope you understand.”

  Her spine stiffened. “Oh, I understand, Reese. Who is she?”

  He blocked the image before it had time to surface. “It’s no one, Fi. That isn’t what’s going on.” Well, not exactly.

  Fiona released a slow, resigned breath. “It’s all right. We never were exclusive.” She was right. They had dated a lot of different people, always kept things casual and open. She was undemanding and he had enjoyed her company. But it wasn’t serious and both of them knew it.

  “Call me if you change your mind,” Fi said, but he knew he wouldn’t. He had lost interest in Fiona sometime back. The next time he needed a date, he’d go through his contacts, find someone else to accompany him. He’d never had trouble attracting women. He was more than decent looking, and he had lots of money. That was all it really took.

  Which wasn’t saying much.

  Lately, it wasn’t enough.

  The memory of the evening slipped away as he strode across the office, then paused next to Kenzie’s desk. “How’s Griff?”

  When she rose from her chair, he tried not to notice how her skirt and simple white cotton sweater showed off her curves. She always wore business clothes but somehow still managed to look sexier than he would have liked.

  “Griff’s okay. He was going crazy cooped up in the house and he seemed completely fine, so I let him go back to school today.” She smiled and he worked to ignore the heat that washed through him. “I really appreciate what you did. I’m not usually one to panic, but it’s different when it’s your child.”

  He nodded. “I’m sure it is.” Having kids was one of the reasons he’d gotten married. He and Sandra were already on the brink of divorce when they’d discovered she couldn’t have children. Instead of being upset, Sandra had been relieved.

  “I’ve got a few things I need to add to my schedule,” he said. “Derek Stiles called yesterday. Looks like we’re having more problems with the rig.”

  “You’ll get them sorted.” She flashed him a smile. “You always do.”

  But there was one thing he was having more and more trouble handling and she was standing right in front of him.

  Reese clenched his jaw and went to work.

  He was sitting at his desk later that day when his intercom buzzed.

  “It’s Frank Milburn,” Kenzie said. “He has news about the crash.”

  Milburn was in charge of the NTSB investigation. “Put him through.” Reese pressed the speaker button and settled back in his chair.

  “I know you’ve been anxious to hear from us,” Frank said, a small man with close-cropped brown hair. “I wish we could have completed the investigation sooner, but these things take time.”

  “I’m aware. So what have you found out?”

  “The last of the reports came in. We’d been waiting for some metal structural tests. Combined with the rest of the information we’ve assembled, the reports revealed what we had recently begun to suspect but until today weren’t able to confirm.”

  “Go on.”

  “Sometime before the flight took off the morning of the crash, someone tampered with the engine. A piece of metal in one of the gears was filed just enough to cause it to grind itself to pieces. The flight control mechanism disconnected, rendering the helo uncontrollable. To put it in layman’s terms, the helicopter was sabotaged.”

  Tension tightened Reese’s shoulders. He didn’t ask Milburn if he was sure. The NTSB team had been investigating the crash for weeks. Two men were dead. The authorities had to be extremely thorough. The question now was who had done it? And why?

  “Have you found out who’s responsible?” Reese asked.

  “Unfortunately, not yet. As we’ve known from the start and you were informed, pilot error contributed heavily to the event. There should have been room for the chopper to safely autorotate down, but the pilot misjudged his position. He came in too close to the building, one of the blades clipped the corner, and the helicopter was torn apart.”

  “So what, exactly, do you know?”

  “We know a criminal act was committed that ended up causing the deaths of two men. As of this morning, the FBI will be taking over the investigation. They’ll be actively pursuing whoever is responsible for the crime, now a double murder.”

  Murder. The news sent a chill down Reese’s spine. He leaned over his desk, shut off the speaker, and picked up the phone. “Whatever you find out, I’ll expect you to keep me in the loop.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Milburn said. “It’ll be more difficult once the gears of the FBI begin to turn.”

  He understood how a federal agency worked. Lots of interlocking pieces and parts that inevitably slowed things down. The call ended, but Reese had no intention of leaving the matter in the hands of some governmental bureaucracy, not even the FBI. The feds would have to start over, look at the crash from an entirely different angle. It could take weeks, even months.

  Two men were dead and he could have been the third. He thought of the accidents that had been plaguing the Poseidon. The helo crash hadn’t been accidental. The chopper was meant to go down.

  Was it possible he had been the target?

  He couldn’t wait weeks or months, not when his life could be in danger. He needed answers. Finding them sent his mind immediately to his brothers.

  Chase owned Maximum Security, the best private security firm in Dallas. There wasn’t a better investigator in the city than Chase. But once his brother heard the NTSB’s findings, he’d demand Reese have round-the-clock personal protection. Brandon, their younger brother, a highly sought-after bodyguard, would be the logical choice. But Reese had too much going on to be dogged 24/7.

  Not when there was no proof Reese had been anything but an unlucky passenger. Especially not when he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

  In high school, he’d fallen in with a dangerous crowd, older kids who were in and out of trouble. He’d found himself on the police radar, a troublemaker, minor car thief, fringe member of a local teenage gang, and street brawler. Activities that, combined with being picked up for using an illegal firearm, had led to a yearlong stint in juvenile detention.

  His mom, divorced from his far-too-lenient dad and already raising his brothers, had taken custody and moved Reese in with her and her family. His grandfather, a former Texas sheriff, along with half a dozen relatives in the military or law enforcement, had stepped in and helped him turn his life around.

 
; One of his uncles had convinced him to use his fighting skills in the boxing ring instead of on the street. By the time he was in college, he’d added kickboxing, then taekwondo, leading to a brief interest in mixed martial arts. Though he’d left those days behind, he still trained weekly to keep in shape.

  No, he didn’t need Chase or Brandon, or his half brother, Michael, a computer nerd who lived in Houston, a recent addition to the family.

  What Reese needed was information. He phoned Tabitha Love. Tabby worked for The Max as a computer specialist. She was one of the smartest people he had ever known, smarter even than the experts who worked for Garrett Resources. And she would be discreet.

  She answered on the second ring. “Is that Reese Garrett’s name I see on my screen?” He could hear the smile in her voice. He rarely called her, though she was always happy to help.

  “No way to deny it, I’m afraid. I’m hoping you can carve out some time for me. It’s a personal matter, one I need you to handle quietly and fairly quickly.”

  She must have heard something in his tone. “For you, chief, I have all the time in the world.” She said it as if he were the editor of a newspaper or the leader of a tribe, not the chief executive officer of the company. It always made him smile.

  Tabby was in her late twenties, tall, with very short black hair shaved on the sides and moussed on top. Her face glittered with enough studs to drive up the price of silver on the stock market: ears, tongue, eyebrow, plus a nose ring, and who knew what else beneath her clothes.

  Fortunately, not him. Tabby’s boyfriend, Lester, took up most of her free time.

  “So what is it you need?” Tabby asked, suddenly all business.

  “You may have heard about the drilling platform the company is purchasing. The Poseidon?”

  “It’s been all over the news. Apparently not everyone’s happy about the deal.”

  “Exactly. We’ve got protesters marching on the street outside our door. They’re using the sale to bring attention to the problems caused by offshore drilling.”