He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “If I could speak off the record for a moment?”
She nodded her haughty assent.
“I’m worried about the quality of the security system in your home, ma’am. If you’re going to be staying there alone, I would personally recommend an upgrade. Motion detectors, sensors that will let you know when a window or door opens, that sort of thing. If anything should happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
A normal human being who’d just found out that their home, their personal sanctum and refuge, had been violated, would show at least a modicum of nerves about being home alone.
But Mary literally snorted down her nose at him before declaring scornfully, “My current security system is perfectly fine.”
She wasn’t the least bit worried about the intruder, huh? Interesting. That lent credence to his theory that it had been Markus himself who broke into the Dexter house to search for that puzzle box. And furthermore, Mary knew it had been her husband.
“At a minimum, ma’am, you should change the security code. We believe the intruder obtained the code, somehow, and disabled your home alarm.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“If you would like patrols to continue coming by your home for a few weeks, please let us know.”
She waved a dismissive hand at that suggestion.
Oh, yeah. Markus had totally been the intruder who’d run over Yvette.
“If you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll go fetch your house keys from the evidence locker. Can I get you another cup of tea? It’ll take a few minutes to do the paperwork to get your keys.”
He stood up, leaving Jordana to take over chitchatting with Mary. His partner had known the woman most of her life. If anyone could coax information out of Mary Dexter, it was Jordana.
He signed out the house keys quickly and then loitered by the evidence locker until Jordana texted him an okay.
Mary left the building quickly, and he turned with interest to his partner. “Well?”
“She’s been in Kansas City the past few weeks. Claims to have been visiting a friend but couldn’t produce the friend’s name.”
“You think she was visiting Markus?”
“Possible. Mary gave me the name of the hotel she stayed at. I’ll make a call to confirm her alibi and find out if she had male company.”
He nodded and looked up quickly as a familiar form caught his attention across the room. Yvette’s trim silhouette.
“What’re you grinning like a fool for?” Jordana snapped.
“Yvette’s here,” he murmured.
“Dang, you’ve got it bad for her, don’t you?”
“I’m going to marry that girl.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t know it, yet, so don’t say anything.” He looked up, saw the stunned look on Jordana’s face and blurted, “Don’t you punch me, too.” That was all he had time to say before Yvette reached their desks.
“Hey, guys. I’ve got something you need to see. Do you want the old news or the recent news first?”
“Old,” he and Jordana said simultaneously.
“Right. So, I got the DNA results back from a strand of hair I collected off Markus Dexter’s hairbrush. I’ll have to get a sample from him to confirm that it was actually his hair, and I’d like you guys to get a warrant for that when we find him.”
Jordana frowned. “I don’t understand. Why does it matter if it was his hair or not?”
Reese knew that look in Yvette’s eyes. She was bursting with excitement over something. “Because the owner of that hair is Gwen Harrison’s father.”
All of a sudden, a bunch of pieces fell into place. He blurted, “Markus Dexter is Gwen Harrison’s father?”
“If that hair is Markus’s, yes.”
Jordana jumped in excitedly. “That’s our motive! Olivia Harrison was having an affair with Markus Dexter and it went sour. He killed her over it.”
Yvette beat him to the punch, correcting, “We know he had sex with Olivia at least once to have fathered her daughter. That doesn’t necessarily mean they were having an affair. And Gwen was several years old when her mother died, so he didn’t kill her right away. My guess is she had the baby and started pressing him to leave his wife. That would be why he killed Olivia. Either way, it’s a heck of a motive.”
Reese spoke up. “What’s the new news?”
“I got a hit on the key from the puzzle box.”
He lurched upright in his desk chair. “Do tell.”
“It’s from the Kansas City Freeport.”
His jaw sagged. “The freeport?”
Jordana chimed in with “What’s a freeport?”
Reese explained. “They’re bonded warehouses that accept cargo and shipments from other countries. A freeport can hold cargo indefinitely without ever sending it through customs. The stuff basically sits in lockers, in limbo between countries, as long as it’s inside the freeport building.”
Jordana frowned. “Why on earth would Markus Dexter have a locker inside a freeport?”
Yvette answered soberly, “He’s hiding something. It’s valuable, and he doesn’t want any US authority knowing it exists. He’s either avoiding paying taxes on it or it’s illegal.”
“How do we get a warrant to search it?” Jordana asked.
Reese winced. “That could be difficult. The contents of the freeport are in transit between countries. It would have to be a federal warrant.”
Jordana groaned. “Great. I guess I’m spending the rest of the day doing paperwork, aren’t I?”
“Sorry, sis,” Yvette murmured.
Reese commented, “I wonder if Mary Dexter knows her husband has a daughter.”
Jordana met his gaze sharply. “Could be interesting to find out. But you’re going to have to tread lightly around her. Disarm her.”
Yvette snorted. “That woman always scared me.”
Jordana snorted back. “I don’t know why. You were always the only one of us kids she could stand.”
“Really?” Reese asked quickly.
“Oh, yeah. Yvette was a quiet, mousy little thing who dressed in girly clothes and was always neat and clean. Mary thought she was the perfect child.”
He’d seen Yvette tussled and hectic after they made love, and frankly, it was his favorite way to see her. “Come with me to drop the bomb on Mary?” he asked her.
“Umm, sure. What do you need me to do?”
“Go get Markus’s hairbrush, and I’ll meet you out front,” he answered.
When Yvette slid into his truck a few minutes later, she lifted the center console and slid all the way across the bench seat to plaster herself against his side. “I’ve missed being with you,” she murmured.
“It has only been a few hours,” he replied humorously.
“I know. A lifetime.”
He laughed under his breath. “God, I love you.”
She froze against him.
Oh, crap. Should he retract the statement, or would that make it even more weird? Should he let it stand as nothing more than a casual remark? Pretend he’d never said it? Paralyzed with uncertainty, he ended up doing nothing. The moment passed. Yvette eventually relaxed against his side, and she didn’t make any grand or awkward statement in response.
Mary Dexter answered the front door of her mansion and promptly gave him an earful about cops tromping around her house in muddy boots and ruining her rugs. He finally got a word in edgewise to apologize humbly and ask to speak with her.
In a huff, Mary led him and Yvette into the living room. It was as stuffy a space as its owner and he perched on the edge of a deeply uncomfortable Victorian sofa. Mary and Yvette sat on the matching one across a coffee table.
Yvette opened her purse and pulled out a sealed, plastic evidence bag. She said
softly, “Miss Mary, I’m hoping you can help me with something. Do you recognize this hairbrush?”
“Turn it over,” Mary demanded.
Yvette turned the bag, and the elaborate monogram on the back became visible, a large D with an M and a J on each side of it.
“Where did you get that? I gave that to my Markus for his birthday years ago.”
“You’re sure it’s his?”
“I can’t imagine there’s anyone else in Braxville with an imported boar’s-hair brush with the initials MJD engraved on it.”
Yvette nodded. “If you look closely, you can see some hairs in the bristles. Do those look like Uncle Markus’s?”
“Why, yes, dear. You can see the gray roots and that stupid hair dye he uses to cover the gray in his hair.”
Nice touch, calling him Uncle Markus. Yvette was putting Mary more at ease than he’d ever seen the woman.
“Why are you asking me all of this?” Mary asked, pinning him with a suspicious look.
He answered gently, “Ahh. That. Well, we ran a DNA analysis of several of the hairs from this brush. Turns out the hairs come from Gwen Harrison’s genetic father.”
“Markus? He’s the Harrison girl’s father? He and Olivia—” She broke off, visibly pale and stunned.
Yvette reached forward and took Mary’s hand, patting it sympathetically. “Is it possible anyone else used that brush? Any male guests to your home who might’ve gone upstairs and borrowed it?”
“Guests—no—I don’t like other people in my home… I think I feel faint…”
Yvette stood quickly and help her lie back. He grabbed a few pillows and passed them to Yvette to put behind Mary, while he pulled a crocheted blanket off the back of the sofa and laid it over her. “Rest, ma’am.”
“Thank you, young man.”
She wasn’t that old. But if she wanted to play the frail old lady, he would go along to gain her trust.
“Oh, Aunt Mary, I’m so sorry,” Yvette murmured. “You’ve been so brave over the years, looking the other way all that time. It’s not fair that he did this to you.”
“All those women,” she moaned. “And I never said a word. Never confronted him. I kept the peace. I was a dutiful wife.”
“And to have him betray you like this,” Yvette tsked. “It’s disgraceful.”
“How could he?” Mary wailed.
Reese mentally grinned. Here it came. The righteous fury.
“I could kill him,” she declared. “And to think, he wanted me to protect his sorry neck.”
Yvette glanced at him over Mary’s head and he nodded fractionally.
Yvette said sympathetically, “He doesn’t deserve you. You’ve always been too good for him.”
“I’m the one who came from the good family, you know. I had money. He used my trust fund to buy into your father’s company. And then this! Why, I’ll take all the money out of the bank accounts. It should all be mine, anyway. He wouldn’t have a dime if it weren’t for me agreeing to marry him and finance his business ventures. I’m the one who told him to invest in Colton Construction in the first place. Your daddy always had a good eye for real estate. I told Markus to take advantage of that.”
“And then to run away like this and leave you holding the bag,” Yvette made an indignant noise. “I can’t imagine how you’ll face his daughter. Ohmigosh, and all your friends when they find out…”
Mary groaned, and her diamond-clad fingers fluttered to her forehead. “I’ll have to leave, too.”
“You won’t join him, will you?” Yvette asked in horror.
“Goodness, no. Kansas City won’t be nearly far enough away to hide from the shame. But I have no interest in leaving the country, either. Oh, dear. What shall I do? I have people on the West Coast. My sister. We never got along, but maybe I could spend some time with her.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Yvette soothed.
Reese pulled out his cell phone and texted Jordana quickly. Dexter is in Kansas City. Planning to leave the country. Send alerts to customs and TSA to detain him on sight.
“How soon is Uncle Markus planning to leave the country? Maybe if he goes quickly enough you won’t have to leave Braxville and all your friends.”
“Oh, in just a few days.”
“Do you know the details of his trip?” Yvette asked casually.
“No, no. He was going to go alone. He wanted to send for me later, but I hadn’t made up my mind if I was going or not. I’m plenty sick of his shenanigans after all these years and all those women.”
Yvette sat down on the edge of the sofa beside the older woman. She lowered her voice and asked conspiratorially, “Did you know the Harrison woman? Olivia, I think her name was?”
“Beautiful girl. I’m not surprised she caught his eye. She had a friend in town who she used to come visit. They came to church together. That’s where we met her—” Mary’s voice became a hiss of fury. “He picked her up at church.”
Yvette made an appropriate sound of shock.
“I hope he burns in hell,” Mary spat.
“Aunt Mary, I found something strange in a piece of evidence that came into the lab a few days ago. It was a puzzle box with a key inside it. Do you know anything about that key?”
Mary frowned. “What was it a key to?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
“He always was secretive.” Mary’s voice lowered to a hushed murmur. “Once, I found a whole bunch of money in the back of his desk drawer and a fake driver’s license. It was his picture but it had a different name on it.”
“What ever would he need something like that for?” Yvette responded on cue.
“He said it was a joke. But I never believed him. I figured he used it to get hotel rooms for him and his sluts.”
“Do you remember the name on it?” Yvette asked, sounding suitably shocked.
“James McDowell. As if anyone couldn’t see right through that to realize it was his initials scrambled. And his middle name is James for goodness’ sake. It’s not even a good fake name.”
Yvette laughed a little. “You’re so much more clever than he ever realized.”
Mary responded archly, “All men think they’re so smart. But we women…we always know what they’re up to.”
Reese suppressed a smile. He was happy to be the stupid detective who’d brought along the one person on earth Mary would spill her guts to. Yep. He was quite the moron.
He made a hand signal over Mary’s head to Yvette to wrap things up, and she asked Mary if she could call a friend to come sit with her. Someone agreed to come over, and he and Yvette made their excuses and left.
They drove away from the Dexter house, and a few blocks away, he pulled over to the curb. “Come here, you amazing woman.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a resounding kiss. “You were magnificent. She sang like a bird.”
Yvette threw her leg over his leg and straddled his hips, grinning down at him. “I like interrogating people.”
“If you’d like more training in how to do it, I’d be glad to arrange it.”
“It’s so…bloodthirsty. No wonder you love your job.”
He laughed at her enthusiasm and kissed her again, loving her excitement.
“Can I convince you to christen this truck?” she asked hopefully.
“Soon, darlin’. Right now, I want to drive you home and put you to bed.”
“Oooh, sounds fun. You’ll join me?”
“You need your rest,” he tried.
“What I need is you.”
He sighed. “You are possibly the worst patient I’ve ever been around.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?”
He smiled up at her ruefully and set her off his lap. And it was, indeed, great stripping her naked, laying her down in his bed and making slow,
sweet love to her.
But eventually, real life called. Or rather, texted. Jordana had verbal approval on the warrant for Markus Dexter’s locker in the freeport. They needed only to drive to Kansas City to pick up the signed warrant and then they could find out what Markus was hiding.
CHAPTER 16
Yvette woke up with the setting sun pouring in through the window in crimson glory. “Reese!” she called. “Are you home?”
No answer. He’d undoubtedly gone back to work and left her to sleep the afternoon away. Which she, in fact, had. She showered and dressed, and noticed her phone had several text messages when she picked it up in the kitchen.
The first message was from Reese. Gone to Kansas City. Will call you when we arrest Markus.
Perfect. She still had a bunch of emails and paperwork to go through from being out of the office for several days. She’d just settled down in front of a fledgling fire with her laptop when she heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive.
Odd. She didn’t see its headlights. Nor did she recognize the sound of its engine. That definitely wasn’t Reese’s truck. One of her siblings, maybe. It would be like Lilly to send one of them out to check on her.
A firm knock at the front door drew her out of her seat to open it, a greeting on her lips.
“Hi—” she started. She stopped. Stared. Blurted, “What are you doing here?”
“Come with me. Right now,” Markus Dexter snarled.
“What? No. I’m not going anywhere.”
His hand lifted away from his side. “Wanna bet?”
She stared in shock at the handgun pointed at her belly. “Are you kidding me?”
“I assure you, I’m not. Let’s go. Now.”
“I’m going to need shoes and my coat, Uncle Markus.” She threw in the title to remind him of her lifelong relationship to him. He was sporting a scruffy beard and looked rather more unkempt than she was used to. He had a hard edge about him now, which was new.
“Make it fast.”
She turned, thinking frantically. How to let someone know she was being kidnapped? He followed her into the bedroom where she made a production of fishing her boots out of the closet, strewing all of her shoes around the floor of the closet. She dumped several pairs of socks on the floor as she opened the drawer, too. She threw a huge log onto the fire as she passed by it, confident the thing would burn most of the night. She didn’t close the steel mesh curtains in front of the fire and prayed she didn’t burn Reese’s house down. But he would know something was terribly wrong if she’d made a mess and hadn’t made the fire safe before leaving.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 45
