Chasing Shadows (11 page)

Her hand fit snugly within his grasp. A pleasant warmth spread up her arm, reminding her how good it felt every time he held her. Every time he touched her. Kissed her.

Reluctant to let go, she tightened her hold, refusing
to release him when his fingers slackened as they left the apartment. There may not be a future for them, but they had right now and right now she needed the contact.

She could feel his gaze searching her face as they walked toward the front of the center. He stopped as they neared the reception desk. “Ms. Faust has some paperwork for me,” he declared to the receptionist.

“And she said you'd have something for her,” the brunette countered with a smile.

“I do.” Gabe pulled out an envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it over.

The pretty brunette stared up at him with an amused glint. “Very good. Would you like help out with it?”

“Help out?”

The woman gestured toward a stack of boxes behind the desk.

“Oh, yes, I guess that would be good.”

“Let me see where Frank is,” said the receptionist as she dialed a number.

Gabe turned to Kris. “Feel up to carrying out a few boxes?”

She eyed the stack. “Sure. What are they?”

“Hopefully, the key to what's going on.”

“That's cryptic,” she muttered.

A few minutes later, Frank came walking down the hall. He stopped when he saw them. He started to back up. The receptionist called out to him. “Frank, come here.”

Hesitatingly, he came forward, keeping his gaze pinned on Gabe. “Yeah?”

Kris thought the man was sneaky and not someone she'd trust, but apparently Gabe didn't share the sentiment.

“We need your help with these boxes,” Gabe instructed, his tone even and unthreatening.

Frank's gaze jumped from the boxes to Gabe. “I guess I can help.”

“Thanks, Frank, I appreciate it,” Gabe said as he moved to the boxes. He handed one to Kris.

Frank hefted two boxes at once in his arms. “Where to?”

“The black SUV by the curb,” Gabe indicated.

Frank carried the boxes out of the center.

“Are you sure about trusting him?” Kris whispered.

Gabe's gaze bored into her. “Trust
me.
”

She did, probably more than she should. Because somehow when all was said and done, she knew her heart was going to pay a price.

 

Gabe immediately disliked the bodyguard Trent Associates had sent over to stand guard over Kris. It didn't matter that the guy's credentials were impressive—military-trained and college-educated. Or that he had glowing references from some major political figures and celebrities. The guy was capable and would protect Kris more than adequately.

There really wasn't any concrete reason for the burning dislike charging through his system.

Kris, on the other hand, seemed wowed by her new “babysitter” as she'd disparagingly referred to the bodyguard before she'd met the guy.

Through a narrowed gaze, Gabe watched the cozy way she talked with the man. He was closer to Kris's height than Gabe, he was smooth-talking, richly dressed
and looked like some
GQ
ad. And his name, Donavan Cavanaugh. Sounded like a soap opera character. Ugh.

Charles Worthington pulled Gabe into the hall of their Beacon Hill home. Gabe positioned himself so he could keep an eye on Cavanaugh. Kris laughed at something the bodyguard said. Gabe's gut clenched.

“So what do you think?” Charles asked.

Forcing his mind and his gaze to center on Kris's father, Gabe contemplated demanding that Cavanaugh be sent away. But then he'd have to give a reason. Which he didn't have. Not really. Unless he admitted to the jealousy twisting his insides.

He was jealous.
The realization knocked the breath from his lungs. He'd never felt any emotion so powerful before. How could he be jealous?

Ridiculous. He didn't do jealousy any more than he did love.

“He'll do.” Gabe gave his stamp of approval in a terse tone. “I need to get back to the station. I have a stack of files to go through.”

Charles's knowing smile only served to make Gabe more aware of how idiotic his feelings were. Good thing Kris hadn't witnessed his momentary bout with the green-eyed monster.

Jealousy was
not
part of the job.

 

Kris liked her bodyguard. He had a nice sense of humor and a congenial way about him that put her at ease. If she'd had a brother, Donavan could have fit the bill.

But judging by the thunderous expression on Gabe's face before he'd ducked into the hall with her
father, she had the distinct impression Gabe wasn't so thrilled with him.

Interesting. Especially since he'd been all for hiring help earlier today.

When her father reentered the living room sans Gabe, Kris excused herself from Don and went to her father's side. “Where's Gabe?”

“He had some pressing work,” her father replied.

She crinkled her nose. “He left? Without saying goodbye?”

The amused twinkle in her father's eyes made Kris's gaze narrow. “Why are you laughing at me?”

He gave her a rare grin. “No reason at all.” And then quickly moved to speak with Don.

Kris knew what pressing work Gabe had to take care of. The files they'd brought with them from Miller's Rest. Hopefully, there would be something to lead them to her would-be killer.

 

By ten o'clock on Friday morning, Gabe had a crick in his neck and his eyes were dry from reading through several boxes full of Miller's Rest employee files. He sat at his desk, where he'd been all night. His back ached from his less-than-comfortable chair, his wounded upper arm throbbed and lack of sleep and caffeine was dragging his energy level into the pits.

And he still had several boxes with the residents' information left to go through, as well.

He pushed away from his desk and stood. Stretching muscles protested as he made his way to the coffeepot. Thankfully someone had brewed a fresh batch.
He poured himself a full mug and took a bracing gulp. Liquid fire heated him. Hot and black. Just like he liked it.

He checked with Dispatch to be sure there weren't any new cases demanding his attention. There weren't.

Grateful for that small favor, he went back to his desk. He'd reviewed the files on each employee, made a list of said employees to be entered into the NLETS. So far no hits coming back saying “bad guy.” Even Ms. Faust checked out.

She seemed like a normal citizen. A college graduate earning a Masters in Science with an Eldercare concentration from some school he'd never heard of in the Midwest, a work history for the past twenty years in Scranton, Ohio, with glowing references before coming to the Boston area. No red flags there.

He'd only worked his way through half of the residents' charts but so far they appeared clean. Nothing to suggest some nefarious scheme going on. But even if a resident was involved, it would still take a staff member to dispose of the bodies.

If any bodies needed disposing. He rubbed a hand over gritty eyes.

They hadn't found any trace of the missing people. Maybe they had just left of their own accord and didn't want to be found?

Protocol mandated he turn the case over to the FBI's missing persons department.

But his gut instincts said the residents willingly leaving Miller's Rest seemed highly unlikely. They had a nice thing going there. Food, care, companionship. A
medical staff 24/7. A dining room and planned outings. The residents paid a hefty price for such conveniences.

That thought gave Gabe pause.

Was money a factor in the disappearance of the three residents?

“Hey, Angie,” he said, turning to his partner. “Did you subpoena the financials on the missing residents?”

She nodded and rooted around her desk for a moment before handing him a file folder. “Here you go. I haven't had a chance to go through them yet.”

“Thanks. Would you be up for obtaining the financials for Miller's Rest?”

“Sure. I think it was included in the warrant so they might already be in one of the boxes.” Her dark eyes regarded him with curiosity. “Where you going with this?”

“Not sure yet.” He couldn't explain the nagging feeling that drove him. Looking at the account histories for Carl Remming, Lena Street and Denise Jamesen, they all had one thing in common: an automatic payment to Miller's Rest Retirement Center.

He stilled. No, they actually had a couple more things in common. All were roughly the same age and basically alone in the world.

Then something else snagged his attention. Carl Remming cashed a Social Security check two days after he went on “vacation” and then another check was made out to the center. Gabe flipped back to Lena Street's file. She, too, had a Social Security check cashed five days after leaving Miller's Rest and a few days later a check made out to Miller's Rest was paid.

No Social Security check or extra check to the retire
ment facility had been cashed by Denise Jamesen. Yet. But Gabe had a strong feeling that it would be only a matter of time.

“I need to find out who cashed these Social Security checks and who made out and cashed these other checks,” he stated to Angie, handing her back the folder. “Can you follow the money trail?”

She gave him a pointed look that said, you're kidding, right? “Of course I can.”

The phone on Gabe's desk rang.

“Burke.”

“Hey, got a call you might be interested in,” said Lily, the dispatcher. “Just received a 9–1–1 at Miller's Rest. Thought you'd want to take it. A woman's dead.”

G
abe's heart sank and dread filled him; a knot formed in his chest. “Do you have a name on the vic?”

“Yeah, uh, Palmer.”

The knot loosened on a quick breath. “On my way.”

Relieved that the fatality wasn't Sadie, he hung up and then gathered his gun, badge and overcoat as he filled Angie in on the call.

“The financials will have to wait.” She retrieved her sidearm from the lockbox and holstered her weapon before grabbing a puffy down jacket from the rack next to her desk.

With the siren blaring, they sped to Miller's Rest. An ambulance and a couple of patrol cars were already on the scene. The ME's van arrived as they got out of their car.

Inside the center, the receptionist called out a room number and pointed toward the hallway on the left that led to the assisted living wing.

Gabe flashed his badge to the uniformed officers in the hallway before entering the studio apartment. Ms. Faust hovered near the bed as if still protecting her charge. Or was she the grim reaper? He just wasn't sure.
Her gaze acknowledged Gabe as he moved farther inside the studio apartment. An older gentleman wearing a doctor's coat stood talking to the paramedics. Dr. Crowley, Gabe presumed.

Though the space was similar in layout to Sadie's, this apartment was cheerless and sterile. No Christmas decorations, no family photos on the walls. The furniture looked like something one would find in a hotel. Very nondescript, generic. A gray-haired woman lay prone on the bed beneath a faded floral cover; her arms were crossed over her chest and her face in serene repose.

Angie began snapping off photos with the small camera she always carried. Taking out a notepad from his inside jacket pocket, Gabe recorded his observations. The door lock appeared untampered with, no signs of a struggle; in fact the place looked extremely neat, not even a layer of dust on the windowsill. A red flag waved. Had the room been wiped down to erase any fingerprints?

At first glance the whole setting suggested the woman's death was due to nothing more than natural causes. And if three other residents from this facility hadn't disappeared without a trace, he might be able to buy what the surface revealed.

As the medical examiner arrived to examine the body, Gabe turned his attention to Ms. Faust. “Who…?”

She swallowed. “Mrs. Palmer. Debra Palmer. She was such a sweet lady.”

He vaguely remembered her file. A widow with no relatives. Another red flag went up in his internal warning system. “Who found her?”

Ms. Faust gestured toward the young blond woman talking with a male orderly. “Nurse Annie.” She worried her hands. “Mrs. Palmer has burial instructions. I should go call the mortuary. How soon will she be released?”

“As soon as the ME has a cause of death,” he replied. Strange that she wouldn't know that.

“Oh, right. I should still make arrangements,” she repeated and hurried out of the apartment.

Gabe stared after her a moment. Her behavior was off. Did she already know the cause of death or didn't care to know?

“The ME says he'll rush the autopsy,” Angie said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Good.” He gestured to the blonde nurse. “Nurse Annie found her. Can you interview her? I'd like to ask the center's doctor a few questions.”

With a sharp nod, Angie moved to talk to the nurse. Gabe snagged the doctor as he made his way out of the apartment. “Dr. Crowley?”

The man stopped midstride in the hallway. “Yes?”

Showing his badge, Gabe said, “Detective Burke. I have a few questions.”

“Follow me to my office.”

“Was Mrs. Palmer ill?”

“Not critically. Debra Palmer was hypertensive and had rheumatoid arthritis, but both were under control.”

“Do you have a guess what caused her death?”

The doctor smiled. “Other than old age? No. Though I can't imagine her death was anything other than it was her time. It does happen that way sometimes. God only allots us all so many days on this earth.”

“And sometimes a little help is given.”

Opening the door to his office, the doctor gestured for Gabe to enter. “Are you suggesting, Detective, that I helped Debra to her end?”

Gabe shrugged noncommittally, hoping that if the doctor were guilty of something he'd trip himself up.

Dr. Crowley rounded his desk and sat in his chair. “I didn't.”

“What can you tell me about Carl Remming, Lena Street and Denise Jamesen?”

“Well, now,” the doctor said as he steepled his fingers, “you do realize doctor-patient confidentiality forbids me from discussing any patient's medical information with you?”

Gathering his patience, Gabe nodded. “I do. I want to know if you recall their plans before they left the center.”

The doctor's bushy eyebrows rose. “Left the center?”

His surprise seemed genuine. “I take it you don't visit with the residents on a consistent basis.”

“No, Detective. Unless a patient is in need of my services, I leave their medical care in the capable hands of the nursing staff. I share this position with another doctor. He may have more information than I do.”

The other doctor hadn't had anything useful to say when Angie had interviewed him earlier in the week. “So none of the three in question mentioned going on vacation or visiting relatives to you?”

“I just stated I hadn't realized they'd left.” He hesitated a moment. “But did you say Carl Remming?”

Gabe leaned forward. “I did.”

Dr. Crowley's gaze grew concerned. “I do recall a
few weeks ago that he'd become violently ill. Ms. Faust had insisted he be transferred to the local hospital. He must have recovered and gone on vacation.”

Gabe froze. “Maybe.”

One thing was for sure, Ms. Faust had lied to him.

He said goodbye to the doctor and found Ms. Faust in her office. He walked in without preamble. “Why didn't you tell me Carl Remming had been taken to the local hospital?”

Ms. Faust's eyes widened. For a moment, Gabe was sure fear shone in the depths of her blue-gray eyes before she quickly found her composure.

“I hadn't thought it relevant. He'd been ill and for the health and safety of the other residents I had him taken to the hospital. They diagnosed a bad case of food poisoning. He recovered, returned and left on vacation. End of story.” She gestured to the door. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal of paper to contend with in regard to Mrs. Palmer.”

“I'm sure we'll be talking again,” he stated as he left her office. He went directly to Sadie's apartment. She didn't answer when he knocked. He tried the knob. Unlocked. He poked his head inside. She wasn't there.

Quickly, he made his way to the common area. Sadie and three other elderly ladies, one he recognized as Mrs. Tipple, sat drinking tea at a table near the fireplace. Relief eased the tension in his chest that he hadn't realized was there. He'd become more attached to Kris's grandmother than he'd thought possible.

Where was Gina?

Sadie's face beamed when she saw him. “Gabe, how wonderful of you to visit. Is Krissy with you?”

“Not today, Sadie,” he replied and bent to kiss her soft cheek. “I came on official business but I couldn't leave without saying hello.”

“Such a dear boy,” Sadie said and patted his hand. “I told Krissy you were a keeper.”

The gentle giggle of the three ladies only added to the heat rising up his neck. He could just bet what Kris's response was to that. Not a chance.

And she'd be right. Wouldn't she? They came from different worlds with different expectations. Yet, she'd changed over the years. Matured into a woman who wasn't dependent on life's luxuries for her happiness.

But the question was, could he get over his own issues of Kris's wealthy upbringing to forge a future with her? He didn't know. And wasn't sure he was willing to risk finding out.

Forcing his mind back to the elderly woman before him, he bent close to whisper, “Where's Gina?”

Sadie's eyes widened slightly with a conspiratorial gleam. With her head she indicated the far corner. Sure enough, Gina sat in a chair by the window knitting. She met Gabe's gaze and nodded.

Assured of Sadie's well-being, he said goodbye to the ladies, then made his way to the entryway where he met up with Angie. She drove them from the center in the sedan. Gabe was content to let her drive. He knew driving gave her a sense of control and right now he needed to relax so he could think.

“The CSI tech didn't find anything other than the vic's prints,” she reported.

He'd figured as much. “Hopefully, the autopsy will reveal this was a natural death.”

“But you don't believe that,” Angie stated.

She knew him well. “No, I don't.” He took out his phone and dialed Kris's apartment. The call went to voice mail. She was supposed to be at her studio working. He called her cell, same thing, straight to voice mail.

Worry gnawed at his gut. Had something happened to Kris? Had the death of the Palmer woman been a diversion?

Gabe didn't have Donavan's cell programmed in his phone so he had to hunt the man down through Trent Associates. Once he'd secured the correct number, he called, hoping that Kris was all right. And fearing what it would do to him if she weren't.

 

Kris spent the whole day safely ensconced in her work studio shooting an ad campaign for a trendy, local boutique while Don camped out in her living room acting both as doorman and bodyguard. The place had been filled with giggling models, a makeup artist, the store owner and racks of clothes. Kris was grateful to keep busy, but even with all the activity, she couldn't help worrying about Sadie. Or thinking about Gabe.

Was he following clues? Working on another case? Would he be all right at the end of the day?

She wondered how the wives of law enforcement officers lived each day knowing their husbands' lives were constantly at risk.

Finally, when the last of the clothes had been removed and the grateful owner had taken her leave, Kris collapsed on the couch, exhausted.

“You do this every day?” Don asked. He sat in a chair near the door. His dark chinos and long-sleeve turtleneck made him look more like a model than a specially trained bodyguard.

“No, thankfully.” She smiled. “You sure were a hit with all the ladies.”

The corner of his mouth tipped upward. “I hadn't noticed.”

“Right.” She didn't believe that for a moment. Though he hadn't paid much attention to the young models, Kris had noticed the way he'd watched Caroline Tully, the boutique owner. “Caroline's single. Just in case you were wondering.”

He laughed. “I'll keep that in mind.”

The phone clipped to his belt rang. He answered, his gaze darkening as it swung toward her. “Everything's fine here. Got it. Not a problem, Detective. I'll let her know.”

Kris sat up straight, adrenaline and fear pumping through her heart. Was Gabe okay?

He hung up. “That was Burke. Your grandmother is okay but there's been a death at the center.”

Relieved to hear that Sadie was well, but upset to hear that someone had died, she frowned. “Why didn't he call me himself?”

Don shrugged. “Said your phones all went to voice mail.”

She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Right. Of course. I always set both phones to silent when I'm
working. Less distracting that way.” She picked up her purse and took her coat out of the closet. “I want to go visit my grandmother.”

Don put on his stylish wool peacoat and held open the door. “After you.”

Because it was so late in the afternoon, they hit traffic. It was dark by the time they arrived at Miller's Rest.

Not wanting to explain to Sadie why Don was following her around, she asked him to wait in the lobby. “I have your pager number. If I need you, I'll call.”

“I'll escort you to your grandma's apartment,” he said in a tone that left little doubt he wasn't going to back down.

“Fine,” she conceded and led the way. At Sadie's door, she faced him. “Look. You can't stand out here in the hall. It'll upset the other residents and I really don't want to explain to Grams why you're here with me. So please, go back to the lobby.”

His hard expression said he didn't like this. Too bad. She didn't want to upset her grandmother.

“You have my pager. Ring when you're ready to leave.”

“I will,” she said, glad he'd backed down.

“I mean it, Kristina. You don't leave this apartment without me.”

She forced a smile past the anger creeping in. She hated being told what to do, but knew this was the only way to get what she wanted. She nodded her agreement.