Deadly Devotion (16 page)

When they reached the second floor, Tom took the key from her hand and unlocked the apartment door.

“Hi . . .” Julie said, adding six extra syllables to the word. “I wondered where you were.”

Tom reached for Kate’s hand, cupped his palm overtop, and surrendered her keys. “Looks like you’re in good hands. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.”

“I’ll be ready.” Kate tootled her fingertips like a giddy schoolgirl and closed the door.

“
Not
dating him, huh?” Julie hopped onto the couch and hugged her knees to her chest. “Spill.”

Kate brushed off the suggestion with a flick of her wrist. “I spent the evening with his dad and sister and two adorable little nephews.”

“Oooh, you met his family already! This
is
serious.”

Kate didn’t hide the smile that snuck onto her lips. “Maybe,” she said with just enough tease to drive Julie’s matchmaking mind crazy. She pressed the button on the answering machine.

“You have one missed call,” the automated voice droned. “First message.”

A male voice came on. “This message is for Kate Baxter.”

Kate froze at the sound of her former name.

“I think you’ll want to talk to me. I’ll be in touch.”

Kate had a sweetness about her that could make a man dream. And dreaming was dangerous. Except . . .

Tom propped a foot on his desk and sipped his coffee as the Tuesday morning shift trickled in. His dreams the past few nights—filled with images of strolling through the park with Kate, sharing meals, laughing, teasing—hadn’t felt dangerous.

Nothing like the nightmares he’d been facing down since his partner’s death. Kate made him believe that he could still make a difference working in law enforcement.

She probably didn’t have a clue about the feelings she’d sowed in his heart with that green thumb of hers, especially since he’d implied more than once over the weekend that his motive for spending so much time with her was to keep her out of trouble.

So far nothing about coming home had worked out the way he’d expected. For more than two months, he’d tried to
convince Dad to attend church again. Yet Dad had accepted Kate’s invitation without a second’s hesitation.

Tom closed his eyes and revisited the memory. Kate’s sweet singing voice and the radiance on her face during the worship service had reawakened his own yearning to draw nearer to God—something he’d hoped leaving the FBI and returning home would make easy for him. But Kate’s joy and the exuberance with which she’d discussed the pastor’s message had underscored just how far off course he’d wandered.

The computer beeped, prompting him for his password.

Giving his head a little shake, Tom opened his eyes. Yup, dreaming was dangerous business. He’d begun to think that he and Kate could have a future. That she might be someone he could believe in.

After his partner’s betrayal, that wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do again.

“Tom.” Officer Hutchinson, the youngest rookie on the force—a lanky kid who looked like he’d started shaving last week—planted himself in front of Tom’s desk. “The chief wants to see you in his office.”

Not good. In the past week, Hank had gone from bringing him coffee and resting his feet on the corner of Tom’s desk while they rehashed old times to sending rookies to summon him to the office. Tom grabbed the three files he’d been working on since Hank’s ultimatum, in case he expected proof.

When Tom stepped into the office, Hank’s scowl warned him that this week wouldn’t be an improvement on the last. “Shut the door.” Hank twisted the window blinds closed, cutting off the one source of brightness in the room. “I just got off the phone with Dave McCleary.”

Hank’s pronouncement mimicked the rapid-fire staccato
of an automatic assault rifle, and Tom knew better than to return fire. He searched Hank’s face. Maybe the man hadn’t completely dropped the case. If he was calling Leacock’s lawyer, he must harbor at least some suspicions. “That so?”

“Yup. Little Miss Loyal Friend is getting greedy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kate Adams. She’s blinded you with a few flutters of her eyelashes.”

Tom folded his arms over his chest as if Hank might notice the way his heart kicked at the suggestion. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t deny it. I saw the two of you at dinner together Friday night.”

“Why would I deny that I went out with her? Since when is it a crime to take an attractive woman to dinner?”

Hank rested his hip on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “The two of you looked pretty chummy as you came out of church Sunday morning too.”

“You were at church?”

“I happened to drive by when it let out.”

What was Hank doing? Spying on them?

Tom fisted his hands under the cover of his armpits. “What does this have to do with McCleary?”

“Your new girlfriend went by to see him yesterday afternoon. She’s questioning Edward’s claim to Daisy’s estate.”

“So? Maybe she has a valid concern.” Tom clamped his mouth shut and weighed the collateral damage that revealing what he knew about the “nephew” might incur. If Tom lost his job, the investigation was over for good.

Hoping to pacify Hank by appearing to capitulate, Tom dropped his defensive stance and sank into the chair opposite
Hank’s desk. “Edward’s real name is Jim Crump. He’s a swindler, not Daisy’s nephew.”

Looking angrier than before, Hank rose and moved behind his desk. He braced his fingertips on the desktop and leaned toward Tom. “How long have you known this?”

“I found out last week.”

“Does Miss Adams know?”

“No, I didn’t want to encourage her sleuthing.”

“Her sleuthing?” Hank’s voice rose skeptically, before lowering to a growl. “Or her ploy so we wouldn’t suspect her?”

“Suspect her of what?”

“Leacock’s murder, of course.”

“Kate?” Tom sprang to his feet and planted his own fingers tip to tip with Hank’s. “You closed the case. Said Leacock’s death was self-inflicted. Now you want to pin it on Kate?”

“Crump’s not the only one who changed his name. Or did Miss Adams neglect to tell you that she was once a Baxter?”

Tom’s sharp inhalation gave away the answer.

“I didn’t think so.” Hank straightened and looked almost sorry that he’d been the one to tell him. “I saw how Adams played on your sympathies. I’m surprised you allowed her to draw you into her web. After what happened to your partner, you should know love is a trap.”

Hank’s comment sparked a slow burn in Tom’s chest. Kate wasn’t anything like . . .

An image of the spy who lured Ian to his death flashed through Tom’s mind. No, he wouldn’t believe it. Not of Kate. “You’ve got the wrong Kate Adams. She would have told me if she’d changed her name.”

Her boss’s quip slid through Tom’s thoughts.
Maybe she
thinks getting in good with someone on the inside will get her out of a ticket.

No, not Kate. The logistics didn’t add up. “We closed the case before Kate set foot in this office. If she killed Leacock, why would she storm in here demanding the case be reopened?”

“Because we blamed the death on herbs, which cast a big shadow on her research. Far better to hang Leacock’s death on some conspiracy. I’m surprised she didn’t go after the big drug companies she’ll be competing with.”

“I don’t believe this. You think Kate killed her mentor for a piece of her estate. She doesn’t care that much about money.”

“That’s what she’d like you to believe. She’s using you the same way that broad used your partner. That’s why I ordered you off the case.”

Tom sucked in a breath, but the air didn’t seem to reach his lungs. How dare Hank compare Kate to that woman? They were nothing alike.

“Think about it,” Hank continued, as if a couple more blows might convince Tom of Hank’s version of the truth. “Motive—get all the glory for their research and all the financial reward, including Daisy’s estate. Means—the herbs they use every day. Opportunity—by Adams’s own admission, we know the women drank tea together on a regular basis. And what the coroner didn’t put in his report was that the toxin that killed Leacock likely accumulated in her system over several weeks. Unfortunately for Miss Adams, Leacock added her nephew to her will before the toxin did its job.”

“That’s pure speculation,” Tom growled, even as his mind revisited the suspicions he’d harbored after Mrs. C told him of Kate’s stake in the Leacock estate.

“Is it? Adams is the one challenging the will, not Edward.”

“Of course he’s not, because he knows he has no legal leg to stand on.”

“And you think Adams does? She’s the one who was intimately familiar with Leacock’s tastes and habits, had access to the toxic ingredients, and had the opportunity to slip them into Leacock’s tea.”

“The same could be said of Edward, or of Darryl Kish, or of the waitress at A Cup or Two, for that matter. You have no proof.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I have a sworn affidavit by Gordon Laslo, one of Leacock’s interns. He claims Miss Adams has a stash of dried tagete leaves and that he saw her brew tea for Leacock on more than one occasion.”

“Laslo came here? When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Hutchinson took his statement.”

Tom paced the room. Kate couldn’t have known Gord planned to come in. The fact she’d suddenly named him as a possible suspect was merely a coincidence. More than likely Laslo had heard the police were looking for him. “Did the kid also mention that Miss Leacock planned to expel him for plagiarizing a research paper?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Kate told me.”

“Kate told you . . . How convenient.”

“Well, if this kid saw her brewing toxic tea, why didn’t he stop her?”

“He didn’t know the tea was toxic until he read the newspaper account of Daisy’s death.”

“How convenient,” Tom shot back, mimicking Hank’s sarcasm.

Officer Hutchinson appeared at the door and Hank waved him in. “I’ve got that search warrant you requested, sir.”

“Give it to Parker. I want you to go with him.”

Tom snatched the paper out of Hutchinson’s hand. “What’s this about?”

Hank motioned the rookie to wait outside. “A warrant to search Adams’s lab. If you find any tagete, I want her arrested. I won’t tolerate a detective on my force who’s willing to turn a blind eye because he finds a suspect attractive. Face it, Parker. She played you.”

Tom fought the urge to crush the page in his fist. “After we turn her place upside down and find nothing, I’ll expect an apology.” Tom stalked out. How dare Hank suggest he fixed a case, let alone demand he make an arrest on such flimsy evidence? Even if he found tagete, it proved nothing. Gordon’s testimony would never stand up in court.

Then again . . . Tom could just imagine the prosecutor twisting the reason for the kid’s sudden disappearance into threats from Kate, especially if her name change turned out to be true.

Annoyed that he hadn’t insisted on interrogating Laslo before executing the warrant, Tom climbed into the passenger side of Hutchinson’s cruiser.

The rookie started the car and sped out of the lot without comment. But from the way he kept glancing sideways, Tom knew Hutchinson itched to talk.

“The chief said you took Laslo’s statement,” Tom said.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Did he seem nervous?”

Hutchinson tilted his head from side to side. “Sure. A little, I guess.”

“How long did you question him?”

“I just asked him for his contact information. He had a statement already typed out, so I attached it to one of our forms and had him sign it.”

Tom scratched his forehead. “And that didn’t seem strange to you?”

“The chief didn’t have a problem with it. You think this warrant is a waste of time?”

No, I think Hank’s pushing my buttons because he likes the sense of power a little too much.
Or maybe this was some elaborate get-the-rookie gag. It would make a whole lot more sense than Hank’s irrational behavior.

Not to mention that after Tom served Kate with a search warrant, he could kiss good-bye any hope of convincing her to go out with him again. And the fact that this bothered him more than the time wasted serving a warrant—time better spent tracking down suspects—should be sounding all sorts of alarms in his head.

“So the chief didn’t tell you what I turned up on Adams?”

“You?” Rookies were supposed to be out on the street writing up traffic violations, not investigating non-suspects in a non-investigation.

Hutchinson filled Tom in on the lead that prompted him to check into Kate’s background. “It turns out her old man used to work for GPC.”

“Should that mean something to me?”

“GPC is the pharmaceutical company that plans to move to town. Kate’s dad was arrested for stealing company secrets.”

“That’s hardly relevant. Her parents are dead.” The cynicism Tom managed to inject into his voice belied the way his heart had lodged in his throat.

“I’m just telling you what I know.” Hutchinson pulled into a visitor’s parking spot in front of the main entrance to the research station.

Dark clouds loomed overhead and thunder rumbled in the distance. The fruit trees that two days ago had been bursting with colorful blossoms now stood ravaged by the gusty winds.

Tom had no doubt that Kate would feel equally violated if he didn’t handle this search just right.

He led the way inside, but before he could intervene, the overeager rookie jockeyed past and reported their business to the receptionist behind the security glass in the lobby. The first time Tom came here, the same receptionist had happily escorted him to Kate’s lab. This time she took one look at Hutchinson in his uniform and buzzed security to do the honors.

The security guard swiped his card across the sensor that unlocked the hall door and escorted them to the lab. With a brisk tap on Kate’s door, he opened it and said, “The police have a warrant to search your lab.” Then he left, as if this kind of thing were a routine occurrence.

Kate’s welcoming smile turned to a frown the moment Hutchinson stepped into the lab behind Tom. Kate held a trembling hand to her throat. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry about.” He closed the distance between them, hoping to speak to her without being overheard by the overzealous kid in a cop uniform. “The chief has reopened Daisy’s case.”

Hope lit Kate’s eyes, and her hand dropped to her side. “That’s wonderful news.”