Guilty (38 page)

And then five pairs of interested eyes turned as one to Kate and Ben, who were standing together a little way away, obviously waiting for him.

So he caught Kate's hand, pulled her over, and performed the introductions, knowing even as he did it that the family gossip network would go into overdrive about this. While Kate was interrogated by his mother—"What do you do?" "Where are you from?" "Oh, a widow, so sad"—Natalia looked her over from head to toe with speculative interest. Then, as he caught his sister's eye to frown at her, Natalia gave him a look of such wide-eyed glee that he'd known she was onto him, known she'd guessed that Kate was someone special, known that she was practically bursting with excitement at the prospect and ready to spill her take on the relationship to all family members not present as soon as he was out of the way and she could get to her phone.

God save me from my family,
he thought sourly, and as soon as he decently could, he ended the gabfest by announcing that they had to go.

"She's a nice girl. I like this one," his mother whispered in his ear as she hugged him good-bye. Then, to Kate, she added, "We have lunch every Sunday. The whole family. Lots of good food. You and your son should come." Then she looked at him again. "Tommy, you bring them."

Tom made some kind of noncommittal reply, then, catching Kate's hand again, beat a hasty retreat, conscious of being followed by his mother's and sister's eyes until he and Kate and Ben rounded the corner into the parking lot and were out of sight. It was night now, and cold, and he was wearing a white shirt, which he wore untucked to hide his gun, and jeans with no coat. Still, he felt surprisingly hot, and unwillingly acknowledged that it just might be with embarrassment.

"Sorry about that," he said, shooting Kate a sideways look. Smiling, with her hair waving down around her shoulders and her eyes sparkling with amusement, she looked young and gorgeous and happy. No wonder the group had been eyeing her like a trout spotting a fly.

And then there was Ben. They knew Tom well enough to guess that no way would he be just casually dating a woman with a son.

Think Superman and kryptonite.

Therefore, they would assume that this was something serious.

Which maybe it was.

"Are you kidding? They were wonderful. Your mother is so nice. And your sister looks just like you." Her eyes twinkled at him. "Tommy."

He responded to that with a smile.

"How many people are in your family?" Ben asked as they piled into the Civic, which was what they were driving since Tom had not yet had a chance to retrieve his car from the Roundhouse. "It seems like a lot."

"There are a lot." Tom pulled out of the parking lot and hung a right on Chisholm, which would take them to the expressway and then to Kate's house, where, he and Kate had agreed in a very adult, logistics-of-the relationship kind of discussion before they picked up Ben, they would spend the night. Another part of the agreement had involved their behavior around Ben—no kissing, no overt displays of affection, no sleeping together while Ben was under the same roof. Tom doubted that he would have been allowed to stay over, now that things between him and Kate were personal, if Kate had been totally sure whoever killed the guy in her garage wasn't coming back. But since he actually admired her efforts to protect her son, Tom found he didn't have a problem with the restrictions she laid down. Besides, the kid went to school, he and Kate both had lunch hours, and there were always nooners. And babysitters. "Nineteen, at last count."

"Wow." Ben sounded impressed. To this only child of a single mother, the thought of so many relatives was mind-boggling. "How do they all fit in one house?"

"It's a squeeze," Tom admitted with a laugh.

Kate hadn't been back to her house since he had taken her out of there the night before, and Tom could tell she was a little uneasy as they turned onto her street, which was dark except for lights burning from a few windows along the way. With what he considered truly praiseworthy sensitivity to her feelings, he parked in her driveway. No need to use the garage tonight, or at all until he'd done a visual inspection to make sure that the crime scene had been completely cleaned up, as he'd made arrangements for it to be. The only other visible signs of what had happened were a few tire tracks in the front yard. Otherwise, the house looked just as it always did.

Just to be on the safe side, though, Tom went in first, turning on the lights and conducting a quick—and, he hoped, unnoticed by Ben— search of the house. It was clean.

He nodded at Kate to tell her so when he returned to the living room.

It was almost eight o'clock by that time, and he was starting to feel the effects of almost a whole week with very little sleep. He eyed the couch with disfavor. But there was no way he was leaving these two alone until he was sure they would be safe, and Kate had nixed the idea of sleeping over at his house again, because she didn't want Ben to get the wrong idea (or was it the right idea?) about their relationship. Since her third bedroom was unfurnished, it was either the couch or her bed, and it had already been made clear to him that her bed wasn't an option with her son in the house.

So it looked like his only alternative was to learn to love the couch.

He and Ben shot a little ball—the kid was getting better every time, although he remained gloomy about his prospects for not sucking the following week in gym—and then the three of them settled in to watch a movie on TV, with him and Ben side by side on the couch and Kate sitting primly all by herself in the gold chair. Tom didn't realize he'd dozed off until his phone, which was in the pocket of his jeans, started vibrating like crazy and woke him up.

The end credits of the movie were scrolling across the screen, and both Kate and Ben were on their feet, looking at him, when his eyes popped open and he reached for his pocket like he was going for a gun before he remembered who was who and what was what.

The caller was Fish.

"Just wanted to let you know that they found your girlfriend's car."

That woke him up. He sat up, blinking. "What? Where?"

"About a block from her house. Mulberry Street. They towed it in. It's at the impound lot."

"Oh, yeah?" Clearly hoping to keep Ben from overhearing things he shouldn't, Kate was already shooing the kid toward the stairs. Tom stood up and walked into the dark kitchen. "Anything I should know?"

"Dead guy's fingerprints are all over it. I'd say it's a sure bet that he drove it over there. Probably walked the rest of the way to her house. How he got into the garage, though, is still up in the air. No sign of breaking and entering."

"Maybe he was able to activate the garage door opener."
Or
—and Tom hated the fact that the thought even ran through his mind—
maybe somebody let him in.

"Maybe."

"Any leads on who might have shot him?"

"Not yet." There was a pause. "Where are you?"

"Kate's house."

"Why doesn't that surprise me, I wonder?" Tom could almost see Fish's grimace. "Stay objective, man."

Tom recognized a warning when he heard one.

Kate came into the kitchen then. The light from the living room backlit her blond hair and slender shape. Just watching the movements of her long legs and swaying hips as she walked toward him turned him on. Leaning back against the counter near the sink, Tom settled in to enjoy the effect.

Think she's told you everything? Not a chance. You still don't know what she's been lying about. You still don't know what's been scaring her. And for all she told you about her past, she hasn't said a word
—
not one
—
about what caused her to have Baltimore.

"I'll call you if I hear anything else," Fish said.

"Yeah. Thanks." Tom disconnected, stuck the phone back in his pocket, and said to Kate, "They found your car."

She stopped in front of him. "Where?"

"A few streets over." With the kitchen dark and the light behind her, he couldn't read her expression. The fact that he felt he needed to was a problem.

He was crazy about her, no doubt about it. But that didn't mean he was totally brain-dead. The lady wasn't playing straight with him, and he knew it.

Even if he hated to face the fact.

"Are my things still in there? My briefcase? My phone?"

"Fish didn't say. If they were, it'll probably be a few days before you can get them back."

"I really need my briefcase. I was able to get duplicates of the case files, but I need my notes."

"I'll see what I can do to speed things up."

She smiled at him. "Thanks."

His eyes slid over her face. "Where's Ben?"

"Taking a bath."

She might be playing him. He prayed she was not. But the niggling doubt was enough to make him just a little rougher than he needed to be when he put a hand behind her neck and angled her mouth up to his and kissed her hard, then picked her up and swung her around to perch her on the counter, still with his tongue deep in her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back for all she was worth, and he was instantly so hot for her that he was surprised steam wasn't pouring out of his ears.

"Mom!"

She stiffened and pulled her mouth from his. Reluctantly, he let her go.

Sliding off the counter, she made an apologetic face at him as she went to read Ben to sleep.

Such were the realities of life with a kid. With that, he could deal.

In the end, because Natalia called and begged; because Vicky and Tina got on the phone and said how disappointed their mom would be if he didn't; because Charlie, fresh out of the hospital, was going to be there; and because Kate didn't object and Ben actively wanted to, they ended up going to his mother's for Sunday dinner. It was everything Tom had thought it would be—his relatives swarming around Kate and Ben—but the chicken parmigiana was out of this world, as usual, and he had missed it, and, if he was honest, he'd missed his family, too. And he kind of enjoyed watching Kate, demure in a knee-length black skirt and pale blue sweater set that she'd actually been nervous enough about to ask him if he thought it was "suitable" for the gathering, fielding questions and making conversation and in general interacting with the zoo that was his family.

"She's hot, bro," Charlie told him in a congratulatory tone after they'd finished eating. It was probably four o'clock by that time, and the late-afternoon sun was causing the trio of fat spruces that dominated the yard to cast long shadows toward where he and Tom sat on the small patio behind the house. Tom was kicked back in a lawn chair, sipping a beer. Charlie sat beside him in the wheelchair to which he gloomily expected to be confined for the next few weeks, likewise sipping a beer. The women were in the house. The brothers-in-law were grabbing beers of their own, and would be joining them on the patio momentarily. The kids were running all over the backyard, playing some kind of game that involved a lot of screaming. Ben, Tom was happy to see, seemed to be joining in and having a good time. And he was interested to discover that he was pleased about that. "Yeah," Tom agreed.

"She a keeper?"

Tom shrugged.

Charlie grinned. "Mom's over the moon. She thinks you've found The One."

"Jesus," Tom said, revolted, but before he could add anything to that the brothers-in-law came out and the conversation got instantly general.

By the time they got home, they were too tired and stuffed to do more than finish homework (Ben) and watch TV (Tom, and Ben when his homework was finished). Kate did a couple of loads of laundry and some stuff upstairs before heading into her office to, as she told them, go over some files for tomorrow. Stretched out in the gold chair with Ben curled up on the couch, Tom was just reflecting on how normal this was starting to feel when Ben looked over at him.

"There were a lot of kids there today."

"Yeah, there were."

"We played some games that were really fun."

"Looked like it."

"So, are you my mom's boyfriend now or what?"

That got Tom's full attention. He sat up a little straighter and gave Ben a considering look. Clearly, the kid was no dummy, but he wasn't sure how Kate would feel about the two of them having this conversation.

"You'll have to ask her that."

"She won't tell me anything about stuff like that. You know how she is. Overprotective." Ben shook his head in transparent disgust.

That was actually true. And kind of funny, coming from a nine-year-old. But the thing was, Ben was asking, and Tom didn't want to be anything but straight up with him.

"I guess I am her boyfriend now. Do you mind?"

Ben shook his head. "It'll be a relief to have someone else to help take care of her. She can be a lot of trouble, you know."

Tom had to grin. "Yeah, I know. Maybe we can help each other out with that."

About that time Kate came out of her office, and they must have both looked guilty as hell because she said, "What's up?" and gave them a sharp look. But Tom wasn't telling, and if Ben did, Tom didn't hear about it, not then and not later, when Kate came back down to do one more thing and wound up sitting on his lap kissing him good night. After that things between them got so hot they ended up getting it on in the little bathroom under the stairs, with the door locked, in absolute silence because Kate was afraid that Ben (who was sound asleep) might hear something. But then she went off to her own bed to sleep, and he sacked out on the couch, where he tossed and turned, and so her rule about not sleeping in the same bed together when Ben was in the house was preserved.

The next day started out just fine. The weather was cold but clear and sunny, blue skies all around. He and Kate dropped Ben off at school, and the rest of the way to work she fretted about how Ben was going to fare in gym, and Tom tried to reassure her that the kid would survive no matter how the basketball thing went. He dropped her off in front of her office—this was another agreement they had going: no more half-empty parking garages for her for the time being—and drove on to the Roundhouse, where he arranged to have the Civic picked up by the rental car agency and Kate's car released from the impound lot. Fish made a few off-color jokes and shook his head at Tom a few times over Kate, but Tom was busy and paid no attention. There were a thousand things needing his attention, and he methodically tried to work through the pile. He was checking out known associates of the two men in the burned-out U-Haul, having confirmed their identities earlier, when Kirchoff, blond and preppy, looking like he had just stepped out of a J.Crew catalog, stopped by his desk.