Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder (3 page)

Chip held the kitten in his lap. She began to purr and knead his legs, her sharp claws snagging his shorts. When she began to lick his hand with her sandpaper tongue, he had the sinking feeling he would be adding to his household menagerie. “But, I don’t know anything about cats,” he said.

“No problem, you know a good vet who can teach you.” Sven’s face lit up with a wide grin. He stood, unfolding his long limbs and waved at Chip as he ambled to the pick-up. He backed down the road too fast and gunned the motor as he sped away, spewing gravel from the rear tires.

Both dogs came to sniff at their new housemate. “Meet your new friend. What should I name her? How about Callie, since she’s a calico?”

He and his pets went into the kitchen, and Chip dialed the animal clinic. “Mabel, this is Chip. I need to know what to feed a kitten, and I guess I better schedule an appointment to have her checked over by Jane.”

He was happier than he’d been for weeks. His emotional state influenced his motivation to write. Happiness made him feel good about his new story, and he was eager to continue to build suspense by putting Jo in peril. He recalled a brief time in his past when he had tried to be a runner, mainly to impress a woman who was a fitness freak. Certainly an FBI agent would have to be fit … Jo would be a disciplined runner, he thought, as he opened his laptop.

Chapter Four

Mind Games

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Late July

Special Agent Jo Schwann felt the exhaustion fall away as her feet pounded out a cadence on the asphalt of the Minnehaha Trail. For once, she didn’t pay attention to the elegant homes lining the parkway—her thoughts were elsewhere.

She had run two miles before she realized she hadn’t turned on her running playlist on the smartphone strapped to her upper arm. She smiled wryly to herself. It was a good thing the endorphins released in her brain were relieving some of the stress.

It was 3:00 a.m. before Jo had climbed into bed last night. She had been finishing up paperwork and getting everything in order for her staff before leaving on a long weekend away.

But I still have to deal with those damn depositions this morning before I can hop on the plane.
Candleworth’s widow had filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Jo and the Bureau. Her husband had created a multi-billion dollar corporation around mind-controlling microchips, and she blamed them when one of his employees shot him.

Jo felt the muscles in her neck bunch up again, so she lengthened her stride as she passed the bronze statue of a bunny near Portland Avenue. Normally, she took a water break at the whimsical statue of the reclining rabbit, but today she had no time.

The case had been officially closed for months now, and Jo felt like she was still treading water in a lake of red tape and Bureau CYA memos. Not to mention meeting after meeting with the lawyers.
All due to this bullshit lawsuit.

And, of course, there was the last test subject. His disappearance nagged at her. Almost everyone at the Bureau, including her boss, assumed he was dead, like all the other NeuroDynamics victims. She shook her head. She couldn’t let it go until they found the body.

Jo blew out a puff of air. At least she met John on the case. Dr. John Goodman, the FBI expert called in to assist had not only broken the case wide open, but he had saved her life.

And she had fallen in love with him.

Maybe we’ll wrap up the depositions early and I can swing by the Victoria’s Secret store in Mall of America on my way to the airport. Jo smiled at the thought of John’s expression when he saw her in something new and barely there.

Just then, the smartphone buzzed on her arm. She came to an abrupt stop, and pulled it from the armband.

“Special Agent Schwann.”

“Jo, where are you? Sounds like you’re out of breath.” It was the rich baritone of her boss, Tom Gunderson.

“Just on my way back to the house. What’s up?” Jo tried to make her voice sound normal. “Never a good sign when you call me before I make it into the office.”

“Yeah, well. I hate to do this to you, but …”

Jo’s heart thudded harder, as if she was still running down the path. “Oh, no, don’t tell me. Tom, I’ve been planning this trip for weeks. You get to have a wife and kids. At least let me have a boyfriend.”

She heard him sigh across the miles. “Can’t help it this time, Schwann. I need you on this one. I’m assuming you heard State Representative Freemont was missing.”

“He’s the one running for governor, right?” Jo paused, and then said, “Wait, did you say ‘was missing’? Does that mean they found him?”

“Uh-huh. Just received a call a few minutes ago. He’s dead, Jo.”

Jo felt the bands of tension strapping themselves across her shoulders again. “What was the cause of death?”

“Single gunshot to the head. A construction worker found him in one of the wings of the Capitol undergoing renovation.”

“Any idea how long he’s been there?” Jo asked, as she wiped a trickle of sweat from her temple with the back of her hand.

“Medical examiner’s trying to figure that out right now, but it could have been as early as Tuesday afternoon, the last time he was seen alive. Body wasn’t discovered until this morning, because the construction crew has been on strike for the past two weeks. ”

“Shit.” She blew out a breath and wondered how she was going to cancel on John again.

“Yeah. You could say that. I need you to head over to the Capitol right away.”

“Tom, what about the NeuroDynamics depositions?”

“I’ll reschedule for you. Just get your butt over to St. Paul.”

Jo clicked off the call and strapped the phone to her arm once again. She took off running down the trail, endorphins no longer helping her mood.

She was about a mile from home when Jo felt a sudden pain in her side. She didn’t realize how agitated she had become until she developed a side-stitch from the irregular rhythm of her breathing. She stopped, and raised her right arm high above her head, inhaling deeply to relieve the ache.

“Damn it.” She walked around in a circle, impatient to be on her way again. “There are times when I’m ready to chuck this whole job into Lake Calhoun.” She spoke to no one in particular. “John, don’t give up on me.” She decided to call him on the way to St. Paul. She wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to him.

When the pain eased a fraction, she caught a flicker of movement in the grouping of trees to her far left, close to the creek. Rubbing the back of her neck where she felt the hair rise, she shook her head. Probably some squirrel jumping in the branches.
God, I’m getting paranoid. Too much woolgathering in dark corners.
She broke into a run again, concentrating on her breathing.

* * *

The hunter released pressure on the trigger when Jo looked his way. He couldn’t say what kept him from shooting her. Shock, perhaps. He had been picturing this exact moment in his head for months and now he had blown the perfect opportunity.

He almost fell backwards when he felt her eyes upon him as she ran past his hiding spot. He ducked down, but not before he realized she had stared right into his soul. That is, what was left of it.

She hadn’t really seen him. He was sure of it. The Hunter had studied her long enough to know she would have marched right over to where he stood to investigate if she had detected him there.

His hands that brought the rifle upward again were slick with sweat. He watched her run toward her home through his scope, her copper-colored ponytail bouncing in time with her steps. He watched her shapely ass move in her tight running pants and felt himself growing aroused.
I could still shoot her. Even from this distance, I wouldn’t miss.

But he wouldn’t do it. Not now.

She fascinated him. In the beginning, it was all about revenge. And relieving the rage. She and Goodman were responsible for the death of Dr. Candleworth, the genius who had saved him from a lifetime of unbearable pain. As if that weren’t enough, the doctor had also provided him with a lucrative new career, one that suited his particular skill sets.

The anger and sorrow that had overwhelmed him when he learned of Candleworth’s death had been replaced by a cold, weighty resolve. Which is why he now found himself standing in a small stand of trees, twenty yards from a running path in south Minneapolis.

He had never stopped at this critical juncture of a kill before. Murder didn’t bother him; it was just a job.

Maybe that was the problem. This wasn’t an assignment. It was personal. It was about to get too personal. For the first time in his life, he was in love.

He shivered in spite of the trickle of sweat that rolled down his back.

Chapter Five

Turners Bend

September

Chip read the chapter he had just finished. He wrote organically and was still amazed at the source of his ideas, the events from his life that tended to pop up in his stories. The political conversation with Flora Frederickson had obviously influenced his victim choice. And Jo’s conflicted feelings about her relationship with John…that part was so close to his real life that he did not want to think about it.

He saved his file, emailed it to Lucinda and shut down his laptop for the day.

* * *

A new kitten was a good excuse to see Jane. As Chip entered the clinic he saw Jane standing at Mabel’s desk. He grinned at her.
God
,
that woman is more attractive every time I see her
. Today her red hair was tied into a ponytail at the back of her neck, and she was wearing blue scrubs which hid her small frame. No make-up, no jewelry, and yet she was stunning. How could a guy not fall hopelessly in love with such a creature?

“Ah, I see you two have bonded already. Bring her in, Chip.”

Jane examined Callie by checking her ears for mites and slipping a thermometer into her bottom to take her temperature.

“Today we’ll start her immunizations, and I’m sending home an antibiotic to treat her ear mites. You can bring her back to be spayed in six weeks. Don’t make the mistake you made with Honey. You were lucky to be able to find homes for all those puppies, but responsible pet owners should spay or neuter their animals. I recommend you make her an indoor-only cat. There are too many wild animals around your place for her safety.”

She handed the kitten back to Chip. “How is she getting along with the dogs?”

“Callie can hold her own. Both dogs have scratches on their noses. She has already staked out her territory. I think we all can co-exist peacefully.”

Damn.
Jane was using her professional persona with him, when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and cover her with kisses. If this was going to be the new normal for them, he was going to be one very frustrated, unhappy guy.

Jane’s demeanor began to change as she watched Chip cuddle Callie and stroke the kitten’s back. “What’s with you and stray animals? They seem to find their way to your door, and you fall head-over-heels for them.”

“You know, I never cared one way or the other about animals until I came to Turners Bend. It’s one of the things I’ve learned about myself in the past year, among other things.”

The admission seemed to make Jane soften a little. She moved in to pet Callie, and Chip gave her a brief kiss. He stepped back, sighed audibly and waited for his heart rate to settle. The expression on Jane’s face was puzzling. Was it pleasure or indecision? He waited for a response, but a response never came. He changed the subject quickly. “Will I see you tonight at the kick-off meeting?”

“Yes, after all it was my son’s idea. I got a text from Sven today. He’s so excited that you’re pursuing the theater renovation. I know he would be here if his class schedule didn’t have to come first. You helped him with his film career and now this. It seems I am always indebted to you for making my child’s dreams come true. I hope you know that.”

* * *

Chip’s mood took a 180-degree turn. He was buoyed by his hopes of rekindling his affair with Jane, and he was excited about the theater renovation. He loved his life in Turners Bend—he owned a farmhouse and three pets.
Life is good.

He had caught Sven’s enthusiasm for the Bijou and took it upon himself to spearhead a committee to bring it back to life. He had been in Turners Bend long enough to identify who had the money, who had the influence, who had the energy and who had the passion for such a project. They had all agreed to meet at First Lutheran that night. He had put up posters around town with an invitation to all parties interested, and the
Ames Tribune
had run a notice in the Arts section of the Sunday paper hinting at a possible Hollywood premiere.

He researched theater restorations and found that many Iowa towns had restored their old movie houses. He contacted the citizen group responsible for restoring the Castle Theatre in Manchester. Its chairman cautioned him by saying, “It will take a lot more time and money than you think, but it’s worth it. We love our theater, and it’s been a good money-maker to boot.”

Pastor Henderson’s wife, Christine, made coffee and lemon bars for the meeting. Chip had been raised a Christmas-and-Easter Episcopalian. He was just starting to catch on to Lutheran traditions, one of which was, for any and all occasions, coffee and bars are just one step below wine and bread in sacredness.

Chip arranged the fellowship hall chairs in a circle and put up an easel to display the old photos, newspaper articles, and playbills he had found at the Historical Society. He also posted photos of the restorations done in Harlan, Vinton and Marshalltown, as well as before and after pictures of the Castle.

Chip did not recognize the first person to arrive. He was a tall, good-looking guy in his late thirties or early forties by Chip’s estimation. He was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and work boots, but something about his too-perfect haircut and the way he carried himself did not fit with Turners Bend.