Kansas City Cover-Up (6 page)

Adjusting the cuffs and collar of her blouse, Olivia frowned. “I thought you and Natalie had an appointment with a Realtor about making an offer on that house you two saw yesterday.”

“I’ll postpone the meeting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can handle Gabe Knight on my own.” She tugged on the badge hanging around her neck. “The day I can’t conduct an interview is the day I need to turn this in.”

“You sure you’re not just trying to go solo without me again? You can’t break me in if we don’t spend time working together.” Although there was a teasing smile in his green eyes, she had a feeling he was half serious.

“That’s not it.” Still, Jim was right—they hadn’t quite found their investigative rhythm yet. And she didn’t want to be distracted with working a new partner into the equation when she met with Gabe Knight. “Like Ginny said, I’ve developed a rapport with him. He may not like any of us, but I think he’ll talk to me.” If Gabe’s willingness to work with her meant the difference in solving the crime, then she’d deal with his stubbornness, her family’s reservations against the man—even those illogical frissons of awareness he’d awakened in her—and make him her best friend. “If Knight gives me any grief, Max said I’m scary enough to take him down if I have to.”

The grumpy detective chuckled as he followed them out the door. “You got that right.”

Olivia smiled. Max was too much of a teddy bear beneath the grizzly exterior to stay mad at him for long. Jim was starting to grow on her, too. “Besides, if I need you, I’ve got your number.”

Jim paused before heading over to the bank of elevators. “Use it. I’m here to back you up.”

Maybe if he kept saying that, she might actually learn to believe in a partner again. “Thanks, Jim. Let me know what you find in the evidence box. Good luck with the house.”

Max folded his arms across his barrel chest, blocking her path as he scratched at the pale stubble on his chin. “You want me to go with you? I’m not afraid of Knight.”

Even though she could tell that his offer of support was sincere, Olivia let him off the hook with a teasing punch to the arm. “You’re not one of my brothers, remember? I don’t need you lookin’ out for me. Go eat a cigar.”

“Sounds yummy.” Trent came out of the lieutenant’s office with a sarcastic drawl and clapped Max on the shoulder. “You and me are taking a trip to Impound.”

“Yippee,” Max answered in a monotone. “We get the stinky old car.” But he walked backward, following his partner’s exit without further complaint. “Brower was a butthead for cheating on you, Liv.”

“I know.”

“I only told Jim because he needs to have your back in case Brower is dumb enough to think he can talk you into forgiving him or something.”

“I know that, too. Get to work.”

With Katie Rinaldi and Ginny Rafferty-Taylor going over data in the lieutenant’s office, and the guys on the team out pursuing their assignments, Olivia finally got her peace and quiet. For a few moments. Then the cacophony of the Fourth Precinct’s third-floor Detectives Division registered. Dozens of conversations, phones ringing, keyboards clicking and printers and other machines whirring as they spit out information filled her ears and wore at her nerves.

But, since running home for a hot bubble bath or a primal scream in the middle of the room probably weren’t the best strategies for coping with this morning’s stress, Olivia inhaled a deep breath and marched past the cubicle where her desk faced Jim’s and pushed open the door to the now empty conference room. She exhaled the calming breath and rallied her patience. The last thing she needed was to lose her focus when she talked to Gabriel Knight.

Turning to keep watch through the glass windows on either side of the door, Olivia pulled up the number she’d programmed in yesterday and called Gabe.

A terse, low-pitched voice answered. “Knight.”

Sucker.
Her nostrils flared with a quick breath. Why couldn’t she shake this skittish, way-too-feminine-for-her-liking thing about the man? She must have some kind of masochistic streak to be attracted to men who were trouble for her.

Olivia ignored the deep voice that skittered against her eardrums and focused on the muffled noises of a busy metropolitan newspaper office in the background. “Good morning, Mr. Knight. This is Detective Watson, KCPD. I need to speak to you. In person. Are you at work? I could meet you at your office or you could come to the station.”

He answered with a long pause that made her wonder if he’d been interrupted at his end of the call. Then the noise in the background went silent and she suspected he’d closed the door to his office, turning this into a private conversation. “Are you reopening Dani’s murder?”

Before she could answer, broad shoulders and dark hair appeared in the window. Marcus flashed his dimpled smile and rapped on the glass. “You free?”

Olivia frowned, hating the interruption, and frankly, hating him at that moment. She pointed to the phone. “No.”

“Excuse me?” a deep voice challenged in her ear.

Oh, damn.

“Sorry, I...” She turned the lock on the doorknob and turned her back on Marcus. “That was for someone here. Yes, we’re reopening the case. I need to ask you some questions—go over everything you know about your fiancée’s murder.”

“Two things, Olivia.” She could feel Marcus’s dark eyes drilling her through the glass, and suspected his cajoling smile had disappeared. But, for some reason, her ex’s frustration with her didn’t bother her as much as the displeasure tingeing the man’s voice on the phone. “One, it’s Gabe. And two? You’d better be bringing your
A
game to this investigation. I’ll see you when you get here.”

Chapter Five

Gabe spotted the rich blue-green jacket from the corner of his eye. He looked up from the article he was typing on his computer and watched Olivia Watson through the windows of his office. She said something to the receptionist who pointed in his direction, toward the line of private rooms surrounding the
Journal
’s news and editorial department’s main floor, and raised her mysterious eyes to meet his.

When their gazes met, she gave him a slight nod before clipping the badge she’d shown the receptionist back onto the chain she wore. Olivia shot her fingers through that sexy crop of short, dark hair, steeled her shoulders and strode through the jungle of desks, reporters, columnists, runners and techs with a certainty of purpose that was at once professionally confident and surprisingly hot. At least, that jump in his pulse seemed to think so.

“I’m finally getting you justice, Dani,” he whispered to the ghosts of the past that filled the air around him. “One way or another.” After saving his story and clearing the computer screen, Gabe stood, smoothing the shirt sleeves he’d rolled up to his elbows. When the leggy detective paused in the open doorway, he extended his hand and circled around the desk to greet her. “Olivia.”

“Gabe.” She folded her firm grip into his. He liked that she used his name the way he’d asked without making a big deal out of it. “This is a noisy place.”

“Hence, the private office.”

“You made it sound as though stopping by anytime was okay. So here I am.”

“Now is fine. We already put tomorrow morning’s paper to bed and I’m working ahead.” Here they stood, sharing another handshake. Another linger. His thumb grazed over the soft bump of her knuckles. Olivia’s skin was smooth, warm. Her eyes this afternoon were a muted shade of gray dotted with green-and-gold specks that darkened the longer he held on to her.

So let go already
.
This is a business meeting
,
not a blind date.

“How’s the arm?” Olivia asked, showing more sense than he had by pulling away and stepping into his office.

He kept his back to her, needing a few seconds to compartmentalize this potent interest in the lady detective and concentrate on the reason he’d agreed to see her in the first place—getting to the truth about Dani’s killer. Only then did he turn, waving his fingers in the air to prove their dexterity, despite the bandage wrapped around his forearm. “A little sore. But as long as I can type, I’m good.” He pointed to her left wrist, indicating the violet bruise peeking out beneath the cuff of her white blouse. “Looks like you got a little banged up, too.”

“I’ll live.”

“Coffee?” he offered.

“Sure. With cream if you have it.” He pointed to one of the guest chairs and invited her to sit while he headed out to the break room.

By the time he returned with two insulated cups, Gabe had let enough of his cynicism and doubt creep back into his thoughts to temper his libido. He closed the door with his foot to block out the noise from the main room and handed Olivia her drink. “So where do we start?”

Gabe resumed his seat behind his desk while Olivia popped open her lid to swirl the coffee and creamer together and allow some of the steam to escape. “At the beginning. When we don’t have a clear lead, we usually look at the victim. What can you tell me about Danielle Reese?”

“Looked like an angel. She liked baking and knitting and having fresh flowers around the condo. But that was more about being an overachiever than a homebody. She never could sit still. She came from a small town in Kansas—Cottonwood Falls. Got her journalism degree at the University of Missouri and moved to the big city, determined to be a success and never have to go back to where she came from. She loved her parents, but the pace of a small town bored her. She wanted the diversity and excitement of the city and the job. She wanted a Pulitzer. She wanted to make a difference.”

Olivia pressed the lid back onto her coffee and took a sip. “Did she normally investigate suspected connections between organized crime and politics?”

Gabe shook his head, remembering the first time he’d seen the dewy-faced blonde lugging an armload of boxes to her desk in the middle of the reporters’ pool. “She was willing to learn her craft, build her reputation. She took every assignment from covering wedding announcements to interviewing local human interest stories. But she always wanted to get into hard news.”

“That’s when you started mentoring her?”

“Yeah. I let her tag along on some of the tamer assignments I had—reporting on school bond debates, weather stories like the floods we had a few years back. She’d draft a story and I’d read it, tweak it. I shared a couple of bylines with her.” Dani’s eagerness to learn and excel, her youthful energy and attentiveness had been an aphrodisiac to his ego. “Pretty soon she didn’t need me to get the story or write it. By then, things had gotten personal between us. I proposed. She accepted.”

Olivia set her cup on the edge of the desk and pulled her phone from her pocket, ostensibly to type in details of their conversation. “So you moved in together and continued your Svengali relationship with her. On the sly. You said you had to sneak a look at her notes? That she was keeping that last investigation a secret? Even from you?” She paused in her typing to meet his gaze.

He resented the Svengali allusion. Sure, maybe their relationship had started out like that, but once they became a couple, he and Dani had been equal partners. There’d been nothing more he could teach her. It wasn’t until the late nights and the missed dinners and the calls that went straight to voice mail that he’d gotten worried enough to find out what she was keeping from him. And then he realized he hadn’t taught her nearly enough about surviving a dangerous investigation.

Gabe took a drink that scalded the guilt from his throat. “Do you even know what she looked like?”

Olivia shook her head. “Just the crime scene photos. And those...are pretty rough.”

That was an understatement. She needed to see the face of the woman he wanted her to fight for. Gabe set down his cup and crossed to the row of gray metal filing cabinets along the east side of his office. Without being asked, Olivia followed him to the top left drawer. “Here.” He pulled out the framed photo that had once sat on the corner of his desk and handed it to her. “This was our engagement picture, taken about five months before Dani died.”

“She’s beautiful,” Olivia whispered on a sigh that was almost reverent.

The kindness of hearing someone else mourn the tragedy of Dani’s death soothed the wounds inside him. But just when he should have been remembering the sweet vanilla scent that had been Dani’s, his nose filled with the citrusy freshness emanating from Olivia’s short hair. There was something electric about this woman, an excitement at noticing the feminine details behind the gun and badge, an anticipation of trading words and opinions—an unexpected jolt of purely male interest that hit him every time they were together. The visceral impact of these encounters which heated his blood and stirred things behind his zipper reminded Gabe that he’d moved beyond the grief he’d felt with Dani’s death.

But he curled his fingers into a fist behind Olivia’s back and dropped it to his side before he gave in to the impulse to touch that sable-colored hair. His grief might have abated, but the guilt sure as hell was still there. “Yeah. She was.”

Olivia touched a fingertip to the glass. “Is this the engagement ring that was stolen?”

He nodded, forcing himself to forget the untimely attraction and remain as focused on the investigation as she was. “That, some gold hoop earrings and a wristwatch from a discount store.”

“Was the jewelry expensive?”

“Not enough to give the Rockefellers a run for their money, but probably enough to feed a junkie’s fix for a few weeks.” Gabe plucked the picture from Olivia’s fingers to put it back in its drawer. “I know what you’re thinking—Dani wasn’t murdered for the diamond she was wearing—”

“I have to consider every possibility.”

Gabe closed the drawer. “You only have to consider the right one.”

“The right one?” Olivia planted her hands at her hips and tipped her face to his. “Just because it’s
your
theory, that makes it right?”

He mirrored her stance, watching the green fire of temper take over the color in her eyes. “Factually, I know you have to explore every possible motive and suspect—but what do you think I’ve been doing for six years? Your father and his partner never found the thief they were looking for because he didn’t exist. Dani was killed to cover up a story.”

“That’s only one possibility. I have to revisit and rule out any other—”

A soft knock and the door opening ended the argument. A platinum blonde, wearing a designer suit that cost as much as his monthly salary, entered with a friendly smile that faded when she saw the two of them together. “Gabe, I... Sorry. Didn’t know you had company.” Gabe’s boss, the slightly older woman who’d inherited the newspaper, but earned her CEO status and his respect with her business and management skills, tucked the small box she carried under one arm and walked right up to Olivia. “Hi. I’m Mara Boyd, publisher of the
Journal.
”

The two women shook hands. “Detective Olivia Watson.”

“Detective? Has something happened?” Mara tipped her bright blue eyes to his. “Has there been a break on Dani’s murder? You know I want that story. She was our girl. Nobody gets to scoop us. Will you be able to write it? You deserve to have that vindication, but if it’ll be too much, I’ll assign it to someone else.”

Olivia stepped in front of him, as though she meant to protect him from the verbal barrage. “Let’s solve it first.”

“Of course.” Mara’s gaze dropped back to Olivia. “But you being here is good news, right?”

“I hope so.”

“Yes.” Gabe closed his hands around Olivia’s shoulders and scooted her to the side. He could fight his own battles. Not that talking business with Mara—or even something so personal as Dani’s murder—was ever an issue. “Detective Watson is exploring the possibility of a link between Dani’s murder and a death that occurred yesterday.”

“Are you talking about Ron Kober’s murder?” Mara asked.

Olivia subtly pulled away from the grasp of his fingers. “Did you know Mr. Kober?”

“Of course.” Mara hugged the box she was carrying in front of her. “Ron delivered all kinds of press releases when he worked for Senator McCoy. I’ve met him at fund-raisers, and the paper did an article on him when he built the Kober Building and opened his private PR firm.”

“Do you know of any dealings he might have had with Danielle Reese?” Olivia pressed.

“Dani and Ron?” Mara shook her head. “Dani was a cub reporter. They ran in different social circles. She wouldn’t have been covering anything he was involved with.”

Great. Just what Gabe didn’t need—his boss contradicting his assertion that Dani and Kober had been working together. He stepped away from Olivia and escorted Mara back to the door. “Did you need something?”

Mara’s smile was back. “I just wanted to remind you that you’re covering the mayor’s cocktail reception for party members and the press at the art gallery tomorrow night. And give you this.” She placed the small, narrow box in his hands. “I didn’t know if you had one of your own. I rarely see you wear them.”

Gabe lifted the lid and arched an eyebrow at the black silk. “A tie?”

“I reserved the tux that goes with it at the rental place on the card inside. Plus, it’s an election year, so you know there’ll be a photo op. Madam Mayor may even be looking for our endorsement, but I’d like to hear her answers to some hard questions before I put the
Journal
’s name behind her. You know I’d go myself but, um...”

“I’ll be there.” Gabe knew firsthand about his boss’s recent reticence to attend anything resembling a public society event. “I may even wear the stupid bow tie. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Keep me in the loop on any new developments with Dani’s murder.” Mara’s smile included Olivia. “I’ll let you two get back to work.”

Gabe closed the door and tossed the tie box on top of his desk. “Where were we?”

Oh, right. Sniffing Olivia’s hair, failing to keep his hands to himself, verbally duking it out with her and enjoying it all more than he should, considering Olivia represented the enemy he had to bring over to his side of the investigation.

“Your boss likes you.”

“Because she knows I’ll give her an honest opinion about what’s really going on behind the mayor’s party line.”

“No, I mean she
likes
you.” Olivia picked up her coffee and drank a couple of swallows, using the cup to mask her assessment of his reaction.

She wasn’t getting one. “The woman gave me a tie, not the key to her apartment.”

“Have you two gone out?”

“We’re friends. A couple of times she’s needed an escort and I’ve obliged her so she doesn’t have to mess with the whole dating-after-forty scene.”

Olivia’s eyes widened with mock surprise. “You date?”

Gabe circled around his desk opposite her. “Not every woman finds me to be—how did you put it?—
too damn arrogant
to spend time with.”

When she lowered her cup, he was surprised to see that the cop could blush. “You
do
pay attention to details, don’t you. Still, in the interest of the investigation, Ms. Boyd wouldn’t happen to have a jealous streak, would she?”

He turned his chair toward her and sat. “Jealous of Dani? Mara hired her.”

“To write for her newspaper—not to marry her star reporter.”

Gabe considered the possibility for about two seconds, then shook his head. “Mara was married when I was with Dani.”

“Some women want their cake...and everybody else’s.”

That wasn’t the boss he knew. “I don’t think so. Mara didn’t have a good marriage. Her husband was Brian Elliot.”

“The Rose Red Rapist?” Olivia’s eyes widened at the mention of the serial rapist the department had put away a couple years earlier. Although, in Gabe’s way of thinking, it had taken them far too long and far too many victims to identify Elliot and make the arrest.