Love at First Sight (6 page)

“If you’re dead,” Jack said with more force than he’d meant to, “they’ll have to find someone else to depend on.”

She groaned. “It’s not that simple. Anyway, I thought you were on vacation?”

“He’s actually on probation,” Denny interjected.

Thanks a lot, buddy.
Jack swore under his breath.

“Then this really doesn’t have anything to do with you,” she said to Jack.

He wanted to assure her he was involved, a lot more involved than she knew or he wanted to admit. But she was right. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to help find the killer. Or protect her in any official capacity. Nor did the cops always find the killers and put them behind bars. The worst of it was, there was more than a good chance the killer would come after her. Too good a chance.

“I’m going to put the ad in the paper,” she said, her gaze challenging his. “I don’t see any other choice. Waiting for him to come after me isn’t acceptable.”

Jack shook his head in frustration. “Let’s say the killer is the same man Liz met through a personal ad,” he said reasonably. “He sees the ad, he answers it. Then what?”

“Karen meets with him,” Denny said without hesitation. “At some place where we can see him from a distance. She won’t ever be in danger. There’ll be cops crawling all over the place. It will work, Jack. She’ll be safe.”

Jack didn’t bother to look at Denny. Instead he sought out Karen’s gaze, reminding himself that he had no say as to what this woman did, no matter how dangerous it was.

He wasn’t sure who he was more angry with. Denny. Or himself. Denny was right. This wasn’t his case. Karen Sutton wasn’t his concern. Denny was just trying to find a killer. Jack knew Denny would do everything he could to protect Karen. But would it be enough?

He swore under his breath again as he straightened and stepped back. “The killer isn’t going to show. What kind of fool would answer your ad, let alone agree to meet you somewhere?”

“He’ll show,” Denny said with conviction. “She’s the only person who can place him at the murder scene and he knows it.”

“Dammit, Denny, she might not be able to identify him,” Jack snapped.

“But he doesn’t know that, does he?”

“Denny’s right,” Karen spoke up. “The man will have to call my bluff because he has too much to lose not to.”

K
AREN FELT
Jack’s gaze shift to her again. She’d been aware of him across the table while she was giving her statement to Detective Kirkpatrick. Jack had been deathly quiet as if he had no interest in what was taking place.

She’d wondered what was keeping him here now that he’d put her and Detective Kirkpatrick together, especially after Denny had mentioned that Jack’s two-week “vacation” was actually probation. Wasn’t he jeopardizing his job by just being here?

“You think the killer has too much to lose?” Jack asked quietly. “What about you? Are you really willing to risk your life? If he shows, it will just be to kill you.”

She looked into his brown eyes, determined not to let him frighten her any more than she already was—which was considerable. But looking into his eyes had a danger all of its own. She felt as if she’d grabbed a frayed toaster cord. The heat of his expression warmed her to the core.

“My life is already at risk, Jack.” She certainly didn’t need him telling her how dangerous it was to put the ad in the paper. But what other recourse did she have?

Didn’t he see that she was only doing what she had to? She couldn’t hide indefinitely and she wasn’t one to wait for trouble to come to her. At least this new Karen wasn’t.

Why did it matter what he thought, anyway? Just because he hadn’t written her a speeding ticket, didn’t mean he was on her side. Especially now that she knew he was on probation. He couldn’t help her, even if he wanted to.

“Let’s just hope you see the killer before he sees you,” Jack said angrily. He turned to Denny. “It’s too dangerous. Too many things can go wrong. I don’t like it.”

Denny just stared at Jack for a long moment. “You don’t have to like it, Jack,” he said quietly. “It’s up to her.”

“Captain Baxter would disagree with you, Denny.”

Karen heard the threat, saw it harden Denny’s expression. “Denny’s right,” she said. “Once I put the ad in the paper, the police can’t stop me. They will have to protect me.” She looked to Denny for confirmation. He nodded.

Jack swung around to look at her, anger and disappointment in his eyes. Obviously she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was.

But it was her own reaction that bothered her. She felt sick inside with a disappointment of her own. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me, Jack. But please don’t jeopardize your job or let me keep you from your vacation any longer.”

He nodded, his gaze saying more clearly than words that he was washing his hands of her. “Don’t worry, I’m going home to finish packing right now.”

I
N THE LATE-AFTERNOON
light behind the bar, Karen watched Jack pull away in his Jeep, feeling bereft and strangely alone.

Denny’s words drew her attention back to him. “I’ll put you up someplace safe,” he was saying beside her.

She stared at him for a long moment, wondering why he still looked so familiar. “No, thanks. I’ll find my own safe place.”

He looked as if she’d just turned him down for a date. “Karen—”

“Don’t worry,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll keep in touch. Can I drop you anywhere?”

He held her gaze as if searching for something, then shook his head. “The editor said he could get your ad in tomorrow morning’s paper.”

She nodded, surer than ever that she knew him from somewhere.

As she climbed into her car, she realized she would have to find a place to stay for a few days at least until she saw whether the newspaper ad worked or not. She tried not to think past that. It
had
to work. She had to draw the killer out and get this over with.

Probably a motel would be her best bet. Something on the edge of town, out of the way. Or she could go to her mother’s. The place was like a fortress. But Karen knew there wasn’t any way she could keep her little problem from her mother if she did. Mostly, she didn’t want to worry her mother. Nor would her mother approve of the seedy mess her daughter found herself in. Pamela Sutton would never understand how a “nice” girl could get involved in something like this.

As Karen turned down Front Street, skirting the Clark Fork River, she suddenly had a flash of Denny Kirkpatrick. Except he looked a whole lot different from the man she’d just met.

She turned around and went back to the city library. The afternoon light was fading fast, the air cooling, making her chilly. Or was it what she knew she’d find at the library?

In the school yearbook section, she pulled down her high-school annual. She found a senior picture of Liz not far from her own. She flipped through, looking for a Kirkpatrick. No Kirkpatricks.

She’d been so sure. She felt as if she were losing her mind. How could she have been so positive—

His name hadn’t been
Denny
Kirkpatrick—and he
hadn’t gone to her school. She pulled down year-books from the counties around Missoula until she finally found him.

He hadn’t been in her grade, but three years ahead of her and Liz in school. She stared down at his senior picture. His hair had been shoulder-length and slicked back, making him less attractive. He’d also had his senior photo taken in his bike leathers, his collar up.

Jonathan Dennis Kirkpatrick had changed a lot in the past sixteen years, but not so much that Karen didn’t recognize him. She’d told Jack she was good with faces. Now maybe he’d believe her.

She dialed his cell-phone number. If only she could recognize the man again from the hotel hallway as easily.

“Hello?”

“He didn’t go by Denny Kirkpatrick sixteen years ago. His full name is Jonathan Dennis Kirkpatrick but everyone called him Johnny K. He was three years ahead of me in school and went to a different high school.”

“I’m glad you remembered where you’d seen him before.” Jack didn’t sound all that impressed.

“I told you I was good with faces.”

Silence.

“I know you’re busy packing, but there’s one other thing I thought you’d like to know. The reason I remembered Detective Kirkpatrick? He dated Liz Jones in high school.”

Jack stood listening to the dial tone, then slowly hung up the phone. Why hadn’t Denny mentioned that he knew Liz? No, not just casually knew her but dated her for a while in high school. It wasn’t as if something like that would slip your mind. Especially Denny Kirkpatrick’s. He had a photographic memory when it came to women.

For several heartbeats, Jack stared at the clothes strewn across his bed and the half-full duffel bag he used for a suitcase. Denny and Liz. Swearing, he stuffed everything into the duffel, grabbed his jacket and his gun, and headed for his Jeep.

He found Denny on the roof outside his penthouse apartment, sitting in a lawn chair, his cigarette glowing in the dusk, the faint smell of smoke drifting on the breeze.

“You didn’t tell me you knew Liz,” Jack said, wishing it didn’t sound so much like an accusation.

Denny didn’t seem startled, not even surprised to see him, as if he’d been waiting. “That was a lifetime ago. I wasn’t even the same person then.”

Jack had to ask. “The married woman you’ve been seeing—” He could feel his friend’s dark-eyed gaze harden.

“It wasn’t Liz.” The words hung on the breeze, both of them knowing he could be lying. He’d lied before. And about a woman. It had almost destroyed their friendship.

At least Denny wasn’t the man Karen had seen Liz with at the hotel. At least Karen didn’t think so, anyway. Jack supposed that was something. But that man might not have been the killer, either, Jack reminded himself.

The silence between them had taken on a weight and substance. God, what was Denny
not
telling him? Something.

“When was the last time you saw Liz?” Jack asked, sounding like a cop. Hell, he
was
a cop and that was something he couldn’t take a vacation from. Not even on Captain Baxter’s orders.

Denny dragged on his cigarette and stared out into the darkness. “I saw her last week,” he finally answered, sounding as if it had taken pliers to pull it out of him.

Jack swore. Lately, Denny had been acting oddly. More oddly than normal.

“It wasn’t like that,” Denny said. “Liz and I just had a drink together for old times’ sake at The Ox. That was it.”

“Whose idea was that?”

Denny stared at the burning end of his cigarette. “Hers.”

“She tell you about the man she’d been seeing?”

“It never came up,” he said, but Jack could feel there was more, a whole lot more that Denny wasn’t telling him.

A faint light leaked out of the apartment, spilling across the roof into the growing darkness. Jack moved so he could see Denny’s face better, so Denny could see his. “I’m going after the killer.”

Denny laughed softly. “So it’s like that, huh? Just blow off your probation for a woman you just met. She isn’t even your type.” He frowned. “You know Baxter isn’t going to like this. You freelancing. This could get you fired.”

Jack didn’t give a damn about Captain Baxter. But it could prove to be a problem. He had absolutely no authority to get involved. But dammit, he was involved. Personally involved. Which was the worst.

“I’m not going to let this guy kill Karen, too,” he said, the warning clear. If Denny was mixed up in this, not even their friendship could save him.

Anger shone in his friend’s eyes. “I didn’t kill Liz. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I’d like to hear the truth, all of it, but I don’t think I’m going to get it, am I?”

Denny picked up a half-full beer bottle from beside his chair. It was too cold to be sitting out here tonight. Or maybe Jack was the only one chilled. He watched Denny take a long drink.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the murder,” Denny said after a moment.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Denny dragged on the cigarette and squinted at him through the smoke. “It’s a private matter.”

“Involving a woman.”

He didn’t deny it. “I’m going to have to ask you to trust me.”

That wasn’t good enough, Jack wanted to say. Instead he stared at his friend, thinking of all the times he’d trusted Denny Kirkpatrick with his life. So, why couldn’t he trust him now? Because this time a woman was involved, sure as hell, and when it came to women, Denny Kirkpatrick was his own worst enemy.

“You might want to ask to be taken off this case,” Jack said.

Denny laughed, sounding like his old self. “That wouldn’t make Baxter suspicious,” he said facetiously.

“Once he finds out about you and Liz—”

“No reason he should,” Denny said, locking his eyes on Jack. “Unless you plan to tell him.”

“Why, Denny? Why take the chance? If you really have nothing to hide—”

“Jack, did it ever occur to you that I might just want to see this guy brought to justice for my own reasons?”

He stared at his friend. Could it be possible? Had Denny cared for the dead woman? Jack suddenly recalled one night at the bar, Denny’d had too much to drink and started talking about his first and only love, some high-school girl he’d dated who’d broken his heart. “Are you telling me Liz was the girl you were in love with?”

“Like I said, that was a lifetime ago. You sure you don’t want a beer?”

Jack shook his head, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more out of Denny tonight. “I’ve got to go.”

K
AREN’S MOTHER
answered the door a little out of breath. Faint classical music spilled out into the night along with the hum of voices and the soft tinkle of laughter.

Bridge night. Karen had completely forgotten.

“Karen?” her mother exclaimed and frowned. “Is something wrong, dear?”

What could possibly be wrong? Karen tried desperately to remember why she’d come. She’d just been driving by and felt a sudden desire to see her mother. More impulsive behavior she didn’t want to analyze too closely.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Karen assured her, but the mere fact that she’d shown up on bridge night proved that something must be wrong with her. And they both knew it.

“Well, step in here out of the cold,” her mother said, studying her. “You are taking care of yourself, aren’t you? Eating properly?”

Karen nodded. Eating had never been one of her problems. Eating properly, maybe. “I’m fine. I forgot it was bridge night, that’s all. I just hadn’t seen you for a while.”

Her mother continued to study her with an intent that was making her nervous. “I worry about you, dear.”

Karen realized she hadn’t been by in a long time. Guilt, and the emotions she’d kept in check since the murder, brought a flood of tears to her eyes. She glanced away, hoping her mother hadn’t seen them.

She desperately wanted to change the subject.
“Mom, isn’t that Annette Westbrook’s coat, that new bridge player I met a while back with you?” she asked, spying the locally made, one-of-a-kind coat on top of a pile on the settee.

Her mother glanced at the coat. “I don’t know, dear. Is it important? I could ask her.”

“No,” Karen said quickly. “I just saw one like it recently, that’s all.”
In the Hotel Carlton last night, actually. At the same time I might have seen a murderer.
She’d been right. The woman in the hallway near Liz’s room
was
Annette Westbrook.

It was time to go. To get out before she blurted out everything and really started to cry. She couldn’t do that to her mother. Especially on bridge night. “Mom, get back to your game, please. I’ll come by soon and we can visit.”

Her mother still looked worried. “I really wish you would find yourself a nice young man.”

The answer to any problem.
Except this one, Mom.
But Karen smiled and kissed her mom’s cheek, the scent of her perfume taking Karen back to her childhood. That was why she’d come here, she thought, as she turned and left. Looking for that childhood sanctuary where the worst that could happen was a skinned knee or a broken vase.

As she drove away, she realized there was no place to run that she would feel safe. But at least now she knew where to go.

J
ACK’S CELL PHONE
rang just as he climbed into his Jeep. “Yeah?” he said, still mulling over his conversa
tion with Denny, still worried and concerned that his partner had gotten entangled in all this.

“It’s Henderson,” a female voice said with official quickness.

A wave of apprehension hit him. “You still have her?”

“Affirmative. As per your instructions, I followed her from the doughnut shop and have been with her ever since.”

“Good work.” He began to breathe a little easier and was glad he’d called former cop Janet Henderson this morning. She’d retired a few years back but he’d helped her when she was having trouble with her teenage son. She’d told him if he ever needed anything to just call. And he had. He didn’t want to think about why he’d called in an IOU for Karen Sutton, a woman he barely knew.

“I thought I’d better give you an update,” Henderson said. “She went straight to her apartment after the doughnut shop and remained there until you came for her. After her meeting with you and Denny at the bar, she went to the Missoula Public Library. Thirty minutes later, she drove to a house in Rattlesnake Canyon owned by her mother and got out, sans suitcase. Ten minutes later and alone, she headed west out of town.”

Toward that strip of new motels, he thought.

“To the Birch Industrial Park. She parked her blue Honda and went into one of the larger metal buildings about forty minutes ago, again sans suitcase. No sign since.”

“What is she doing at an industrial park?” he asked.

“Got
me,
” Henderson said. “You want me to go in and check it out?”

“No, I’m on my way. Mind staying until I get there?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks, Janet,” he said. “I really appreciate this.”

“No problem.”

On the way to Birch Industrial Park, Jack realized he still had the answering-machine tape Karen had given him in his jeans pocket. Already in deep, he called the evidence room and asked that a copy of the Liz Jones case file be expressed to his apartment. Fortunately, the person on duty didn’t question the request. Probably didn’t realize Jack was supposed to be miles from this case, miles from this town.

Darkness hunkered between the buildings as Jack turned off his headlights and drove slowly into the industrial park. He spotted Henderson’s pickup and waved to her. It wasn’t until she’d pulled away that he parked and got out of his Jeep, his shoulder holster snug against his ribs, the pistol feeling heavy.

Karen Sutton’s blue Honda was parked outside a large, nondescript metal building at the back of the industrial park. According to his calculations, she’d been in the building for over an hour now.

He’d expected her to go to one of the motels on the edge of Missoula, certainly not to come to an industrial park. When was he going to learn to expect the unexpected from this woman?

He stared at the building in front of the Honda, asking himself what he was doing here. Chief Baxter
wasn’t going to like him butting in. Denny already didn’t. And Karen Sutton didn’t seem to need his help.

But that wasn’t stopping him, was it? No, because the Liz Jones case bothered him. And Karen Sutton bothered him even more. Just not in the same way.

The modest sign over the front door of the metal building read Western Cabinetry. He tried the front door, expecting to find it locked at this hour. It opened and he stepped in, struck instantly by the scent of fresh-cut pine.

No one sat at the small desk just inside the door but he could hear the whine of a saw deeper in the building. He moved toward it, alert. What was a woman like his Girl Next Door doing here? It didn’t seem like the time to order cabinets, not even bookshelves, not with a murderer looking for her. But what did he know?

He came around a small partition, the whir of the saw filling the air, and spotted a figure at a long, well-lit workbench, running a circular saw.

With a start, Jack realized it was Karen. Wearing goggles, overalls, a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tool belt around her hips.

What had ever made him think this woman worked in day care or taught elementary school?

From her obvious confidence, he saw that she knew what she was doing. She looked as at home in overalls and a tool belt as she would holding a baby, a toddler tugging at her pant leg, and her with that same capable, confident look on her face.

He blinked the image away, wondering where it had
come from. Babies? He’d avoided even the thought. The same way he’d avoided marriage.

The whine of the saw died off; part of the board dropped to the concrete, stirring up sawdust. Without the noise of the saw, he could hear the country music coming out of the stereo at the end of her workbench.

She put down the saw and dusted her hands on her overalls. She looked good in overalls. You couldn’t say that about a lot women.

“You come to help or just watch?” she asked without turning around.

Startled, he couldn’t think of anything to say. How had she known—? He watched her reach over to hit a switch. A red light next to the workbench stopped flashing. The light. Well, that explained how she knew he was here. Or at least, someone was here.

“I had a feeling I’d be seeing you again,” she said, still not turning around.

She didn’t sound too unhappy about it. He supposed that was something.

“I guess I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here,” he said.

“I told you I have work to do, an order that needs to go out by the end of the month, and I’m behind.”

He nodded as he moved closer. “Responsibilities. People who depend on you.” He had the feeling that was only part of the reason she’d come here tonight. He’d tried to lose himself in physical work too many times not to see that.

“So, what are you working on?” He walked over to a completed pine hutch.

“Finishing up a special order. That’s part of it,” she said, pointing to the hutch.

He spun around in surprise to look at her. “
You
designed and built this?”

She pushed the goggles back on her head. “You sound surprised.”

She could have knocked him over with a feather. He ran a hand over the baby-smooth surface of the hutch, admiring the simple and yet elegant lines. “You do exceptional work and the design is…incredible.”