Arouse Suspicion (8 page)

"I want to straighten up first."

Danni opened her mouth to argue, but the lost look in Nick's expression stopped her. With both of them working, it wouldn't take long, and she knew it would ease Nick's mind. They might also find out if anything had been taken.

"I'll clean the kitchen," she volunteered.

Startled, Nick met her gaze, and his eyes softened. "Thanks. Be careful of the glass."

Danni nodded. She should have resented him for warning her like she was a child, but instead she was flustered by his gratitude and concern.

"After we finish here, we need to go to Paddy's," Nick said.

"Why?"

He picked up a leash from one of the piles on the floor. "Unless you want to clean up more messes..."

Damn. She'd forgotten about Gus.

Nick was relieved to find Gus hadn't had any accidents, but her entire body was quivering to get outside. He accompanied Gus into Paddy's backyard. As the dog took care of her business, Nick racked his brain trying to figure out why his apartment had been trashed. What were they looking for? Did they think Paddy had stowed something at his place? Or did they think Nick knew more than he did?

About what?

He hadn't told Danni, but he would've sworn he'd turned off his computer before leaving his place the day before. Yet it had been on when he'd straightened his office. He'd searched his files, but there was nothing there that would even remotely be related to Paddy's death. Maybe the person who'd broken into his place was a Travis Longstreet fan and couldn't wait for the next book. Nick shook his head at the ridiculous notion.

He wasn't going to find any answers standing in the middle of Paddy's yard. He whistled for Gus, who accompanied him back into the house.

He followed Danni's voice to the kitchen, where she was talking on the phone.

"All right. Tell her to come by the office at three o'clock. I'll have the pictures developed by then," she said with a curt tone.

Danni listened silently for a few moments, and her face lost some of its tension. "Yes, Cathy, I took my vitamins this morning." She raked a hand through her curls, and her gaze darted to Nick. She turned away, but he could've sworn he saw a blush in her cheeks. "No, I don't need
that
to relax," she said in a low voice he could barely hear.

Nick's face flared with heat. He suspected Cathy was trying to get the scoop from Danni about their night together. It sounded like Danni wasn't the kiss-and-tell type.

Thank God.

Danni hung up the phone and faced him. "My client wants to see the pictures of her jungle hero and his temptress at three o'clock. That's not going to be a fun appointment. Willy's wife will probably try to hire me to string him up by his balls."

Nick shuddered. "Thanks for
that
image."

One side of Danni's lips curved upward. "Sorry." She glanced at Gus. "Do you want to bring her along?"

"I thought you didn't like extra passengers."

"Four-legged aren't bad. It's the two-legged that I have trouble with."

The twinkle in Danni's eyes startled Nick and reminded him of Paddy. The older man's dry humor had never failed to make Nick either laugh or groan. It was one of the things he'd liked best about his friend.

"Make sure her tail stays on your side of the cab," Danni added with the Hawkins quirked eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am." Most of Nick's anger and frustration from the morning's festivities bled away under the familiar-yet-not banter.

After gathering some items for Gus, Nick followed Danni out to the truck with the dog.

"What about my Jeep?" Nick asked, suddenly remembering he'd left it parked by Danni's office yesterday.

Danni waited until they were in the truck to answer. "Cathy said it was still there." She paused. "It even had all its tires."

"It's a miracle," Nick muttered.

Danni rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad a neighborhood. You can pick up your car after the appointment with Wilhelmina Warner, Willy's wife." She darted him a glance. "And yes, that's her real name."

Nick chuckled. "I'd never use a name like that in one of my books—too unbelievable." He shifted as Gus sat down, pressing her eighty-plus pounds against his side. "I've got the notes for that book I was working on with your dad in the Jeep. I'd hate to lose them."

Danni backed out of the driveway and joined the sparse traffic on the residential street. "Dad never told me about it."

Nick decided to ignore her bitter twang. He shrugged and glanced out his side window. "I asked him to keep it between us until I sold it."

"Were you afraid somebody would steal your idea?"

"No. Superstition."

Danni braked for a stop sign and sent Nick a sidelong glance. "You're the last person I'd guess was superstitious."

Nick grinned. "Writers are notoriously superstitious. Just among the ones I know, one has to wear red socks whenever he writes, another won't sit down at his desk until he's finished the
New York Times
crossword puzzle, and there's one woman who has a half-hour conversation with her characters every day before starting to write."

Danni continued driving. "So what's your fetish?"

Nick arched his brow and leered.

"I'm not talking about leather, whips, or chains here, Sirocco."

"I was thinking feathers myself."

She laughed. "There may be hope for you yet."

"Are you saying you like feathers?"

"I'm saying my fetishes are none of your business."

"Just when I thought we were becoming friends." Nick sighed dramatically.

Danni grinned but didn't comment.

She stopped at the one-hour photo shop she always used to have the film of Willy's extracurricular activity processed, then drove to the police precinct headquarters. She pulled into a parking garage next to the station and found a slot where Gus could watch the comings and goings, but where the truck was out of direct sunlight.

Danni switched off the vehicle, then turned to Nick. "When we go in, I want you to be seen and not heard."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"I think they'll be more open to answering questions from someone who used to be one of them."

"Are you referring to the thin blue line?"

She pressed her lips together. He'd irritated her.

"All I'm saying is you're an outsider, and in a cop's world, that makes you one of 'them' instead of one of 'us.'"

Although Nick didn't like the idea of having to play the silent sidekick, he understood her reasoning. Besides, he'd tried breaking through that wall and had failed miserably.

"All right." Nick ensured the windows were cracked open, then stepped out of the truck. "Stay," he commanded Gus, who stared at him with betrayal in her eyes. "We won't be gone long."

He joined Danni, who was waiting behind the truck.

"She'll be all right," Danni said, motioning to Gus. "We shouldn't be here long. If Alex and Joe are on duty, they'll be out on patrol. We need to find out where."

They walked side by side across the concrete parking lot. Once inside the precinct, Danni spoke with the officer working behind the desk. She surrendered her gun, which would be held in a lockup area while she was in the building. She and Nick were then given visitor badges and allowed to go to the briefing room.

Danni led him through the dull corridors and into a large room littered with battered tables, plastic chairs, and a desk at the front where a beefy man with a crew cut sat. He glanced up as they entered and stood, holding out his hand. "Hawkins."

She shook the ham-sized hand and smiled. "Hey, Sarge. How's the wife and kids?"

Rodgers grimaced, or maybe it was a smile. Nick couldn't be certain.

"Good. Susan, my youngest, just started college. Wants to be a teacher."

"She can't be that old yet."

Rodgers guffawed. "Look who's talking. I remember when your dad used to bring you down here riding on his shoulders."

Danni's smile faltered, and she waved a dismissive hand. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah, it was. Better times." He glanced at Nick. "I recognize you."

"I—" Nick began.

"He's a writer doing some background for his next book," Danni interrupted.

Rodgers narrowed his eyes. "He was asking a lot of questions about Paddy."

"Part of my research," Nick put in smoothly.

Rodgers grunted and gave his attention back to Danni. "So what brings you to my little island paradise?" He motioned to their less-than-lavish surroundings.

"I've been hired to look into the death of a juvie named Matt Arbor. He was arrested for trying to sell stolen merchandise about two weeks ago," she replied.

Rodgers ran a hand over his spiky gray hair. "I don't remember him, but then we arrest a lot of kids. You know how it is."

"This one supposedly committed suicide last night."

"Maybe he recognized the wickedness of his ways."

Nick stiffened, not liking the man's callousness. Danni, however, didn't show any reaction one way or another.

"Or maybe somebody else recognized the wickedness for him," she said.

Rodgers frowned. "Are you saying it wasn't suicide?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Since Levin and Tygard were the first officers on the scene, I wanted to ask them a few questions."

"They're on the swing shift. Won't be in until eight tonight."

"I suppose we'll have to come back then. Do you think I could see the kid's file?"

"You know the rules."

"What's it going to hurt? He's dead."

"You're not a cop anymore."

She flinched but managed a weak smile. "Couldn't hurt to try."

Nick stepped forward. "Can't you at least check his file and tell us if it's been officially ruled as a suicide?"

"How'd he off himself?" Rodgers asked.

"Slit his wrists," Danni replied.

"Then it's suicide."

"What if it's not? What if it was made to look like a suicide?" Nick asked.

Rodgers glared at him but spoke to Danni. "He was asking the same type of questions about Paddy. Folks liked Paddy, and didn't like this guy stirring things up."

Danni lifted her chin. "Maybe things need stirring up. I'm beginning to wonder about Dad's death myself."

Sergeant Rodgers's eyes narrowed. "What's he been filling your head with?"

"Facts," Nick said.
To hell with staying quiet.
"Fact one: Paddy Hawkins supposedly commits suicide. Fact two: less than a week later a boy he helped seems to have done the same."

"Coincidence," Rodgers said.

"I don't believe in coincidences."

Rodgers held Nick's gaze for a minute, then turned back to Danni. "Look, I know you're upset about your father's death, but going around accusing people of covering up, or worse, committing a murder, is foolish. It's not going to bring him back. Paddy's dead. Let him rest in peace."

"What if he isn't resting in peace?" Danni asked softly. The beefy sergeant flinched.

"Thanks for the information, Sarge. We'll be back this evening."

Nick opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Danni latched onto his jacket and tugged him out of the briefing room.

"He's a jerk," Nick said in a low voice.

"He's only doing his job."

Danni's calm answer seemed a strange contrast to her typically spitfire attitude.

"How well do you know him?" Nick asked her.

"He was my shift supervisor. We were both at the low end of the totem pole, so we usually ended up with the swing or night shifts."

"Did he know Paddy pretty well?"

"They weren't real close, but they'd shared a drink after work a few times." She eyed him warily. "What did he tell you about Dad?"

"Not a damn thing. Nobody did."

They stopped at the entrance desk to leave their visitor badges and retrieve Danni's revolver.

"What next?" Nick asked as they walked back to the truck.

"Lunch."

Nick's stomach rumbled on cue. All he'd had for breakfast was coffee, and it was already after one. "Where?"

"Why don't you pick the place?"

"Why don't you?"

"Because you're buying." Danni grinned, and her eyes twinkled with deviltry.

Nick grumbled, but Danni's smile was worth the price of a meal.

Chapter Seven

Castle Burgers wasn't what Danni had in mind when she'd suggested Nick choose where they eat lunch. But then, he did pay, so she couldn't complain too much. And Gus had approved of the grease-bomb burger Nick brought back to the truck for her.

After lunch, they drove to Danni's office via the photo shop. She found herself often checking the rearview mirror. Although she couldn't see a tail, her neck was stiff with tension. She didn't like that Nick had blurted out their theory of her father and Matt Arbor's deaths being related. Granted, she didn't
think
Sarge could be involved in anything illegal, especially not murder, but she hadn't seen him in a long time. People changed.

She
had changed.

She rubbed the back of her neck. Was she growing paranoid? No, not paranoid, but wary, which was certainly justified by the near hit-and-run yesterday and Nick's apartment getting trashed. In fact, she had a right—even a responsibility—to be suspicious of every vehicle that followed them for more than three blocks.

What information did they think Nick possessed?

Or were the mysterious
they
after them both?

And if it was both of them, what about her place? Had her apartment been ransacked, too? She hadn't been there since yesterday morning....

Damn it!

She made a tire-squealing U-turn, throwing Gus against Nick.

"What the hell?" Nick asked, one arm braced on the door and the other wrapped around his dog.

"We're making a detour."

"Where to?"

She glanced back to see if anyone had copied her abrupt one eighty, but she didn't see any familiar vehicles. "My apartment."

Nick stared at her a moment, then comprehension filled his features. "If they didn't find what they were looking for at my place, they might search yours."

"Give the man a prize."

Why hadn't she thought of that possibility earlier? She'd been so distracted by the damned diamond ring, she wasn't thinking straight. Never before had she let her personal feelings intrude on a case. What was wrong with her? What did it matter if Nick was seeing a woman? It only meant he was a normal, red-blooded male. It also meant he was screwing around behind his girlfriend's back... with Danni.

"They can't do much worse than what they did to my place," Nick said.

"Gee, that's reassuring." Although Nick had picked up on her tension, he was mistaken about the reason. Instead of correcting his assumption and asking him point-blank if he had a girlfriend, she'd resorted to her usual defense— sarcasm.

Real mature there, Danni.

She turned into her apartment complex and parked in her slot. Focusing her attention on her third-floor balcony, Danni eased out of the truck.

"Stay," Nick said to Gus. He closed his door and joined Danni on the asphalt. "Should we call nine-one-one?"

Danni cast him a sidelong glance. "
Now
you're worried about calling for backup?"

Nick flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. "You were right back at my place. I should've waited."

Danni nearly stumbled in her shock. He didn't strike her as the type to admit he was wrong without some incentive. "I'd like a copy of that, signed and notarized."

"Real funny, Hawkins."

Danni bit her tongue to keep from bursting out with laughter. God, if she thought that was hysterical, she must be stressing big time.
Focus,
she told herself and cast her gaze back to her apartment.

"Let's first find out if my place has been broken into. If we call without checking and there's no sign of a B and E, the cops aren't going to be real happy with us," she said.

Nick hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.

"Stay behind me," she told him.

Annoyance flashed in his eyes, but he did as told.

They crept up the stairs cautiously. Danni held her gun close to her hip as they climbed, not wanting to scare any innocent tenants who might happen by. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, creating a percussive accompaniment to her cadenced breathing. Magnified sounds from the street and other apartments filtered up the stairwell, bouncing off the walls before being absorbed by the carpeted steps.

An explosive
thwump
brought her to an abrupt stop, and she swiveled around, aiming her revolver at the stairs below them. Nick's solid body pressed against her.

"It was a door slamming," he whispered and settled his big hand on her wrists, pressing the barrel of the gun downward.

Feeling foolish, Danni didn't meet his gaze but continued her ascent, her heart beating twice as fast as a minute earlier. God, she was strung tighter than a drug addict. They stopped on the landing of the third floor, and Danni cracked open the door to the hall. She peered through the thin gap but could see nothing but the familiar brown carpet and tan walls with flea market pictures hung throughout the hallway. After opening the door wider, Danni slipped through, and Nick followed on her heels. Although she'd never admit it, Nick's presence bolstered her and reminded her of what it used to be like having a partner to watch her back.

Shaking her mind free of the ambushing melancholy, Danni kept close to the inner wall as she sidled down the hall to her apartment. Once there, she pressed her ear against the door but heard nothing. She slipped her key ring from her pocket and slid the key in the doorknob. It turned with a tiny click.

"It's still locked," Danni said quietly.

"That's good, I guess." Nick's lips pressed into a thin line. "Be careful."

Danni rolled her eyes in a
Look who's talking
fashion. But she kept her motions deliberate and slow as she turned the knob and swung the door open. Her heart shot into her throat, and Danni half-expected the perpetrator to be staring back at her from the living room. Instead, she found the apartment in exactly the same condition as she'd left it. Although she was certain she hadn't had any unwanted visitors, she followed ingrained police procedure and checked each room. Nothing. She slid her weapon back into her shoulder holster.

"I wonder what they were looking for," Nick said, standing in the middle of the living room.

Confused, Danni glanced at him. "What?"

Nick motioned to the newspapers, magazines, and pieces of mail scattered across the sofa, dishes lying on the kitchen counters, and the piles of clothes on the living room floor. "Look at the mess. Whoever trashed my place obviously did the same to yours."

Danni's face burned. "Not exactly."

Nick's quizzical expression would've made her chuckle if she weren't so embarrassed.

"This is what it looked like when I left yesterday morning," she muttered, looking everywhere but at him.

So she wasn't the poster child for Neat Freaks Anonymous. Why did she care what he thought about her house-cleaning abilities anyhow?

Nick stared at her like she'd just announced she was a mass murderer. "You actually live in this?"

Danni surreptitiously nudged a pair of black lacy underwear lying on the floor beneath a blue T-shirt. "It's not usually this bad. I was in the middle of sorting my clothes so I could do the laundry when—" She broke off, irritated with herself. "Look, I don't have to explain anything to you. I can do whatever I please in the privacy of my own home."

Nick only grunted, which might have meant he agreed. Or it might have meant he thought she was Oscar Madison's female counterpart. Either way, she didn't care... much. A woman's home was her castle.

"You know what this means?" Danni asked.

"You don't have any clean clothes?" Nick's expression oozed innocence, but his eyes twinkled.

Danni glared at him; then she remembered what she was about to say. Her exasperation fled, replaced by apprehension. "It means you're the one they're after, not me."

Nick turned away. "I know."

Troubled more than she cared to admit, Danni wandered into her kitchen and began to move the dirty dishes from the countertop to the dishwasher. She always thought better when she had something to occupy her hands, and she had plenty to think about. The most important was Nick's welfare. He'd stirred up a hornet's nest, and these hornets didn't just sting—their venom was deadly.

Since she liked Nick more than she should, it made the situation even more difficult. It wasn't every day a woman got up close and personal with a boy she'd had a crush on fifteen years ago. Little Danni Hawkins had both despised and envied seventeen-year-old Rocky. Adolescent hormones and father issues had confused the hell out of her then. But it seemed grown-up hormones were still doing a number on her.

"Do you want me to do anything?" Nick asked from directly behind her.

Startled, Danni swung around. She wasn't a small girl—not with sturdy Irish bones and muscles honed from hours at the gym and self-defense techniques—but Nick's solid physique and broad shoulders made her feel like a sapling in the shade of a towering oak tree. It was both comforting and disconcerting.

She raised her head to meet his eyes. "Like what?"

Nick shrugged. "Do your laundry?"

Danni crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. "What would you do if I said yes?"

"I'd ask where you kept your laundry soap."

He
sounded
serious, which only confused Danni more. She was accustomed to figuring people out within five minutes of meeting them, but Nick defied her intuition. Or maybe old feelings were mixing with new, clouding her judgment.

She suddenly realized Nick was waiting for an answer. "Uh, no, that's okay. I'll take care of it later."

"Suit yourself."

He took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, drawing Danni's attention to his hips. The man definitely filled a pair of jeans nicely. Irritated by her wayward thoughts, she jerked her attention back to his face, but not soon enough.

Nick grinned knowingly, and Danni held her breath, expecting some lascivious comment. Instead, he picked up a dirty plate and glass from the counter and piled them in the dishwasher.

"If you want, we can stay here instead of your dad's place," Nick suggested, continuing to clear the counter-tops.

The offer was tempting. There were emotional land mines in the house where she'd been raised, not to mention it was the place her father had died. She glanced at Nick, suddenly noticing how small the kitchen—hell, her whole apartment—was. Being in such close proximity to Nick Sirocco when night fell was
not
a good idea.

"We've got more room at my Dad's," she said. "And a yard for Gus."

Nick shrugged. "Suit yourself. If we're going to be there, why don't you put your dirty clothes in a basket and wash them at your dad's? We might be there awhile, and you'll need some clothes."

Startled, Danni pushed away from the counter and headed toward the living room. "Good idea."

"And don't forget those little black panties," Nick called.

Danni spun around and found him grinning like a cat that found the entire pitcher of cream. For the second time in less than ten minutes, her face flamed with embarrassment. Unable to come up with a snappy retort, she harrumphed and hurried to carry out her task... before he spotted her white lace thong, too.

Wilhelmina Warner fanned the stack of explicit photos across Danni's desk. "Willy told me a customer hit his head with a car door." The woman glared at the pictures as if everything was their fault. "I'm going to string him up by his balls."

Danni glanced at Nick, who sat in the back of her office. He caught her gaze and crossed his legs, then shuddered melodramatically. She coughed to stifle a rising chuckle.

"Better yet, I'll hire one of them Sopranos to take him out," Mrs. Warner continued ranting. "Maybe leave a horse head in his bed like they did in that movie—what was it?"

"The Godfather,"
Danni supplied. She kept her clasped hands resting on her desk, keeping her amusement hidden behind a calm, professional mask. "Mrs. Warner, it is against the law to hire someone to commit murder, and if you continue to talk of doing so, I'll be obligated by law to report you to the police."

Wilhelmina snapped her mouth shut and looked like a thirteen-year-old who had been told she couldn't hang out with her friends at the mall. Her chin quivered.

Stifling a sigh, Danni reached for the tissue box behind her and passed it across the desk to the woman. She'd had more than her share of tawdry cases, and each one followed the same pattern when the truth was revealed: anger, tears, then depression. It didn't matter if the client was male or female, each reacted the same. Just like grief, except for the denial stage. Danni provided the undeniable proof. She only wished she could offer some morsel of comfort.

By habit, she picked up a paper clip and proceeded to unbend it. She unbent another while Wilhelmina dabbed at her mascara-streaming eyes and cringed when the woman blew her nose. It sounded like a party noisemaker reject.

"Why? After giving that worm thirty-two years, why would he do this to me?" Mrs. Warner gazed at her with wounded eyes, obviously wanting Danni to give her an answer she could accept.

Danni fumbled around for some well-meaning platitude but came up empty. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Warner, but I don't know." She shrugged. "Why do men do anything?"

She tossed another straight paper clip with more force than necessary onto her desk and glanced at Nick, who sat quietly in a corner. She'd told her client that he was a writer researching his next book, and the fifty-something woman had reluctantly agreed to let him observe.

"Maybe he was bored," Nick suddenly said.

Danni tensed and aimed a glare at him. The deal was that he could stay for the meeting but was to remain silent. She should've known that was beyond his abilities.

"Now—" Danni began.

Mrs. Warner turned in her chair to peer at Nick. "What do you mean?"

Nick came to perch on a corner of Danni's desk. Danni felt the urge to give his nice-looking backside a poke with her letter opener.