Deadly Devotion (19 page)

“So you’re telling me someone tried to frame Kate?”
Somebody besides you.
“What are you doing to find this kid?”

“Not much we can do. All we have is a vague description and a contact number that’s been disconnected.”

Tom had the sudden urge to punch his fist through something. “So you’re going to drop it?” He didn’t buy Hank’s story, but a fine line stood between rattling his cage enough to trip him up and revealing too much before Tom had the evidence to make an arrest. “Aren’t you the least bit curious why someone would try to frame Miss Adams for a homicide that the police were no longer investigating?”

“She seemed happy to drop the whole thing.”

Yeah, Hank had probably scared her off good. “You must have a theory. Who do you think sent this kid here?” Aside from the obvious—
someone
who wanted to divert attention from his father’s illegal activities.

Hank shrugged. “Someone who wants her out of the way, I suppose.”

“But why?”

“Maybe to sideline her research. Drug companies can be cutthroat.”

Tom picked up a photo of Hank shaking hands with the mayor. “That’s the second time you’ve said that about drug companies. A drug company wouldn’t happen to be thumbscrewing the mayor, threatening not to expand into our community unless the competition is eliminated?”

Hank’s face reddened. “How would I know?”

Tom slapped the photo onto the top of the filing cabinet.
“You’re the chief of police. It’s your job to know. Clearly someone framed Kate because she was too close to the truth.”

“What truth? She’s found squat. You said she suspected Leacock’s nephew, but she sure didn’t act like it. Smythe charged in here, demanding her release, and she seemed more than willing to accept his offer of a lift.”

“What?” Tom felt like he’d been sucker punched.

“Yep. I told her one of my men would be happy to drive her, but she declined the offer.”

“I don’t doubt that. But no way would she accept a ride with the man she’s convinced killed Daisy. What are you playing at?”

“Nothing. Look, I’m sorry I messed things up between you and the woman. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Tom drew in a breath and held it. Hank had always been a lousy liar, which from the look on his face meant either he’d learned to lie really well in the last decade or Tom had turned into the paranoid cop the FBI psychologist—the one who’d insisted on an indefinite vacation—said he was.

Three things he knew for certain. Someone killed Daisy. Someone framed Kate for the murder. And the real Gordon Laslo was still unaccounted for. After that, things got a lot grayer.

Edward and Darryl both had motives to kill Daisy. Whereas, if Hank was worried Kate would expose his father, he wouldn’t let her go.

With Edward of all people.

“I’ve got to find her.” Tom flung open the office door and strode down the hall. He never should have left her alone here. She’d probably been so distraught over being questioned by
the police that she’d clung to the first person who appeared to be on her side.

Edward Smythe, the man who had the most to gain if she was incarcerated.

Or dead.

Kate relaxed into the baby-soft leather of Edward’s Porsche and let out a sigh. After more than an hour of the chief’s incessant questions—the same questions, over and over, phrased a hundred different ways—Kate had been certain he intended to bury her.

Bury her the same way the cops had buried her dad. Or at least that’s what she’d once overheard one of her grandma’s friends say. Her dad had known things he shouldn’t have, and people of power had wanted him silenced.

Just like the chief seemed to want her silenced.

Maybe she should have insisted on a lawyer like Tom had advised, but that felt too much like an admission of guilt.

Exactly what they’d been fishing for.

But they wouldn’t break her. Or stop her. If anything, their veiled threats that
if
Daisy had been murdered, Kate was the most likely suspect only galvanized her resolve to dig out the truth. Even if she had to fight the entire police force to do it.

She lowered her window and breathed in the air of freedom. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

Edward gave her the kind of conspiratorial smile Kate and Gramps had shared after a successful raid on Gran’s cookie jar. “Hey, family has to stick together. Right?”

Family.
She’d started to feel like a part of Tom’s family.

When Tess told her how Tom had given up his career with the FBI to return home after their mom died, Kate had started to believe he could be a man she might be able to love. A man who would put family first.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

As for Edward, theirs was a peculiar kinship—two orphans connected by their mutual love of Daisy. Kate smoothed her hair. In her distress, the way he’d charged to her rescue at the police station had taken on fairy-tale proportions, but she knew his heart belonged to Molly.

In fact, just because the chief had catapulted to the top of Kate’s suspect list didn’t mean she was ready to trust Edward again.

She stiffened. So what was she doing in his car? The last time she’d seen him, she’d been certain he was delivering a bomb.

The chief’s questions had gotten her so frazzled she hadn’t stopped to question Edward’s motives for springing her. She gripped the door handle and shifted to face him. “Uh, how did you know where I was?”

He flashed a
GQ
smile. With his wind-tousled hair and shadow of a beard, he looked like a movie star behind the wheel—not the image of a man who needed Daisy’s money. Kate could almost taste the wealth he exuded. “I stopped by the research station, and the place was buzzing with how you’d been arrested.”

Kate muffled a groan. Once that rumor made the rounds, she could kiss her grant money good-bye. Maybe even her position. How many more ways could she fail Daisy?

“I’m glad it wasn’t true. I know you didn’t kill Daisy. Any more than I did.”

Guilt squeezed Kate’s chest. Edward had rescued her from her darkest nightmare, while she’d done nothing but think the worst of him. When had she become as cynical about people as Tom?

She laid her cheek against the seat and watched grassy fields dotted with yellow dandelions swim past. The purr of the supercharged engine might have lulled her into a sense of security, if the scent of leather didn’t remind her of Tom.

Or more precisely, how safe she’d felt encircled in Tom’s arms after the last time Edward had come to see her—the time she’d been convinced he was Daisy’s murderer and Tom was the one she thought she could trust.

If the chief went to so much trouble to coerce her to drop her private investigation, surely Edward couldn’t be involved too. She should just ask him about the scraps of paper she’d noticed in Daisy’s fireplace. He probably had a perfectly logical explanation for burning one of Daisy’s books.

Far more logical than any explanation Tom might conjure up to justify handing her over to the police chief. How could she ever have imagined he might care for her?

She glanced at Edward. He seemed to be smiling to himself, humming quietly, his attention fixed on the road.

He gave her a funny look. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“Huh?”

“Your phone.”

The ring tone cut through her foggy brain. “Oh.” She snatched the phone from her purse and snapped it open. “Hello.”

“This is Mr. Werland’s receptionist returning your call.”

“Who?”

“The Werland Detective Agency. Mr. Werland asked me to respond to your inquiry about the Smythes. They died in a car crash when Edward was three.”

Kate cupped her hand around the phone and turned toward the window. “Where’d he go after that?”

“No, you misunderstand. The boy died too.”

Edward died?
She shot a glance across the car. Her chest tightened.

“Mr. Werland repor—” The phone cut out.

Blackness swept over Kate’s vision. Her head pounded. Her lungs screamed for air. She clutched the dashboard and sucked in a breath. The air seared her throat going down. She inhaled again, fighting to pull herself together. Slowly, the blackness receded.

Edward slowed the car. “Are you okay? Who were you talking to?”

Kate faced him, her head swimming at the movement.

Outside, the fields had given way to forest.
Forest!
There weren’t any forests between town and the research station.

Her heart jackhammered itself into her throat. If Edward overheard her conversation . . . She gulped. “Uh, I was talking to a colleague who’s been doing some research for me.” She gripped the lip of the window and craned her neck to peer behind them. Nothing looked familiar.

What if he planned to kill her and dump her body somewhere, to somehow make it look like she’d fled the country so
the police would be convinced they’d had the right murderer, but she’d gotten away?

No, a roomful of cops saw Edward escort her from the station. He wouldn’t try anything.

Would he?

He’d be the first person they’d suspect of foul play . . . if they suspected foul play.

How could she not have noticed that he’d changed routes? She dropped her hands into her lap and frantically typed a text message to Julie, all the while scanning the horizon for signs that might tell her where they were.
Please, Lord, let me catch a signal.
“Where are you taking me?”

“You’re so jittery,” Edward said in his butter-smooth voice. “I thought we’d stop for a cup of tea.”

She sucked in a breath.
Tea.
That’s how he murdered Daisy. Kate’s thumb slipped and the text message she’d been typing disappeared.

No!

Outside the police station, the forecasted storm had blown over, but Tom couldn’t shake the fear that something worse was brewing. He jumped into his car and headed for the research station. If he had the time, he would plaster a police sketch of Gordon’s imposter all over the news. Because if he found the kid, he’d find the guy who hired him to frame Kate. But his gut told him there wasn’t enough time.

Lord, please let my gut be wrong about Smythe. Let me find Kate safe and sound in her lab.

Tom had no illusions she’d ever trust him again. But he
hoped that after he offered a heartfelt apology, she’d forgive him enough to listen to his concerns.

Once he’d cleared the town, Tom floored the gas pedal. Two miles out, the stench of a dead skunk seeped into the car. He almost hoped his old buddy—Chief Hank Brewster—was as dirty as that skunk, because Edward’s twenty-minute head start offered Tom little hope of stopping him.

He tried Kate’s cell again. When voice mail kicked in for the third time, Tom punched in Dad’s cell number.

He cut off the automated voice with a jab of his thumb and tried their home number next. He was 99 percent certain Dad had attached a GPS locator to Edward’s Porsche. If Tom could get a hold of Dad, he might be able to give Tom a location.

The phone rang and rang. Tom hit End and punched in the station number. “Carla, it’s Tom. Can you call Lorna’s Travel Agency for me? Tell her that if she knows where my dad is, to have him call me on my cell. It’s urgent.”

“Sure. Right away.”

Tom swerved into the research station’s parking lot just as Darryl Kish hurried out the side door. Darryl. Another man with motive, means, and opportunity. A man who also knew about Gordon Laslo’s connection to Daisy and Kate. Tom zipped across the half-empty lot and screeched to a stop behind Darryl’s hybrid Fusion, blocking his exit.

Darryl stalked toward him. “What do you want now, Parker? Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?”

From Darryl’s ragged appearance and glazed look, anyone would think he’d been the one who spent the last couple of hours under interrogation. Or was all the bluster to mask his fear that
he’d
been found out?

“I’m looking for Kate. Have you seen her?”

“How should I know where she is? You’re the one who hustled her out of here in a police cruiser. Are you trying to ruin us?”

“I don’t see how—”

Darryl’s face turned redder than an overripe tomato. “The rumor that she was arrested spread like wildfire. I spent the last two hours on the phone with our financial supporters doing damage control. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home to my wife.”

“Not so fast.” Tom stepped out of his car and slammed the door. “When’s the last time you saw Gordon Laslo?”

Darryl glared, making no attempt to hide his irritation. “I already told the chief.”

“Now I’m asking.”

“Daisy wanted to give the kid one more chance to prove himself. That was four”—Darryl’s eyes shifted, referencing an invisible calendar—“no, it was almost five weeks ago now. Anyway, I refused.” Darryl opened his car door. “The way I see it, the kid was smart and dropped out before we charged him with plagiarism.”

Tom scrutinized Darryl a moment longer. No pursed lips as if he might keep the truth from slipping out. No liar’s lean as if to convince Tom of his sincerity. No stumbling over words as if he was uncertain. From all appearances, the man was telling the truth.

And Tom was wasting precious time.

If Kish had hired an imposter to rat out Kate, he’d be sweating bullets over being asked Gordon’s whereabouts. “Okay, if you see Kate, tell her I need to talk to her.”

Darryl snorted. “Fat chance she’ll want to talk to you after today.”

Yeah, that was exactly what Tom was afraid of. He returned to his car and pulled ahead so Darryl could leave. Whether Kate liked it or not, Tom intended to do whatever it took to clear her name and keep her safe. But first he had to find her.

A quick check at the reception desk confirmed Kate hadn’t returned. He tried her cell phone again.

“Hello—”

“Kate? Kate, where are you?”

Dead silence answered.

Dropped call, or had Edward . . . ?

No!
Tom redialed, but Kate didn’t pick up. This was worse. Much worse.

He scrolled through his old calls and found Julie’s number. She answered on the first ring. “Julie, this is Detective Parker. Have you heard from Kate?”

“No, I’m at work. Did you try her cell?”

“There’s no answer, and I need to find her.”

“Hold on a sec.” The rattle of computer keys sounded in the background. “I know the password for the GPS cell phone tracker app she uses. If her phone’s in the network’s area, I can pinpoint its coordinates.”

Tom prayed that last dropped call was a temporary blip.

“Oh, won’t Kate be surprised?” Julie added.

Oh yeah, she’d be surprised all right, but not in the happy way Julie seemed to think.

“I need to put you on hold for a minute. A patron needs my help.”

Waiting a minute felt more like waiting an hour as Tom imagined every possible scenario of where Kate could be. He checked her car and scanned the grounds. One minute
forty-five seconds later, he debated disconnecting in favor of ordering a BOLO for Edward’s Porsche.

A few seconds later, Julie came back on. “I’m tracking Kate on my computer now. She’s at Sumpner’s Falls on Seventeenth Street.”

Tom blasted out of the parking lot toward the conservation area. “Is she moving?”

“Very slowly. Let me zoom in . . . She’s off-road. She must be walking one of the tr—”A call-waiting blip momentarily cut off her words. “Hold on a sec.”