Deadly Devotion (26 page)

Tom pulled out his identification. “I’m Detective Parker. False alarm.”

The security officer looked over the ID and returned it to Tom. “Anything I should know?”

“Yeah, one of the patients on the third floor may be in danger. We’re taking steps to relocate her ASAP. In the meantime, you can closely monitor all entrances.”

“Who are we looking for?”

“We don’t know.” Tom handed him a business card with his cell phone number scribbled on the back. “Call me if you notice anyone acting suspiciously.”

“You want me to send a guy to the third floor to keep an eye on things?”

Tom glanced at the five-story brick building with more exits than security cameras. “That would be great. Room 308. Thanks. I need all the help I can get.”

Tom trudged up the stairs to Kate’s hospital room. Before he arranged for a safe house, he needed to allay the fears his mad dash out of the hospital had inevitably sparked.

The door to Kate’s room opened and his dad stepped into the hall. “I had a hard time convincing her to stay put. What happened?”

“False alarm.” Tom entered the room ahead of his dad.

Kate sat in bed with her legs curled under her.

Tenderness washed through him at the sight. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

“You ran out of here with my plant like it was about to explode. How do you think I feel?”

Her feisty comeback after all she’d been through today brought a smile to Tom’s face despite the embarrassing mistake. “Sorry about that. I saw Beth arrive alone, so when Darryl picked her up outside the hospital, I thought it was strange that he hadn’t come in to see you too. Then I remembered what you’d said about airport security stopping Darryl on
suspicion of smuggling explosives, and . . . well, I thought the plant was a bomb.”

Dad chuckled. “Tom worked in Washington too long. Sometimes people really do bring plants to their friends.”

“Yeah, Dad, thanks for pointing that out.” Tom moved to Kate’s bedside. “It’s good to see you awake, and already on your feet here earlier. You must be feeling better.”

Kate blushed in a most becoming way. “Much.”

“Are you sure? You gave us quite a scare.”

She ducked her head and her gaze darted to Dad’s. “Sorry about that.”

Tom took her hand in his and fingered the silver medic alert bracelet on her wrist. “It’s not your fault. Do you know what caused the reaction?”

“Um, I can’t say for sure.”

“Well, now that you’re awake, you can tell me who you think is behind all this.”

She squirmed, her gaze landing on his nose, then his forehead, then his chin, everywhere but his eyes. “I’m . . . uh . . . not sure.”

“You sounded adamantly sure a couple of hours ago. The town is in an uproar and Hank wants your allegations that Daisy was murdered put to rest—one way or the other. Who do you think did it?”

Kate shrank deeper into the pillow.

Fighting exasperation, Tom gentled his voice. “Kate, I want to help you.”

Again her gaze darted to Dad’s. The side of her neck visibly pulsed.

The sense that she couldn’t trust him left Tom feeling bruised. He hunkered down in front of her.

A pained look puckered the tender skin around her eyes. Eyes that refused to meet his own.

After a long moment, she drew in a deep breath and hesitantly lifted her gaze to his. “My allergic reaction was a ruse to draw out the killer.”

“A ruse? But a doctor admitted you.”

The doctor’s words whispered through Tom’s thoughts.
We get our share of attention seekers, but we have to believe the symptoms are real until we can prove otherwise.
“A ruse?” Tom repeated the word barely loud enough for her to hear.

He must have misunderstood. Kate wasn’t an attention seeker. Maybe the Benadryl the doctor put in her IV had muddied her thinking.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to expose the killer. I yelled out that I knew who killed Daisy because I wanted to see who would react.”

“After I told you how dangerous a sting would be?” Tom wrestled down the anger mounting in his chest. “Look what happened. You almost died.”

“No. I was faking,” she whispered.

“What?” He shook his head. “But they stuck an IV in your arm. How—?”

“I called in a couple of favors,” Dad spoke up.

“We had to. Don’t you see?” Kate pleaded. “So the person who killed Daisy would come after me. I knew with so many people hearing what I said, seeing what happened, that the uproar would provoke demands for the case to be reopened. The killer has to be feeling the heat. By making myself appear vulnerable, I’ve given the person a false sense of power.”

A soul-numbing feeling of betrayal seeped through Tom’s
body. Not only had Kate not heeded his warning, but she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him her intentions.

She’d used him.

Deceived him.

He’d trusted her, and this was how she repaid him.

“What if the ruse had worked?” He pushed to his feet, dragging the bed cover half off with his fisted hand. He unclenched his fingers, releasing his hold, and turned on his dad. “And you were in on this?”

“I thought her plan was pretty clever.”

“Clever? Are you nuts? What if someone really had come after her?”

Dad nodded toward the TV mounted in the corner of the room. A webcam was attached to the edge of its screen, its wire disappearing through a hole in the ceiling.

“What? You plan on capturing Kate’s murder on video? A lot of help that will do her.”

Kate gasped as if the idea that the maniac might succeed had never occurred to her, but Dad didn’t so much as flinch. “Kate believes she can provoke the killer to reveal his plot.”

“Well, isn’t that optimistic of her? Did you happen to tell her that a statement against interest will only stand up in court if she’s alive to repeat what she heard? Unless you have a third person in this room so our murderer doesn’t have a reasonable expectation of privacy, anything you record would be considered eavesdropping and inadmissible in court.”

Dad strode to the door and pushed it closed. “I have been practicing law enforcement since before you were in diapers, so save the lecture. I know what I’m doing.”

Kate sat up and reached for Tom’s arm with no sign of
weakness whatsoever. How had he allowed himself to be so easily duped?

“Tom, please, help us. I think this will work.”

He jerked his arm from her grasp. “Who do you think is going to come after you? Because, aside from Daisy’s non-nephew, who you’re convinced didn’t do it, the last time I checked, I was out of suspects.”

“If I tell you, you won’t believe me.” She wrung her hands and shot him a pleading look. “I need you to trust me.”

“Trust you? You lured me into your little sting with your lies, and now you expect me to trust you? The killer, if there is a killer, has evaded detection this long. Do you really think he’s stupid enough to confess to you? Unless he’s certain you’re dead.”

“That’s enough,” Dad cut in. “After you told her about your partner, she wanted to tell you the truth, but I stopped her. We needed you to behave like the worried friend and professional you are.”

Blind fury blazed through Tom’s veins. “You were awake when I came here the first time?” She’d let him believe she was on death’s doorstep while he bared his heart. “You heard what I said?”

The same pain-filled expression he’d seen on her face when he’d revealed his partner’s betrayal returned. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.” She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

The muffled sound of crying reached through the walls and clutched Tom’s heart, but he steeled himself against its grip.

“She wanted to tell you,” his dad repeated. He adjusted the webcam so it would presumably capture every corner of the room. “She hated lying to you, but I told her Hank would likely fire you if he found out you were in on her plan.”

“I told her I would find Daisy’s killer. You should have talked her out of this crazy scheme.”

“You know how much Daisy’s friendship meant to her. You shouldn’t be surprised she’d do whatever it takes to clear her name.”

Tom paced the room, clenching and unclenching his hands, fighting to shut out the sound of Kate falling apart. He flung open the curtains. Light flooded the room, and with it, the truth. “No, I’m not surprised. What bothers me is that she considered my friendship of far less importance.” He never should have allowed his heart to become involved. “I have to put an end to this charade now, before it’s too late.”

“How does that proverb go? Faithful are the wounds of a friend. If Kate hurt you, it wasn’t meant to harm. Can you say the same if you walk out on her now? She needs you on her side. If you go out there and spin her story in an attempt to keep the killer at bay, we may never get the proof to lock them away.”

Tom stared at the bathroom door. The thought of Kate huddled inside, distraught and alone, shattered the last of his resolve to disarm the trap she’d laid.

“What’s the plan?” he asked noncommittally.

“Julie has alerted our suspects to Kate’s fragile state and suggested visitors would be a welcome distraction.”

“Why?”

“To give them the impression she might be suicidal.”

“Suicidal?”

“Sure. Grief stricken. After all, the killer wanted Daisy’s death to appear self-inflicted.”

Tom sniffed the water in the glass beside Kate’s hospital bed. “And if he wants to get rid of Kate, he would likely choose a similar means.”

“Yes, which means we’re not likely to catch them with a smoking gun. So Kate will attempt to lure a confession out of them while we listen in from the next room through the webcam feed.”

Tom stopped pacing. “Them who?”

The phone rang. Tom picked up the receiver, but the line went dead.

Dad tapped on the bathroom door. “They’re on their way. You have to get back in bed.”

“Who?” Tom returned the receiver to its cradle. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later.” Dad beckoned him toward the door. “We have to get out of here.”

Kate stepped out of the bathroom, dragging her IV stand. Dried tears stained her cheeks. Her hair was mussed and her eyes swollen. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Dad said, pushing Tom out the room.

Kate’s broken expression tore at his heart. He turned to say . . . something. He couldn’t leave her like this.

“Later.” Dad shoved Tom into the next room and closed the door.

A laptop sat on the bedside table. An image of Kate’s hospital room filled the screen. Kate climbed into bed, straightened her IV, and pulled the covers to her chest. A moment later, Edward and his fiancée walked into the room.

Tom slapped his fist into his palm. “If Kate thought Edward killed Daisy, why did she stop me from arresting him?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Molly held up a steaming cup. “I made a special blend of tea to soothe your nerves.”

Kate wrestled herself to a sitting position and reached for
the offered cup. “Thank you.” She pried back a section of the plastic lid and sniffed. “No hazelnut, I trust?”

Molly looked mortified. “Of course not.”

Kate brought the cup to her lips.

Tom’s heart jolted. “What’s she—?” He reached for the doorknob, but Dad grabbed his arm.

“She knows what she’s doing. You have to trust her.”

Tom squinted at the screen. Kate’s Adam’s apple bobbed as though she’d swallowed the sip, and his heart misfired a second time. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” his dad whispered, but the assurance scarcely registered over the roar of blood pulsing past Tom’s ears.

Molly smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Kate brought the cup to her lips again. “The ginger gives it a nice bite.”

“How does she know the tea has ginger in it if she didn’t drink any?” Tom demanded, straining to keep his voice low.

“She has a nose.”

Tom picked up the phone next to his dad’s laptop and punched in the extension for Kate’s room. She answered on the second ring. “Kate, don’t drink the tea.”

“Oh, hi, Tom. Nice of you to call.”

Her sing-song voice made him growl. “The drink could be poisoned. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’m feeling a little better. Can I call you back later? I have company right now.”

“Kate, don’t drink the tea.”

“I won’t forget.”

Edward scowled. “Sounds like you two made up.”

“Spare me. If I want him to help us figure out who killed Daisy, I need to stay on his good side.”

Tom winced. Acting, he told himself, but that didn’t stop the way his chest deflated.

Edward dragged a chair to the side of her bed. “Molly and I hoped to convince you to let the investigation drop.”

“Daisy was your aunt. Well, okay, she wasn’t your aunt, but she was your friend. Don’t you want to see her murderer brought to justice?”

“Not if you’re going to get hurt in the process.” Edward scrubbed his index finger under his nose.

“He’s lying.” Tom jabbed his dad’s arm and pointed to the screen. “Look at the way he’s leaning toward her and scratching his nose. The classic signs.”

Kate set her cup on the bedside table. “I won’t give up.”

“But aren’t you afraid her murderer might come after you?” Molly asked, her voice high and tight like that of a frightened mouse. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “Detective Parker seemed to think the murderer caused your allergic reaction.”

Kate glanced at the webcam. “Well, he knows better now.”

Edward threw Molly a worried glance. “Kate, I’ve got to be honest with you. If the truth about my past comes out, I’m afraid of what might happen to”—he waved his finger between himself and Molly—“us. I could lose my job, possibly be arrested for assuming Edward’s identity, or worse.” Molly moved to his side, and he squeezed her hand. “We finally have a chance to be happy, and I guess we’re asking you to give us that chance. What do you say?”

“Doesn’t it bother you that Daisy’s murderer would never pay for her crime?”