Sea of Suspicion (7 page)

“I wondered where you’d got to.” Nick let go of her hand and the spell was broken. He picked up a grungy, wet tennis ball and launched it over the sand dunes back onto the beach.

“That’s
your
dog?” Susie watched the mutt explode along the path.

“Yep. Rocket. A highly trained police K9.” He checked his watch as if he had somewhere to go and, to her relief, began walking again. “The Gatty log shows someone used your keycard to enter the lab at 1:20 a.m. last night.”

The statement was so left field it took a moment for Susie to register the words. “But I was in bed.”

“I know you were and I know you didn’t have anything to do with the murder.” His voice was deep, soothing, but couldn’t dispel the whisper of fear that sprouted inside her. “But I need to know how someone got hold of your keycard and whether or not it is related to the murder.”

“I don’t know.” Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and she tried to rub it away. “I left the lab at around four yesterday afternoon. I haven’t been in since.”

“Do you want to borrow my jacket?” Nick’s eyes assessed her in a way that had her crossing her arms.

Nice choice. Nipples on high alert or wearing his jacket like a high school crush.

“No, thanks.”

His smile told her he knew what she was thinking and that irritated her too.

“You had the keycard when you left work yesterday afternoon?” He reverted to cop mode, shortening his stride to match hers.

She bit her lip, trying to remember. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You only need it to get into the lab, not to leave.”

“Do you keep it on you at the lab?”

Susie didn’t like his questions, his inference her card was tied to a murder. She shook her head, which reignited her headache.
Ouch
. She put her hand to her brow. “The card stays in my wallet, which stays in my purse in my office.” She shot him a look. “And no, I don’t lock my office when I’m at work.” Never had, anywhere she worked.

Nick’s sand-encrusted dog crashed through the undergrowth again and lay panting at Nick’s feet.

Probably like a lot of women.

“Could someone have sneaked into your office yesterday and taken the card?”

“I suppose so.” Jeez, what a thought. “Or maybe I dropped it when I was in the parking lot.” Neither sounded good. Either a thief, or possibly a murderer, had been in her office yesterday, or she’d been dumb enough to drop a keycard to a secure building where anyone could find it.

Great way to start a new job, Susie.

She was shivering badly now. Nausea roiled in her stomach. She hated making mistakes, and, heaven knew, she’d made some doozies in her time. Her mother had a thing about perfection and Susie had inherited the expectation gene but not the follow-through.

A seagull cried above their heads, riding the blast off the sea like a surf god, twisting in the wind with tiny adjustments of his feathers. Shading her eyes, she watched its flight, wishing she could just take off and escape Nick Archer.

“I need you to check your wallet and handbag, see if anything else is missing.” Nick’s gaze also followed the gull.

“I went to the shops on the way to Leanne’s house, so I know I had my wallet then…I’m sure none of my bank cards are missing.” She tried to remember. “But I’ll check.”

“I need to verify all the information.” He tilted his head and softened his lips into a smile that should have made him look less dangerous, but his eyes glittered with such startling intelligence she wasn’t fooled.

Nothing about Nick Archer was quite what it seemed. If he hadn’t been a cop, he’d have made a damn good criminal.

Nick wished he’d never met Susie Cooper.

She stood beside him, her teeth chattering while he followed this phony line of inquiry. But if he didn’t ask the questions, someone else would and he didn’t want to become a suspect in a murder he hadn’t committed or get thrown off the case. Not for a lousy walk-through that had got him no closer to solving Chrissie’s murder than he had been twelve years ago.

Other officers were canvassing Albany Park for information on the victim and any possible witnesses last night. He wanted to make sure the woodentops stayed as far away from Susie Cooper as possible.

He’d burned the keycard that morning, along with his running shoes. Watched them melt into a mass of congealed plastic. Then he’d dumped the trash in a skip, careful not to leave even a fingerprint. Call him paranoid, but something about this case felt rotten.

He hadn’t gotten any sleep and now he was so tired he could just curl up on the side of the road and close his eyes. Blinking, he used the cold outline of Susie’s body to keep him awake.

Ding dong.

Being distracted by his dick in the middle of a murder inquiry wasn’t a good idea either. Nick took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders and wished he’d left her out of this. Everything about her turned him on. Her body, her accent, even the way she folded her arms in that defensive pose that plumped her breasts and made his blood head south. He didn’t want to want her. The woman was uptight, prissy and vulnerable. Not even close to his type. But he did want her in the worst possible way.

She sent him a polite smile, which he returned just as civilly, and they continued toward her cottage as if they were strolling through some Jane Austin flick.

He needed to get back to the station. Ewan was due to pick him up in five minutes. This investigation would wreak havoc on his colleague’s carefully balanced family life. Christ knew it was already a disaster zone.

Rocket dropped the ball at his feet and Nick kicked it along the gravel path, the dog skidding in its wake. Amy McKnight’s life was Nick’s worst nightmare, her body wasting around an astute mind,
knowing
she was a burden,
knowing
she was never going to get better. And not being able to do a damn thing about it.

Christ
. He’d have topped himself years ago.

He rubbed a hand over his face.
Come on, Archer.
Do the job. Concentrate on the one thing you can do and catch Tracy Good’s killer.

“Did you know her? Tracy?” he asked Susie.

She shook her head. “I’d seen her around, but never spoke to her.” She scrunched up her nose. “I can’t believe she was murdered. I mean, St. Andrews seems so safe compared to the U.S.”

“It is safe.” This was his town and he intended to keep it safe. “Just watch your back.”

“Me?” her voice came out as a squeak.

“Tracy Good didn’t have much going on in her life except work. And despite the popular idea of faceless strangers popping up out of the ether, the majority of people are killed by someone they know.” He let the facts sink in.

“So you think someone in the Gatty murdered her?” Her bottom lip wobbled as she drew in a shallow breath. He didn’t like the effect her lips had on his professionalism, or maybe it was the guilt eating away at his insides for wanting her the same way he’d wanted Chrissie.

Look how well that had turned out…

Defying the urge to put an arm around her shoulders, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Someone from the Gatty or someone from Albany Park probably killed her.” Either way, both were too close to Susie and Lily for comfort. He wasn’t sure when Susie’s safety had become a concern for him, but he’d involved her in this mess and he’d be damned if he’d let her get hurt.

They were almost at her door when he spotted Ewan trundling along the lane in his white Ford Escort. Susie huddled deeper into his coat as she climbed the steps and entered her cottage.

Shame ate at him. The fact she hadn’t locked the door when she’d gone out this morning had saved him from his second breaking-and-entering spree in twenty-four hours. He’d put her wallet back before heading up to Emily’s house.

“I’ll find my wallet and purse.” She hooked a tendril of hair behind her ear. He left the door open, letting the cool breeze into the room as Rocket lay panting on the stoop.

The décor was plain white with hardwood floors and pale cream furniture. It was nice, neat. A big colorful Scottish landscape dominated the wall above the fireplace, but apart from that it was hard to tell anything regarding the cottage’s owner. Was Susie’s personality more like the splashes of color on the landscape or the cold white on the walls?

It was too late to find out.

Susie brought her jacket to the kitchen doorway, rifling through its pockets.

“It’s here.” She fished out her wallet and flipped through the contents. “Cash, credit cards, everything except the keycard. I must have dropped it.” Worry put lines on her face that weren’t there before.

Nick paced the hallway that divided the kitchen and living room. He spotted an office full of boxes, computers, air cylinders, a nice regulator/octopus rig and a drysuit hanging on the wall.

“You’re a diver?” His background check had thrown that up, but he’d forgotten.

“I used to be.” Her expression closed up and she turned away. “There was an accident, I got bent and I don’t dive anymore.”

He wanted to ask what had happened, but there was a knock on the door and Ewan poked his head in.

“Sorry to intrude, but the door was open.” He nodded to Susie who smiled back at him. “I’m Detective Sergeant Ewan McKnight and you must be Dr. Cooper.”

It didn’t matter who Ewan was talking to, criminals, church ministers or delinquents, he treated them all with the same quiet respect that made him a favorite on the force and drew confessions out of the innocent as well as the guilty.

Nick watched Susie immediately relax, and jealousy seeped inside his mind. It didn’t help that Ewan would be a good-looking guy if he dropped thirty pounds.

Jealous of Ewan? How the mighty had sunk. But Ewan was a better person than Nick would ever be.

“As we suspected, Ewan, Dr. Cooper’s keycard is missing.”
Christ
. He rolled his eyes at himself. He sounded like a total wanker.

“Do you think it’s related?” Ewan gave Nick a funny look, clearly wondering what was going on.

Nick shrugged. Ewan’s gaze narrowed on him like the focusing of a laser and Nick turned away. “I doubt it, but we can’t rule anything out at this point.”

Susie hovered anxiously but he didn’t have time to provide reassurance or comfort. He had work to do, including an autopsy to attend.
Dammit
. He’d figured he was done with pathologists when he’d moved from the Met’s Homicide Unit. It was a pity the sick bastard who’d murdered Tracy Good hadn’t read Nick’s plan for a cushier life.

“I haven’t traced next of kin.” Ewan was unashamedly snooping around Susie’s house, craning his head to peek into the kitchen. “Nice place you’ve got here, Dr. Cooper, if you don’t mind me saying.” He smiled politely. “My wife always wanted to live near the beach.”

Nick’s stomach clenched.

“Would you like something to drink, Sergeant?” Susie asked.

Nick turned away. She hadn’t offered
him
a drink, but then it wasn’t a drink he was after and they both knew it.

Ewan slanted Nick a glance, knowing him better than anyone. “We’re out of time, and I think the boss is ready to go. Thanks anyway, Dr. Cooper.” His wedding ring glinted as he shook Susie’s hand.

“Call me Susie.” She had a sweet smile that squeezed Nick’s throat like a hand-fitted noose.

“Ah, Susie Q.” Ewan grinned at her.

“Detective Inspector Archer called me that.” A frown tugged the skin between her brows.

She hadn’t called him Nick yet.

“It’s a song,” Ewan explained.

“Oh.”

She obviously had no clue and Nick was happy to keep it that way.

“I love the way—” Ewan, the bastard, began to sing off-key but loud.

“Let’s go.” Nick shoved his colleague toward the door and stood in front of Susie, wanting to say something significant but coming up blank. This was goodbye. They were done. He put his hand on her shoulder and watched trepidation enter her blue-gray eyes. He slipped his fingers beneath the warm leather of his jacket and slid it from her shoulders. She looked confused for a moment and then an embarrassed flush rose up the column of her throat.

She’d forgotten she was wearing his coat.

Her scent mingled with his, the soft leather heated by beautiful woman and pure Scottish sunshine.

“Be careful, okay?” he told her.

Her eyes narrowed with an argumentative glint. “I can’t treat everyone I work with as a potential murderer.”

“No. But I can. Especially Professor Jake Sizemore.”

Irritation darkened her eyes. “He’s my boss.” There was a mutinous tilt to her chin, which pissed him off.

“Two women who worked for Sizemore are dead. Even if you have to work with him, don’t do anything stupid like be alone with him.” He pulled his business card from his pocket, took her hand and pressed it into her resistive palm. “Call me if you need me.”

Walking away, Nick wished murder hadn’t found him in this safe haven. He turned on the stoop and Susie bumped into him, blinking in the bright sunlight. Trees swayed and hedges rustled in the breeze coming off the North Sea.

Nick pressed a tender kiss to her lips, taking them both by surprise. It was so brief his body complained as he strode away. He climbed into the passenger seat beside Ewan, not looking as Rocket hung his head out the back window, drooling. Nick knew exactly how he felt.

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want” played on Ewan’s stereo, but his colleague didn’t comment. What just happened was monumental and they both knew it. Neither spoke until they were back at the station.

Susie went over to Leanne’s after lunch. It was that or drive herself nuts reliving the events of the morning. Her insides already felt like yarn in the claws of a kitten.

“Susie! Come on in.” Leanne grinned and threw a hug around her shoulders. “I still can’t believe you live close enough to drop by.”

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Susie looked for Dougie but couldn’t see him.

Leanne waved her inside. “Don’t be silly. The only time you might be interrupting, we wouldn’t be answering the door.” Her snort was the other side of dirty and Susie laughed. “Dougie’s gone to pick up Nick’s dog, who’s coming to stay with us for a few days.”

“How come?”

“Nick asked us to watch him while this murder investigation is in full swing. Isn’t it terrible? Did you know the girl?” Leanne’s hair stood on end, making her look as cute as Betty Boop. “There hasn’t been a murder in St. Andrews for over a decade.” Her mouth worked so fast it was hard to keep up.

Susie got gooseflesh just thinking about the murder. She grabbed Leanne’s hand. “Someone used my keycard to get into the Gatty last night and it might have been the killer.”

“Holy shit! How’d they get it?”

“I don’t know.” Susie slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and rested her forehead in her fingers. “I must have dropped it.” She felt violated, and as stupid as a cement block.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up.” Leanne smoothed a hand over her shoulders and then went to fill the coffeemaker. “Mistakes happen.”

That was for damn sure. “That rat you sent me home with last night kissed me.”

Scoop in hand, Leanne twisted to face her, eyes gleeful. “Was it fabulous? I bet he’s an amazing kisser.” Dimples flashed. “And don’t tell Dougie I said that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Susie groaned then started laughing. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“Why not?” Leanne looked baffled.

“Because I finally figured out what I was doing wrong with all my past relationships.”

“You were dating losers because subconsciously that’s what you figured you deserved.”

Susie looked up across the bright kitchen space and shook her head. “I hate you, you know that, don’t you?”

Leanne snorted. “I’m a psychologist. You think I didn’t work this out years ago?”

“And what? You couldn’t fill me in?”

Leanne came over and sat beside her at the table. She took Susie’s hands, which had somehow become twisted together like pretzels, and prized them apart. “Sometimes we have to work it out for ourselves. You told me you’d done years of therapy after the rape…”

Susie flinched and shifted in her chair. “It wasn’t rape.”

“You were fifteen.”

“It still wasn’t rape. I led him on.”

The memories were distinct. Her tinkling laugh and flirtatious suggestion to take a walk by the lake. His eyes unable to look away from the skimpy skirt she’d worn to tempt him, because her breasts were non-existent. She looked down. They were still non-existent.

Leanne squeezed her fingers a little too hard. “He was forty-two,” she stated quietly. “Old enough to know a kid like you was off limits.”

Susie closed her eyes against the light of reason in her friend’s eyes because Susie knew the truth. She’d been there, she’d led him on and everything that happened had been her fault. And now it was impossible to make it up to Clayton because he was dead.

“I thought I loved him,” she admitted. A laugh came out like a sob. “I thought if I gave him what I’d heard men wanted, he’d love me back.”

“For the love of God, he was
forty-two years old
, Susie!” Leanne planted her hand on her hip and raised her voice. “Would you seduce a teenager?”

“Of course not,” said Susie.

“You’re only in your thirties, yet you know it would be taking advantage and downright wrong to have sex with an underage kid, right?”

Susie nodded but she could never fully shrug off the responsibility, because everything had gotten so screwed up after that day.

“He knew what he was doing with a child whose parents were too busy to notice.” Leanne stroked her hair. “You never dealt with it because your mother let the bastard get off.”