Wicked Tempest: A Kate Waters Mystery (Kate Waters Mysteries Book 2) (18 page)

Time was a matter of importance, but he couldn’t skip over anything. He glanced around the office, getting a feel for the way Wells kept his space, for his organization, which didn’t look like much. His corner-unit desk sat in the middle, backed up to the wall facing the door with a printer stand to the other side of it. Books, boxes, files, and supplies covered his desk like they’d fallen off the walls. Keith had the funny thought that if he could locate what he needed in here, he could be a damn good detective too.

He clicked the space bar and awakened Wells’ computer. The monitor blinked, then brought up the blue screen of the Portland Police Department logo. Keith wouldn’t know Wells’ password to get into his database files, but he also wouldn’t need it. He imagined if Wells had received any information connecting Jim, Brooke, or Kate, he would have saved it to his hard drive or a scandisk. He checked the drawers, but found nothing.

Keith clicked on a My Documents folder on the desktop, about the only thing with order in Wells’ office. Three folders were listed: open cases, recently closed cases, old cases. Acting on a hunch, he clicked on recently closed cases—both Jim’s and Brooke’s deaths had been ruled accidental. He opened up a document under Brooke Jennings. It listed copies of her receipts, address, work information, and a few names at the bottom, one of them in bold—Andre Singer. Keith had never heard of the name before and wondered what he could have in common with Jim, Brooke, and Kate. Maybe another victim with the strange mark?

His cell phone rang and he quickly silenced it, checking the ID number. It was Lieutenant Morris, and he’d tagged his call as urgent.
Shit!
He couldn’t leave yet—he had to find out what Wells knew about the statue.

Keith swiveled around to the tabletop of his desk. He checked under a date planner and found a file tucked under it.
Unbelievable
, he thought reading Andre Singer’s name at the top, left index tab. Luck be my lady tonight. Inside, he skimmed through information on Andre’s employment history, current address, driving records, and rental permits. A property listing was stapled to the back of one receipt, a boatshed at the Willamette Moorage ParkWill. The $348.79 rental total suggested Andre moored his boat there.

Keith’s phone buzzed again. Same number, urgent attachment. He stuck two of the papers into the copy machine. He heard the elevator door ding. He peeked through the blinds, finding that across the hall, one of the office windows reflected the elevator at the opposite end. Detective Wells was stepping out with two other police officers.

Keith’s heart skipped a beat and began pounding even harder than it already was. Quickly, he pressed start on the copy machine. Gears grinded and the laser whined as it printed the first sheet. It wasn’t going to be fast enough. The other sheet would take too long to print. He had to leave now. He grabbed the first copy, the receipt for the boat dock, and slipped out the door as quietly as he could. He turned the opposite direction, switching to a casual stroll down the hall. He was barely stepping around the corner before Wells made it to his office door.

Keith mulled over the file he had left in the copier on Andre’s address and mooring unit. He regretted having to leave the documents behind, but hopefully, Wells wouldn’t notice. He shouldn’t, Keith thought again. Not in that pigsty he called an office. Even if Wells did notice someone had been going through his things, Keith wasn’t too worried about it. He imagined whatever Andre Singer was hiding in his boatshed, it would lead others to it too.

Nick’s white pickup truck was already parked beneath the hospital’s covered entry when he wheeled Kate into the lobby. It was still drivable even after a tree limb smashed the hood at her work. Sunrays threaded between the clouds, the brightness surging through the breaks and streaming down in yellow-hazed bands against the windows of the hospital buildings. Kate hoped it was a symbol of redemption, her troubles, exposed by the light, were no more—the worst had happened. From this point forward, things would get better, despite that she was returning to an empty house full of broken glass, and bruised love. On that note, she wondered if the worst might still be ahead.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go home?” Nick asked, seemingly reading her thoughts.

“The nurse said I had only a minor concussion, so really, there’s no need for me to stay.”

“I meant back to the house?”

“Sooner or later, I have to return.”

“I can stay with you, for as long as you want.”

“Thanks.” Kate sensed that once she got home, she would want time alone to process everything that had happened.

Nick pushed her wheelchair out into a crisp morning smelling of new plants and rain. She stood slowly and stepped over to the passenger door. Her battered reflection startled her, looked like it should have been on someone who made poor choices, lived in a bad part of town, or couldn’t leave a no-good lover.

When Nick opened the door to his truck, the dinging cued Kate’s memory, and in rushed a horde of sharp images roughened at the edges by terror. She remembered the smell of water and sand…coming from inside the truck or her dream? The smooth leather of his seats, and a voice, his…he had been talking to her. She had no doubt Nick was the one who had brought her to the hospital. Where her doubt lay was in his timing in doing so. He had shown up right after the attack. Hadn’t he heard or glimpsed the other man inside? Or was he the other man?

While Nick returned the wheelchair, Kate scanned the backseat hoping not to find a duffle bag full of dark clothing, specifically black pants and shoes, or an ancient statue. Instead, she discovered an ice chest and diving gear piled into the corner of the seat.

Nick came around the driver’s side door and stepped inside. “Ready.”

“As ever,” Kate said. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Your personal bodyguard, at your service. I’ve been a chef, a bartender, and a clam farmer, but never a bodyguard.”

“A clam farmer… That’s something new,” Kate said with a smile.

“Beats milking cows, right?”

Kate laughed, but it was short-lived as she suddenly thought of Lucy and what might have happened to her. The cat was an extension of Jev, one thing still living of hers, and so Kate cherished her.

“You all right?”

“Yes, I just remembered my cat. You didn’t happen to see her when you came in?”

He shook his head. “No, but don’t worry, she’s a cat. She has nine lives…” He glanced over at her. “But you, you must have at least used five by now.”

“Let’s hope not eight.” She said the comment jokingly, but both she and Nick shared a fretful glance.

Nick stared out the window, one hand on the wheel, the other one propped on the doorframe. “Then you’d better start being careful. No more diving or playing outside in tornadoes.”

“Or staying home at night. Let’s face it. I’m cursed.” There, she’d said it. No more denial. She was cursed, plain and simple.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

Nick merged into morning traffic. “I didn’t think you believed in the supernatural.”

“I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

“I feel the same. Life just keeps throwing you one punch after another.”

Kate sensed his struggle. “You’ve been wrestling with more than tornadoes too?”

“I have a son.”

“How old?”

“Nineteen, going on twenty-one.” Nick gave her a wide-eyed smirk, but it soon died out beneath a tightness in his jaw.

“Does he live here in town?”

They came to a stoplight. Nick shifted in his seat. His voice softened. “No. He lives in Seattle, but he comes to visit every now and then.”

“Do you two get along?”

Nick quieted from a deep thought or memory.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “Matt had an accident a year ago. Some fireworks exploded…gave him some pretty bad burns.”

“How awful. Is he all right?”

“He will be. He needs one more surgery, but he’s a strong kid. I think it bothers me more than him. Guilt, you know?” The light turned green and he pushed the gears up.

“That’s understandable. I struggle with guilt too, with my sister and all.”

“I’m sorry, Kate, and for everything that happened. I wish I would have been at your house sooner.”

“Nick, why did you come over?”

“After you left McKell’s, you seemed pretty upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t plan on going inside your house. I only wanted to drive by, but when I slowed and heard you cry out, I stopped. Your front door was locked so I went around back, and that’s when I discovered the backdoor window busted out.” His eyes locked on hers. “You were lying on the floor.”

Kate searched his face for signs of guilt, but saw none.

A car pulled up behind them, prompting Nick to turn onto her street. Kate’s pulse quickened at the sight of her house.

“You didn’t see anyone?” she asked.

He parked his truck along the curb by her yard and left the engine running. “Honestly, I didn’t look. When I found you in a pool of blood, I panicked. I picked you up and rushed you to the emergency room.” He pinned her with a stare. “Why would someone want to attack you? Was it someone David knew?”

“No, it has nothing to do with him. Somebody wanted something I had.”

Nick lingered in thought, and Kate suspected he wanted to ask her what it was, but for some reason, didn’t want to pry either. She wasn’t sure how much to tell him anyway.

“It was a piece of artwork,” she said.

“Must have been valuable.”

“Therein lies the problem, right?”

Nick looked out over the yard. “Money will make people do things they normally wouldn’t do.” He took a deep breath and turned back to her. “Can I help you get settled?”

“Sure.”

Under any other circumstances, Kate would have said no. The truth was, she feared going back inside the house, didn’t want to see her own blood smeared across the floor, objects fallen, and glass broken. Moreover, what if whoever broke in waited to finish the job?

Nick helped her out of the car. Her head still swayed when she was standing up, and the bruise to her shoulder throbbed deep into the center of her back. Kate opened the front door, but Nick stepped inside first, making certain they were alone. He proceeded to check the rooms.

While he went into the kitchen where he had found her, Kate headed straight for the spare bedroom. She believed Thea was right. The statue wouldn’t be there, and if it was gone, either Thea had stolen it back or Andre had, keeping true to his words that she would pay one day.

Upon inspecting her closet, she had no way of knowing which had occurred, only that one of them had: the statue was gone. Someone had cut the end of the fishing line. It dangled a few feet from the ceiling, but the pentagram below was undisturbed. Kate brushed the sticks aside, erasing the shape of the star so Nick wouldn’t see it if he came in.

She went back to the hallway to find Nick standing there.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“It will be,” Kate said.

“Is your artwork gone?”

Kate nodded. “Yes.” She searched him for guilt again, but still nothing.

“Sorry about that.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

Kate stepped into the kitchen, slowing when she spotted blood on the floor. Had some of the drops not been smeared, the dark-red beads would resemble only splashes of merlot.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I secured your back door for you,” Nick said, pointing to the ply board nailed across the broken panes of glass.

“Thank you.” Kate scanned the rest of the kitchen, taking in how normal it looked, no cupboards dented or cracked, nothing tipped over or spilled. Except for the boarded-up door, it appeared as though nothing had happened.

A meow broke through the silence.

Kate turned. “Lucy?”

The tabby crept from a corner in the living room.

“Good. Your cat’s okay,” Nick said.

Lucy trotted up to Kate and rubbed her head against her legs.

“Yes, aren’t you girl? How about some food?”

Kate opened the cupboard and pulled out the bag. She poured a heaping cupful into Lucy’s dish. The cat jumped up on the counter before Kate could put her dish on the floor. Kate picked her up and set them both down. Lucy ate as though it had been weeks.

“Can I make you a cup of tea or coffee?”

“No,” Kate said, suddenly fighting off a dizzy spell. “I think I just need to rest for a little while.”

“Where’s your aspirin?”

“There’s some in the drawer next to the sink.”

Nick filled a glass on the counter when the phone rang in the kitchen.

“You want me to get it?”

“Sure.” Not until after Kate had said this, did she realized it might be David calling. By the look on Nick’s face when he answered, she knew it was.

He handed her the phone apprehensively.

“Hello?”

“Kate, are you okay?”

An obvious first question given the circumstances, Kate thought, but given their situation, she thought it hypocritical. “Yes.” It was a lie, but hearing his voice again, she could barely talk.

“I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Well, Nick is here. Everything is okay now.”

Silence. She regretted saying it, wished she could take it back, but at the same time, hurt and anger still burned a hole in her spirit.

“Is he staying the night?” David’s voice rang sharp over the line.

“No. I would never do that.”

Nick went into the kitchen to give her privacy. Even though the two rooms were one, it was enough distance that he would have to strain to hear each spoken word.

David sighed. “Kate, we need to talk.”

“Now is not a good time. I’m not feeling well.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

Kate curled into the couch, shielding her whisper from reaching Nick’s ear. “I’m not talking about physical pain, David. My heart aches.”

“It doesn’t need to, if you would just let me explain things.”

“Tomorrow. Right now, I just want to rest.”

“Okay. Would you hand the phone back to Nick?”

“David, why?”

“I want to thank him for helping you.”             

Kate stood up, catching Nick’s attention. When she held the phone out to him, he came in to the room and took it from her, looking as confused as she felt.

“Hello,” he said. “No, I haven’t. She said that… I don’t know…”

Kate wanted desperately to hear what David told or asked of him. She remembered seeing the other phone receiver in the bathroom when she came home. She stood from the couch and walked in there. Nick might hear her click over, but David probably wouldn’t.

“Are you certain about that?” she heard Nick say. “Then why am I the one who is here helping her?”

“Kate’s a big girl,” David said. “She doesn’t need anyone protecting her and wouldn’t want it. If you knew her, you would know that.”

David hung up the phone. Nick stepped into the hallway and stopped in front of the bathroom doorway, eyeing the phone in Kate’s hand.

“I disagree,” he said. “I think you do want to be protected, but you’re too scared to say so.”