Operation Notorious
“They told me there was no sign of forced entry. She fought him, they said. Then...he used a kitchen knife. It wasn’t mine. He...he slashed her. Blood everywhere. He cut—”
She broke off, nearly choking on what she couldn’t, just couldn’t give voice to, the horrifying carnage she’d walked in on. She was aware of Hayley putting a comforting arm around her. Cutter jumped up beside her and put his head in her lap. She automatically put a hand on his head, and the feel of the silky fur steadied her again.
“Is that why you moved here?” Hayley asked, and the gentle concern in her voice almost broke Katie. She was holding on to a hair of control when she answered.
“Yes. The opening at the library here came up, I knew the area because my father lives here, and... I wanted new surroundings. Quiet, peace. A place where I could soak in the tranquility, purge the...the ugly.”
“Of course,” Hayley said.
Katie nodded because she didn’t dare speak anymore. This quiet, supportive concern, even from near-strangers, was somehow harder to cope with than the thoughtlessness of people who had no idea. That was another reason she’d moved here, to get away from those who couldn’t resist speculating about the shocking murder, never realizing or caring that they were talking to or in front of the collateral damage.
“It’s taken me a while, but I reached...tranquility, if not peace.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t sure of that until I went back to visit a friend and ran into Ross at the coffee shop.”
“That must have ripped the scab right off,” Quinn said with a grimace.
“Yes. Yes, it did. I couldn’t wait to get back here. I could feel the...serenity, I guess, growing the closer I got.”
“Sign of a good decision,” Hayley said.
“Why isn’t he the prime suspect?”
The question, the first time Gavin had spoken since she’d begun her sorry tale, was not quite brusque but close. It had the effect of a blast of cool wind, complete with the rain still falling outside. And it quashed the silly reaction she was having to him.
“He was. In the beginning. Especially since they’d recently broken up. They even grilled me, until they verified I’d been at work late that night. The ones closest to the...victim always are the first ones they suspect, aren’t they?”
“And they’re guilty more often than not,” Gavin said, in that same tone.
“I know. But Ross had a solid alibi. They verified it. Lots of witnesses.”
Odd, she thought. It was somehow easier to deal with that brisk, businesslike tone. Or maybe it was the inexplicable comfort provided by petting Cutter.
“And,” she added, “he was as devastated as I was. He genuinely cared for Laurel. He told me the breakup had made him realize how much he loved her. He’d even bought a ring, was about to propose, right before she was killed.”
“Then why did they break up in the first place?”
Again, Gavin’s clipped tone made it somehow easier to answer. As if they both realized this, Quinn and Hayley stayed silent. Cutter never moved, however, and she was glad of that. Still she hesitated, then said, “I know she’s gone, but it still feels like betraying a confidence.”
“Weigh it,” Gavin said, “against finding out who killed her.”
Put like that, there was no question. “Cheating was all she said. She hadn’t been ready to talk much about it yet.”
“And so she turned up on your doorstep, expecting you to take her in?”
Something jabbed through the pain of her recollections. “No,” she said, rather sharply herself, “she turned up on my doorstep knowing I would take her in. As she would for me.”
His expression didn’t change, as if he hadn’t heard the shift in her tone. She wondered then if he’d done it on purpose, to shake her out of the dreadful memories. Surely he hadn’t gotten to where he’d been a household name without having more than a few tricks up his sleeve. And she had to admit this one had worked; she was steadier now. Before she had time to decide how she felt about that, he dragged her back to what she’d been dreading most of all.
“Your father,” he said flatly. “He’s now a suspect?”
“That’s what they’re saying. And they’re talking like he’s now the only suspect. The news, I mean.” She gave herself a mental shake; she was sounding very scattered. “A friend heard it and called me.”
“Let me guess,” Gavin said, his tone sour now. “It was ‘according to a source close to the investigation,’ or some such.”
“Yes, something like that. They didn’t say who it was.”
“Of course not.”
She realized he’d dealt with the media a lot during his career. She saw him exchange a glance with Quinn, and although the other man didn’t speak Gavin apparently saw some kind of signal and went back to his questions.
“Has an investigator called you yet?”
“Yes, although I didn’t realize it was about this at the time. A detective contacted me about a month ago, said she was following up, and asked several questions they’d already asked. But one of them was if my father had a key to my apartment—he used to, but I got it back to give to Laurel—and if I’d seen him that day.”
“That came in the middle of a lot of other questions, I’d guess.”
“Yes. Why?”
“Less chance for you to realize that was the whole purpose. Hide that particular tree in a forest of them. So you couldn’t tip off your father that they were looking at him.”
Her mouth tightened. “Well, it clearly worked on Ms. Oblivious.”
He shrugged. “If they’re good, it works on most people. What did you say?”
“The truth, of course. I hadn’t seen him or talked to him, not that day. Since there’s no way he could have done it, it didn’t matter. At least I thought it didn’t. Until I heard he’d become their prime suspect.”
The toxic combination of anger and despair threatened to rise and swamp her, and she barely managed to hold it at bay. She felt a bit like a bug—a helpless one—under a microscope, and wondered if that was what the people Gavin de Marco confronted in court had felt like. She wondered, as she had at the time, why he’d really quit. Cutter gave a low whine and licked at her hand. And again the dog steadied her.
She lifted her gaze from the dog to the man whose attention was so focused on her. “If they were so worried about keeping it secret, then why are the police talking to the media about it now?”
“Likely because they haven’t got enough evidence, or it’s all circumstantial.”
She frowned. “Of course they don’t, since he didn’t do it. But why would they let it leak that he’s a suspect now, after all this time?”
“They may be hoping to prod him into doing something.”
Perplexed, she frowned. “Doing something?”
“The knife,” he said. “Did they find it?”
“No. The killer took it with him.”
“Then they may have wanted him to think he had to get rid of it, if he hadn’t already.”
Her frown deepened. “My father doesn’t own that kind of knife, either.” Somehow she was able to say it fairly evenly, and fight off the images that were piling up behind that barricade she’d built in her mind. She suspected it was thanks to his businesslike tone.
Again Gavin glanced at Quinn. This time she saw the barely perceptible nod. It was odd, she thought, to think of Gavin de Marco having a boss. She would have thought he would call his own shots. And again she wondered why he’d walked away, wondered who left when they were top of the heap?
She remembered the stories after he’d removed himself from the Reed case, his request to the judge stating that there had been a breakdown in the attorney-client relationship that made him unable to provide effective representation. The congressman had later been found guilty of fraud, his political career destroyed by proof of influence peddling and graft. His former attorney had, as required by his professional obligations, never said another word about it, but Gavin de Marco’s withdrawal and the resultant verdict had only cemented his reputation. And she couldn’t help thinking of the effect having Gavin de Marco publicly on her father’s side would have.
When he spoke again his tone was sharper, not accusatory, but not friendly, either. The questions came rapid-fire, as she imagined they would in a courtroom, except he gave her no time to answer. And he was leaning in, into her space.
“What proof is there that he didn’t obtain said knife just for this purpose? What makes you sure he would tell you the truth about it? Did he know Laurel? What was his relationship with her? What is his alibi for the time of the murder?”
Her mind was racing as he fired the words at her, trying to decide what he was doing.
“Are you trying to pressure me into saying something I didn’t intend to, or just showing me what it would be like dealing with you?”
He leaned back then. Kept his gaze on her. “Yes.”
She straightened up, giving Cutter a final stroke between his silky ears. She met that gaze head-on. Her certainty gave her strength.
“I’ve told you the truth and nothing but. My father is innocent. He would never lie to me. Bring it.”
For a brief moment, barely an instant, she thought Gavin de Marco smiled.
And the little jump in her pulse was ridiculous, for just a smile.
Chapter 5
Gavin looked up from the computer he’d been working on as Quinn ended his call. His boss slipped his phone back into his pocket. It was a special piece of equipment modified by Foxworth IT expert Tyler Hewitt back home in St. Louis; he had one just like it, as did everyone at Foxworth.
While Hayley continued to talk with Katie in the living room, they had adjourned to the den that had become an office.
“Brett said he’ll make a call. He knows someone down in Tacoma,” Quinn said.
“Is there anywhere your sheriff’s investigator doesn’t know someone?”
Quinn grinned. “If there is, we haven’t found it yet. He confirmed that Steven Moore is the main suspect, judging by the bulletins that came out to all local agencies last week.”
“That must be when they decided to let it go public,” Gavin said, leaning back in the office chair. “A knife and that kind of carnage—that screams personal. Rage.”
Quinn nodded. “Find anything?” he asked, gesturing toward the computer’s wide monitor.
“Nothing that jumped out in a cursory search, no contradictions. Once I eliminated the spate of reports that hit in the last twenty-four hours, he’s pretty low profile. Haven’t dug into the reporting on the actual murder yet.”
“Ty can do that, and send us the report.”
Gavin nodded. Ty was an expert at finding things buried deep. Gavin didn’t mention that the main reason he hadn’t gotten to that search was that he’d also searched on Katie, and found several entries on her taking over the new library and turning it into a welcoming place for all.
Quinn glanced toward the living room. “What’s your assessment, Counselor? Is she for real?”
Gavin remembered Katie’s response to his string of questions, coming nearly as rapid-fire as his own words had, and, he noted, in the same order and complete. There was nothing slow about Katie Moore, for all her thoughtful consideration of things, but he’d already guessed that.
My only proof is knowing he can barely use a kitchen knife without cutting himself. He has never lied to me in my life, even when it would have been easier, and I have no reason to believe he would start now. Of course he knew Laurel; she’d been my best friend since I was nine. He liked her the most of all my friends, for my sake if nothing else. And obviously he doesn’t have a provable alibi or he wouldn’t be a suspect, would he?
He’d probed a little further and learned her father’s story was that he’d been home, alone, watching an old movie on cable. They’d verified the movie had indeed played when he’d said, but obviously that wasn’t proof that he’d watched it. A bit more pushing and he’d learned how close she and her father were, especially since her mother had died when Katie was nine. He got the picture of a loving dad who had focused on his only child during a very difficult time, and that they had gotten through it together.
“I think,” he began in answer to Quinn’s question, “that she believes every word she said. It’s whether it’s all really true that’s in question.”
“Agreed.”
Gavin raised a brow at his friend. “Are we taking this on? Not exactly our usual. A straightforward, if ugly, murder case. The police are pursuing it, even months later, so it hasn’t been forgotten.”
“But they might be pursuing the wrong man.”
“True.” Gavin looked at Quinn quizzically. “But that alone is still not usually enough to fire your jets. So what is?”
Quinn returned his look. “That she’s a beautiful woman with a problem isn’t enough for you? And if you say you didn’t notice, then I’ll know you’re lying. I saw your face when you opened the door.”
“She was soaking wet. I knew you’d feel guilty if she caught pneumonia.”
He wasn’t sure why he was deflecting. Katie Moore was beautiful, in that quiet way that had always moved him more than the flash and glitter that had seemed to surround him back in the days when his name could get him entrée into just about anywhere. But that had nothing to do with it. He was moved by her plight, not the woman herself. The kick of his pulse when he looked at her notwithstanding.
“Nice of you to be so concerned about her health,” Quinn said drily.
“And you’re dodging the question.”
Quinn sighed. Then he shrugged. “Cutter.”
Gavin drew back slightly. “Seriously?”
“Do you need another rundown of all the cases he’s found?”
“No. But hearing about it is different than seeing it.”
The image of the dog wiggling through his private door, purloined cell phone in his mouth, played back in Gavin’s head. He knows a Foxworthy case when he sees one, Liam, a fellow operative, had joked the last time he’d been here.
Gavin had laughed, but he couldn’t deny the facts. The cases the dog had brought them, directly or indirectly, had all turned out to be their kind of case. He just didn’t see how this one was. But he had meant what he’d told Quinn; he believed that Katie Moore believed every word she’d said. She might have been lied to, but she wasn’t lying herself.
Right. And you’re sure of this because your judgment is infallible, right?
But in the end, the bottom line was simple. If Quinn—or apparently Cutter—said they were taking the case, they were taking the case.
When they left the office, they could hear that Hayley and Katie were actually laughing. Cutter was at their feet, his tongue lolling happily as Hayley reached out to scratch behind his right ear.
Both women and the dog looked up as they came into the room. Quinn didn’t waste any time. “Can you meet us at our headquarters tomorrow, and we’ll get started?”
Katie blinked. “You’re doing this?” Her gaze flicked to Gavin. “Including you?”
“I’m Foxworth,” he said simply. And meant it. In the Foxworth Foundation he had found both something he hadn’t been fully aware of missing, and something he hadn’t thought existed anymore—good people fighting for good people and good causes. People he was proud to work with, who had given him back a pride in his own work, in what he could do. “I don’t do criminal defense any longer, so if it comes to that, we’ll find you someone. But I can still prepare a case.”
Cutter stood up and gave a woof that Gavin couldn’t deny sounded satisfied. Then Katie stood up, her eyes wide and full of hope.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she began.
“Don’t thank us yet,” Quinn warned. “We go after the truth, and there’s always a chance you won’t like it.”
“I know what the truth is,” she said confidently. Gavin winced inwardly; he’d heard that before, and seen it explode.
In fact, he’d believed it before and seen it explode, nearly taking him with it.
“We will ask you questions you probably won’t like answering,” he said, adding to Quinn’s warning. “About things you may not see the reason for.”
She met his gaze. “They might be new, but they can’t be any worse than the ones I’ve already asked myself.”
Self-blame, Gavin guessed. It was common. People always thought there was something they could have or should have done to prevent the tragedy that in fact had nothing to do with them.
“Let’s get you a ride home, then, and we’ll start fresh tomorrow,” Quinn said as he handed her the business card he’d picked up in the office. “Since it’s Sunday, maybe a later start? Ten or so?”
“Fine,” Katie said, although Gavin had the feeling if Quinn had said 5:00 a.m. she would have been there.
Cutter trotted past them toward the door, as if he’d understood that Katie was leaving and he was a well-trained doorman. Gavin found himself smiling. The smile widened when the dog raised up and grabbed a set of keys from the table just inside the door and trotted back.
“Now he’s your parking valet?” he said, half joking and half astonished that the dog had understood.
“I’d say he’s more your valet at the moment.” Quinn laughed as Cutter came to a halt directly in front of Gavin and sat. Only then did he see that the keys the dog had brought were indeed the ones to his rental car. The animal stared at him intently, clearly waiting for him to do the obvious. He reached for the keys rather gingerly, but Cutter released them without protest.
“I guess you’re doing the honors, then,” Hayley said, and Gavin didn’t quite understand the undertone in her voice. Not quite amusement, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was.
“You don’t need to,” Katie said. “It’s only a block and a half, I can walk.”
Hayley shook her head. “It’s dark, and it’s pouring rain. You’ll end up twice as wet as you were when you got here.” Cutter barked, short and sharp this time, as if to hurry them up. “You might as well give in now, save the energy,” Hayley said cheerfully. “He’s obviously decided.”
As silly as it seemed to acquiesce to their dog, there didn’t seem to be anything to do but give in. Hayley handed him an umbrella—with the standard joke about it marking him as a tourist, since practically nobody who lived here used one. But at least it would save Katie from being drenched anew even on the short walk to his rental car parked in the driveway. He would have preferred to give it to her and just take his chances, but when he realized that was because he didn’t want to be as close to her, he mentally rolled his eyes at his own childishness and ordered himself to snap out of it.
“That dog,” he muttered when they were inside the car and he had the umbrella tossed in the back. “Apparently his word is law around here.”
“I didn’t come looking for help, just my phone,” she said, and he realized she had taken his words as complaint.
“That statement had nothing to do with you,” he said as he started the car. “I’m just a bit...bemused at Quinn, who’s one of the most grounded, practical guys I know, taking his lead from a dog. An amazing dog, I’ll grant you, but a dog.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
Gavin doubted the word sweet had ever been applied to the adult Quinn, at least not before he’d met Hayley.
He followed her directions and made a turn into a narrow driveway. In the dark and the deluge he couldn’t see much of the yard, other than what appeared to be lots of trees and smaller plants. He grabbed the umbrella and walked around to her side of the car, then sheltered her under it up to her front door. She thanked him rather more than he thought necessary, and ended it with a smile on her upturned face that made his pulse jump oddly. For a moment they just stood there, uncomfortably and deliciously close. The sound of the rain falling on her porch roof seemed to amplify both the chill around them and the body heat between them.
If she hadn’t moved first he wasn’t sure what would have happened. But she did, hastily, thanking him once more, opening her front door and escaping inside.
Escaping. What a word to come to mind, he thought as the door closed. He shut the umbrella despite the good fifteen feet between him and the car. And when he got back inside it, already good and wet, he turned off the heater. As he drove the short distance back, he had to admit none of it helped, the chill of the rain or the lack of the heater’s output. He was still a hell of a lot warmer than he should be, and had been ever since she’d looked up at him with that smile.
And he’d wanted to kiss her.
Chapter 6
Katie closed her door and leaned back against it, all her focus inward, on the odd hammering of her heart and the strange way her house, even at its normal temperature, felt chilly compared to standing outside in the rain.
With Gavin de Marco.
Even thinking the name seemed absurd. As did her reaction to him. She felt foolish; she should have known that that man would have “it,” that elusive quality that drew attention even from those who didn’t know who he was. Charisma, appeal, magnetism, whatever name you gave it, that man had it in abundance.
And apparently it worked on her just fine. She’d been hyperaware of him from the moment he’d opened the door.
She fought for calm. She began to move, busied herself with mundane things, like locking the back door she’d left unsecured when Cutter had so unexpectedly grabbed her phone and she’d given chase. She put away the bowl she’d gotten out, planning to reheat the leftover chili from last night; she had no appetite for it now, not after reliving her worst and persistent nightmare yet again.
But at least it had been for good reason this time, and intentional. Not like the way it so often snuck up on her and left her paralyzed with grief and horror. She’d reached an equilibrium here, but she knew it didn’t take much to upset it. Like pouring out the ugly story to strangers, one of them Gavin de Marco...
Gavin de Marco. How impossible was that?
She went back to the living room and grabbed her phone. And once more she hit the speed dial for her father. She hadn’t spoken to him since this morning, when he’d reassured her everything would be all right because he was innocent. He was cooperating with the police, of course, he’d told her. She’d suggested a lawyer then, but he’d said that he didn’t need one and that he couldn’t afford one anyway.
So how would you like the most famous defense lawyer in the country for nothing, Dad?
When he answered, he sounded different than he had this morning. Not quite so unruffled, but still confident.
“It will be fine, honey. I think they’re grasping at straws because they have nothing else.” He laughed, and there was only the slightest touch of strain in it. “They even gave me the ‘don’t leave town’ speech. As if I would.”
She cut to the chase. “You need a lawyer, Dad.”
“We’ve talked about that, Katie.”
She hesitated, but there was no way she would do this behind his back, so she plunged ahead. “I found you one. Or rather he found me. Sort of. Actually it was the dog, I think.”
There was a moment’s silence before he asked, “Dog? Katie, you’re sounding a bit confused.”
She laughed then, and it eased the tightness in her chest a little. Then as concisely as she could she told him the story. She was honest enough to admit that she savored the moment when she dropped the name Gavin de Marco.
“Wow. He was big-league. But I thought he quit?”
“He did, but he’s working for them now.”
“Doesn’t matter. No way on earth I can afford Gavin de Marco.”
“That’s just it, Dad. You don’t have to.” She explained about the Foxworth Foundation, and how Quinn and Hayley said it worked. And she pointed out that just having Gavin’s name attached to the case could change things, and would certainly assure that the police moved carefully. “It’s for your own protection. You have the right.”
“I don’t need—”
“At least talk to him, Dad. What can that hurt?”