by Dani Pettrey
“Cavanagh?” he said, the name becoming his own again.
“It’s Booth.”
“You got the results?”
“I could be calling to check up on you two kids,” he said with humored pleasure.
“Kids? You aren’t that old, old man.”
“Old enough to be your father, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Tell me you’ve got good news.”
“It’s definitely good news for Natalie Adams.”
“The sample was clean.”
“Yes indeed.”
“And you’re sure it came from the same chalk block as Conrad Humphries’?”
“Exact match, minus the Dodecanol, of course.”
“And you’re positive?”
“Ran them twice.”
It was good news for Natalie Adams, though who was to say she hadn’t separated the chalk earlier than she claimed and added the Dodecanol? But what would her motive be?
Booth cleared his throat. “Thought you’d sound happier.”
“Just not sure we’ve ruled anyone out.” And the threats kept coming.
“Any luck with the suppliers?”
“No. Landon’s still working that angle, trying to track any Dodecanol shipments made to Imnek in the last few months. At least we’ve been able to cross several off the list.”
“How many more to go?”
Jake sighed. “A couple dozen.”
“Landon’s tenacious. He’ll keep at it until he gets answers.” Booth chuckled. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”
As Jake hung up, Kayden said, “Samples were clean?”
“You got it.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“We know the Dodecanol was added after arriving at Natalie’s. I’m going to call Landon and get a warrant to search all areas of her shop and home, but I suspect we won’t find anything.”
“Then why go through it, and will you even be able to convince a judge to issue one now that the sample has come back clean?”
“Because we need to be positive, and it won’t be easy.” He smiled. “Actually, it might be a whole lot easier just to ask.”
Jake had been right. Rather than insisting on being served a warrant in front of her staff or patrons as Brody had been, Natalie agreed to let Jake and Kayden search her work and home as long as she was present. Both had turned out clean—no sign of Dodecanol. Without its presence—or apparent motive—it was time to take Natalie Adams off their list of suspects.
“Where now?” she asked as Jake stepped to the driver’s side door of their rental car.
“Back to Vivienne’s.”
“Any luck obtaining a warrant to pull her and Stuart’s credit-card statements?”
“Landon went to the judge this morning.”
“You really think if they did it, they’d be stupid enough to pay for Dodecanol with a credit card?”
“It’s not something you can just walk into any store to get, and I doubt even if you could that the killer would go local. Imnek is too small a town for something like that. But just in case, Landon’s running Dodecanol suppliers, searching for any deliveries to Imnek in the past six months, plus canvassing any local businesses that might have carried it.”
“I heard you telling Booth. So no luck so far?”
“Only in crossing half a dozen suppliers off the list.”
“I know it’s frustrating, but it’s still progress—narrowing down the suppliers. Are you also checking for deliveries to Anchorage?”
“Yes, specifically to Stuart Anderson’s home and business addresses. He could have easily brought it down with him.”
“The killer would need a decent amount of time with Conrad’s chalk. Time to effectively blend the Dodecanol in,” she said.
“How long would you say?”
“Twenty minutes, maybe more.”
“So the killer would need access to wherever Conrad kept the chalk at home.”
“Or they tampered with the chalk somewhere along his route. If he left his car long enough, unlocked, they would have had access to the chalk sitting in his vehicle.”
“Vivienne said he went back to the office, which we know isn’t true according to his secretary.” Jake pulled a U-turn. “On second thought, let’s pay Patty a visit first, see if Conrad was with her that night.”
Once again they found Patty’s bungalow-style house empty and took the winding stone path around to her backyard. The sun lit her silhouette in the greenhouse, and they rapped on the open door.
She glanced up from her work. “Great.”
Jake stepped inside. “We’ve got a couple more questions for you.”
“Lucky me.” She brushed soil from her hands. “What is it this time?”
“When did you last see Conrad?”
“The night before his climb.”
“Where?”
“Here at the house.”
“How long was he here?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe an hour.”
“How’d you spend the hour?” Kayden asked.
Patty tilted her head. “How do you think?”
Kayden felt her face flush and was thankful when Jake continued the questioning without apparent reaction.
“We’re trying to determine a timeline for the day before Conrad’s climb,” he explained. “We know he worked most of the day but left a few hours early according to his secretary. He swung by Rocktrex for a couple practice runs, stopped by Natalie’s for chalk, went home for dinner, and then according to Vivienne, went back to the office. But you said he came here instead.”
“What time did he arrive?” Kayden asked.
“Around six.”
“Six?” That wasn’t right. Vivienne said Conrad had left after dinner. Around nine o’clock. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I invited him to join me and Shane for dinner afterward, but he had to go.”
“Go where?”
“Home. Apparently Vivienne was making dinner for him and Stuart.”
So he’d dropped by Patty’s between buying his chalk at Natalie’s shop and heading home for dinner with Stuart and Vivienne. “Did Conrad come back later?”
“Nope.”
“His wife said he went out around nine for an hour or so. He claimed he was going to the office, but he didn’t. We assumed he was with you.”
“Afraid not.”
“Any idea where he might have gone?”
“No clue.”
Was it possible Conrad was seeing someone in addition to Patty Tate? Or had his work taken place someplace other than his office? And if so, why?
They were starting to lose traction. As questions were being answered, new ones were taking their place. The ex-employee-Kim angle had turned out to be a dead end. After losing her job with Conrad, she’d gotten a much higher-paying one over on Kodiak. She sounded thrilled and didn’t express any ill will toward Conrad, according to the Kodiak deputy who had tracked her down and questioned her for them. When it came to Mrs. Humphries and ill will toward Conrad, Kayden had a feeling it was about to get much worse.
19
“Back again,” Vivienne said through clamped pearly white teeth. Clearly someone had been using whitening strips. Perhaps leaving them on for a tad too long, or perhaps the deep red lipstick she wore made them appear brighter.
She glared at Kayden. “And I bet with more questions?”
“I’m afraid so.” Jake looked past Vivienne, expecting to see Stuart. “Is Stuart here?”
“He’s in the shower.”
Jake’s brows heightened.
“In the guest shower,” she said with an unmistakable edge. “He’s staying in our guest suite until the funeral.”
“How thoughtful of him.” At least they’d be able to question Vivienne alone, without any protests from Stuart.
“I assume these pleasantries aren’t the questions you were referring to?”
“No.”
&n
bsp; “Fine. Let’s get this over with. I have a nail appointment in a half hour.” She led them back into the parlor.
And her appointment would give them the opportunity to chat with Stuart alone. Perfect.
Jake decided the direct method was probably best. “We spoke with Patty Tate.”
Vivienne glanced at her nails. “Oh?”
“She claims Conrad never broke things off with her.”
Vivienne crossed her legs. “She’s lying.”
“How can you be certain?” Kayden asked.
“Because Conrad gave me his word.”
Jake almost laughed out loud. How could the word of a cheater hold any weight? “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but how do you know Conrad wasn’t lying to you?”
An expression crossed Vivienne’s face—a mixture of consideration and rejection warring for purchase. “He wouldn’t do that.”
Jake leaned forward. “I hate to be blunt, but I have to ask. Were you having an affair?”
Vivienne stiffened. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
That pretty much answered his question.
“It’s pertinent to our investigation.”
“Vivienne,” Stuart said, entering the room freshly shaved and showered. “I insist you refrain from speaking with them without your lawyer present. This has gone far enough.”
“I believe I will take Stuart’s advice.” Vivienne stood and walked toward the door. “This conversation is over.”
As soon as they exited the Humphries residence, Kayden said, “She might as well have admitted she was having an affair.”
“The fact that she refrained from lying is wise on her part.” Jake hesitated and looked back at the house.
“But . . . ?”
“I don’t know. There’s something lingering beneath the surface, but I can’t put my finger on it.” Something was off.
“With Vivienne and Stuart?”
“With this entire case.”
20
Kayden settled on the loveseat in the family room, and to her surprise, Jake sat down beside her. Not that she was complaining, but it was the first time he’d done so when other seating was available. He was getting as comfortable around her as she was with him, and while a part of her loved it, it was scary. She needed to be careful. It was obvious Jake had strong feelings for her, and as much as she wanted to reciprocate those feelings—even if she did on the inside—she couldn’t pursue them. She’d made her decision years ago, and she needed to stick to her resolution.
“How are the suspects looking?” Landon asked. The house was abuzz with all the siblings there, except the honeymooners.
Jake reclined. “To cover everyone . . . we have Brody—who is doing his best to look guilty, even though he most likely is not—Stuart, Vivienne, her and Conrad’s two boys, the maid, Patty Tate, and possibly her son, if he was home with access to Conrad’s chalk when Conrad visited Patty.”
Kayden shifted to face him. “You can’t possibly think Conrad’s own boys or Patty’s teenage son had anything to do with his murder, or the maid, for that matter, do you?”
“We can’t rule anyone out without fully investigating. Conrad and Vivienne’s boys don’t climb, according to Vivienne, so they seem unlikely. Patty’s son works at Rocktrex, so he’d have the knowledge, I suppose, but what possible motive could he have?”
“None that I can imagine,” Kayden said.
Jake exhaled. “What we need to account for is Conrad’s lost hour.”
“Lost hour?” Landon asked, sitting on the couch beside Piper.
“According to Vivienne, Conrad left the house at around nine o’clock for an hour or hour and a half. He told her he was going to work. . . .”
“But he didn’t?”
“His secretary says he wasn’t at the office.”
“So where was he?”
“Not with Patty Tate, according to her. And I can’t imagine why she would lie about the timing,” Jake said, shifting so he was even closer to Kayden.
She knew she should move, but she really, really didn’t want to.
“Maybe Conrad went back to Rocktrex for another practice run,” Jake said. “If so, then everyone present at Rocktrex at the time would have had access to his chalk. We never checked the logbook for that night. Only that afternoon.”
“But why would Conrad go back?” Her brows arched. “You think he was nervous about the climb?”
Jake nodded. “He probably knew he was pushing his limits.”
He had to have. She couldn’t imagine someone with his level of experience being confident about a route as dangerous as Stoneface.
Jake set his coffee mug on the table as Darcy offered him a tray of chocolate-chip blondies. He grabbed one and placed it on his napkin. “Thanks. They look delicious.”
“Kayden?” she asked.
She didn’t want to hurt Darcy’s feelings, but she didn’t do desserts unless it was fruit or sorbet or had only natural ingredients. “I’m good, but thanks. They do look delicious.”
Darcy smiled and moved on to Reef, who politely handed one to Anna before taking one for himself. Piper was right. He was changing. It was good to see and good to have him home. He was more like the sweet kid she remembered than the sullen young man he’d been for years. Anna was obviously good for him.
Gage snatched three blondies from the plate before Darcy sat down. “What?” he said, about to swallow one whole. “I’m a growing boy.”
Kayden left off her usual “You got the boy part right.” She was too focused on the case at hand and on Jake by her side. “So, now what?”
“We’ll be paying Brody another visit, to see if Conrad went back to the gym that night.”
“Brody will love that.”
“We’ve got a warrant. He can balk all he wants.”
“Speaking of warrants . . .” Landon swallowed his bite of blondie. “I got mine too. We can go through Vivienne’s and Stuart’s credit-card records.”
Kayden shook her head. “Still seems dumb to me that they’d use their credit card to buy the Dodecanol. They had to know it would be traceable.”
Jake rested his arm along the couch back. “It’s not like you can order something over the Internet or phone with cash, and it’s too obvious to purchase it anyplace local.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She’d always given him a hard time about his surprising knowledge of criminal behavior, but after Darcy’s revelation, Kayden now knew the story behind it. She didn’t plan on questioning his knowledge ever again.
The rest of her family occupied in a lively game of Pictionary, Kayden snuck out to the porch swing with her cup of homemade all-natural cocoa.
She sank down onto the swing, always feeling closest to her mom there. It was the same weathered porch swing her mom had swung on with her when she was little. And it was the last place they’d had one of their talks before her mom’s passing. It was an evident reminder of her mom and the close relationship they’d shared. She treasured it and spent a little time out on it each evening, weather permitting—though she wasn’t one to mind a little rain or snow.
She pumped with her legs, getting the swing going.
“Mind if I join you?” Jake asked, stepping onto the porch.
She jolted, hadn’t heard the kitchen door creak open. The man was stealthy. Too stealthy. If she wasn’t careful he’d completely steal her heart—if he hadn’t done so already.
She slowed the swing to a stop and scooted over.
He sat down beside her, the swing moving under his motion. “Nice night,” he said in his luscious baritone voice.
Heat flushed her cheeks with a sudden rush, and she glanced up at the stars beaming bright overhead. “It’s beautiful.”
Feeling his intent gaze on her, she turned to stare at him, but he didn’t look away.
“Not up for Pictionary?” she asked, trying to ease the tightness in her belly that seemed to come whenever Jake was near, or when someone
brought up his name, or even when she smelled his cedar aftershave. . . .
He grasped the swing chain with his left hand, propping his elbow on the armrest. “I’m not into games.”
Why didn’t she think they were still actually talking about board games? “None at all? Maybe cards are more your style?”
“Directness is more my style.”
“Now that your truth is finally out?”
He exhaled. “I’m sorry about that. About not being upfront with you all before. I was just trying to put the past behind me, to . . .”
“You don’t have to explain.” Certainly not to her. Not after the way she’d treated him for so many years.
“But I want to be upfront, with you.”
“I appreciate that.” But she knew he hadn’t been hiding things as much as trying to keep painful memories at bay.
“I’m sorry about your wife and baby.” She shifted to face him better. She couldn’t begin to imagine the loss. She’d dealt with plenty in her own life, but losing a child . . .
She’d witnessed the agony Gage had endured at the loss of his son. To think Jake had gone through that depth of pain—it physically made her heart ache.
Jake swallowed. “Thank you.”
She had so many questions she wanted to ask, more cropping up each day. Right now the most prominent was whether he saw himself ever getting married again, but it seemed far too personal a question and way too inappropriate for the moment.
Besides, would his answer really make any difference one way or another? She was only fooling herself with hope. Yes, she had growing feelings for Jake. Strong feelings, but that didn’t change the facts or her situation.
Laughter and yelling flooded out the open windows.
Jake smiled. “Sounds like some game.”
McKenna games were hardly a spectator sport.
He inclined his head to the front path. “Want to take a walk?”
No. Say no. “Sure.” Sure? What are you doing?
Jake moved down the front porch steps and paused, waiting for her to join him. She half wanted—okay, wholeheartedly yearned—for him to offer his hand the way he had last night when they’d danced, but he didn’t. Instead he slipped his hands into his jean pockets.