The Knowing (Partners In Crime Book 1)

by Hanna Noble

  “Great idea, sis.” Eli threw an arm around Leah’s shoulder, grinning at Owen’s look of horror. “You’re always so efficient.”

  “You two aren’t helping,” Owen groused, turning to gather up his files. “I, for one, am getting back to work. Cole, I’m leaving in five minutes with or without you. Leah, you’re a traitor.” He pointed a finger at Eli. “And you—stay away from my sister.”

  He stomped off, and Cole shook his head, amused. Owen had always been over-protective of Michelle, even though she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, it was fun to see unflappable Owen get worked up every now and then.

  “You’re going to be paying for that all day,” Eli warned him, continuing to grin.

  “I know,” Cole said, still chuckling, “but damned if it wasn’t worth it. Good luck with the suits at City Hall. See if you can rustle up extra funding for your friendly neighborhood police department, would you? I’ll let you know about Saturday. I better go before he leaves me behind.” He sent Leah a pointed look, and she nodded.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”

  Cole took a few precious seconds to pour two cups of coffee and carried them out to the car. He slid in the passenger seat and handed Owen a cup.

  “Cheer up. We can cock block Eli all night on Saturday. We’ll make sure he never even gets Michelle alone.” Cole threw Eli under the bus with no guilt at all. He could handle himself.

  The idea of preventing Michelle and Eli from spending time together must have appealed to Owen. He brightened. “Really?”

  “You bet. It’ll drive both of them nuts. It’ll be great.” Cole grinned at the thought of the pain Michelle would unleash on Owen if he tried to stand in her way. “A lot of fun.”

  Lily’s manager, Janet Wong, was a Chinese-American woman in her mid-forties, with short, ruler-straight dark hair cut in a stylish bob and bright eyes that showed a mix of curiosity and sadness. It was clear she was still grieving Lily’s death.

  “She was a good person. She’d come into work late, forget to call in sick sometimes, that type of thing,” Janet said wiping her eyes with a tissue. “But I should have known she wouldn’t vanish completely without saying a word. She was sweet.”

  “You liked her,” Owen said, looking up from where he was jotting down notes.

  Janet nodded. “We got along well. I had to scold her sometimes about punctuality, but in general I was happy with her performance here.”

  “Ms. Wong,” Cole said, wanting to distract the woman before she became upset again, “did Lily get along with her colleagues? Did she have any trouble with anyone?”

  “Well . . .” Janet frowned. “She had been having some issues with one of our account directors. I was aware of this. She had filed numerous reports with Human Resources.”

  Cole sat up in his chair, alert. “What were the nature of the complaints?”

  “Sexual harassment,” Janet said, her disapproval evident. “The account director, Keith Amaturo, made inappropriate comments. She felt uncomfortable and had asked to be removed from any of his accounts, and I agreed.” She shook her head. “I think Keith is a creep. He hits on anything that moves, but he strikes me as harmless.” She lowered her voice, and Cole leaned in closer to hear her. “Lily wasn’t the first one to file a complaint against him. There were two other women who also complained. Do you think he has anything to do with what happened to her?”

  Owen shrugged. “We can’t say at this point, ma’am, but we’ll need to talk to Mr. Amaturo, and get copies of these reports.”

  “Keith isn’t here today.” Janet turned to her computer and started typing. “He was nearly inconsolable when we heard the news, requested extended time off.” She looked over at them. “He hasn’t been back at work in the last few days.”

  Cole filed that information away. Was Keith Amaturo distraught, or panicked and trying to cover his tracks?

  The printer beside Janet’s desk hummed to life. “I was informed that you spoke with our legal department and got clearance for access,” she said as she gathered a pile of papers and handed them to Owen. “Here are copies of the reports that were filed by Lily. I was told you’d need a warrant for anything that didn’t have to do with her specifically.”

  “Thank you for your time,” Cole said as he and Owen got to their feet. Cole handed her his card. “If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call and let us know.”

  Once they were in the elevator, he looked over at his partner. “So, what’s the damage?”

  Owen’s jaw clenched as he flipped through the papers. “Seven complaints, filed against Keith Amaturo by Lily Martin over the course of a year and a half.” Nothing angered Owen more than men who harassed women. “Sexual remarks, repeatedly asking her out. Shit, he even followed her to her car a few times.”

  “What an asshole,” Cole muttered. “But it’s our best lead so far.”

  “Do you think he could be the Phantom?” Owen wondered as they walked back out into the cold toward the sedan.

  “Maybe,” Cole said, thinking it over. “The fact that there are other women proves a pattern, but he doesn’t have the finesse as the Phantom. He sounds sloppy. Still...” He trailed off.

  “He could be our guy,” Owen said, pulling the car onto the road. Cole nodded, still looking over the sheets in front of him. Keith was single, had a documented record of harassment, and showed an intense interest in his victims. It was plausible that he could have familiarized himself with Lily’s routine and followed her to the gym.

  “I wonder if Amaturo is in the system.” Cole was looking out at the snow-covered streets, the people walking around bundled up. Somewhere out there was a killer, and he was running out of time to find him. “A guy like that doesn’t develop these habits overnight.”

  “Let’s go back to the station,” Owen suggested. “Then we’ll go pay Keith a little visit.”

  A few hours later, they were heading toward Keith Amaturo’s apartment. Cole’s instincts had turned out to be right. Amaturo had been charged with disorderly conduct a few years before, for harassing a woman at a club and getting into an altercation with security when he refused to leave the premises.

  Armed with this knowledge, the detectives called the District Attorney’s office to secure a warrant for copies of the other workplace complaints filed against Amaturo, as well as a search warrant for his apartment and car. They were followed in a separate patrol car by two officers responsible for evidence collection.

  Now it was time to talk to the man himself.

  “Janet Wong was right,” Owen said from the passenger seat, reading through the papers they’d collected. “In addition to the complaints from the other women, it says here he’s been reprimanded for being disrespectful to other colleagues as well.”

  Cole snorted in disgust. “Clearly a graduate of the Risso School of Charm and Class.”

  Owen smirked. “They are definitely both cut from the same asshole cloth.”

  They arrived at a new high-rise condo building located in Charlestown, an upper-middle-class neighborhood with a beautiful waterfront, indicating that, despite his boorish tendencies, Keith Amaturo had managed to achieve some success in the corporate world. After showing their badges to the security guard at the front desk, they rode up to the twenty-sixth floor.

  Owen knocked on the door of apartment 2615. “Mr. Amaturo?” he called out. “It’s the police, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  They heard footsteps and then the door opened a crack. “Yeah?” Keith Amaturo peered out, his dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you want?”

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions about an ongoing investigation. Can we come in?” Owen kept his voice polite and tone nonthreatening. Judging by the arrogant expression on Amaturo’s face, Cole had a feeling he wouldn’t be so amicable.

  “No, you can’t come in.” Amaturo was belligerent, confirming Cole’s impression. “I know my rights, an
d I don’t have to let you in unless you have a warrant.”

  Cole made a face at Owen. They were doubly glad they had come prepared.

  “I’m glad you’re well informed about your rights,” Owen said, maintaining a pleasant tone and holding out the warrant. “We do actually have a warrant. Open the door and step aside, sir.”

  Cole was moving before he’d even realized it, his instincts processing the panic that had flickered in Amaturo’s eyes, betraying his intent to flee. Cole braced his arms against the front door at the same time it started to slam shut. Owen added his considerable weight, and the two of them pushed the door open with enough force to throw Amaturo backwards.

  They stepped into the apartment and Cole moved to frisk the man, searching for any dangerous items. Owen checked the rest of the place to make sure they were alone. Satisfied it was safe enough for them to proceed with their questioning, he allowed Amaturo to rise.

  The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, a little below average height, with a stocky build and curly dark brown hair. He was wearing a pair of jeans and an old Red Sox sweatshirt, his expression one of furious contempt.

  “Look,” Cole sighed, striving for patience. “You can sit down, like a civilized human being and answer some questions while my colleagues look around, or I can slap these cuffs on you and we can look around anyway. Your call.”

  Amaturo tried to maintain eye contact for a few seconds, but dropped it in the face of Cole’s unwavering gaze. Cole struggled not to smirk. In his experience, guys like this one liked to dominate those weaker than them, but folded in the face of a direct challenge.

  “The couch,” Amaturo said, watching with indignation as Owen and the other officers began to search the apartment.

  “Good choice.” Cole took another step back and gestured to the small living room. “Let’s have a seat.” He waited until the man settled on a black leather sofa before sitting across from him on a dining room chair. He pulled out his notebook. “We’re investigating the murder of Lily Martin,” he began. Amaturo stiffened at hearing Lily’s name. “You worked together, correct?”

  “Yes, we worked together.” Amaturo’s voice was stiff. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “Did you two get along?”

  “Yes, we were close.”

  “Lily filed a few complaints against you with Human Resources about some of your behavior.”

  Keith snorted, waving his hand in dismissal. “That was a misunderstanding. Those HR assholes never have a sense of humor. We were joking around.”

  “It didn’t seem like a joke to Lily,” Cole pushed back. “She filed seven reports, asked to be pulled off your projects.”

  Amaturo’s gaze hardened. “I asked her out, and she said no. So, I pursued her. Isn’t pursuing a woman considered romantic any more?” His voice turned surly. “I don’t understand why she wouldn’t even give me a chance.”

  “Did that make you angry?”

  “I was annoyed. We’d have been good together.” He shrugged. “Her loss. I moved on.”

  “Where were you on the night of July 11?”

  “I went out for a drink.”

  “With who?”

  “By myself. Is it a crime to drink alone? If so, you’ll have to arrest half the people in this city.”

  Cole ignored the man’s belligerence. “Where did you go for a drink?”

  “The Flying Goose. I paid in cash, so I don’t have a receipt.”

  “Ok.” Cole jotted everything down, knowing that sooner or later any inconsistencies in Amaturo’s story would reveal themselves. “What time did you get home?”

  “Around quarter to twelve.”

  “And you stayed in for the rest of the night? Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”

  “I was home alone.”

  Cole was about to ask another question when Owen called his name from the back of the apartment.

  Glancing over, he saw that Amaturo’s face had whitened. “Why don’t we go see what my partner found?”

  The master bedroom was dominated by a queen-sized bed. Owen was standing beside a small bookshelf containing a row of picture frames.

  “What is it?” Cole asked, noting Amaturo’s awkward shuffling and accelerated breathing. Owen pointed to a few of the frames, and Cole felt his temper spike. They were all pictures of women. Candids. And Cole would bet his paycheck they were taken without their knowledge.

  “What’s your problem? These are pictures of my friends.” Keith’s voice was full of false bravado.

  “Really?” Owen raised his brow. “If we contacted these women, would they be surprised to see their pictures framed in your room?”

  Keith swallowed but didn’t say anything, his face turning red. Behind his embarrassment Cole sensed the calculation it took to stalk a woman and take pictures without her awareness. He found himself reconsidering whether or not Keith Amaturo was capable of being the Phantom.

  “Did you take any pictures of Lily?” Cole’s question was met with a long silence.

  “I want my lawyer.” Amaturo crossed his arms. “I’m not answering any more questions.”

  “That’s fine.” Owen walked over to the laptop that was on the nightstand. Amaturo probably had gigabytes of images documenting his exploits.

  “We’ll be taking this,” Owen said, picking it up. “Let’s see what Tech makes of it.”

  Cole waited as the officers made short work of searching the rest of the apartment while Amaturo stood in the corner watching the proceedings with a look of defiance. One of the officers uncovered two hard drives taped under the bed frame, and Cole felt a surge of satisfaction—they had enough evidence to detain him.

  “You can meet your lawyer at the station.” Cole relished the other man’s nervousness as the officers prepared to escort him out of the apartment. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.”

  “He had an interesting reaction to those hard drives,” Owen said once they were alone. “What do you make of it?”

  “He’s a prick,” Cole answered. “And one who’s capable of detailed and systematic stalking. He shut down when we asked him about Lily. My gut says he’s lying about his whereabouts on the night she was killed.”

  “I’d bet Lily wasn’t the first women he harassed.” Owen’s tone was grim. “I hate thinking of the other women who felt unsafe because of this slime.”

  Cole nodded absently, checking his phone. He realized that Naomi hadn’t texted him back since this morning. He sent her another message, the need to make sure she was safe a powerful instinct. He hoped she wasn’t chasing old hurts without him again. He had meant what he said last night—he wanted to be there for her. Maybe, once this was all over, he’d be included in those new dreams she was building.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Naomi’s mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding a million times a minute. She was sitting in the living room, preparing herself. She eyed the case files on the coffee table front of her.

  She hadn’t taken any medication since her workout with Cole. She’d tossed and turned, wide awake, afraid of having the Shauna dream again. She was tired this morning, but there was a clarity of mind that had been missing for months. The Knowing was awakening after a long slumber.

  She wouldn’t use pills as crutches to keep the visions at bay anymore. She wouldn’t hide from what she was. It was time to open herself up and find the answers they needed to close this case. Fear was a living pulse inside her, making her hands clammy and her stomach roil.

  She knew she would have to use her abilities in the investigation, but hadn’t grappled with the emotional reality until she’d felt him crawling inside her mind. His presence was an oily evil, infecting her with its sick perversion. It was always jarring, having someone invade the sanctity of your mind, to hear thoughts that weren’t your own.

  The Phantom was still out there, and she was the only one who could stop him. The Knowing was her greatest weapon and not using it meant she was cripp
ling herself. She had to do everything in her power to help Cole catch this monster. At the thought of Cole, she felt her pulse race for an entirely different reason, another emotional ripple keeping her from a state of calm.

  Sighing, she opened her eyes and stood up. Now wasn’t the time to think about warm lips on hers and the sense of belonging she’d felt in his arms. How could she even consider a future with Cole when the past hadn’t been put to rest? She was getting ready to leave this part of her life behind. Was she letting chemistry blind her to the reality of their situation?

  She wandered over to a bookcase in the living room, trailing a finger over the eclectic collection of novels, biographies, and cookbooks. Her thoughts were in turmoil. She would walk away from Boston after the investigation was over. San Diego was her chance to start over, somewhere people wouldn’t know who she was and what she could do. What could be more seductive than the possibility of being reborn, freed from the baggage of the past? And yet, something tugged at her heart when she pictured herself leaving Boston. Leaving Cole.

  They shared an intense, complicated history that encompassed betrayals and misunderstandings. Now, they were making tentative steps toward forgiveness, and that held its own appeal. What if instead of starting all over, you could continue on your path with someone who saw who you really were and wanted you anyway?

  She could feel Cole in this room, his strong masculine energy brushing up against her psychic senses. Pulling out a cookbook, she felt his presence in the pages, knew he tackled complicated desserts after a rough day on the job.

  She felt the Knowing stir, and opened herself to it, eager to learn more about this complicated man who was becoming so important to her. A ratatouille after a murder suicide. A mille-feuille after a gang shooting. His hurts and worries, his helplessness and anger, all channeled into delicious confections that soothed his own pain. Naomi understood. He wanted to create something good, however small, out of a bad day.