by Connie Mann
Cat spun off the table and turned, knife in hand, shifting her weight from leg to leg in the lateral dodge stance. Billy, the ponytailed forger who’d become her friend, had taught her Brazilian capoeira years ago, and she’d immediately responded to the way it combined music with self-defense.
She glanced over her shoulder when a young family in a minivan pulled up next to her. She refused to put the children at risk, so with a hard look at Varga, she slipped into her car, backed out, and turned onto the two-lane road toward town.
Her hands tightened on the wheel when a Safe Harbor police car pulled into the parking lot just as she left, the car sliding between Varga’s goons and the family. She hoped it wasn’t Stanton. She kept one eye on the rearview mirror, relieved when none of Varga’s posse followed her and she didn’t see any sign of the cop car.
By the time she reached Main Street, the adrenaline had worn off and her throat throbbed. She pulled into one of the angled parking spaces and flipped down her visor, scowling. Dang that idiot. The red marks around her neck were already bruising.
She didn’t want Mama to worry, so she got out and rooted around in her trunk until she came up with a lightweight scarf tied around the handle of her tote bag. She tied it around her neck, instead, and grabbed the tote. As she closed the lid, she eyed the meager pile in her trunk. It was pathetic that everything she owned in the world was in here and the trunk wasn’t even full.
She looked around Safe Harbor. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her, which made her feel only marginally better. She had to get out of town before she drew attention to herself.
Strangely, as much as she’d hated this town when she was a teenager, it was the only place that had ever felt like home. As an adult, she knew that was because of the people, but as a teenager, she’d dismissed it as provincial and uncultured. What a snobby little brat she’d been.
She crossed to the corner pharmacy and bought another burner phone, paid cash. No way did she want the cops to have her number or be able to trace her via GPS. On impulse, she walked across the street to a flower stand and bought a bouquet for Mama and one for Blaze. At the last second, she grabbed one for Sasha, too. She couldn’t really afford it, but she was leaving again and had no idea if or when she’d be back.
As she headed toward the marina, she mentally kicked herself. What had she been thinking, confronting Varga in front of his friends? She hadn’t accomplished a thing, except letting him know somebody suspected him. That wouldn’t help Blaze a bit. She had no idea what else to do, and she couldn’t stick around long enough to do it, anyway.
Cat was less than a mile from the marina when a Safe Harbor police car came around a bend and raced up behind her, lights flashing and siren blaring.
She pulled onto the grassy shoulder to let it pass, shocked when it pulled in behind her.
Her shock turned to worry when the door opened and the officer stepped out.
Chapter 7
Cat took a deep breath to ease the panic banging around in her chest. “Stay calm and be friendly,” she muttered, but she worried nonetheless. This looked like the same cop car that had pulled into Wally’s. Varga wouldn’t have been dumb enough to get the cops involved, would he?
“License and registration, ma’am,” a young male voice said as he walked up to the passenger side and stopped. Cat started in surprise. She’d expected it to be Nick. She leaned down for a better look. The young man looked like an eager Boy Scout, barely old enough to shave, let alone wear a uniform and carry a gun. But his intent expression and erect posture said he meant business. She had to play this right.
Cat reached into the glove compartment and spent several minutes rooting around, pulling out papers, replacing them, pretending to search for the registration.
The young man leaned toward the passenger window. “Ma’am?”
She raised pleading eyes to his. “I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to find it. I know it was in here.” She flipped through more papers, making a show of checking each one.
“License, ma’am.”
“Oh yes. Of course.” She grabbed her tote off the floorboard and started the charade all over again. She scooped things out of the bag, smiled sheepishly at him, scooped some more. Finally she sat back in defeat. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to put my hands on it. Oh! Wait. I know where it is. It’s in my other purse. I was at a wedding, you see, and I had to change purses and . . . If you could wait just a few minutes, I’ll run home and get it and bring it down to the station.”
He narrowed his eyes, pen poised over his pad. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
She smiled. “I’m Cat. One of the Martinelli girls. My sister Eve just got married—”
“Step out of the car, ma’am.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?”
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“I-I don’t understand.” She kept up the bewildered bimbo act, but panic raced through her veins. She stepped out of the car as he came around the hood, his hand far too close to his gun, in her opinion. The other hovered near a Taser, which didn’t make her feel any better.
“Were you just at Wally’s Gas-n-Go?”
“I . . . yes.” She smiled. “Was that you pulling in just as I left? I was going to get some ice cream for Mama, but then I realized it would melt by the time I got home.”
He settled back on his heels. “Eddie Varga says you assaulted him.”
“What? Why would he say that?” She didn’t think he wanted the cops digging around in his business any more than she did.
Just then, a Safe Harbor SUV pulled in, and Cat squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as Nick Stanton’s long length climbed out. Her day just kept getting better and better.
He walked over and looked from one to the other, his stance the same as the young cop’s, only Nick carried an air of authority the kid was still years away from achieving. “What’s going on here, JD?”
The younger officer cleared his throat. “Well, sir, I stopped at Wally’s a little while ago and saw Ms. Martinelli here leaving. Eddie Varga and a couple of his friends were there, and he said Ms. Martinelli assaulted him.”
Cat snorted in disbelief, then wished she hadn’t when two pairs of eyes speared her. Nick raised an eyebrow. “Is that true, Ms. Johnson?”
“I thought you said your name was Martinelli?” JD asked. Nick shot him a look and turned back to Cat.
“He came at me first. I was merely protecting myself.”
“Walk me through what happened. Why did he come at you?”
Cat studied his eyes a moment, glad he’d removed his dark sunglasses. Blaze and the whole Martinelli family believed he was a good cop, so she decided to give him the truth. At least part of it. “I went there to see if he knew anything about Teddy’s death.”
His gaze sharpened. “And did he?”
“He said he didn’t.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“What made you think he might have information on a police investigation?”
Cat studied him, debated how much to say. “He was a known drug user when I was in high school. I’d heard he was still involved, thought maybe he knew something.”
“You’ve been back in town for less than two days and you heard that, did you?”
Cat decided it was a rhetorical question and didn’t respond.
“What made you think drugs were involved in Teddy’s death?”
She crossed her arms to keep from fiddling with the scarf, uncomfortable under his intense gaze. She didn’t figure much got past the brown-eyed cop. “Blaze didn’t think Teddy had any health conditions, so drugs seemed the next logical choice.”
He looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind and asked, “What happened then?”
Oh, she so did not want the police involved in this. You should have thought of that before you stabbed Varga, a little voice chirped, but she ignored it. She leveled her gaze a
t Nick and said, “He got a little too close, and I asked him to leave me alone. Then I left.”
JD stiffened. “She’s lying, Nick. Varga was bleeding.”
“Or maybe she’s omitting a few things.” His eyes flew to her neck and back again. “Do you want to file a report?”
Cat shook her head, no. God, no. That was the last thing she needed.
A car slowed on the road beside them, and Cat glanced up just in time to see Avery Ames, owner of the Gazette, lower her camera and drive away. Panic spiked. If her picture appeared in the paper . . .
She had to get away from Nick and his piercing gaze and his too-many questions, away from Safe Harbor altogether. She should have left last night. Except for Blaze’s pleading, she would have. Easy, girl. You can do this. She kept her voice calm, with just the right amount of deference. “May I go now?”
“She couldn’t provide her license or registration when I asked for them,” JD said, staring her down while talking to Nick. He held up his pad. “I’m going to have to issue you a citation for that. And one for not having your license with you.”
Cat found her best smile. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll bring them by the station in a little while, OK?”
JD settled his hands on his utility belt, pushed his Stetson back on his head. “You can’t drive without a license.”
Cat indicated the two-lane road. “You know the marina is right there.”
“It’s against policy to—”
Nick interrupted with a jerk of his chin toward her car. “Go on. I’ll follow you.”
Cat stifled an instinctive cry of alarm. If he followed her, she’d have to produce her license, which she could do, but if he started digging around . . . She nodded and climbed into her car, scrambling for the best way to handle this.
Nick watched as Cat eased her car onto the road and headed toward the marina.
JD looked thoughtful. “She was there last night, with the girl, Blaze, when they found Teddy.”
“Yes, she was.”
“You think she really went to Varga to get information?”
“I’m about to find out.”
“Varga was bleeding from his shoulder. He said she assaulted him, but he didn’t want to press charges.”
“Good work, JD.” He handed him a list of names. “Start in the middle and work your way down, talk to Teddy’s friends. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Nick wanted to correct him, since he wasn’t officially anyone’s boss, but with only a three-man department, plus Wanda, and Chief Monroe increasingly absent, Nick found himself in charge by default. JD would make a good cop someday, but right now, he was still green as summer grass.
He climbed into his SUV, but before he followed Cat, he ran her plate. It came back with the name and address of a man named Walt Simms of Nashville. He made a mental note to call Mr. Simms, then put the SUV in gear and headed to the marina.
Cat raced back to the marina, then sat in her car and unpacked her new phone. She forced herself to stay calm and carefully set up the phone step by step, desperate to get it done before Nick showed up. She hopped out of her car and tucked the phone under her ear as it went through the automated process while she hurried over to Pop’s workshop. She set her current phone on the workbench and smashed it with a hammer, then scooped the pieces into a trash bag and deposited them in the dumpster at the far end of the parking area.
Relieved when it finally finished the setup, she dialed Walt’s number with hands that wanted to shake. He didn’t pick up. She waited for the recording, then said, “Hey, Walt. It’s Cat. I’m sorry to bother you. There’s a cop who will probably call you about the car. Don’t tell him much, OK, just that you’re letting me use it. Thanks.”
She reached into the car for the three bunches of flowers and turned as Nick pulled into the parking area and climbed out of his SUV, looked around. Tall, well built, he had that universal cop confidence, coupled with a terrifyingly sharp mind. How was it, she wondered, that a man who scared her so much could simultaneously make her want to curl up against all that hard muscle?
Nick watched Cat glance his way, wariness clear in every line of her body. He wasn’t sure what had gone on with Varga, exactly, but if the punk was bleeding and she wasn’t, there was more to her toned body than met the eye.
Arms full of flowers, she turned to face him as he approached. “Can I help?” he asked.
She flashed a quick smile. “I’ve got them, thanks.”
“Nicky, what a surprise. Come have some sweet tea,” Mama called from the porch. The house sat up behind the marina and let Mama keep an eye on the comings and goings. Nick was glad to see her up and about. Her voice sounded stronger, too.
Before he could respond, Cat said, “We’ll be up in a minute, Mama.” She turned to him with a fierce look. “I don’t want to give her a minute’s worry. Stay here while I put these in water and grab my license. Act friendly.”
He grinned at her tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He knew the Martinellis were fiercely protective of each other. He just hadn’t expected it from Cat, who, by all accounts, hadn’t wanted a thing to do with them for a decade. Now she was back, and within hours, a teen was dead. It put him on alert.
He stepped through the screen door to where Mama Rosa sat in a rocker, knitting, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Overhead, a ceiling fan spun the humid air in lazy circles.
“Looks good,” he said, pointing to whatever she held, though he had no idea what it was.
She held up what appeared to be a Christmas stocking. “I started making booties for Sasha’s baby, but I think I got a little carried away.” He saw the twinkle in her eye, and it warmed him all the way to his toes. She looked better, stronger, than she had in months.
Cat rushed onto the porch from inside the house, and Nick forced himself to look away from the long, shapely legs on display in her denim shorts. She was too thin, but she still had the firm, toned look of someone who worked out regularly. Yoga, maybe?
She thrust her license at him, and he glanced down at the name. “Catharine Walsh of Nashville, Tennessee.” He looked up, saw the worry in her eyes. What would he find when he ran it through the system? He smiled at Mama. “I’ll have to take a rain check on the tea.” His eyes met Cat’s. “Walk me to my car?”
Cat nodded, and he held the screen door open for her. When they reached his SUV, he said, “What will I find when I check on this license, Cat?”
Her eyes snapped up to his, her expression hard. “Nothing.”
“And when I call Walt Simms?” He watched her reaction to the name, but she didn’t give anything away.
“He’ll tell you I’m borrowing his car, which is the truth.”
He pointed at her scarf. “Let me see the bruises.”
That got her attention. Her hand instantly covered the scarf before she let it drop, smoothed her features. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He played a hunch. “We can do this here, where you can give me the whole story, just the two of us, or I can take you in for questioning and start doing all kinds of checking into your background.”
Her chin came up, and he saw the internal debate before she slowly untied the scarf and pulled it from around her slender neck. Ugly red marks, already turning purple, circled her throat. His jaw hardened.
“He tried to strangle you. Why?”
“I told you. He didn’t like me asking questions about Teddy.”
“Why Varga?” He narrowed his gaze. “What did Blaze tell you? And why didn’t she tell me, instead?”
He watched her think it through, decide how much to say. When she finally spoke, her tone made it clear she thought him an idiot. “She was trying to protect Teddy. And his parents. She thought he had gotten involved with Varga, and I wanted to see what he knew, get a reaction when I questioned him.”
“Oh, you got a reaction.” He propped his hands on his hips. “This is an official investigation, Cat. You have no bus
iness getting in the middle of it.”
“I know. And I don’t want to have anything to do with it. But Blaze . . . I told her I would go talk to him, see if he knew anything.”
“What does Blaze know?” Another hesitation. “Do I have to arrest you for impeding an investigation?” It was a stretch, but the way she doled out pieces of info like they were diamonds made him want to push, and push hard.
“She’s just trying to find out what happened.”
“Which is my job!”
“She said his parents would be devastated if he was involved with drugs.”
“Was he?”
“Anything I say right now would be considered hearsay. You’ll have to ask Blaze.”
“You seem to know a lot about the law.”
“I watch a lot of television.”
He nodded to her neck. “Do you want to press charges for assault?”
He wasn’t surprised when she shook her head, retied the scarf. Part of the bruising still showed on one side, so he reached over and gently covered it. She flinched, and a blush stole up her pale skin.
He pulled his hand away, worried he’d hurt her. “Sorry. Wanted to make sure Mama Rosa wouldn’t see anything.”
She looked up in surprise, and he wondered what kinds of cops—or men in general—she’d dealt with in the past. None of his business, he told himself. Stay focused.
He turned to go. “Don’t leave town for the next couple of days.”
“What? Why?” This time, there was no mistaking the panic in her eyes.
“I may have some more questions about Teddy’s death.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve told you everything I know.”
He studied her. “Maybe. Stick around anyway.”
She met his gaze, eyes sparking with anger—and a touch of fear—but didn’t say a word. As he pulled away, she was still watching him. He realized she hadn’t protested that she had a job she had to get back to. He’d have to ask Walt Simms in Nashville about that, too.