Blind Trust

by Sandra Orchard

  “You went in her house?” Tom’s voice spiked along with his anxiety that she’d been so reckless.

  At least she had the good grace to look sheepish about it. “I shouldn’t have, I know. I was baking and . . . Never mind that.” Kate took back the bag and tipped a small portion of the contents into a clear glass dish on her workbench. “This is the tea Brian’s son brought to the nursing home. When I test it, I’m sure we’ll find it contains significant amounts of nutmeg.”

  Tom nodded. The plan would be ingenious, but . . . “Even with attorney privileges, any proceeds from the sale of Verna’s property would have to go toward her care first. I don’t see what he ultimately gains.”

  “If he controls her money,” Julie chimed in, pulling her chair over to where Kate had set to work, “he’s going to be able to sneak payments to himself left, right, and center.”

  “Okay, say you’re right,” Tom said as Weller huffed impatiently. Tom motioned him to cool his jets. “How does this implicate him in the counterfeiting?”

  “He must have been using Verna to fence his money,” Kate said without looking up from the dried herbs she was meticulously separating with tweezers onto individual microscope slides. “Only Verna didn’t know. By making her look doddering, he probably figured the police wouldn’t suspect her. Julie, could you grab me a rack of test tubes?”

  “Not only that”—Julie set the requested test tubes on the bench—“he’s a traveling salesman. Who knows where else he could be spending the phony bills.”

  Tom grinned at their exuberance. They made a compelling case.

  Kate frowned at him. “You don’t think it’s possible?”

  “Sure I do. That’s why last week I checked with the police detachments in the areas where Brian travels.”

  Her tweezers stopped mid-tweeze. “And?”

  “There has been a slight increase in reported counterfeiting.”

  “See!”

  Weller cleared his throat. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Where’d you get the sacks of tea?”

  “From the nursing home,” Kate said.

  Weller shook his head.

  Kate set down her tweezers. “What’s wrong?”

  “The evidence won’t stand up in court,” Weller barked as if any idiot should know as much. “There’s no warrant, no chain of custody. Even if there’s nutmeg in that”—he flicked his finger toward the herbs she’d spread out—“there’s no way to prove how it got there.”

  “Well, I couldn’t just leave it there and let him keep poisoning her!”

  Tom touched her arm. “He’s not saying what you did is bad, Kate. Just that it won’t give us enough to arrest him.”

  “But once you’re certain it’s him, you can look for other evidence. Right?” Julie insisted.

  Kate’s brow suddenly furrowed. “But Verna might not get better soon enough to stop Brian from selling the property.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Can’t you talk to that Office of the Public whatever-it-was and get them to put some kind of stay on Brian’s powers until you get your proof?”

  Weller let out another of his unhelpful snorts. “Not likely. Maybe if that receptionist who gave her kid the phony five worked for Nagy instead of the paper you’d have something.”

  “Izzy Lawton, Vic’s wife?” Kate’s eyes lit. “She had a phony bill?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said cautiously, trying to anticipate where she was going with this new information. “But we checked her home computer and printer. They were clean.”

  “Her husband works for Brian Nagy! He mows Verna’s lawn. And last weekend, he painted a couple of her bedrooms.”

  Tom grabbed his coat and smirked at Weller. “Now we’re getting somewhere. You run your tests and I’ll track down where Nagy stays when he’s out of town. His laptop was clean, but he could have printed the counterfeit bills while on the road.”

  “We still have to take this computer in,” Weller reminded him.

  “You go ahead.” Tom sent Kate an apologetic look. He didn’t doubt her alibi about the file on her computer, but taking in the machine would make it a whole lot easier to convince the chief he wasn’t playing favorites.

  The lights flickered as rain lashed the windows harder than ever.

  Julie glanced out. “The storm’s getting worse.”

  “Yeah.” Tom opened the lab door for Weller, then turned to Kate. “Why don’t you leave the testing until tomorrow, and I’ll follow you two home? Officer Reed will be—”

  “Not yet. Please.” Kate lifted a hand, scarcely sparing him a glance before returning her attention to the eyedropper she was using to dispense something into a test tube. “We need to know if I’m right about the nutmeg before you bring Brian in.”

  “Did you even tell Reed you were coming here?”

  “Sorry. No, I forgot.”

  “Forgot? Do you think whoever sent this afternoon’s threatening email is just—?” Tom bit off the rest of the lecture and texted Reed. This was no time to relax their vigilance. It would be tomorrow before Weller got back into the computer to see if he could find anything that might lead them to her hacker. He hit Send on the message to her bodyguard and fired another email to the research center’s internet company, which still hadn’t gotten back to him on an IP address for his spoofed email.

  A loud crack rattled the windows. The lights flickered again.

  Julie hunkered down on a stool and pulled her sweater tightly around her. “I hate storms.”

  “I’m sorry to drag you out in this, Julie,” Kate said.

  “Oh, you owe me big-time.” Julie pressed a palm to her growling stomach. “I’m starved. You better pray that new cat of yours doesn’t eat the pizza, or my muffins.”

  Kate made a goofy face that warned not to count on it and Tom laughed.

  Laughing felt good after the day they’d had. If they could tie Nagy to the counterfeiting and poisoning his mother, maybe half Kate’s problems would be resolved. He hated seeing the dark smudges under her eyes, the tired stoop of her shoulders. Yet she was holding up well, considering. His heart pinched at the strain her questions about her father had added. Questions he could answer. Except he couldn’t.

  He rubbed his palm over his mouth. After her father’s disappearing act, he wasn’t sure what to believe. And who was behind the threatening email?

  Could be Nagy. Tom wouldn’t put it past him, especially if Westby had warned him Kate was snooping around the property.

  His chest went tight at the thought of what could’ve happened to her out there today. He moved to the window and watched the trees whip wildly in the wind. Lightning slashed the sky. Hopefully her father made it back to town before the storm hit. Tom didn’t want to think about why the man had taken off on him. Not tonight. He pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose and prayed trusting him hadn’t been a mistake.

  He turned his back to the window. “How often does Nagy visit his mother?”

  Kate set her test tube into a machine and turned on the power. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how much time we have before he realizes you’re onto him.”

  “I told the aide not to say anything to the family.”

  “That’s not going to stop him. If Nagy’s doing what you think he’s doing, you can be sure he’s making sure she keeps drinking the stuff.” Kate clearly had no idea how difficult she was making it for him to protect her.

  She squirmed under his pointed stare, but given the choices, he knew her well enough to know she’d do the same thing again. Her cell phone rang.

  Tom didn’t like the worry that flashed in her eyes when she glanced at the screen. “Who is it?”

  “Mrs. C.” Kate clicked on the phone and said, “Hello.”

  “Kate,” Mrs. C said so loudly Tom could hear her from halfway across the room. “I wanted you to know I have Whiskers. I heard him yowling outside when the storm started.”

  “You’re sure it’
s Whiskers?” Kate looked at Julie, her forehead crumpled as if straining to remember something.

  “Of course. Don’t worry, dear, you can just pick him up when you get home.”

  Kate’s face turned pasty. “Someone was in my house.”

  18

  Kate asked Julie for a rain check on dinner and caught a ride home with Tom so Julie could drive straight home too. By the time Kate and Tom got to Kate’s house, a black-and-white police car already sat in the driveway. Officer Reed, her unofficial bodyguard, jumped out of the police car and hurried toward Tom’s, holding the hood of her rain poncho low against the howling winds.

  Tom rolled down his window. “Any sign of an intruder?”

  “Just got here. Haven’t walked the perimeter yet.” She looked past Tom and nodded at Kate.

  “We’ll do it together.” Tom rolled up the window and held out his hand to Kate. “I’ll need your house keys. I want you to stay in the car until we make sure the place is clear.”

  A jagged flash of lightning sliced the sky, followed by a bone-rattling clap.

  “Yeah, okay.” Kate handed over her keys, trying to ignore the green-eyed monster that wondered why he didn’t trust her to stay out of trouble but didn’t question letting Sophie Reed traipse around looking for a bad guy.

  Kate peered through the rain-sluiced windshield at them striding together toward the dark house. Tom suddenly stopped and lifted his arm in her direction.

  The car beeped and all the door locks shot down with a thunk.

  Kate jumped. She couldn’t help it. What few frayed nerves she’d managed to hold together until now unraveled in one beep. She shivered uncontrollably.

  Lord, why are you letting all this happen to me? The wind whistled an eerie response. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms to stave off the chill, she watched Tom and Officer Reed’s flashlights bob in opposite directions around her house. Please, Lord, keep them safe.

  Thunder rumbled, long and low, like a growling dog.

  She hoped that was a “yes.”

  Lights started coming on in the house. First in the kitchen, then in the living room. The front door opened, but Tom didn’t motion her in. He left it standing open, and one by one bedroom lights came on. She let out the breath she’d been holding when the last light came on and no wild shouts accompanied it.

  She jumped from the car and dashed for the front door.

  Tom emerged from the hall as she stepped inside. “I told you to stay in the car until—”

  “I saw all the lights come on. I knew it would be safe.” Her voice petered out on the word safe. She sniffed the air. “That’s gas. Can you smell the gas?” Her voice edged higher. “He was trying to kill me?”

  Tom caught her by the shoulders. “Calm down.”

  “Calm down?” She shook off his hold. “Don’t tell me to calm down! He tried to gas me.” She gulped air, but none seemed to make it to her lungs. “He must’ve seen my car in the driveway, and no lights on, and assumed I was sleeping.”

  “No, Kate.” Tom looked like he wanted to take hold of her and give her a good shake. “Your oven’s pilot light blew out. That’s all. Probably blown out by the storm.”

  “The pilot light’s inside, not outside.” Her heart raced a mile a minute. Was that an effect of the gas? Should they even be in here?

  “The wind’s from the east tonight—not typical—so you probably haven’t felt before how badly it drafts across the kitchen floor. Don’t worry. The pilot light valve on these old stoves doesn’t give off much gas, just enough for you to smell something’s wrong. Reed’s relighting it now.”

  “Oh.” Kate gulped. She’d panicked over nothing. And from the frown between Tom’s eyes, she’d freaked him out too. He probably thought she’d shatter completely any second. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. “Okay,” she said with a calmness that surprised even her. “If he didn’t come here to gas me, what did he come inside to do?” She glanced around the room. “Nothing seems to be missing or vandalized.”

  Tom motioned her to the sofa.

  She shook her head, still too antsy to sit. He was being too . . . too . . . professional. Why couldn’t he just hug her and tell her everything would be okay?

  Except it wouldn’t be. And he knew it. Someone had violated her home. What was to stop him from doing it again? Only next time she could be here! She moved down the hall to check the other rooms.

  Tom trailed her, dripping water from his rain-soaked clothes. “Are you certain the cat was inside when you left?”

  “Yes.” She handed him a dry towel from the linen closet. “Whiskers was sitting at the living room window scowling at us. I remember it distinctly.”

  Tom made a frustrated noise as he followed her to the next room.

  At the sight of him standing in her bedroom scrubbing his head with a towel, her heart did a totally inappropriate little dance.

  “There’s no sign of forced entry,” he said, draping the towel around his neck. “Is it possible you left a door or window unlocked?”

  “No way. I’ve been too paranoid to open windows.”

  Apology swam in his eyes, but his arms stayed pinned to his sides.

  She turned to her bureau. “And I know I locked the door.”

  “Who else has keys to the place?” His voice sounded strangely tight, as if it was eating him up inside to not be able to figure out how someone got in.

  “No one that I know of.” She opened a couple of drawers. Nothing seemed amiss, and that made her feel more edgy than ever. What did this guy want?

  She gasped, remembering. “I never changed the locks when I moved in after Daisy died.”

  Irritation replaced the apology in Tom’s eyes. “So her nephew has a key.”

  “No, he returned it to me when he left town. But . . .” She bit her lip. How could she have been so careless?

  “He could’ve given one to Molly Gilmore,” she and Tom said at the same time.

  They’d been engaged. Until Edward discovered Molly was an aunt-killing crazy woman.

  Kate’s breaths came in short gulps. How was she supposed to sleep here when someone out there had a key and could sneak in at any time? “Surely Edward would’ve warned me if he’d given Molly a key.”

  Tom nodded, but not very convincingly.

  Officer Reed knocked on the bedroom door, making Kate jump. “Pilot’s lit. Figure out what this guy wanted yet?”

  Kate shook her head. “Can’t even figure out how he got a key.”

  “Do you keep one hidden outside in case you lock yourself out?”

  “No.”

  “But Daisy might have.” Tom strode down the hall and out through the back patio door.

  From the window, Kate watched as he turned over every rock and flowerpot within a six-foot radius of the door. At least the rain had stopped.

  “Hey,” Reed said from behind her. “Do you mind if I have a slice of that pizza? I missed supper.”

  “Help yourself.” Kate pulled out three plates and napkins and set them down beside the DVD Julie had brought over. She’d have to return it to her tomorrow along with some of the muffins she’d been looking forward to. Looking at the table, Kate tilted her head.

  “What is it?” Reed asked.

  “Something’s missing, but I can’t . . .” Kate squinted at the DVD, her suspicions of Brian Nagy poisoning his mother once again roiling through her chest. She looked to the counter where she’d mixed the muffin batter, tracked her steps back from the time she got home. She glanced toward the living room. She’d been carrying . . . “The translation.” Her breath caught in her throat. “He took the translation.”

  “Translation of what?” Reed asked.

  “Found how he got in.” Tom held up a key as he closed the patio door behind him. Only he didn’t look the least bit happy about finding it.

  Kate’s heart skittered at the pained look in his eyes, as if he should’ve anticipated this happening.

  Reed
cleared her throat. “This translation that’s missing, who knew you had it here? And who’d want it?”

  “Um.” Kate’s voice came out shaky. “Only Tom, Julie, and Julie’s aunt Betty knew about it. No one who’d care, except . . .” She locked gazes with Tom, her heart hammering in her throat. “My research assistant.” Whose boyfriend had seemed far too interested in the mysterious plant.

  The plant that got her father killed.

  “Put your notebook away,” Tom told Officer Sophie Reed after sending Kate to check her desk and computer for anything else that might’ve been stolen. “It’ll be safer for Kate if no report is made of the robbery.” Pinning the robbery on Kate’s supposedly dead father was the last thing he needed—and they just might if he was stupid enough to not wear gloves. “Understand?”

  “No, I don’t.” Reed tilted her head. “You asked me to stay with her because some guy’s stalking her. This could be our first clue to catching the guy and you don’t want it reported?” The uptick in her tone suggested he needed his head examined.

  Yeah, I probably do. He mentally wrestled over how much to reveal. He still needed her help watching Kate’s back. “I was wrong about there being a stalker.”

  Her eyebrow lifted.

  He looked away with a strangled groan. “It’s complicated.”

  “Clearly.” Reed tipped her notepad closed and stuffed it in her pocket, looking none too pleased. “I’ve got half an hour left on my shift, and then I have to return the squad car. I take it you plan to stay until I return?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

  Reed tugged on the rain poncho she’d slung over the laundry tub when they came in. “I’ll swing by the hardware store too and pick up a couple of new deadbolts.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  She waved to Kate as she opened the front door. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Tom.”

  Yeah, so did he. He shut the door, then turned to Kate. Her long hair hid most of her face from view, and the light from the desk lamp highlighted colors he couldn’t recall seeing before—the bronzy color of oak leaves in autumn and the orangey-red color of the flaming sun just before it dips below the horizon—the same color he’d seen in her father’s beard.