Web of Deceit

by Susan Sleeman

  Why was there always one guy at a crime scene who insisted she prove herself? As if staying put, while an even more horrific smell filled the room, proved anything other than she was dumb enough to stay within range while they did it.

  She met the pipsqueak’s gaze, ordering him to get out of her way with a look she often used on noncompliant suspects. He held up his hands and backed off. She heard Sam chuckle as he followed her out of the room. Many guys in law enforcement were intimidated by strong women, but after his comment about Marcie and his laugh just now, she guessed he wasn’t one of them.

  On the porch, a thin young man with a buzzed haircut hurried up to Sam. He wore a knit shirt with the PPB logo on his chest. He’d covered his pants with a pair of white coveralls, but left the suit’s upper portion hanging around his waist. The coveralls suggested he was part of the forensics team, but he wore a sidearm, so she couldn’t be positive of his job.

  “Marcie’s ready for me to photograph the body.” He shrugged his shoulders into the coverall sleeves then hung a camera around his neck and stared pointedly at Kait.

  “Oh, sorry,” Sam said. “Criminalist Dane Harwell, meet Agent Kaitlyn Knight with the FBI.”

  Dane whistled. “Must be some case if the feds are involved.”

  “They’re not involved,” Sam said. “This is just a courtesy visit.”

  Sam looked at Kait as if he wanted her to confirm her unofficial capacity, but she kept her mouth shut. If Dane thought she was officially involved, then if she wanted information from him, he was more likely to cooperate.

  Sam didn’t look pleased with her, but turned his focus back to Dane. “Be sure to print the key hanging outside the bedroom door. Then check to see if it fits the deadbolt.”

  “Okay. Any other special instructions?”

  “Just give it your best. This place is clean. Freaky clean. It’ll take your best effort to find any evidence, much less anything of value.”

  “Gotta love a challenge.” Dane saluted and gave Kait a quick once-over before disappearing inside.

  “I’m assuming, since he’s carrying, that his job is a sworn position at PPB,” Kait said, knowing they had both sworn employees who had taken an oath to carry out law enforcement duties with full arrest powers, and non-sworn staff.

  Sam nodded. “The department requires criminalists to serve on patrol for five years before they’re eligible for the job. Dane put in seven, and he had a stellar rep as a cop.”

  “He must keep detectives on their toes.”

  “He does, but I appreciate it. I’ve worked with non-sworn staff in Texas, and I’ll take the experience a sworn tech brings to the table every time.”

  “You think it’s that important?”

  “One of the toughest things to learn as a tech is to stop thinking like the average Joe and start thinking like a criminal. No better way to learn how criminals think than working a patrol job.”

  “Then I look forward to talking with Dane about his findings,” she said, ignoring Sulyard’s command to return to the office when it popped into her mind.

  Sam lifted his boot to the porch railing and brushed something off his pant leg. “Your supervisor clear your involvement in the investigation with my lieutenant, too?”

  Kait forced herself to meet Sam’s eyes. “Something like that.”

  “Something like that, or exactly like that?”

  She didn’t know what to say so she said nothing and let him form his own conclusion.

  “So,” he said moving on. “What you’re not saying is your supervisor approved taking the computers, but doesn’t want you to have anything to do with the murder investigation.”

  Touché. Sam was a far better opponent than she’d given him credit for, but she wouldn’t back down. “I’m not leaving.”

  His boot fell to the floor with a thud, and he came to his full height. “You’re not staying. Not without approval.”

  She took a step closer to him and cast him a pleading look. “I can’t leave, Sam. Fenton killed my sister, and if he has anything to do with this case, I have to be involved.”

  He didn’t immediately agree, but his eyes narrowed as if considering it. “If we discover a connection to Rhodes, I’ll be happy to keep you updated.” He kept watching her, his eyes burrowing deep.

  She met his watchful stare with a defiant look. “If your sister was murdered, would you accept a kindly pat on the head by a detective in charge, or would you fight to stay?”

  “Kindly pat?” He grinned at her. “Pretty sure if I tried to pat you on the head, you’d have me on the ground with my arm behind my back in seconds.”

  She returned his smile. “So I’m staying then.”

  He appraised her for a long, silent moment, then nodded. “Fine, Kaitlyn Knight who no one says no to. Today only. You observe. Do as I ask. Keep to the letter of the law and buy me a cup of coffee in the wee hours of the night when I’ll be wishing I was anywhere but here.”

  “Deal,” she said and relaxed for the first time since Nina told her about Fenton. “So, have you canvassed the neighborhood?”

  His eyebrow shot up. “We may not be the FBI, Agent Knight, but we know how to run a murder investigation.”

  “I wasn’t questioning your ability, Detective.” She caught a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes. He obviously loved to spar as much as she did, and she felt a rush of excitement over spending the afternoon with him. “I just wondered if we still needed to question neighbors.”

  He gestured at the small bungalow on the other side of Congdon’s crumbling concrete drive. “Our initial canvass is complete, except for Yolanda Pierce who lives next door. She’s not home.”

  “And did the other neighbors share anything of interest?”

  “Not really. Just background info.” He settled on the porch railing. “Congdon’s lived here all his life. His mother moved to an assisted living apartment in Tualatin a year or so ago and gave him the house. He’s single, works in computers, as I’m sure you already figured out, and never leaves home. He even has his groceries delivered.”

  “Doesn’t he visit his mother?”

  “The uniforms said no.”

  “What kind of person doesn’t visit their mom?” she asked but needn’t have. If it weren’t for Lily, Kait wouldn’t visit her mother very often, but that was a story for another day, if then.

  “So basically, we have a computer geek,” she said. “A real loner who no one has missed for days. Sounds like he’s the perfect victim.”

  “And since he never goes out, it’s likely he didn’t meet his killer in person, but online.” Sam looked out over the street, his focus zeroing in on something or someone.

  “A perfect place to run into Fenton.” Kait followed Sam’s gaze, but once again, she couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

  “Or someone else.” Sam swung his focus back to her. “If our vic meets and chats with his friends online, it will be more difficult to find his killer’s identity.”

  Didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the opening Sam left to point out her skills. “With your phobia of anything tech related, you’ll need a guide to show you around the Internet.” She felt the thrill of the hunt beginning to build. “I’m just the person to help. But I warn you, it won’t take long before you’ll wonder how you can possibly solve this murder without me.”

  AT THE END OF the day, Sam stood by Congdon’s front door, letting the cooler air wash over him and clear his brain. A heavy downpour served as the grand finale to their weeklong scorching temperatures, and Portland had once again returned to the usual moderate summer weather. Sam felt like he could breathe again. Maybe like he had a chance at solving this bizarre homicide.

  Carrying a forensic case that looked like an oversized tackle box, Dane stepped through the door. He swiped the
back of his hand across his forehead. “Wish we could’ve gotten some of this cooler air inside.”

  “Sorry, man. I know this one is brutal.”

  “At least we’re done and we’re out of here.”

  “Did you find anything viable?”

  “A few hairs we’ll run for DNA, but don’t hold out hope. Looks like they could belong to the vic.”

  “What about the key? Find a print on it?”

  “None. And no prints at all. Not even latents.” Dane shook his head. “You were right about this place. Spotless. As if the killer vacuumed and scrubbed the place from top to bottom on his way out the door.”

  Kait’s comments about Rhodes’s cleanliness fetish came to mind, but Sam thought it more likely their killer was just good at cleaning up a crime scene.

  Dane shifted his case. “I’ll be glad to come back out if you think of anything else you want processed. Just let me know.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  As Dane departed, Sam clamped a hand on his neck and kneaded muscles stiff as iron. He was physically and emotionally spent. Seeing the essence of a man’s life boiled down to forensics and facts always took a toll on him. Today was no different. And he still had to confirm Congdon’s ID and then notify his mother that she’d lost her only son.

  Sam heard Kait’s footsteps heading toward him, and he wished she could accompany him to Mrs. Congdon’s apartment. But that wasn’t possible. Kait had arranged for her mother to pick up her niece from daycare, but now Kait needed to take the girl home and put her to bed. Plus, Kait seemed equally spent. Not that she voluntarily let him see it. Throughout the afternoon, every time he caught her looking whipped, she forced out a half smile and went back to work.

  In all honesty, he didn’t regret letting her spend the day with him. He should have sent her packing, but her smile had caught him off guard, and he’d caved. She got to him in a way no one had in years. One innocent—maybe flirtatious—smile, and he was like a junkie jonesing for the next fix, wanting to see her smile again. His lieutenant was going to pitch a royal fit as soon as he found out about her, but Sam figured it was worth it.

  Kait joined him, a wave of freshly applied perfume momentarily clouding the other smells. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  He nodded. “This is it, though. If you want in on the case after today, you’ll need to get your supervisor’s buy-in.”

  “Then you don’t want me to try to trace Congdon’s online movements for you?’

  “If you still want to do that, even knowing you can’t be a part of the investigation, I’d be glad for the help.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “But unless my LT gives me the approval to discuss the case with you, I won’t be able to share anything else.”

  She averted her gaze.

  “You can look away, Kait, but that’s not going to make the rules disappear.”

  She whipped her head around. “Don’t you ever get tired of rules and procedures and just want to do the right thing for an investigation?”

  “Sure, all the time. But procedures are there for a reason. It keeps us safe. Keeps us from making mistakes, and ensures that the bad guys go away for a long time.”

  She looked at him, her face shadowed with regret.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “I know,” she said, but the sadness in her voice made Sam wish he could ignore the rulebook and give this woman, who’d been through so much, exactly what she wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  SAM PARKED IN front of Kait’s warmly lit home, catching the time on the clock as he turned off the engine. Nine p.m. He shouldn’t be here, and not just because of the time. Stopping at her house was a bad idea on so many levels he couldn’t begin to name them all.

  “Then get of here before you do something stupid.” He reached for the key in the ignition. A vision of Mrs. Congdon’s grief flashed before his eyes, and his hand fell away. He’d broken the news as gently as he could to the elderly woman, but no matter how skilled he’d become at death notifications, her only son had been brutally murdered, and nothing prepared a parent for that.

  He oughta know. He’d lived it.

  Sure, his son had still been in the womb when he died, but the visceral pain was the same.

  His hand went to the chain around his neck holding a dog tag. He ran his fingers over the metal tag, feeling the letters of Danny’s name. His son.

  Sam ached with the loss. Danny and Hannah had both died the same day. His fault. All his fault. A stupid argument had forced Hannah into the car and onto a street with the crazed drunk driver. Couple that with losing his partner Stacie, and he’d experienced the trifecta of life events no one wanted to experience.

  If he went home right now, he’d wander around the house—their house—and think about the night he’d lost them. He sure didn’t want to sit in a lonely bar, and his partner was out of town. What did that leave?

  Talking to someone who understood the pain of loss. Talking to Kait.

  He jerked out his keys and jogged to her front door before he changed his mind again. He punched the doorbell and waited, his foot tapping nervously. Footsteps sounded from inside, and he still didn’t have a clue what he was going to say. Dumb. He was charged on a daily basis with finding killers. Why hadn’t he been smart enough to come up with a cover story?

  He saw the space under the door darken and guessed she was standing on the other side watching him through the peephole. Maybe deciding if she should let him in. Regardless, it was too late to leave.

  She opened the door and leaned against the rich cherry wood. She’d changed into stretchy black pants and a baby blue tank top like the kind he’d seen women wear to yoga class. All those curves he’d wondered about under the suit jacket she’d worn even in the sweltering heat today were present and accounted for. Her hair was no longer constrained in a clip, but hung in loose curls around her shoulders, and the overhead light lent a reddish glint to the dark auburn. Altogether, she made a drop-dead gorgeous picture. Too gorgeous for his own good.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice was deep and husky as if he’d woken her.

  Not knowing what to say, he didn’t wait for an invitation but stepped into the soaring two-story family room with a wall of windows. “Nice house.”

  “Thanks,” she answered, clearly baffled by his presence.

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of fresh jeans he’d put on after he’d showered away the crime scene and looked around the room in hopes of finding something to say. His gaze landed on the far wall holding three large paint swatches in various shades of gray.

  “I see you’re painting.” Duh! State the obvious. Good opener.

  “And, as you can see, I had a hard time deciding on the color.”

  He looked around the room holding modern leather furniture with colorful pillows that went perfectly with the current mushroom color. “What’s wrong with the color on the walls now?”

  “Painting and remodeling is my way of getting rid of stress.”

  “With your job you must be painting all the time, then,” he joked.

  She didn’t smile, but held onto the door as if she might ask him to leave.

  “Can we talk for a few minutes?” he asked.

  She eyed him for a long moment. He was a first-class idiot for coming here. He was about to blurt out some lame comment and bolt, but her pensive expression vanished. “I was just going to take a break and have a glass of wine on the deck. You want one?”

  Wine with a captivating woman, or an empty house filled with unrelenting memories? The decision was easy. “Wine sounds good.”

  She closed the door, and he followed her down a hall to a state-of-the-art kitchen overlooking a family room strewn with toys.

  “Excuse the mess. I was just too beat to enforce picking to
ys up tonight.”

  “No problem.” He knew she had custody of her niece, but after spending the day with her, he couldn’t really picture her as anything but a tough agent haunted by her sister’s death. Correction. He could easily picture her in his arms, but he was refusing to do that again.

  He turned his attention to the kitchen. It smelled like warm cinnamon, and her décor made the place feel welcoming. Homey and inviting, like his house had once felt. Black granite counters and cool stainless appliances were warmed with dark brown cabinets and a muted green paint color. Classy. Just like her.

  “Nice kitchen,” he said.

  “Thanks. I just finished remodeling it a few months ago.” She retrieved a bottle of red wine from a small wine cooler. “Merlot okay?”

  He nodded and watched her graceful movements as she reached for a glass from the top shelf, stretching out a muscular body. Muscular and curvy all at the same time.

  Knock it off, Murdock. You can’t go there. Won’t go there. This’s a professional arrangement, for crying out loud. Keep your libido in check.

  He forced his focus to the intricate tile backsplash. “Did you do the remodeling or hire someone?”

  “Except for installing the countertop, I did it all with the help of a few friends.” She poured the rich, red wine into a large glass and handed it to him.

  “Thanks,” he said and hoped by the time that they got out to the deck, he’d figure out what in the world he was going to say and quit sounding like a complete idiot.

  “BIG MISTAKE, KAIT,” Fenton said as left his perch behind Kait’s house and headed for Brian’s van. He climbed into the dark interior and fired up the rumbling engine.

  “Big mistake,” he repeated as he took one last look at her house in the rearview mirror and floored the gas. The balding tires spun on wet pavement until they gripped and propelled him forward, laying down a screech that reverberated through her sedate neighborhood.

  Kait couldn’t be trusted to do anything right. She had no business letting a man into her home, much less a cop. Or smiling up at him on the deck with the same sultry smile Abby had reserved for him. It felt like eternities since her warmth had chased away the darkness. But he could still see her, feel her. Almost reach out and touch her.