by Taylor Lee
“Nate, how could you… how could you suggest such a thing? That I… that I….? My poor, poor Mike….Oh my God, this is all too horrible, too much! And now, you, of all people….”
She buried her face in her hands with a disconsolate sob. For a moment the only sound in the room was her wrenching sobs.
Margaret moved toward the trembling woman, but Nate frowned and put up his hand stopping her. The nurse’s eyes widened. She hesitated then moved back to her refuge against the wall.
Nate’s voice was cool, noncommittal. “Would you like a glass of water, Laura?”
Laura didn’t answer. Instead she kept her face in her hands for several moments, her shoulders shaking. After several attempts to speak she gave up and raised her head, her eyes swimming with tears.
Nate held her gaze. Beneath the tears, he saw an emotion he was very familiar with. He called it calculation. She was clearly deciding which tack to take. The aggrieved widow or the insulted woman. Apparently she recognized that Nate wouldn’t be easily fooled, and decided to appeal to his partners instead.
Laura glanced from Dan to Sam. With a deep watery sigh, she appealed to them. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down. I’ve gotten better, at least a little. The medicine is helping. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m sure you understand… I’m doing the best that I—”
Nate’s cool question stopped her in mid-sentence.
“Did you decide if you want your lawyer present, Laura?”
She paused, her expression visibly hardening as she turned to glare at him. She drew herself up like a regal princess on a throne deigning to speak to an annoying subject. Her voice was as cool, as crisp as his.
“No, Nate. I don’t need a lawyer. I am quite capable of answering any questions you might have for me.”
Watching her mask drop, Nate smiled. “Fine. Name, please.”
When she frowned as if she didn’t understand, he replied with mock patience as though he were speaking with a child.
“The name of the person you were with last night.”
Laura stiffened her shoulders.
“I actually was with two people. I had dinner with a friend and then, after dinner I… visited with another friend.”
Nate pinned her with a hard stare, letting the silence sit between them.
After a long tortured moment, Laura tossed her hair back in a practiced gesture that sent a wave of shimmering gold down her back. As she had intended, Nate couldn’t help but remember tangling his fingers in that shiny mass. He smiled to himself thinking how much he preferred Erin’s dark unruly curls. Erin complained about how difficult it was to tame her wild hair but Nate’s cock rose at the thought of those wild curls and the pale porcelain softness of her neck.
Laura broke into his reverie with a harsh declaration. “I trust you will have the decency to treat these names with discretion. I disclose them only because I know you need to establish where I was last night.” She hesitated then pointed her chin at him, daring him to criticize. “One of them is divorced but the other is married. It would be ‘difficult’ for his family to understand that my time with him was purely as a friend.”
Nate quirked a brow. “Decency and discretion are my middle names—among others, Laura. And, yes I can imagine the challenge. Family members can be narrow-minded.”
When she just glared at him, Nate was silent for a moment. When she still didn’t speak, his voice dropped to an ominous level. “For the last time, Laura. Names. Now.”
Laura’s expression hardened. Her jaw was almost as rigid as his felt. With an obvious effort she tried for indifference.
“I had dinner with Sherm Klein. He and his wife have been divorced for years. And… and then I met up with Drew, Dr. James, for a nightcap.”
A gasp from the stoic Margaret confirmed that at least Laura had been discreet enough to keep the good doctor’s nurse from knowing of their relationship. Nate mentally compared the information about the doctor with the notes in Charlie’s folder. Interesting discrepancies to say the least. Rather than focusing on the doctor, he turned his attention to Klein, a well-known business leader and member of the City Council.
“Hmm. Sherman Klein is—was your husband’s business partner?”
Laura coughed discreetly. “Yes. We were discussing issues about the business. I occasionally helped Mike with marketing. That was one of Sherm’s interests as well. We were working on a new campaign.”
“Where did you have dinner?”
“At the club.”
“The Country Club?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see Mike?”
Laura frowned at the abrupt change of direction in his question.
“Uh, yesterday morning. He was sleeping when I left for the spa. He went to work like he always does and I didn’t see him again until… until I came home and… Oh God.”
Her voice threatened to dissolve again into tears. Nate leaned forward, his strong presence trapping her, forcing her to look at him.
“Okay, Laura. That’s enough for now. Tomorrow I want you to come to the station. Be there at 10 a.m. Dan will interview you. Bring a schedule with you detailing everything that you did yesterday with names and telephone numbers of anyone that you were with. Do you understand? I want you to document every minute of the day.”
Just as she was about to respond, Matt Jepson poked his head in the doorway. The young officer was clearly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, Detective Stryker, but Dr. James is insisting that he see his ‘patient.’ Says he didn’t give permission for her to be interviewed.”
The young officer moved aside when an irate Dr. James barged past him.
Glaring at Nate, the outraged doctor didn’t couch his words. Gathering his professional authority around him like an invisible cloak, the small man spoke sharply. “I am surprised, Detective Stryker. I specifically told you last evening that Ms. Peterson was not ready to be interviewed. I assumed you understood that when in my medical opinion I believed that Ms. Peterson was well enough to be interviewed, I would inform you—”
Nate’s laconic warning cut through the doctor’s self-important tirade.
“I have a suggestion for you, Doc. Stop before you dig any deeper.”
Laura met Dr. James’s surprised gaze and shook her head. “I… I explained that we had a nightcap last evening, Drew. I couldn’t avoid the question.”
As Nate unwound his large frame from his chair, Dr. James looked frantically around the room. Seeing Margaret’s disapproving glare, the doctor’s face flamed from pink to red. Nate ambled over to the smaller man who in his elevator shoes came to Nate’s shoulder. Given her penchant for 5-inch high heels, Nate judged that Laura also towered over the little prick. Which must not have bothered the doctor. He had the self-satisfied look of a small man who was accustomed to people deferring to him, no matter what their height.
Nate looked him up and down. Another clothes horse, naturally. The doc could probably out-do Sam in his choice of expensive attire. What he didn’t have in physical stature, he attempted to add with monetary measures and his professional credentials. Trying to regain his composure, Dr. James rose to his full height, glaring at Nate like a stern schoolmaster confronting a disruptive teenager. Nate guffawed inwardly. The doctor looked for all the world like a banty rooster defying the barnyard guard dog—as if Nate couldn’t knock him over with one large paw.
Nate grinned at him and drawled. “Before you do any more informing, Doc, let me inform you. As a sworn officer of the law it is my duty to inform you that you have some explaining to do. Perjury is a crime, Doc. Punishable by a nice little stint in prison. Given that you were shall we say, less than truthful with me last evening, I recommend that you call your lawyer and see if between the two of you, you can twist your words enough to beat the perjury rap. Just so you know, Doc, in my opinion, the odds aren’t good.”
Dr. James gasped and went from red to white in seconds. He stared at Nate,
unable to look away, a frozen field mouse seeing the owl hovering overhead. Nate held his gaze for a long moment and then focused on Laura who was looking at the doctor in dismay.
“Dan will be waiting for you, Laura—at the station—10 a.m.”
He turned back to the doctor enjoying the sheen of sweat on the little man’s upper lip. A rancid odor emanated from his expensively clothed armpits. “As for you, Doc, I’ll see you at the station at 11 a.m.”
Dr. James swallowed, his Adams’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath—to no avail. His voice was a frightened squeak. “I… I don’t know if that is possible. My… my mornings are usually busy. I… I… will have to check my schedule.”
Nate grinned at him.
“Yeah, you do that. You check your schedule. I think you’ll find that the only thing you have scheduled is an 11 a.m. meeting with me at the police station.” He added a menacing note. “Oh, and Doc, I suggest you bring your lawyer.”
Nate glanced around the silent room from one startled participant to another, then said pleasantly, “Good bye, Laura. Nurse Johnston. Doctor.”
Then he nodded at Maggie Burk, who was gathering up her equipment. Maggie’s eyes were gleaming with amusement.
“Come on, Maggie. We’ll help you get your gear to your car.”
He winked at Dan and Sam.
“Gentlemen, shall we?”
Chapter 10
“Masterful, Nate. I’m glad you made a recording. If you don’t mind, I plan to use it with rookie detectives. Or, forget rookies. I haven’t seen twenty-year detectives own a room the way you did.”
Nate met Sam’s admiring gaze over the seatback and shrugged.
“Sure. Go for it. Whatever is useful.”
Nate knew he was being abrupt. Sam was clearly impressed and that should mean something. But the last thing Nate wanted to do was discuss the scene they’d just left. If he had his wish, he’d be pounding a bag with his fists and his feet. Or better yet, pounding into Erin, burying the frustration and unease roiling him into the sweetest, most erotic place in the world.
Fortunately, Dan stepped in as he often did, to soften the rough edges of his partner.
“Get used to it Sam.” Dan faced the man in the rear view mirror. “You’re lucky. You got to see him in action, real time. Rookies across the state clamor for the privilege and hardened cops jockey for a case that might warrant calling in the big guy.”
Sam agreed. “It’s obvious why. I don’t remember when I’ve seen a more skillful management of witnesses. Damn, I think a lot of people are going to be losing sleep tonight. Even the lovely Ms. Chambers. Or perhaps, mostly Ms. Chambers.” Sam hesitated then like the commander that he was, refused to shirk the discussion.
“Nate, I can tell you don’t like to discuss strategies, so if I’m out of line, say so and I’ll back off.”
Seeing the earnest expression on Sam’s face, Nate jerked himself out of his self-imposed isolation and forced himself to respond.
“Hell Sam, go for it. I’m not a total asshole. Ask Dan here. Christ, occasionally I even share my insights. But I’ll forego that for the moment. I’m more interested in your opinion, your reaction. You’ve got fresh eyes. Hell you might even prove yourself useful, hotshot. Not having a history with all these yahoos could make you valuable. What’s your read on the case?”
Nate was intentionally putting Sam on the spot, as much as anything to keep from being forced into airing any of his mucked up views. But he was interested to see if the hotshot was as good as advertised.
He pressed. “Let’s have it, Sam. Show me why everyone in ‘pretty boy town’ thinks you’re up to being Chief of one of the largest and most prestigious police departments in the country.”
Sam laughed.
“Hmm, Nate, the last time I felt this much pressure was when the drill sergeant at Paris Island screamed at me in front of a class of new recruits, ‘Let’s see, nigga, if your dick is as big as you think it is.’ Fortunately he was ordering me to do two hundred pushups not unzip my pants.”
Nate’s laugh erupted from his gut. “Damn, Sam. That one of the better putdowns I’ve heard. I’ll have to use it as my own. But in this politically correct climate, I’ll forego the racial insult.”
Sam shrugged. “He was a black guy and the meanest, most outrageous son of a bitch I ever met. But I’ll tell you, he toughened me up in a way that saved my pride and my life more times than I deserved to live.”
Nate felt the tension in his gut release. He shot Sam an admiring glance. “Thanks. You are good. You pulled me outa my cave. That’s not easy to do. Ask Dan. So keep going, hotshot. Now that I’m all mellow and gooey, tell me what happened in that interrogation that’s got you drooling over me.”
Sam’s lips quirked in a slight smile. “I’ll try not to openly drool, Detective. That’s unseemly at best. And yes, I’ll put myself in the hot-seat for you to tear down at your leisure.”
Dan demurred. “Just so you know, Sam, in the years I’ve worked with Nate, I’ve never seen him tear down a guy who was giving his opinion. Oh, he doesn’t hesitate to share his, or let you know where he disagrees, but not in a way that diminishes the other guy.”
Nate groaned. “Ignore my well-meaning partner, Sam. I delight in tearing people down. I just don’t do it in front of Dan. You know how these Irish Catholic boys are. Gullible as they come. Hell, they even believe that Mary was a virgin. Guess that’s what happens when you’ve had your hand slapped so many times by the nuns you almost get to appreciate it when the priest comes after you.”
Dan rolled his eyes.
“In case you didn’t notice, Sam, my partner doesn’t take well to compliments. I stand by my opinion. You’ll never meet a more straight-up guy than Nate Stryker, no matter how much he tries to convince you otherwise.”
Sam laughed softly. “I’m beginning to see the picture. But here goes. I’ll take a chance and give you my impressions. In twenty minutes with as few words as I’ve heard spoken in an interview, you’ve turned the town upside down. Between Margaret, Maggie and of course, Laura and the good doctor, the word will spread by nightfall, that everyone is open to suspicion. Intentionally or unintentionally those four people will get the word out. And that word is ‘Nate Stryker is going after everyone, from the doctor, to the business partner, and, if necessary, the victim’s wife.’”
He scrubbed at the unusually trimmed facial hair on his chin and added, “I’m not sure if you think any of them killed Peterson. In fact, I don’t think that you do. It looks like a professional hit for sure. But it was important to leave the impression that it could be anyone. One more thing, Nate, and given that you react so vehemently to compliments, I’ll take a chance and give you one, then duck to avoid the grenade.”
At Nate’s questioning frown, Sam shrugged. “I was impressed with how you handled Laura. It can’t be easy, but somehow you stayed within the boundaries of decorum while she did everything in her power to shake you up. The clear message you sent was that she better not fuck with you.”
Nate sniffed. “Damn, that’s the first ‘fuck’ I’ve heard from you, Sam. I’m relieved. In my limited vocabulary the word is ubiquitous. It’s a noun, a verb, an adjective AND an adverb—in addition to the usual exclamation. I wondered if we were going to have to clean up our language. Maybe you’re not as much of a boy scout as you appear to be.”
With a gracious nod, Sam said, “I’ll make a point of saying it at least once a day if that will make you more comfortable. But tell me, what did I miss?”
Seeing the serious man’s expression, Nate decided to forego his usual sarcasm. “You’ve got it about right, Sam. I was laying the groundwork. I wanted them all worried and if they happen to know who killed Mike, I wanted them to be scared shitless. And as you surmised—to get that message out on the grapevine.”
Nate sat quietly for several minutes then caught Sam’s reflection. “As for what you missed, I’m no
t sure. Until we get more evidence, I’m flying blind. But I will tell you that I’m not so sure that it is a professional hit.”
At the surprised murmurs from both Dan and Sam, Nate agreed. “I know, I know. It sure as hell looks that way. And yeah, the killers were definitely pros when it came to inflicting terror. But think for a moment. What if someone wanted it to look that way?”
Warming up to his task, his voice took on more urgency.
“Something’s not right. And if you think about it, I think you’ll agree. For example, do you have any idea how much you’d have to pay a pro to do a job like that? Hell, hit men want to get in and out as quick as they can. They want to kill and be gone. Without a trace. The chances of leaving evidence behind when you spend two or three fucking hours killing a guy are 100%. No professional killer is gonna be up for that. Too many chances to get caught.”
Dan interjected, disbelief underlying his serious tone. “What are you thinking, Nate? That it wasn’t professional?”
“I’m not sure, Dan. That’s what’s got me wondering. Either someone paid a small fortune to off the guy in the most vicious way possible or wants us to think that it was a paid-for job. Either way, the question in my mind is why? Why torture him for fuckin’ hours? And in such a suggestive way? You tell me, Sam. Go out on a limb, hotshot. What does the torture say to you? What’s the underlying message?”
Sam hesitated then ventured a guess. “Well, to begin with, it’s got sex written all over it.”
Nate slammed his hand on the steering wheel with such force that the 911 almost swerved off the road. He exclaimed, “Precisely!” Managing to tamp down his excitement he added, “Sex AND vengeance.”
Letting his excitement die down, Nate shook his head and muttered more to himself than the others. “Now we just have to figure out what Mike did to warrant such a grisly death. Whatever it was, somebody wanted him to die in the most painful way possible. In a way that made up for the way Mike wronged him.”