by Taylor Lee
“Are you certain Nate never returned her messages?”
“Let me put it this way. Given that Mrs. Peterson gave us the messages she saved and sent—it would make sense that she would do the same with any she received from Detective Stryker. She never gave us any, and Detective Stryker has indicated he didn’t listen to the messages she sent and he never replied to her, in any form.”
Nate watched Sam gracefully move from topic to topic, responding to each and every question but never revealing pertinent information. As he was closing the press briefing, a CNN reporter stepped forward.
“Given that Mike Peterson was whipped to death, aren’t you concerned that one of Detective Stryker’s talents is mastery with the whip?”
“Two points. That makes as much sense as saying that in any murder where the weapon was a gun, all policemen would automatically be suspect. But to the larger point. You seem to have more information than I do as the head of this investigation. My understanding, as of ten minutes ago, is that the coroner has not yet determined a cause of death.”
As they joined the Chief, walking away from the crowd who were still shouting questions and begging for one on one interviews, Nate murmured, “I keep having to change my assessment of you, Sam. Good work, hotshot. You might just become a badass after all.”
Chapter 24
Doug Nunn and Ralph Weise were sitting with Erin in the living room of Nate’s downtown apartment. Nate had kept his bachelor pad even though he and Erin lived full time at the cabin. Erin didn’t mind that Nate hung on to it. It was two blocks from the police station and three from the Fire House. Nate’s team and occasionally groups from the Fire House used it as an offsite meeting place. Nate hadn’t brought her here before they became lovers. Moreover, even now, Nate made a point of not sleeping with her in the infamous bed. The only place they had been together was the cabin. Erin had been shocked to learn that she was the only woman beside his immediate family that Nate had brought to the cabin. As he’d made clear with his actions, the apartment had been for babes, and the cabin was for him and for Erin.
She’d teased him when she first saw the apartment. The apartment’s décor spoke to its former purpose. Its wall-sized media center, full house sound system, black leather and chrome furniture and California king-sized bed were so stereotypical they were funny. When Erin asked if there were notches on the bedposts, he merely grinned. “Honey, each of the posts is only eight feet tall.” While she knew he was joking, the tales she’d heard about Nate’s womanizing before she and Nate got together, confirmed that eight foot posts or ten foot posts wouldn’t have been sufficient to document the flurry of activity that this modest apartment had seen.
Hearing Nate and Sam coming up the outside staircase, Erin flipped off the television. She’d been angry that Nate refused to let her be with him at the press conference, but when she’d watched it she knew he was correct. She’d wanted to show her support, but his instincts were on target. While his primary intention was to protect her from ugly questions, her absence underscored that the press briefing was an official one. She didn’t have to be at his side like all those hideous political wives seemed to feel they needed to be in a personal crisis. But then their husbands had done something wrong. Nate hadn’t.
She met him at the door and almost whimpered when he folded her into his arms. God, he was amazing. Even at her 5’7” height, he loomed over her. She knew from the look in his eyes and the tension in his body, that like her, he wished they could be alone. They had so much they needed to discuss, although if their history was a predictor, that discussion would be more physical than verbal. For one heady moment, Erin wondered if their guests would be offended if she snatched Nate for a brief “discussion” in the bedroom. At least once she probably should put a claim on that bed, if nothing else to indicate that there was a new sheriff in town, and that the former business activity had been outlawed. She smiled at the thought.
“I’m glad to see you smiling, Erin. You must have thought we did alright.”
Erin shook her head. Seeing that the grooves around his mouth and between his brows had deepened with the tension, she reached up to kiss him.
“I was proud of you, Nate. You never let them get to you once. In fact both you and Sam were superb.”
Seeing the Chief at the entrance, Erin moved to welcome him. His expression was fierce and it comforted her to know that he was as angry as she and Connor were about what was happening to Nate. It must have pained him deeply to remove Nate from the investigation, and from the few things Nate had said, he’d been furious with the Chief. Knowing the deep love between the two men, and how troubling the situation was, she forgave the Chief for not calling her, for calling Connor instead. To her surprise, he immediately approached her.
“I owe you an apology, Erin.”
When she frowned, he explained.
“I’m basically a coward. I should have called you this morning to let you know what happened. I took the easier way out and talked with Connor.”
Nate moved to include the Chief in a circle with Erin putting an arm around each of them.
“It’s okay, Chief. We’re both cowards when it comes to this woman. And speaking of apologies, I—”
The Chief’s expression darkened. “No, Nate. Not necessary. We made it through a difficult time this morning and, just now, you handled yourself like a pro. Those vultures out there didn’t stand a chance. I was proud of you, Son.”
Erin hid her surprise. She knew the bond between the two men was as strong as Nate’s was with Connor and Luke, whom she hadn’t yet met. But she’d never heard the Chief call Nate his son. Her heart ached at the pain the Chief must be feeling now. For a brief moment, she allowed her fury at Laura to flare. Damn her. All of these strong men were struggling to keep their equilibrium because of one vicious, evil woman.
Nate broke her chain of thought when he turned to Sam.
“Here’s the real hero of today. Hotshot here managed to survive one of my major league temper tantrums, and risked that pretty-boy face of his by taking me on in the ring. And, hell, hotshot, you were close to perfect out there. Never so much as raised your voice, just annihilated each one of those egotistical vultures with dignity. I was impressed, man. Hell, in contrast, the local press spoon-fed me questions. Guess they didn’t want me too chopped up by their big city competition. Wanted to have a carcass left to chew on at our next big crisis.”
At that moment, Connor entered and echoed the praise for Sam, and reinforced what they all were feeling for Nate. Erin reached up to give her boss a kiss and murmured her thanks that he had come. Nodding to his cousin, Connor whispered, “Half pint, not a one of us is going to be ten feet from him until this fucking mess is over. One look at the Chief’s face gives you an idea of the toll this is taking. Fuck that woman!”
Erin startled, then almost laughed. She hugged Connor and whispered back, “No, don’t fuck her, knock her flat on her surgically enhanced ass.”
Connor eyes widened. “You think she’s had her ass redone?”
Erin pursed her lips smugly. “You can take it to the bank.”
They both shared a soft chuckle that masked the pain Erin knew they shared.
Nate smiled at them. “If you two can stop giggling, now that everyone has a beer, let’s get started.”
Nate motioned to her to come over to him. He pulled her down on the sofa next to him and put his arm around her. Erin had to force herself not to sink into his strong body. But it was clear when Nate began questioning Doug and Ralph that this was not a casual conversation. And that there was one man leading this inquiry. It was Nate. Both the Chief and Sam deferred to him without question.
“Okay, guys. Bring us up to date. Where are we—and who the hell do you think did this?”
“Here’s where we are, Nate.” Doug’s lined face underscored the strain they all were under. Both Doug and Ralph knew how critical their information was. Nate was confident that neither of them had gotte
n much sleep. But then, the kind of men they hung around with and the international scope of the inquiry didn’t allow for luxuries like sleep.
“First. You’ve been bugging us from the beginning, asking why Mike would need to set up offshore untraceable accounts. The answer confirms your gut, Nate. He didn’t have to. Every financial guy in the company—present and past—said Mike could and did take any amount of money he needed, anytime he needed it, and reported it when he felt like it. It drove his accountants crazy. But his long term accountant said it was more sloppiness, laziness, than intentionally fraudulent. Just made for a lot of work for his money guys come tax time, cleaning up the books. Which they didn’t mind because they charged him through the ass for the extra time it took to straighten everything out. We’ve reviewed his last ten years of company returns and they meet the smell test. We don’t have returns for last year as the ‘New Kid’ couldn’t get them done in time and had to get an extension. No question, the kid was in way over his head.”
“So, we can conclude that it wasn’t Mike who was stealing from his company?”
Doug agreed, “Right on, Nate. The final nail in that coffin was when we eliminated any mob connection. Not that Mike wasn’t heavily involved with the big boys. But according to my sources, they loved the guy. They most certainly weren’t squeezing him. Apparently he was a horseshit poker player but it never stopped him from betting big money and he always paid his debts. My stoolies indicated the big boys are downright pissed that they’ve lost one of their best golden egg-laying gooses.” Doug smoothed his fingers across his thinning hair. “Nope, Nate, it’s looking more and more like our culprit is home grown.”
“I assumed as much.”
“Yeah, Nate. I know you never thought it was the mob. And we’ve eliminated the little piss-ant doctor. His wife’s got his balls in a vise so tight I’m surprised the guy can jack off, much less fuck the always willing Mrs. Peterson. Cecelia James is from big time Boston money. She has Doc James bound to her for life with legal agreements that would leave him penniless if he ever decided to fly the coop. Even with all of Mike’s money, Cecelia’s financial statement comes pretty close. And the doc doesn’t have to kill anyone to get it. Just keep his dick in his pants at least part of the time. And while the good doctor is a master with the knife, the injuries to Mike’s body weren’t from any scalpel. They were more likely combat or tactical knives. So the doc is out.”
“Hmm. So that leaves… Sherman Klein.”
Ralph joined the conversation.
“You’re right, Nate. Sherman is ricocheting to the top of our list. I’ve had several interesting conversations with Mike’s long-term accountants, the kid he brought in a year ago, and Klein’s accountants and lawyers. A damning picture is forming. Seems Mike and Sherman used to be best buddies even though Mike was clearly the boss. Being the asshole that he was, Mike always made sure that Sherman and everyone else knew that nobody was as smart as he was. Especially not Sherman. Even though Mike did the actual hiring and firing, both the old and the new accountants indicated that Klein was behind the move.”
Ralph’s eyes lit up with the next piece of information.
“We don’t know what caused the break for sure—although we have a damned good idea. We finally got it out of Sherman’s lawyer. Seems that two months ago, Mike wiped out nearly $10 million worth of stock options that Sherman had been counting on for years.”
Nate whistled and the others made similar surprised sounds.
“Hell, that might make a guy mad enough to kill.”
“You got that right, Nate. And according to his lawyer, Sherman was virtually incoherent with rage when he found out that what Mike had done was actually legal, to boot.”
Ralph winked at the Chief.
“Sure am glad you are as well-funded as you are, Chief Roberts. You’d be surprised what it costs to get this kind of information out of a crooked lawyer.”
The Chief shrugged. “Ah hell, best part of my job is tussling with that little prick of a mayor. I look forward to the annual budget meetings like most people look forward to hunting season. For me it’s more fun than shooting baldies from my front porch.”
At the Chief’s last remark, Connor and Nate shared a private grin. Connor translated for the others.
“The Chief is referring to the way he taught me and my brother and Nate to deer hunt. Said the only time you should have to get off your porch was to nab a ten-point buck. The baldies were the does or any buck without antlers.”
Nate added. “To clarify, you aren’t recommending shooting anything from your front porch, right, Chief?”
The Chief frowned. “As long as you don’t include the mayor in that blanket statement, I’d agree.”
After the laughter died down, Doug met Nate’s questioning glance.
“Yeah, we did check into the ‘arrangements’ Mrs. Peterson had with her late husband. You have to give her credit. She wrangled a pre-nup out of him that guaranteed her half his assets if they divorced. Highly unusual. Typically, the guy with the assets holds the cards. In this case, Mrs. Peterson seems to have held them.”
Unwilling to give Laura any credit, Nate disagreed. “You don’t know Laura, Doug. She always holds the cards, or thinks she does. And I’ve never known her to think half of anything is as good as the whole.”
Nate squeezed Erin’s hand, then stood and began pacing.
“Excellent work, both of you. As always, you have found in a couple of days what would have taken a ‘legitimate’ operation weeks, if not months. I appreciate the hell out of you! Thank you both.”
He nodded to Sam. “Commander Carter is about to interview Mrs. Peterson. Your information will help him immensely. You wanna have as many of your facts lined up as possible when tussling with Laura. I’m looking forward to the show. For once, I’ll be on the other side of the one-way glass.”
He winked at Sam.
“But don’t fret, hotshot. Only advice I have is to wear a cup. Laura always goes for the family jewels first. She takes your skin off next.”
Glancing down at his phone, he looked up and met Sam’s questioning gaze with a confirming nod.
“Hmm, this is a text from Eric. For those of you who don’t know Eric, there isn’t an illegal activity he isn’t aware of or a ‘kink’ he hasn’t tried or at least knows someone who has. His message says that there is no sign of Mike anywhere in the BDSM scene, but he’s meeting with a guy tonight who may have some dirt on Sherman.”
Nate ran his hands through his hair, a frown tugging at his brows.
“I’m thinking we need to start playing the second fiddle in the Peterson Lumber Company a hell of a lot harder than we have. The guy lost $10 mil in options, and interestingly enough, the offshore accounts hold at least that amount. Looks as though someone may have been recouping his losses. Sam, when you’re finished with Laura—or more likely, when she’s finished with you—we’re gonna drop in unannounced on Mr. Klein. I’d say he has some explaining to do.”
Chapter 25
“Will Nate be joining us?”
“No. Detective Stryker is busy. I will be interviewing you and Ms. Burk will be transcribing the interview. You met Ms. Burk when Detective Stryker interviewed you at your home the day after the murder.”
Laura glanced at the woman who was sitting at the end of the table and didn’t bother to speak to her. Nate gave a small snort. Of course, Laura wouldn’t acknowledge Maggie. She was a non-person to her. As Naomi had said, Laura looked at most women as though they were dog shit. He exchanged a knowing look with Dan. The two of them were observing the interview. As he’d requested, Sam had positioned Laura so that Nate could read her facial expressions.
“Ya notice, Dan, we almost don’t have to hear what she’s saying to know exactly what’s on her mind. In fact, it’s almost better to shut out the sound.”
He couldn’t hold back a deep frustrated sigh.
“What’s up, big guy?”
“How could I
have been so stupid, Dan? Was I really that naïve, that shallow, that I didn’t see who Laura was when I asked her to marry me?”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Nate. You were what, twenty-five? Twenty-six? Back from your second overseas tour? First time in Special Forces? And damn, Nate, look at her. Physically, she’s gorgeous.”
“She is that, and of course it doesn’t help that the whole time I was with her, I thought with my little head and never listened to the one with a brain. ‘Dick Brain’ is an oxymoron if I ever heard one. There’s no such thing.” Nate sighed again. “I know this might sound corny, Dan, but Erin glows. She really does. It’s like there is a flame inside of her that lights up when she sees me. I never understood what true beauty was. I mean, Erin is every bit as physically beautiful as Laura. But she is so much more.”
Dan chuckled and clapped him on the back. “You’ve got the best and worst disease in the world, Nate. You’re lovesick. And I couldn’t be happier for you. Erin’s an amazing woman. Those of us who care about you are convinced you got a guardian angel perched on your shoulder. Somethin’s there, Nate. Something got rid of that evil woman, and brought Erin into your life.”
Nate frowned and nodded. “You’re right, Dan. It’s a fucking miracle. Must be a goddamn guardian angel, becuz sure as hell, that woman sitting in there is the devil incarnate.”
He reached over and turned up the sound.
“May as well hear what she’s saying verbally. Non-verbally, Commander Carter better’ve put on that cup I warned him about. Christ, she may as well just crawl up on the table, lay on her back, stick her feet up in the air and shove an apple in her mouth. She’s literally serving herself up to him.”
Nate squashed his disgust and began watching Laura’s body language. It was one of the best insights to how her devious mind worked. She was doing what she always did. First she sized up her prey like the consummate predator she was and then she chose her facade. Who she was going to be for that particular audience—at that particular moment in time. To Sam’s credit, she must’ve been getting negative vibes from him because she’d dropped the simpering little girl mask ten minutes ago, and just now discarded the bereaved widow guise. If you watched carefully, you could see her eyes moving from side to side. As if she were clicking through her rolodex of the “Lauras” stored in her brain—deciding which one she should bring out next.