Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice)

by Hannon, Irene

  The situations were similar. Except the stakes in this game were a lot higher.

  And he could think of only one less-than-foolproof remedy.

  A wave of uneasiness shuddered through him. Bringing in a third party was risky. As much as Freddie owed him, he could turn out to be a wild card. And assuming Rossi insisted he fix the situation rather than wait it out, Alan had no idea how, without arousing suspicions, he was going to plant a letter in a house already thoroughly searched by Kelly and the Crime Scene Unit.

  It was shaping up to be a pit of a day.

  Frustrated, he snatched the pot out of the coffeemaker and stomped toward the sink. But a moment later he jerked to a stop when a sudden, sharp pain stabbed the sole of his foot.

  Muttering a curse, he checked out the floor. Shards of glass glinted in the morning sun streaming through the kitchen window. As he watched, blood began to ooze from beneath his foot.

  He’d stepped right into the middle of the mess he’d created last night.

  The juices in his stomach congealed.

  A cut foot he could handle.

  But like every gambler he’d ever met, he believed in omens.

  And this wasn’t a good one.

  “Want anything out of the vending machine?” Cole stretched and rose from the table in the conference room he and Mitch had commandeered. “It’s way past lunchtime.”

  “Yeah.” Mitch rubbed the back of his neck and surveyed the piles of paper in front of him. “Anything with sugar—and caffeine. Chocolate would work. I need an energy boost.”

  “I thought Navy SEALs ate healthier than that.”

  Mitch grinned. “Another myth busted.” He patted his midsection. “Actually, my disciplined eating regime has gone to pot since I met Alison. She’s a great cook.”

  “Yeah—despite her lousy coffee. But you don’t look like you’re overindulging.”

  “That’s because I’ve increased my daily lap count. The pool has become my second home since your sister started stuffing my face.”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Don’t expect any sympathy from me. I subsist on bachelor fare. Trust me, I wouldn’t mind having someone cook for me once in a while.”

  “Didn’t Kelly make you dinner one night? How are her kitchen skills?” Mitch grinned at him.

  Cole kept his expression neutral. “It was a very impromptu meal.”

  “Are you telling me she nuked a microwave dinner for you?”

  Hardly. Those lemon bars he’d wolfed down as he’d driven away had been amazing—just like the rest of the dinner she’d prepared.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” Mitch’s grin broadened.

  Cole flattened the smile teasing his lips and shot him a disgruntled look as he edged toward the door. “You sure you don’t want anything more than a candy bar?”

  “Nope. I’m going to Alison’s tonight for that lasagna. I want to save up my calories.”

  Cole leaned his forehead against the door frame and groaned. “Go ahead. Rub it in.”

  “You’re welcome to join us. She’s making a whole pan. There will be plenty. And she was just saying yesterday she hasn’t heard much from you lately and that the two of you need to catch up.”

  He knew what that meant. His sister wanted to grill him. Weighing the benefit of a home-cooked meal against a third-degree interrogation about his faith or his love life, he decided the cons outweighed the pros.

  “Let’s see what’s going on by the end of the day.” With that hedge, he made a quick exit.

  His stomach rumbling a protest against the late lunch, Cole barreled down the hall, intent on getting to the vending machines as soon as possible. But as he rounded a corner he almost ran Alan over.

  “Whoa! Sorry.” He grinned and did a quick sidestep. “Don’t tell any of the street cops or they’ll cite me for a moving violation.”

  His attempt at humor was met with an annoyed frown. “Why is everyone always in a hurry?”

  Cole’s smile faded as he gave Alan an assessing sweep. The man’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and the tan he’d sported a couple of weeks ago had faded into an unhealthy gray pallor. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his colleague was coming off a wild night of drinking. But even at a Friday night happy hour, Alan never indulged in more than a beer or two.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” The man wiped a hand down his face and made an obvious effort to pull himself together. “I didn’t get much sleep this weekend.”

  “How’s the homicide investigation coming?”

  “It’s not. The leads I’ve been chasing have turned into dead ends. What’s happening with the Warren case?”

  Cole shifted and shoved his hands in his pockets. Alan’s stiff posture in the meeting with Paul yesterday had clearly communicated his displeasure about being pulled off the case.

  “Nothing new. We’re just fact-finding right now. I’m hoping to be ready to call Rossi by tomorrow and set up a meeting for Monday.”

  “It’s gonna be tough to pin anything on him.” He propped a shoulder against the wall, as if overcome by weariness. “There was nothing at the crime scene to tie him to the death. I suspect he’s a pro at evading the law and keeping jobs like that—if he was behind it—at arm’s length.”

  “He made enough mistakes to land in prison, though.”

  What little color remained in the man’s face seeped out. “True.”

  “Look . . . are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you picked up that flu bug that’s been going around.”

  “Nah.” He pushed off from the wall. “Just tired. Let me know what’s happening on the Warren case, okay? I don’t like loose ends.”

  “Sure. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

  “How’s the daughter holding up?”

  “Okay for now. I did convince her to beef up the security at her house. Her window and door locks were pathetic.”

  “Yeah, I remember noticing that when I stopped there a couple of times during the investigation to talk to her. With Rossi involved, it doesn’t hurt to take extra precautions.” He sighed. “Well, back to the salt mines.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I think I’m gonna need it.” Raising his hand in farewell, he continued down the hall.

  Cole followed his progress for a few seconds, then continued toward the vending machines. He didn’t get more than three steps before his cell began to vibrate.

  Hunger kept him moving as he pulled it off his belt, but he smiled when he noted the caller.

  “Hi, Kelly. I was just talking about you.”

  “Saying nice things, I hope.”

  “Always.”

  “Thanks.” She cleared her throat, and he could picture her blushing—a trait made more endearing by its rarity in today’s world. “I just wanted to let you know all the locks are in place. The installer was very thorough, so I should be well protected. I haven’t quite gotten the hang of how the ones on the basement windows work, but I’ll figure it out. I don’t open them often, anyway.”

  “You want me to stop by after work and take a look? I’ve had plenty of experience with all kinds of window locks.”

  The ill-advised offer was out before he could stop it. If he wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional until her father’s case was resolved, trumping up excuses to see her wasn’t smart.

  Her tone suggested she was as surprised as he was by the invitation. “I hate to put you out.”

  She was giving him a chance to retract the offer. He should take it.

  Except he didn’t.

  “I pass close to your house anyway. It’s not a problem.”

  “In that case, I accept—as long as you let me feed you again. I even baked some pumpkin bars in the spirit of the upcoming holiday. They were my dad’s favorite.”

  Despite the forced brightness of her last comment, he heard the slight catch in her voice at the end. Any lingering inclinations to recant his offer evaporated.

  “That
sounds great. Thank you. Look for me by six.”

  “I will. And Cole—thank you.” Her soft expression reflected an emotion deeper than gratitude.

  Or was that just wishful thinking?

  He cleared his throat, reminding himself not to get carried away. Yet. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you soon.”

  As he ended the call, Cole scanned the vending machine offerings and selected a Mr. Goodbar for Mitch. The man would get his requested chocolate, but at least the peanuts would provide a little protein. He punched the button for a granola bar for himself.

  Snacks in hand, he rejoined Mitch and tossed his colleague’s candy bar on the table. Mitch ripped off the paper, eyeing the granola bar as Cole sat.

  “Trying to make me feel guilty?”

  “If the shoe fits . . .” He lifted one shoulder and bit into the chewy bar as he pulled a stack of material on Rossi’s family toward him.

  “I know. You’re saving your calories for Alison’s lasagna.”

  “Nope. I’m going to pass.” He pulled out a sheet on Rossi’s son that looked interesting.

  “Better offer?”

  He glanced up. The more he worked with Mitch, the more impressed he was by the man’s intuitive sixth sense. Not a bad asset for a SEAL—or a detective.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “Heading to Kelly’s?”

  Cole squinted at him, as annoyed as he was intrigued. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Read between the lines.”

  “Elementary, my dear Cole. Any man who skipped lunch and could still pass up Alison’s lasagna has to have either a fabulous meal or a beautiful woman waiting for him. Maybe both.”

  “You know, we should make a great team with Rossi. Between your keen perception and my inestimable interrogation skills, we may come away with some excellent insights.”

  Mitch smirked and lifted what was left of his candy bar in salute. “I’ll eat to that. And have fun tonight. I’ll give Alison your regrets. Not that you have any.”

  For a moment, Cole thought about responding. Decided against it.

  Because once again, Mitch’s intuition was dead-on.

  12

  “Thank you again. This was much better than eating alone.” Cole wiped his mouth on one of the Irish linen napkins Kelly reserved for special occasions and smiled as he set it on the damask tablecloth beside his plate. “And I appreciate all the nice touches.” He gestured to her small dining room table, set with her best china and the Waterford crystal goblets her dad had given her for her twenty-first birthday.

  At his husky tone, she dipped her head and made a pretense of brushing some crumbs into a pile on the snowy cloth. “I don’t get to use my nicer things very often. Company gave me an excuse to get some mileage out of them.”

  True, but not the only reason. She’d originally intended to serve in the kitchen, until Lauren’s advice had echoed in her mind as she’d whipped up a batch of her homemade biscuits.

  It doesn’t hurt to lay the groundwork. Let the man know you’re interested.

  And she was interested. Very. So in addition to pulling out the stops on the meal, she’d exchanged her usual jeans for a pair of black wool slacks and a forest-green V-necked angora sweater that matched her eyes.

  “Well, anytime you want an excuse to break out the family silver, give me a call. I’ll be glad to volunteer as a taster.” Cole grinned and nodded toward her plate. “Finished?”

  She checked it out. Funny. She couldn’t remember eating, but her food had disappeared sometime during the animated conversation that had started with practical matters—like locks and a case update—and evolved into a discussion of politics, hobbies, and family.

  “I guess I am.” She pushed back her chair and rose. “Did you save room for dessert?”

  “Always. A sweet tooth is one of my weaknesses.” He picked up his plate and stood. “I’ll help you clean the table first.”

  A man who helped with kitchen chores. That definitely went into the “strengths” category. “I can’t say I’ve spotted many faults.”

  “Oh, I have plenty. Just ask my sister.” He chuckled and followed her into the kitchen. “She’s very outspoken on the subject.”

  “Name one besides the sweet tooth.”

  “True confessions, hmm? Okay, let’s see . . .” He set his plate beside the sink. “She claims I have no tact.”

  Kelly deposited her plate next to his and appraised him. “Maybe it’s a sister thing. Family members sometimes see shortcomings no one else does.”

  “Nope. She’s right. Not that I’d ever admit it to her face, you understand. Which brings up another one of my flaws. Stubbornness.”

  A smile teased her lips. “I’m guilty on that score too. But I prefer to think of it as tenacity or persistence. And that can be a positive quality.” Her smile faded. “It paid off with my dad’s case.”

  “True.”

  She opened the cabinet and pulled out some cups and saucers, determined not to let the lingering questions over her father’s death ruin what had turned out to be a most enjoyable evening. “Coffee?”

  “That would be great. I’ll grab some more stuff off the table.”

  He disappeared into the dining room while she started the coffee, returning with the butter dish, salt and pepper shakers, and the empty bread basket.

  “We made short work of these.” He lifted the basket, grinning as he set it on the counter. “Or I should say, I did. You’re a fabulous cook.”

  She shrugged off the compliment, but the warm glow in her heart remained. “Learning to cook was a matter of survival. My mom died when I was twelve, and cooking was not among my dad’s many talents. We subsisted on macaroni and cheese and frozen dinners for weeks, until I finally dug out my mom’s recipes. In the beginning we ate a lot of charred mystery meat, but my technique improved with age and practice. Are you ready for those pumpkin bars?”

  “Yes. Do you take cream with your coffee?” He indicated the refrigerator.

  “And sugar. The bowl’s inside the cabinet on your right.”

  “I hope not as much as Alison. She ends up with syrup instead of coffee.”

  Kelly smiled at him as he withdrew the items. He might complain about his sister, but the affection in his voice when he spoke of her was unmistakable. “I use half a teaspoon. Just enough to cut the bitterness. And if that’s her biggest fault, I envy her.”

  “Oh, she has other quirks.” He set the sugar and cream on the counter. “Not only does she oversweeten coffee, she can’t brew a decent cup. Tea is her thing, so when we eat at her place we always opt for instant. It’s safer. She’s also stubborn. Must be a family trait.” He flashed her another grin. “Plus, she takes far too much interest in my personal life and my relationships—and is very vocal in her opinions.”

  Relationships. Plural.

  Kelly turned away to remove the plastic wrap from the pumpkin bars as she wrestled with that concept. The news didn’t surprise her, but hearing it put into words was a bit disconcerting. With his good looks and engaging personality, though, Cole wasn’t likely to spend many Saturday evenings alone. Even Lauren had hinted as much—and suggested he might be on the fast side. Perhaps his sister agreed.

  “Want to sample one while we wait for the coffee to brew?” She held out the plate, trying to come up with a diplomatic approach that would allow her to dig a little deeper into the subject.

  He eyed the frosted bars. “I could be persuaded.” Leaning forward, he took one.

  “So are you saying your sister is nosy?” She retrieved dessert plates from the cabinet and put two pumpkin bars on each, easing into the subject.

  “Yes.” He swallowed the bite he’d taken before continuing. “But she also has many fine qualities. Ones I never fully recognized until she was in a serious car accident a couple of years ago and we almost lost her.” His voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat. “She’s a fighter, though, and she was deter
mined to not just survive but make a complete recovery. These days, the only visible evidence of the accident is a slight limp when she overdoes things—which she often does. Alison isn’t the type to do any task halfway.” He weighed the remaining half of the pumpkin bar in his hand and studied her. “She kind of reminds me of you in that regard.”

  The comment took her off guard, and she slid her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “Thanks. I think.”

  “I meant that as a compliment. In case you haven’t figured it out, I admire strong, determined women.”

  “Even nosy ones?”

  “You aren’t nosy.”

  She crossed to the coffeemaker and fiddled with the handle of the pot. “Okay. But I am curious.”

  “About what?”

  Turning toward him, she folded her arms over her pounding heart. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “Sure.” He lowered the pumpkin bar instead of popping the rest in his mouth, his expression sobering at her serious tone.

  “I know you want to keep things strictly business between us until my dad’s case is resolved. I understand that—and agree with it. But you also said you’d like to explore a different kind of relationship once things are settled. So I was wondering if . . . well, you said your sister is vocal in her opinions about your relationships—plural—and . . .” Kelly’s cheeks began to burn. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she huffed out a breath. “I am so not good at this. Forget it, okay? We can talk about this later, after the investigation is finished.”

  Twin creases appeared on Cole’s brow. “No. This is important, and it’s a fair concern.” He set the half-eaten pumpkin bar on the counter and faced her. “You want to know if I sleep around.”

  At his blunt but accurate assessment, the flame in her cheeks grew hotter. “See, I am nosy.”

  “I look on it more as your self-preservation instincts kicking in.”

  “That’s a generous take.” She tried for a smile, but her unsteady lips wouldn’t cooperate. “The thing is, I don’t operate in the fast lane, Cole. As my friend Lauren would be the first to testify, I’m a slow mover. I like you a lot already, and I think I could like you a lot more. But I don’t want to get too far down that road if you’re only in the market for a superficial relationship.”