“Just covering all bases at this point, Ethan. She had motive—”
“For murder? For a story that’ll be forgotten weeks, if not days from now? I’d hardly call that motive.” Allen just stared at him, no emotion behind his dead brown eyes. He glanced at Kat, frozen against the counter, clutching it like a lifeline, as if she’d fall over if she let go.
“What about you? Did you also know the story was about to break?”
His father’s former partner, before his father had been elected Windham’s Chief of Police. And because of that past relationship between them, it was difficult to say how he felt about the man. Allen had remained close to their family throughout the years, even after his father’s death, but recent events had changed their once close relationship. Those events involving his treatment of Kat.
“Yeah, I knew. Found out just about the same time as Kat. But again, what the hell difference does it make?”
“I’ll say the same thing to you I just said to her. Depends on how pissed off you were.”
Oh, he’d been pissed. The last fucking straw in the games Emma had recently been playing. Resisting the urge to ball his hands into fists, he kept his gaze steady on Allen’s, wordlessly urging him to get to the point. He was becoming convinced Allen knew about the fight between him and Emma last night. Knew about the shit that had been going down the past few weeks…
“I did not kill Emma. First, I didn’t have my hands wrapped around that knife—”
“If Chandler’s telling the truth, somebody stabbed her and left her for dead—”
“Second,” Ethan bit out. “I had no motive. And third, how stupid do you think I’d be, stabbing her in the middle of a party, where there could be more than a hundred possible witnesses?”
“Stupid? I’d say it was quite clever. Especially after Stephen Chandler showed up, providing you with a perfect scapegoat.” They stared at each other, neither one refusing to back down, like some sort of stupid pissing contest, even though they both knew Allen held all the power.
“When was the last time you saw Emma, Miss Collins?” Allen’s gaze never left Ethan’s and he understood the fucking warning. “Before you found her with Chandler,” Allen clarified.
“During the campaign speeches.”
She was lying. Ethan had to force himself to remain fluid, give away her lie.
“And where was Stephen Chandler at this point?”
“With me. We went out onto the deck just after the speeches were done.”
“And Ethan?”
“He’d just finished giving one of the speeches. People were congratulating him.”
Allen glanced at Ethan again. “Where were you this past weekend?”
“With me,” Kat said quickly. “He was in the city with me. We drove up yesterday afternoon before the parade.”
“Was that the plan all along?”
“Yes.”
“Is that right?” Allen glanced at Ethan again, but he couldn’t quite decipher whether Allen’s undertone held a hint of skepticism or he was just verifying the information.
“It is,” Ethan gritted out. Unfortunately, those plans had included meeting Kat in time for Jen’s party the night before. The party he’d never made it to. Damage control, he thought, never believing the damage not being at that party would be so much worse. A major fucking mistake. But how the hell would he have known Stephen was going to show up? And that dress…Christ, he didn’t want to remember that sexy fucking dress. Didn’t want to think about her dancing with Stephen, his hands all over her. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Emma’s townhouse was broken into. Ransacked. You, Ms. Collins, and Chandler all had motive, means, and opportunity.” Allen stood, taking a final sip of coffee before placing it back on the counter. “A conspiracy perhaps?”
“The motive is weak, Allen,” Ethan said, fighting to keep the anger out of his voice.
After a pointed glance at Kat, Allen gave Ethan a hard stare. “We’ve barely scratched the surface. Perhaps we’ll find a stronger one.”
Ethan felt his stomach drop. Allen knew. Or at least suspected.
Five minutes later, Ethan was still fuming after Allen had left.
“Do you really think we’re suspects?” Kat whispered. Her voice trembled, giving away her nervousness. Ethan raised his head from the front door and turned. She was standing under the archway between her empty dining room and the foyer, so beautiful it made his heart weep.
“Why’d you lie?” He couldn’t keep the fury out of his voice. He took a deep breath, pushing away from the door. Kat backed up, turning as she headed back to the kitchen.
“About what?”
“Don’t give me that,” he warned. “I don’t need you protecting me. And I know for a fact you didn’t see her after that wine incident.”
“And how would you know that, Ethan?”
He could have taken her words as suspicion, but he didn’t. Kat would never believe he was capable of violence.
“Because she was leaving. We…fought. She was upset.”
“About the story?”
“Yes,” he lied. Partially, anyway. “Don’t lie to the police again, Kat,” Ethan warned.
It was a long moment before Kat spoke. “Nobody can prove I didn’t see her.”
“You wanna fucking bet? Did you not get where he was going with all that?” he bit out. “Did you not understand that he’s looking to pin this not just on Stephen, but on you? On me? Hell, on all three of us, if he can manage it?” he thundered, his voice growing with each question, echoing through the entire house by the time he was done.
“He’s fishing, Ethan. A conspiracy? Come on—”
“Damn it, Kat!” he roared. “He’ll find out you lied as soon as everybody else at that party tells him they never saw Emma after that! You just made yourself a fucking suspect!”
Kat jumped, her eyes widening with shock as her mug fell to the tile at her feet, shattering in a million slivers of broken glass around her bare feet. All the pain and rage he’d felt over the past twelve hours poured out of him in that one ill-considered yell. And it wasn’t just the entire situation with Emma, but with fucking Chandler as well.
“Fuck,” Ethan muttered under his breath, rushing toward Kat before she could move, lifting her from the floor and dropping her on the counter, her shriek of surprise loud in his ears. He gripped her waist so hard he’d probably leave bruises. He told himself to let her go, but couldn’t force his hands from her. Not when she felt so perfect, so right in his hands. But when her eyes met his, regret rolled through him at the shock in hers. Jesus, this was Kat he was speaking to.
His Kat.
He’d never spoken to her like that before. But he wouldn’t apologize. Couldn’t. It was too important that she get it through her head. So, he kept his gaze steady, ignoring the anger on her face that was beginning to replace her shock. “Don’t lie again.”
Before they could settle this between them, his phone rang. He knew who it would be before the image of his sister lighting the screen confirmed it.
“Hello, Abby,” he said softly, his heart clutching at the hell they were going through. But Emma, she wasn’t the sweetheart she made herself out to be, was she?
Not that he wasn’t partially to blame. He’d fucked up their relationship, much like he was doing with the girl now sitting frozen on the counter.
Abby cried into the phone, jumbled words he couldn’t make out. On his way out of the kitchen, he brushed his hand down Kat’s arm, mouthed the word stay before heading outside to her terrace, closing the door behind him as he tried to calm his uncalmable sister.
Ten minutes later, he hung up, but didn’t yet go back inside. Funny how a week ago, hell, just a day ago, he’d been on top of the fucking world. His campaign finally kicking off, looking good for winning the election for District Attorney, his main contender no longer a threat.
At least not on a professional front, Ethan thought, annoyance was
hing over him. Now Stephen fucking Chandler was back in the picture and he knew Kat would do everything in her power to clear his name, putting her in his crosshairs once again.
Six weeks ago, he’d been determined not to make any more mistakes. But who could have foreseen all the events that had transpired since then?
Back inside, Kat had cleaned up the glass and coffee. She turned toward him, and he wondered again what had happened between her and Stephen the night before last. Wondered how she felt about Stephen’s sudden reappearance. Had she gotten over him? Would she forgive him for leaving her? After Stephen had crushed her?
I need you, Stephen. Please don’t leave me.
Even now, more than a month later, the pain of her words stabbed him in the chest, sharp and piercing.
“Going to your mom’s?” Kat asked, her tone concerned, as if he hadn’t just exploded at her. Jesus, he was an ass.
Ethan nodded. “We’re all meeting there. Then we’ll go over to the Anderson’s together.”
“I’m so sorry, Ethan.”
Ethan took her hand in his, tugged her closer, breathing in her scent when she was cuddled into his body, her arms around him. Where she belonged, he thought with a sigh. Christ, he wished he could turn back the clock.
Their lives were about to become a living hell, his was already half-way there. And if he lost her to Chandler again…
He loosened his grip, cupping her cheek. She looked up at him, her beautiful emerald green eyes filled with sorrow. Not what he really wanted to see glowing in those bottomless depths.
“I need you to stay away from Allen, okay?” For so many reasons, he thought. “Don’t let him question you without me present.”
“I won’t,” she readily agreed. “I promise.”
Ethan dug in his pocket, holding out his car keys. When Kat wrapped her fingers around them, he said, “You can use my car, just promise me you’ll let the police handle this investigation.”
Silence.
“Kat,” he warned.
“I promise.”
***
Three hours later, Kat knew she’d be breaking that promise.
She wrapped her arms around her waist as if that would keep her together, her vision clouding as she stared out at the glistening pool. The sun had come out like she’d wished, but now only seemed to mock her. Because inside, she felt nothing but cold. Behind her, her phone was going crazy, but she ignored it. There was nobody she could even think about speaking with right now.
A lie.
Six years of her life. Her entire adulthood, a lie.
Jake looped through her legs, meowing softly. Scooping him into her arms, Kat cradled him like a baby and turned from the French doors, her gaze landing on Ethan’s flash drive. Thoughts of who had planted it last night when she’d emptied her clutch had quickly dissolved the instant she’d plugged it into her laptop. She knew who planted it.
Remember how anxious Ethan had been to get it back?
Remember his relief when you told him you hadn’t opened it?
Their relationship exploded like snapshots in her head. Ethan, always there, keeping her close even when she was five-thousand miles away. Buying and remodeling this house, directly across the street from his own. Finishing it just in time…
And this past month, when he’d all but cut himself out of her life without warning.
He didn’t need to keep tabs on me anymore.
Because she hadn’t found the connection to his father.
The connection that said Thomas O’Rourke had known who was responsible for killing her parents. That he’d met with Judge William Chandler Sr. within hours of meeting with her, when she’d been pleading for help.
Which didn’t mean anything, Kat told herself. Thomas O’Rourke was the Chief of Police. Of course he’d have reason to meet with a judge.
But he was killed two days later. Supposedly by a drunk driver.
Because he was suspicious of the judge, so the judge had him killed?
Or because the judge hadn’t wanted to leave any loose ends?
According to Emma’s story, it was the latter.
Oh, God, just stop! She could twist different scenarios in her head all day. She just needed the truth. But there was nobody to go to for the truth anymore. The truth had died with the judge. And possibly with Emma Anderson.
Did it matter? Ethan, no matter what his motivations, had still saved her from that fire. Had still protected her. Whether his father was involved or not, it didn’t change that truth, didn’t make Ethan a criminal.
No. But it changed the reasons behind their friendship, didn’t it?
Kat’s phone rang again, Jen’s picture flashing on the screen. Moving Jake to one arm, she answered it just before it went to voicemail.
“Took you long enough!” Jen all but yelled in her ear.
“Sorry,” Kat said, trying to infuse some lightness into her tone, failing miserably. But Jess chalked her mood up to the news, which apparently had been aired in the city.
Wonderful. Now she’d have to call her grandmother, ease her worries.
Kat recapped the events of last night for Jen. Most of them, anyway, before she cut the call short, promising to call her back later. Kat called her grandmother next, assuring her that she was alright, making small talk while she unplugged the flash drive and slipped it into her pocket. There were more files to go through, she’d only just scratched the surface.
Glancing at the clock, Kat said goodbye to her grandmother and headed upstairs to take a shower, ignoring the sharp twinge in her chest when she placed Jake on the bed she’d shared with Ethan last night.
She had an appointment with Anne Radcliffe in little more than an hour. A woman Kat was hoping would shed some light…on everything. Emma had met with her weeks ago, had linked her name with Thomas O’Rourke’s. But hadn’t included a fricking explanation.
Emma’s last taunt.
Less than an hour later, Kat walked into the diner, scanning the open dining area for Ms. Radcliffe. Before the hostess arrived, she spotted an empty booth to the left of the bakery cases where she’d easily be able to keep her eye on the door. Accommodating Kat’s request, the hostess seated her in the last booth. After ordering a soda, she sat back, fighting against the turmoil of her thoughts.
Don’t go there.
At least not before the interview. Fortunately, Kat didn’t have to wait long. Only a few minutes passed before Anne Radcliffe walked in, looking cool and composed despite the melting heat outside. Wearing a black pantsuit, her dark brown hair pinned in an elegant French twist, she appeared every bit the wealthy business owner. Kat had Googled her before she’d rushed out of the house. She stood and introduced herself when the hostess brought her over. “Thank you so much for meeting me, Ms. Radcliffe.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Investigator Collins.” Kat ignored that, didn’t correct her. “I don’t mean to sound heartless, but I was worried the renewed interest in my son’s case was going to die along with Ms. Anderson.”
Her son’s case? Caught off guard, Kat just nodded as she shook Anne Radcliffe’s hand before they both took their seats.
“Do you believe there’s a connection?” she asked.
“The investigation has just begun,” Kat evaded. “However, being that Ms. Anderson was researching your son’s case, it’s a lead we can’t overlook.”
Their waitress came over and Kat took the opportunity to pull herself together. One omission and she was firmly edging into the gray area. But life wasn’t all black and white, was it?
Anne ordered a sandwich to go. Kat followed suit, ordering a grilled cheese and fries even though her appetite was long gone.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Ms. Radcliffe? Tell me about your son.”
“Anne, please. Thirty-six years ago, my son, Greg Radcliffe, was accused of a murder he didn’t commit. Unfortunately, he died in a car accident before police could clear his name. The investigation
died with him.”
Anne reached into her large black bag and pulled out a manila file, tapping it with a manicured fingernail. “Over the years, I’ve hired a few private investigators, but nothing ever panned out,” Anne continued. “You may have already found Ms. Anderson’s copies, but I brought another set just in case. There’s not much in here, mostly interviews.”
Kat looked down at the file between them. If nothing ever panned out, why was Emma investigating it? “The investigator—”
“He died. Natural causes,” she said. “So…my son. Greg was a good kid, had a compassionate soul. But then he met Karen Jones. I knew the minute he brought her into our home nothing good would come from it.” Anne sighed, taking a sip of her water before continuing. “I could see her scheming, hiding behind her innocent expression. I’ve dealt with people like her all my life. It’s the one downside of having money.
“Karen was a foster kid, at the university on a scholarship. Her mother died of a drug overdose, her father was never in the picture.”
And yet, the girl had managed to raise herself up, get a scholarship where she’d be able to change the path of her life, Kat thought. Anne spoke with no sorrow in her voice, just a cold precision. Almost a military-like recitation of a story she’d probably repeated countless times over the last three decades.
“Greg was an easy target, easily manipulated, always looking for the good in people, even if there wasn’t any to be found. I tried to warn him. Told him Karen was only after his money, but you know how that goes. Warning him away only made her more desirable. Had I known how it would end, I would have pulled him out school and moved across the country.”
“How did it end?” Kat finally asked when Anne didn’t continue.
“As I predicted, Karen Young got herself knocked up. Admittedly, I didn’t handle it well at first, even threatened to cut Greg off if he married her. But he married her anyway. Eloped.”
Betrayal (Secrets, Lies, and Deception Book 2) Page 8