“You with me?” he said finally, after a minute.
“I haven’t passed out, if that’s what you mean.”
The hum of the engine told her when he accelerated onto the highway.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said quietly.
“Right. You came to Cape Trouble to ask me a few friendly questions. Which is why you introduced yourself right off the bat, explained what you needed.” Her eyes popped open and her heart constricted. “You searched my house. Oh, God. Was the whole mugging thing faked to give you an in? And I tenderly patched you up,” she said acidly.
His fingers were so tight on the steering wheel, the knuckles showed white. She heard his teeth grind together. At least his torso wasn’t bare anymore; he’d thrown on a T-shirt while grabbing his wallet. “No. I didn’t search your house, and the mugging wasn’t faked. Give me some credit.”
“Why would I?” She turned her face away. She couldn’t bear to look at him again.
A couple more turns, and they pulled into the parking lot of the small hospital Cape Trouble was lucky to have. He, of course, rolled to a stop directly in front of the E.R. By the time he set the brake and got out, two people had emerged pushing a gurney. Adam spoke briefly to them, then opened her door.
“I can walk,” she insisted, and kept insisting as Adam swung her out of his SUV and onto the damn gurney, where he flattened a hand on her stomach and scowled at her when she tried to sit up. With the other hand, he lifted his phone to his ear.
If she’d thought she was having panic attacks before this, Naomi discovered those were nothing.
*****
The second worst day of her life only got worse. Okay, maybe third worse day, although she’d been young enough when her father died, the impact had faded.
Once her arm had been stitched and dressed, the doctor released her. Tempting though it was to call someone else – Anita, maybe, or Hannah, or Monica – and ask for a ride home, Naomi suspected she wouldn’t get away with it. Not given that two cops now hovered in the waiting room.
Both turned to look at her when she appeared in a wheelchair – no, she wasn’t to be allowed to walk out, any more than they’d let her walk in. From their faces, she couldn’t tell whether the two men had achieved an understanding while they waited together or not.
“I’ll get the car,” Adam said.
Naomi opened her mouth…and closed it. This time, he’d probably saved her life, risking his own.
When he went out, she looked at Daniel Colburn. “So, how much did he tell you?”
“Enough to raise some questions.” He didn’t look hostile, but he didn’t give off an ‘I’m on your side, come what may’ vibe, either.
Naomi wondered if she wasn’t a little bit stoned on the pain medication.
A minute later, the black Tahoe appeared at the curb outside the glass doors. Adam once again tossed her in. Daniel said he’d follow them, and walked away.
“What did the doctor say?” Adam asked.
She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t. “I’ll have a scar. Big deal. Come back if I develop a fever.”
“He should have kept you overnight.”
“It’s a flesh wound.” Who knew she’d ever be able to say that?
She did feel peculiar. Flippancy wasn’t her style. She couldn’t help appreciating how intensely irritating Adam seemed to find every word she said, though.
“Is that even your name?”
He scowled at her. “Unlike you, I use my own name.”
“Just asking.” She closed her eyes and let herself drift, so familiar with the route, each time he braked or accelerated she knew exactly where they were.
She’d been half afraid he’d try to take her back to his cottage instead of hers, but he stopped in front of hers.
“Wait until I come around,” he ordered.
By the time he did, a slightly smaller SUV, also black, had pulled up behind the Tahoe. She’d seen Daniel’s Honda Pilot before. Looked like black was the color of choice for cops, she thought, then remembered Adam’s was actually a rental. Maybe whatever was in his garage at home was bright red…but, picturing his wardrobe, she knew better. Had to be black.
Regrettably, she felt wobbly enough she had to accept Adam’s help descending from the ridiculously high seat, and even let him bear a little of her weight on the way to the door. She hated how desperately she wanted to let herself lean and trust the arm he had around her.
He took her key from her and unlocked. He and Daniel followed her in. Naomi went straight to the sofa even though bed sounded better. Ignoring the two men, she was able to loosen the laces on her Nikes with her good hand – her right, thank God – and kick them off, tuck her feet up under her and pull a fleece throw over herself.
She heard water running in the kitchen. Adam called, “Tea? Coffee? Cocoa?”
“Tea.”
Would he leave her alone tonight? Her heart squeezed. God, if she showed them the video, would he arrest her and drag her back to California? What she’d be admitting to was obstruction, at the least. Even though the video involved a different crime than the one he’d come here investigating.
Would Daniel agree to lock her in one of his two cells for the night?
The teapot whistled, and a minute later Adam set a steaming mug down on the coffee table in front of her. Both men had mugs in their hands, too, presumably coffee since neither had the string with a tag dangling from it like hers did.
She looked at Adam. “I want to see your I.D.” It came out loud and belligerent. She didn’t care.
He raised his eyebrows, but dug a badge out of his back pocket and handed it to her. She studied it, then lifted her head in astonishment. “You’re with Santa Lucia P.D.”
“That’s right.” His expression was wary.
“No wonder you weren’t one of the investigators I talked to. You don’t have any jurisdiction over what happened at my restaurant!”
She was vaguely aware of the way Daniel looked at him.
“No, I don’t,” he admitted.
“Then…I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”
“You know Frank Donahue was a detective with S.L.P.D.” He glanced at Daniel. “He’s the cop who was murdered in Ms. Varner’s restaurant.” He leaned a little on her last name before meeting her eyes again, those gray eyes implacable. “Frank was my partner.”
It was all she could do not to moan. Worse just kept accelerating. She stamped out the tiny flicker of thought she’d had of telling him everything. If she did, she really would find herself hustled back to Santa Monica and put straight behind bars.
“I don’t understand why you’re so sure I know more than I told investigators.”
“They didn’t seem to clue in that you were Greg Cobb’s girlfriend. Seems like you and he both failed to mention that little fact.”
She had, and had been surprised Greg did, too.
“I wasn’t his girlfriend,” she objected, knowing how weak her argument was. “We’d dated a few times, that’s all.”
“Right. It was just business that had you letting him use your restaurant for after-hours meetings,” he said cynically.
She raised her chin at that. “It was. He paid, just like anyone else. When the restaurant was closed, we rented it out for all kinds of events. Bar Mitzvahs, bridal showers, engagement parties…”
“And organized crime get-togethers.”
She glared at him. “That’s not fair. I didn’t know.”
“Uh huh.”
Seeing the hostility on his face made her heart hurt. She’d wanted so much to trust him, had come as close as she had with anybody in the last two years. She’d let herself feel something for him.
Daniel cleared his throat.
“Naomi, let’s start with the name change. Are you using fake I.D.?”
His expression was guarded, but still kind, she thought. She looked at him instead of at Adam.
“Not exactly. My birt
h name is Naomi Kendrick.”
Adam made a scoffing noise in his throat that had her flashing another glare at him before she turned back to Daniel.
“My father died when I was a child. When my mother remarried, my stepfather adopted me. I used my birth certificate to go back to Kendrick, that’s all.”
“Did you get a new social security number?” Daniel asked.
“Um…yes.”
“How?”
She focused on the steam rising from the cup rather than their faces. “I have a friend who is good on computers and a graphic artist besides. She…tinkered with my birth certificate, changing a couple of little things. And, you know, they don’t really look that closely when you go into the Social Security office. I said I’d been raised abroad, that my parents were missionaries. I do a good South African accent.”
One more illegality, but who was counting?
They both stared at her.
“What difference does it make?” she cried. Her throat seemed to be swelling. For the first time since she’d been shot, she felt like crying. Not that she would. She shrugged and looked down at her lap. “I was scared.” It came out so small, she felt small. And for good reason.
“Why?” Adam asked softly.
She didn’t mistake the quiet way he asked for sympathy. Oh, no. It was, of course, the million dollar question. Behind Door Number Two… After admitting that she was scared, she pretty much now had to answer his question, unless she was to hire a lawyer and refuse to incriminate herself, which she couldn’t do because she’d broken so many laws they’d get her on something.
And…hadn’t she felt guilty every day, every hour, for these past two years because she hadn’t shared what she knew? Now was her chance. And if it turned out Adam was corrupt like his partner, well…she’d always known someone would catch up with her sooner or later. Although if he was, why hadn’t he just let the gunman kill her today?
“I heard something I wasn’t supposed to,” she said dully.
Daniel didn’t move. Adam leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes intense. “You were there when Frank was killed.”
She could not tell him. She couldn’t.
“It’s not that. It was the meeting.”
The intensity didn’t abate. “What did you hear, Naomi? And how do you know you weren’t supposed to hear it?”
She bit her lip. “Greg had always asked me to stay in the kitchen. I…put out coffee in an urn beforehand, but he said these were private deals. He didn’t want anyone getting skittish before everybody’s names were on the bottom line. I protested and said I knew how to keep my mouth shut. He said he knew he could trust me, but the people he was negotiating with wouldn’t.” She gave a broken laugh. “I always sat in the kitchen and worked out a new menu, that kind of thing, until he came to say everyone was gone.”
“What was different that last time?”
“His meeting dragged on and on. I was tired and I wanted to go home. And…I suppose I was being nosy.” She would wish quite desperately she hadn’t, except she might have kept dating Greg. Even slept with him. Imagine having to live with that. “He had an off-duty police officer wandering the restaurant outside the private room where he was holding the meeting. I stuck my head out of the kitchen to ask the guy if he knew when they’d be done, only I saw him down the hall just going into the men’s restroom. So, um, I sort of tiptoed toward the private room, thinking maybe I’d hear them breaking up or something…” Naomi looked down to see that she was wringing her hands. When she raised her head again, both men were looking at her hands, too. No mistaking that she was cool and collected here.
“Wasn’t the door closed?” Adam prompted, his gaze lifting again to hers.
“It was open, I don’t know, just a couple of inches. And…I heard Greg saying, ‘A hit like this, I do it my way. Not yours. You know your business, I know mine.’”
Adam’s expression changed. “A hit.”
“I stood there totally frozen, thinking, hit? What’s he talking about? Only, the other guy said, ‘There can’t be any connection to me. You understand that? I need to be able to go on TV and express my deep condolences to the widow, my outrage that the political process can be subverted this way.’”
“Jesus.” He straightened, understanding transforming his expression. “Not James Heath…?”
Naomi nodded.
“Who’s Heath?” Daniel put in, then said, “Wait. I think I read about that.”
Frowning at Naomi, Adam said, “He was a California state senator, running for U.S. Congress. He was shot and killed. To appearances, he’d hired a prostitute and things went wrong. It looked sleazy.”
“That was…one of the other things Greg said. That he’d make sure there was a scandal to blacken Heath’s name, too.”
Adam shook his head, scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and said in disbelief, “So you just stood there eavesdropping.”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “I did something way more stupid. I had my phone in my hand. I thought about taking a picture, but I don’t know how to turn off the flash.”
If she hadn’t had their complete attention, she did now. One way to rivet an audience.
“But I can shoot a video with no flash. So that’s what I did. It’s only like a minute long. I was in a total panic, watching the bathroom door for that guy to come out and praying nobody in the room saw the phone hovering there. But it was kind of dim in the hall – most of the lights were out, so I thought I could do it.”
“Why aren’t you dead?” Adam asked bluntly.
Because I killed a man to save myself. “It turned out Greg suspected something. I made a deal. I’d keep what I knew to myself if he let me go.”
Contempt flashed on his face. “Heath might still be alive if you’d gone to authorities.”
“I warned him.” Tears burned in her eyes as she held her chin up in defiance. “I did. But I couldn’t tell him who I was and I don’t think he believed me.”
“His murder happened in Compton,” Adam said slowly. “I heard his campaign manager claiming someone had called to say a hit had been ordered on him.”
“Why didn’t he hire bodyguards?” She was begging for answers. “Why did he let himself be caught alone?”
“His campaign manager and his wife both said they got so many threats and warnings, they had to shrug them off. ‘You can’t let the crazies keep you from living your life.’” The last was obviously a quote.
“God.” Naomi buried her face in her hands.
“It was Greer who ordered the hit.” He sounded stunned, but not as if he didn’t believe her.
She swiped at her cheeks with a corner of the fleece throw and raised her head. “Yes. That’s why I took the video. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
“The video you never shared with anybody.” His eyes glittered. With rage, she realized. “Why?”
“Because a man was killed in my kitchen that night. A police officer. Because another off-duty police officer worked for Greg, and I think a second one was waiting outside. He hadn’t bothered to shut the door. They weren’t the only ones. I’d seen others. They had to know what his business was. Because—” She closed her eyes and swallowed before she could go on. “Because there was a third man at the table. He said he was an FBI agent. He showed his badge. Greer nodded and knew who he was.” Her voice had been rising. She couldn’t help it. “Because I didn’t have any idea who I could trust.” Her hands might be trembling again, but she hid them in the folds of the throw as she stared her defiance at this police officer and delivered the coup de grace. “And I still don’t.”
CHAPTER SIX
Trying to get a grip before he said something he shouldn’t, Adam ground his teeth together. “There are some insults I’ll take. That isn’t one. I saved your life today.”
For a minute, it was as if Police Chief Daniel Colburn wasn’t even there. Adam and she stared at each other, her eyes turbulent with emotions, h
is…probably the same.
Abruptly she ducked her head. “I know you did. You’re right.”
He exhaled, so on edge it was no wonder he’d overreacted. She could have died today. She hadn’t, but he was still shaken, more than he should have been. And then, God damn it, to find out what she’d been hiding…
“Why?” he said in honest bewilderment. “You could have emailed the video to Heath’s people.”
Naomi shook her head hard. With her shoulders rounded and her head bent, she looked small. Vulnerable. She was biting her lip, he saw, hard enough he frowned and leaned forward.
Just as she looked up. This time her eyes were dark with guilt and grief…and her tongue caught a drop of blood on her lip. “No, she said in a pained voice. “I risked my life for nothing. It’s…really poor quality. It’s too dark, and the sound quality sucks. I used its existence as a bluff. But that’s all it’s good for.”
He shook his head. Unbelievable. She’d held a cold-blooded killer off for two years by convincing him she had something she didn’t? The fact that she was still alive was a freaking miracle.
He said the obvious. “That’s why the guy grabbed your bag. He needs your computer.”
“I suppose so,” she said miserably. “But…if he searched my house, why did he do things like look under shelf paper?”
“Because they suspect you might have copies on thumb drives? Or a letter with still pictures printed and stashed away? Something you can use as a threat even if they get your computer?”
Daniel spoke for the first time in a while. “Will you show it to us, Naomi? Let us judge.”
Her laugh was broken. “Sure. Why not?” She struggled to rise. “I’ll go get my computer.”
Adam stood. “Let me get it.”
“No, it’s hidden.”
How successfully, in a place this size? He followed her into her bedroom, which had just been a bedroom the first time he’d swept her house. This time he was more aware of details, because she was with him.
See How She Runs (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 2) Page 9