A Critical Tangent

by Reily Garrett

  Now, she understood the connection.

  “You remind me of her.” Keiki waxed nostalgic in recounting past family holidays and events.

  A cursory knock at the back door preceded a gust of cool air blowing through the kitchen. No sound of an approaching vehicle gave advance notice of company arriving, which meant the visitor had walked some distance.

  “Hey, Carolyn. I thought I’d check to see how you two are making out.” Nolan’s cursory nod in Keiki’s direction was followed with a heartfelt smile at the older woman.

  “Food’s in the oven. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and greens. Help yourself.” Carolyn gestured for them all to sit at the kitchen table. Close scrutiny and a tilted head indicated a puzzle solver at work. After a minute, a knowing look spread across her face. “I think she’d look great with a princess neckline.”

  Nolan stiffened as he padded toward the oven, his warning frown ignored by the older woman.

  Opening the door and taking a whiff, he retrieved the plate then poured a glass of tea. “Smells great. Thanks.”

  “Welcome. By the way, Horace stinks.” Carolyn wrinkled her nose. “You need to take better care of your partner. It’s not like he’s self-sufficient. Well, not entirely.”

  Wait. Nolan’s gay?

  Keiki snapped her jaw shut, trying to reconcile Carolyn’s harsh tone with earlier perceptions. He didn’t wear a ring, yet the death of his fiancée could’ve flipped a switch.

  Keiki had a good sense about people, and if anything, Nolan issued a subdued if carefully controlled interest, so she reassessed. Maybe he’s bi?

  “I’ll give him a bath tonight.” Weariness tinged his voice and relaxed his posture. He wasted no time in digging into his meal.

  At their initial meeting, he broadcast a sense of formal attentiveness, shrewd but respectable. His current attitude didn’t track. Relaxed and speaking his mind presented another facet of his character for her to reconcile.

  “You should ask Keiki for help.” Carolyn smiled and continued, “Besides, there might be times when you’re working and need her to help feed him.”

  Keiki’s first impression of Carolyn took on a new aspect. A certain chord in her tone suggested disdain for Nolan’s choice of companions. There was still no doubt the toughened exterior harbored a matchmaker underneath.

  “Uh, I’m not qualified to be a caretaker. I don’t have any experience.”

  “Ease up, kid. She figured you the type to like dogs. Carolyn’s just a little nuts where Horace is concerned.” Nolan shook his head but smiled at their host. “You’re a sly fox, indeed.”

  “Dog? Horace is your dog?” It took a minute for the conversation to replay in her head. The heat of mortification and anger drained away after realizing her earlier impressions still held true, with a twist. She’d underestimated the homeowner. It wouldn’t happen again.

  “And for the record, I’m not a kid.” If not for the older woman’s presence, Keiki would’ve placed a palm under each breast to emphasize the difference.

  Nolan and Carolyn communicated well, their nonverbal interplay accomplished with a raised brow, head tilt, or slight twitch of a lip. He understood she bated him, which made it easier to keep his calm.

  Still, neither had suffered her mischievous side…

  “Anyone in college is still a kid.” Nolan raised a brow but received a non-committal shrug from their host.

  “Well, my friend’s lab partner is fifty-eight.” Keiki smirked at them both.

  “Which proves your college has the age spans covered.” When finished, he took his plate to the sink and scraped the scraps into the waiting bowl. “I’ll be back later to take out your trash, Carolyn.”

  “Don’t bother. I need the exercise.”

  “C’mon, kiddo. We need to have a chat,” said before holding open the back door like a gentleman.

  Common sense dictated she not ruffle his feathers. Nervousness ensured she poke him at every turn. It didn’t take a genius to realize he’d pick at her earlier ramblings at her apartment. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall the specific utterances which could prove her undoing.

  No doubt his perceptions were spot on. His intense focus could decipher every secret, regardless of how deep in the dark recesses of her soul they hid.

  “Where are we going?” From the front corner of the garage, she saw no cars, which accounted for the detective’s silent entry.

  “To my house. Don’t worry. I don’t pervert little girls.”

  It wasn’t his first reference to their age difference. “Not worried at all. I hear the older men get, the more difficult it is for them to… perform.”

  He kept pace beside her, shrugging off the taunt despite the slight but perceptible tightening of his shoulders.

  Interlacing oak and poplar branches overhead enveloped them in a shadowy pocket, creating a secluded world easily mistaken for safety.

  To her left, the winding gravel drive bisected the woods concealing the main road. Seclusion from the outside chaos was welcome, nervous tension created by the detective’s presence, not so much.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Following him on a well-traveled deer trail leading from the property’s side, she got the sinking feeling he’d already slipped into cross-examining mode.

  “I’ve brought some of your things from your apartment. I also have your laptop. We’ll talk a bit before I bring you back.”

  Flashbacks of terror swelled within her mind. “When this mess is settled, I’m probably gonna find a new place to stay.”

  “It seems you get along with Carolyn well enough, and I’m sure she’d enjoy your company. She fixed the garage apartment up nice, too. I understand she’s upgrading the HVAC so it will be more comfortable.”

  “Your garage, you mean.”

  Nolan gave her a sharp look.

  “She said you need to help me move the fridge for the termite man tomorrow.”

  “Ah, I forgot about that. Okay.” Nolan nodded. “I can help you carry some of your stuff upstairs while I’m at it.”

  Ever the gentleman, he eased off his pace to match her stride once they exited the thicker forest. The path to his home equaled several hundred yards and hadn’t been visible through the tangles of briars and trees.

  When it appeared, Keiki stopped mid-pace.

  “Wow. This is your house? Nice.”

  The understatement didn’t depict the sprawling ranch or the massive screened porch jutting off the back. The brick patio beside it contained a long stone counter with a built-in grill, stain-steel sink and cabinets. Her parents had also enjoyed a fire pit on cool evenings.

  Instead of commenting, he held still, studying her like an entomologist examined a butterfly after pinning its wings to a board.

  “It’s just a house. You expected axes and swords for easy access?”

  “No. And I doubt you leave cobwebs up for Halloween decorations, either.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “It has a large footprint.”

  “I have a big family.”

  “You’re what—early to mid-thirties? How many kids can you have? Oh, unless some are twins?” She wasn’t fishing.

  No, wait. She was.

  The sudden, almost imperceptible flash of heat in his gaze confirmed it.

  The back yard occupied a clear space of seventy-five square yards and included a swing set, sandbox, and monkey bars. Split-rail fencing lined the space.

  “First, I’m not married, second, I’m twenty-eight, and last, I have four sisters who tend to drop in unannounced. We have frequent barbeques in the spring, summer, and fall.”

  Each step closer raised the hair on her forearms under her denim shirt. It was like stepping into the spider’s web, willingly and for reasons unknown.

  “How does a split-rail fence keep your dog from wondering off when he goes out?” As if on cue, a deep ferocious growl morphed into all out canine anger from within the house.

  “Hold still when
he comes close. He’ll sniff, but don’t move to pet him. Horace is tolerant but doesn’t like people.” Nolan waited, relaxed, and nonchalant. “Oh, and don’t speak to or make eye contact with him, or he’ll say hello with his teeth.”

  His tone generated more fear than the killer who’d broken into her apartment.

  The dog wouldn’t be a problem.

  As if on cue, a large ball of silver and black fur barreled through a doggy door on the porch. Its ground-eating strides consumed the backyard distance. One leap allowed him to vault over the split fence rails, pushing off the top with a small grunt.

  Instead of following orders, Keiki knelt and rested one upturned hand on her knee. Immediate cessation of barking and a curious whine burbled in the dog’s throat as he skidded to a stop at her feet.

  Animals loved her. A fact which had always amused and baffled her parents. It was sad she hadn’t enjoyed a companion’s presence since starting college, but current events forced her to reconsider.

  Soft nuzzling and sniffing combined with the dog’s rough tongue testing her fingers elicited a smile. “As long as there’s no taste-testing, Horace, we’ll be fine.” She avoided eye contact but smiled when the dog’s snuffling ruffled her hair.

  “Damn. Never seen that reaction before. Do you wear a meat-based perfume I didn’t detect? I don’t keep up with the latest fads… drinks and fragrances included.”

  His smart mouth would get him in trouble one day, and Keiki decided it was time to lighten her mental load.

  She’d been labeled quirky, outlandish, and sometimes eccentric. It’d serve him right to get a taste of unpredictability that would knock him off kilter. Her deviant imagination hatched a plan that would earn his censure and respect.

  The shepherd wagged his tail, the force shifting his entire back end. When he advanced to rub his face against her chest, she sifted her fingers through the soft hair on his shoulder.

  “Wow, such a soft coat. What do you feed him?”

  “BARF diet. We tried the Prey Model Raw, but he tends to like a few fruits and veggies.”

  “Dogs’ digestive systems can’t break down a plant’s cell wall. You either have to boil vegetables or chop them.”

  “Which is why I grind and freeze them once a month.”

  A vague frustration twisted his lips before he turned to stride through the gate. “How is it a college kid knows about raw feeding?”

  “Student and stupid are not synonyms.” Keiki looked around and released a small sigh. “Ya know… you really do have the perfect setting for parties. No one to complain about loud music, overcrowding, or spy out their windows to see what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t do wild.”

  “See, that’s the problem. You need someone to take the starch out of your step, loosen your spine, and maybe plan an orgy.”

  Nolan paused in opening the door and pivoted to gawk. His expression morphed to the usual mask but heat flared in his eyes. He opened his mouth then closed it and shook his head.

  “They have books on orgies, kind of a how to. With all the hands, legs, lips, and ah, other parts, it gets complicated, physically, emotionally, and politically.”

  “Politically? I didn’t know there was etiquette involved. Do you have a manual?”

  “Maybe.”

  His frown turned sly, indicating a deeper understanding. “Did you know people babble when nervous?” The wolf’s grin took shape as he ushered her in to sit at the kitchen table. “It’s amazing the trash that comes out of their mouths.”

  “Would you like to hear blond men jokes? I have some good ones.”

  “Not particularly.”

  After she sat, he stopped behind her and leaned down, his breath stirring her hair and warming her ear. “I’ve been in your apartment and know how you live. I’ve also seen you interact with others and have a good fix on your life. You don’t do orgies, don’t have a boyfriend, and except for what might amount to a little experimentation, have probably never had a solid relationship… kid.”

  He hadn’t touched her, but the subtle difference in his tone caressed her in ways no one ever had. Failing to conceal the noise from her gulp, she closed her eyes tight as a shudder jiggled her shoulders.

  When she opened them again, he’d taken a seat across from her, studying her every move.

  Unable to meet his close scrutiny, she looked around. “Nice place.”

  The room was large, the open plan giving a view to a massive shared living and dining space. A definite masculine flavor held sway in the geometric-patterned rug anchoring two leather sofas. Wood floors gleamed in the fading light. One table lamp, consisting of a series of small pipes and a glass shade appeared out of place.

  “One of my sisters’ idea of a joke.” He hadn’t needed to ask what absorbed her attention.

  “I like it.”

  “You would.”

  She ran her hand over the smooth oak grain. The table didn’t look homemade, at least not by a hobbyist, but the unusual etching on the top gave her pause. “Did you do this?”

  “No. A friend of mine did.” His no-nonsense demeanor melted when his dog padded to his side and nudged his knee. “In a minute, Horace. You won’t starve.”

  Whatever he wanted to show her was likely contained in the manila envelope on the lazy Susan. If he intended to arrest her, he wouldn’t have brought her to his home. No, he wanted answers, ones she might not give. Despite trusting him, she wouldn’t say anything could be misconstrued and incriminate herself.

  “Carolyn said you didn’t eat much. You hungry? I have some leftover chicken pot pie in the fridge.”

  Food was a universal icebreaker. “Ah, my three favorite things, all offered by a cop. However, no thanks.”

  Nolan elevated scowling to an art form.

  “You’re getting pressure to make an arrest.” Her statement was more of a question than fact, a search to see where his priorities lay; closing the case fast versus finding the truth.

  “There’s always pressure to close a case. Parents want answers, and the public wants to feel safe.”

  When he moved to the fridge, the clink of metal aroused her curiosity until he set a bowl down and removed the shower cap lid.

  Horace sat, the brush of his tail sweeping the floor, warm chocolate eyes imploring his master for the necessary command. Once given, the canine bit into the chicken leg quarter, turning and trotting through his personal door.

  “He likes to eat in the yard on nice days.” Nolan shrugged as if reading the dog’s mind before taking his seat again.

  With the flick of the envelope’s flap, he retrieved several glossy photos from within. “It’s time to tell me what’s going on behind the scenes. I’m fairly certain you weren’t involved in Shelly’s death, but you are involved in this mess somehow. Let’s have it.”

  Heat draining from her face wouldn’t be missed by the shrewd detective. In his hands, he held a photo of her newest device, a prototype.

  “That’s mine.”

  “I know. It has your initials on it. We discussed how you mark them.”

  “No. Not that specific one. Mine is a prototype, not in production yet.”

  “This looked pretty finished to me when it shot a puff of what I suspect to be the same drug that killed your friend, a Fentanyl-laced narcotic.”

  “No. I didn’t do any of that. I’m not behind this. Really!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Prove it.” Nolan monitored her expression.

  Disbelief, shock, denial, and then determination surfaced to remain.

  She snatched the photo from his hands and held it close for inspection. A sudden inhale preceded her growl. “Hold on. I can prove it.”

  Standing quickly knocked over her chair but didn’t slow her rush toward the front door.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To get my laptop. You said you had it in your car.”

  “This way.” Nolan led her through the side door. “It’
s in the trunk, along with some of your other stuff.”

  Once they’d returned and the soft hum of the laptop’s fan filled the kitchen, anger and raw determination filled her expression.

  Nolan took the seat beside her. The soft glow and flicker from the boot-up process didn’t cover her slow and controlled breaths.

  “Take a closer look at that photo. Notice the initials, the way they’ve been engraved.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

  The tremor in her voice matched her hands as she opened one file after another in new windows. Pictures of drones populated the screen.

  “Yeah, ‘KT’ is etched above what looks like the knee joint of your spider drone.”

  “Spider drone, really? That’s the best you can come up with?” Keiki snarled, then enlarged one of the pictures bearing the letters KT.

  “Yeah, just like—oh.” Nolan squinted, and leaned in to look closer at each of her photos.

  Her soft exhale stimulated the fine hairs on his arm. The scent of her shampoo defied definition.

  “See? Look closer at each of my drones.”

  Nolan’s frown deepened. “None of yours have a period following your initials like the one in the photo.”

  “It’s my signature. I never put a period on my work until it’s finished. When I do turn it in for production, I put a period after the T and only the T. What you found, I haven’t turned the final prototype into Harock yet. It has a bit of an issue with the legs I need to fix. You saw it in my apartment when you first came to question me.”

  “Apparently someone fixed it. What’s the range and flight time on your models?”

  A detailed explanation ensued specifying other differences between her prototypes and the finished product. Finer distinctions verified her claim.

  Relief flooded his mind in the end. Throughout, she’d demonstrated no sweating or nervous gestures to indicate deceit.

  “From this location, you could’ve controlled the one that attacked Coyote and me, but Carolyn confirmed your presence with her.” He flicked the photo, sending it to the table to slide toward the center.