“Katie must be here,” Hayley said.
Gavin knew the gravel drive announced a car’s arrival to the dog’s sensitive ears long before they would hear it. As he listened, Cutter bumped up against him as if trying to nudge him toward the door, and the stairs.
“What?” he asked the animal, who merely looked at him steadily and continued to nudge. He glanced at Quinn and Hayley, who were smothering smiles; apparently they found their dog’s odd behavior amusing.
“Go on down and get the door, would you?” Hayley said, a bit too breezily.
“We’ll be down as soon as we glance through what Ty turned up,” Quinn said. “I’d like to have an idea before we talk to her.”
And so Gavin ended up following the dog’s urgings and headed for the stairs.
“Coffee’s on, and there’s some fresh-baked cookies on the counter next to the fridge,” Hayley called out, sounding too chipper for the circumstances.
With the feeling he was definitely missing something, he headed down the stairs to play greeter. He’d had enough sleep—barely—to alleviate the jet lag a bit, so he’d be fine. He’d handle this like any Foxworth case, if they indeed decided to take it on. His odd reaction to Katie Moore last night had only been because he’d been tired and jet-lagged.
When they got downstairs Cutter ran to the door and sat expectantly.
“Why don’t you just open it?” he muttered at the dog. “That automatic door opener is for you.”
Cutter tilted his head back so far he was practically looking at Gavin upside down. He wondered if that was the dog equivalent of rolling his eyes. With a sigh he reached out and pulled the door open. As he’d expected, it was Katie.
What he hadn’t expected was the difference from the rain-dampened woman he’d met last night. He took it all in rapidly, noticing details as he had all his life.
This woman was pulled together, leaving little sign of her distress from last night. She wore a bit of makeup—not much, and he’d dealt with enough overdone paint to know—that accentuated her delicate features and made those incredible eyes look even bluer. Her hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders, and the streaks of golden blond seemed warm on this chilly morning.
She was dressed for the temperature in a sweater the same blue as her eyes, with a loose sort of collar that fell softly around her neck and shoulders, worn over a pair of trim black leggings and midcalf boots. No high heels for her, but a solid, block heel and leather that would withstand a northwest winter. But those legs...
His breath jammed up in his throat, his pulse skipped and then picked up speed.
“Hello,” she said, and he realized that low, husky note in her voice hadn’t just been from her emotional state last night. It sent a tickling sensation up his spine.
So much for being tired and jet-lagged.
Chapter 8
Katie’s first thought was that he didn’t remember her. She had no such problem. The image of Gavin de Marco—tousled dark hair, dark eyes that seemed to see everything, that air of crackling intelligence—was all etched into her memory. Far too deeply for a man she’d met only once.
But she doubted he forgot much, so her second thought was that he didn’t recognize her because she looked so different. Which made her think of how bedraggled she’d looked when she’d gotten home last night. Her first look in a mirror had made her groan at her appearance, hair lank and flat, what makeup she’d had on washed away, eyes still reddened from her earlier crying jag.
She told herself she was embarrassed that any of them—except maybe Cutter, whom she now gave a stroke between the ears—had seen her like that, not just this man. She knew she looked more presentable now, even if her eyes were still red, although this morning it was from lack of sleep, not crying. Gavin, she noticed, had skipped the razor this morning, and to her surprise, since she usually didn’t care for stubble, decided on him it looked good.
Of course, what wouldn’t?
“Mr. de Marco?” she finally said.
“Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to... Come in.”
The dog was effusive in his greeting as she stepped inside, making her smile, but inwardly she was puzzled. Because Gavin seemed...almost rattled. Not that she could judge, of course, but from everything she’d read last night—and she’d been up until the wee hours, so fascinating was the subject—this man was never rattled.
One report had spoken of how on cross-examination he’d made a witness practically confess to the crime his high-profile client was on trial for. The man had come at him right over the courtroom railing. Even those who had been there weren’t sure how he had managed to send the man tumbling to the floor, because he’d barely seemed to move. Through it all he’d never lost his cool. After the bailiffs secured the man, he hadn’t even had to straighten his tie.
She’d also read a lot of the speculation. He’d had a career most law students could only dream of. He was, as they said, a rainmaker of the highest order...and yet he simply walked away. Some said it was because he’d made so much money he would never have to work again. Others said it was because he had nothing left to prove. While that was certainly true, Katie didn’t quite believe it was that simple. And now that she’d met him in person, she was certain of it. This was a complex kind of man.
He gestured her into the large downstairs space. To her surprise, it looked more like the living room of a comfortable home than the plain, businesslike exterior had suggested. There was a gas fireplace on the long wall, and before it an inviting grouping of sofa, chairs and a large square coffee table. On the opposite wall was a stairway, rather more utilitarian. To the right were a couple of doorways, one of them partially open and revealing a vanity and sink, so she guessed it was a bathroom. Next to it was another door, closed. Bedroom? she wondered. Did they get so involved in their work that sometimes they didn’t go home?
In the back corner was a compact but efficient-looking kitchen, from which she could smell coffee brewing, making the space even smell like a home.
Even as she thought it, he spoke again. “Coffee?”
“Thank you.” She meant it; she would need the caffeine after last night.
“Sit down,” he said as he went to a control on the wall, flipped a switch, and the gas fireplace leaped to life.
When he had gone into the small kitchen she sank down on the couch and drew in a deep breath, only then realizing she’d barely been breathing at all since he’d opened the door. She’d expected him to be there, obviously, but not to be the one who greeted her.
“Good morning to you, too,” she whispered to Cutter as he nudged her hand. She patted the dog’s head again, then gave him a long stroke over the silky, soft fur. He gave a happy little whine, then turned as another door at the back of the building opened. A tall, lean, dark-haired man dressed in black walked in. Cutter was there before he shrugged off his jacket, and Katie noticed he paused to greet the dog before he finished. She liked that.
And then the dog darted into the kitchen, just as Gavin was picking up two steaming mugs, and appeared to be trying to figure out how to carry a small basket at the same time. Cutter solved the problem. He rose up on his hind legs and took the edge of the basket carefully in his teeth and walked back toward her. She couldn’t help it, she was grinning when the animal came over and with exquisite care put the basket down on the table in front of her. It held, she saw, various packets of sugar and sweeteners, and small containers of milk and cream.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she crooned to the dog, who gave her a tongue-lolling grin.
Then Gavin arrived with the mugs. He handed her one, then turned, obviously intending to sit in the chair at a right angle to her. But somehow Cutter was there, and they got tangled up as the dog practically pushed him the opposite way, although she was sure it was unintentional. The dog looked rather satisfied, h
owever, as Gavin ended up sitting beside her on the couch. Not too close, but close enough that she was aware of him in a humming sort of way.
The other man, his own mug of coffee in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other, had stood for a moment watching the odd little dance with what seemed rather intent interest. But he said nothing to Gavin, just walked over to them, set the plate down and turned to her.
“You must be Katie Moore. Rafe Crawford,” he said, holding out a hand. She took it, noticing a scar here and a nick there, and long, lean fingers. He didn’t try to crush her hand, but didn’t handle it as if she were fragile, either.
But then she looked at his eyes, eyes that were the color the stormy sky had been yesterday. She’d never seen really haunted eyes before, but she knew she had now. Reacting instinctively, she gave his hand an extra squeeze. “Mr. Crawford.”
There was a split second’s pause, just enough to tell her he’d noticed, before he said, “Rafe, please.”
He sat in the chair Gavin had intended to use, all the while looking at Gavin on the couch. And Katie thought she saw the faintest trace of a smile curve one corner of his mouth for a brief moment.
She straightened. “I hope this isn’t a waste of your time.”
“We wouldn’t be here if Quinn didn’t think we might be able to help,” Gavin said.
“I hear Cutter brought you in,” Rafe said. “That’s the seal on it.” She blinked. The man looked utterly serious. And his eyes, those haunted eyes, did not speak of a man with a fanciful nature. At her expression, Rafe shrugged. “All I can say is he’s never been wrong.”
Before Gavin could respond to that—although Katie wasn’t sure what he could possibly say—there was the sound of footsteps on the stairway behind them. And then Hayley and Quinn were there. After greeting her they sat in the other two chairs, leaving her and Gavin as the sole occupants of the couch.
Hayley smiled. “Shall we get started?”
At Katie’s nod, Quinn picked up a remote and aimed it at the flat screen on the wall. “This is from Tyler Hewitt, from our headquarters in St. Louis. He did some digging first thing his time. Usually we’re live with him, but this is recorded because he had an appointment this morning.”
“Okay,” she said. “What do you need me to do?”
“Just listen, watch. If anything you see or hear doesn’t jibe with your perception of things, say so and we’ll stop and make a note. Then, when we’re all on the same page, we’ll proceed.”
Katie nodded again. She didn’t think anything showed in her face, but Hayley said quietly, “I know this won’t be pleasant for you. If you need to stop at any time, just say so.”
“Thank you.” She’d known she’d have to go through it all yet again, probably in more detail than she had since it had happened and she’d spent hours with the police. She’d been shoring up her mental armor all morning. But the woman’s understanding made the ache of anticipation ease a bit, and she realized she really quite liked Hayley Foxworth.
“And fair warning,” Quinn said, “when it gets out that Gavin’s involved, and it will, there’s going to be buzz.”
“I’m sure there will be,” she said with a glance at the man who seemed absorbed in contemplating his mug of coffee.
“All right, then,” Quinn said, and pressed a button on the remote he held.
The young man in the video was a thin, wiry sort, with short, blondish hair that looked perpetually on end. He had a small patch of beard below his lower lip, and alert green eyes.
“Hi, guys,” issued from the speaker. “I’ll get right to it. Here’s what I have on the basics of the crime itself. I’m still digging into the principals. I’ll get that to you later today.”
And as she had with Gavin, Katie found it easier to listen to Tyler Hewitt’s matter-of-fact reciting of the facts of the case than she’d expected. Something about his tone enabled her to take a half step back and listen rationally. It began with images of everyone involved and Ty’s voice calmly introducing them. Although she’d been steeled for seeing Laurel’s picture and didn’t react, Katie winced at the particularly stern photo of herself that flashed on the screen, pulled from her county employment file. There was a shot of Ross on a ferry crossing, grinning at the camera, his hair tossed by the wind. Laurel had taken that one, she knew, and posted it on one of her social media accounts, which she guessed was where they got it.
She smiled at the image of her father, an attractive professional portrait that was one of her favorite pictures of him. She’d spent her whole life with all her girlfriends commenting on how handsome he was, always with a note of surprise she found faintly insulting until Laurel had laughingly explained that no one ever expected a friend’s parent to be gorgeous, no matter what the friend looked like.
The video went on to show shots of the neighborhood. It was all painfully familiar, their apartment building, even a close-up of their front door with the apartment number. Over it all came Ty’s businesslike recital of what the police investigation had shown. How Laurel had been last seen alive at the market around the corner from the apartment. She’d purchased milk, eggs and some other staples. She’d paid with a debit card, as she usually did, at 8:20 p.m. She’d walked out with two bags and turned left, heading for the apartment. No sign of a car, which roommate Katie had confirmed; she usually walked since it was so close.
The reports indicated there had been no sign of forced entry at the door or any of the windows, leading them to assume that her attacker had a key or she had let them in. Or that Laurel had come home with hands full of groceries, had stepped inside to set them down, and the killer had followed her in. Katie had stated she and the victim had the only keys except the building management. And since the management was a middle-aged couple who were on a late dinner cruise at the time of the murder, they had been cleared.
Then, abruptly, the image changed to a black-and-white video of the front of the market. And into that image walked Laurel.
Katie’s calm shattered. She closed her eyes and turned away, trying to suppress a shudder.
Then Katie felt a wonderful warmth, a strong arm coming around her shoulders. Gavin, giving support. She assumed it was just something he did, something he’d had to do before with distraught clients. But she welcomed it nevertheless.
What had she let herself in for?
Chapter 9
Gavin felt Katie suppress a shudder, and knowing she had found her friend’s mangled body he could only imagine the images breaking through her calm.
“Katie—” Hayley began.
“It’s all right. Just give me a moment.” She drew in a deep breath, clearly trying to steady herself. “It’s just...seeing her like that, alive and well... I have dreams about it, and I just had a bad one night before last and...”
“And Cutter brought you to us the next day,” Hayley said. “That may be what he sensed, your distress.”
Distracted for a moment, she looked at the dog and seemed to ponder that. She nodded slowly, as if it made sense. And Gavin realized she was back in control. A quick glance at Hayley and he also realized that had been exactly her intent. Distract Katie until she could regain her composure.
Well done, he thought, and gave Hayley an approving nod. He fought down the fleeting thought that he was glad she’d done it so he didn’t have to. He wasn’t doing too well keeping his unexpected reaction to this woman under wraps.
Katie indicated they should go on. Hayley hit a button on the remote, backed up the recording a bit, then let it run. Since he was seeing this for the first time, Gavin continued to pay close attention. It seemed fairly straightforward, as such things go, and he was long used to reading police investigation reports—and reading between the lines.
At some point he realized he still had his arm around Katie. It startled him; that was part of a law
yer’s repertoire that he had left to his assistants. She was calm now, so it was no longer necessary. Yet he found himself loath to surrender the contact. Which in turn made him barely manage not to blatantly jerk away, and, when the video ended, perhaps made him a bit harsher than usual. He stood up and turned to look down at her. Intentionally. And his voice was cold when he spoke.
“This will not be easy, or pleasant, Ms. Moore. You will have to go through it all time and again. All the bloody, ugly details. I will ask you questions you won’t want to answer but you will have to, and with the truth. I will ask you things that may not seem relevant to you, but you’ll answer anyway. I will dig into things you’d rather not share, things you’d rather stayed hidden. You may not look at your friend, your father, or even yourself in the same way when this is over.”
She’d grown slightly pale as he hammered his point home, but to her credit she didn’t buckle. Instead he saw her jaw set under the onslaught, and his instincts told him she could and would withstand the long haul.
He wasn’t totally convinced he would.
A sea of mental red flags surged in his head. He wasn’t even sure what some of them were about, but he suddenly wanted out of here. Away from this, away from her.
On the thought, Cutter lifted his head from her knee and looked at him with a steady, unblinking gaze, a stare really. If he had to put a label on it, it would be Don’t even think about it.
He shook off the crazy feeling and asked the question he had to ask.
“That said, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Of course I don’t want to,” she said, only the faintest trace of strain in her voice. “But I will. I have to.”
“We go after the truth. Is that what you want, or do you want them to believe your father is innocent?”
She stood up and faced him head-on. Determination came off her in waves. “They are one and the same,” she said, holding his gaze without flinching, something supposedly tough criminals had had trouble doing.
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