Gavin recalled Quinn’s statement. Truer words had never been spoken, Gavin thought as he followed Katie’s car. As if he’d heard the thought, Cutter woofed softly. Gavin let out a slight sound of disbelief, shaking his head, wondering how he’d let himself get roped into taking the dog with him.
“Take Cutter,” Quinn had said cheerfully. “He’ll assess things for you.”
“Do bring him,” Katie had agreed, sounding happy about it. “Dogs love my dad. They have good judgment about people.”
“Right,” he’d muttered, trying not to notice that Cutter had gotten to his feet and was already headed for the door, as if he’d understood every word.
“Trust him,” Hayley had said softly as he stood up.
So now here he was, with the too clever dog opining from the back seat, wondering how it had happened. But the farther they went, the more he began to think perhaps it was a good thing. The dog would be a distraction, perhaps make Moore feel this was more of a social visit, friendly, so his guard wouldn’t be up.
Katie was driving rather sedately, not speeding or rolling through any stop signs despite the lack of traffic. After a final turn onto a small cul-de-sac, she pulled into the driveway of a tidy, bungalow-style house. The driveway was delineated by a row of metal sculptures, birds, fish and some more whimsical, like a curious-looking dragon. The hobby Katie had mentioned, he guessed. Next to the house was a wide carport, extended to provide shelter up to a side door of the house. A silver coupe sat in one spot. Katie pulled in next to it.
He stopped behind her bright blue sedan. A practical four-door, but a flashy color, he’d thought when he’d first seen it. He wondered how much of herself was reflected in the choice.
He watched her through the back window of the car. Katie Moore had proven more than once she could and would stand up to him. If she’d been an attorney, he would have relished taking her on in a courtroom. As it was, he was relishing the thought of taking her on in very different ways. And that rattled him. He hadn’t had a response like this to a woman in...forever? Or had it just been so long it seemed like forever?
He’d written off having any kind of permanent relationship. The kind of women he would want for that couldn’t—and wouldn’t—tolerate him for long. He didn’t blame them. His last attempt had been Jessica, who had left him after a mere three months, expressing the rueful hope that he one day find someone who could take his skeptical nature and hell-on-wheels, 24/7 brain.
At this point he doubted such a woman existed. He hadn’t been drawn enough to anyone to test the supposition.
Until now.
If thoughts really did come with hazard flags, this one would be big, bright and with a siren attached. It came from a different place than his instincts about people and liars, a place he hadn’t heard from any time in recent memory. And it was swift and personal, warning of a steep drop off a cliff and churning water below.
Cutter gave him a nudge with his nose, startling him out of his strange reverie. He put the rental car in Park, but didn’t immediately get out. Nor did Katie, and he wondered if she was having to gear herself up for this. He reminded himself that she and her father had been all each other had had for over two decades, so they were very likely to provide a united front. United in a kind of grief he’d never experienced.
Because you never let yourself get that close to anyone.
That little voice that often guided him in an interrogation or in a courtroom had recently taken to personal jibes he could do without. Besides, could he be blamed for finding it hard to trust when he’d spent years around people who lied without a thought?
Of course, all that had been before he’d learned his entire life was built on a lie.
A side door on the house opened. He stayed put, watching, wanting the chance to observe. Katie quickly got out of her car the moment a man stepped out onto the small landing two steps up from the driveway.
The man was smiling widely. No nerves there at an unexpected visit from his daughter. Assuming it was unexpected, of course, that she hadn’t called him while en route despite her promise.
A promise he’d believed.
...presumed honest until proven a liar.
He shook his head again, keeping his gaze focused on the pair, assessing as Steven Moore gave his daughter a hug. Her father was, likely by any standard, a handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the same sandy-blond hair as Katie’s, only his was just touched at the temples with gray. His good looks were more dramatic than Katie’s quiet attractiveness, and Gavin guessed he could have had more than his share of feminine attention if he’d wanted it.
Was it really possible to grieve so much and so hard that a man who could probably have his pick of attentive ladies would forego all that for so long? Was it even possible to love someone that much?
There was no doubt about the love between father and daughter; it fairly radiated from them. He knew that kind of parental love existed, had observed it often enough. And it put a furrow in his brow as he wondered if that kind of love could run to lying to that daughter’s face.
To protect her? Absolutely. To protect himself? To ensure her love for her father stayed unchanging? Because if he’d murdered her best friend, that would surely destroy what they had.
But he was, as were the police, hard aground on the lack of motive. And the man certainly did not look like a killer, but then they often didn’t. Who knew that better than he? But he also knew that when desperate to solve a case, it was human nature to start searching for evidence to prove your suspicions instead of continuing to search for an elusive truth. Cops had gut instincts they trusted just as he did. Only, theirs were aimed at a different goal—a conviction in court. Most of the time their two goals coincided, but sometimes...
Katie gestured toward him, and her father looked his way. Something wary came into his expression. Gavin noted it, but didn’t chalk it down in a column yet, because people were often wary upon meeting him, simply because his reputation so often preceded him.
And yet there was a touch of the excitement he also sometimes saw. Again human nature, meeting someone they’d read about or seen on TV was somehow different than meeting any other stranger.
He opened the car door and got out. He realized, far too belatedly, that he hadn’t really considered what approach to take. He’d been too busy dwelling on the man’s daughter and the weird effect she had on him.
And then Cutter was out of the car and trotting ahead, leaving him no time to ponder the matter. He was truly out of it, Gavin thought. To be honest, he’d been off stride ever since he’d opened the door to see a wet, bedraggled Katie Moore standing there. It was time he got over it and got back in the game.
The dog came to a halt in front of Steven Moore, and sat. He looked up at the man, head cocked at a quizzical angle, as if he couldn’t quite figure him out.
“Well, hello there,” Moore said, bending to pet the dog’s dark head.
Cutter allowed it, but he didn’t react with the instant warmth and affection he’d given Katie. Of course, he knew Katie from the neighborhood.
“This is Cutter,” Katie was explaining. “He belongs to the Foxworths. He’s quite the judge of character, so he’s here to show Mr. de Marco that you’re honest.”
She said it with obvious amusement. But watching her father’s face, Gavin was certain he’d seen a flicker of...something in his eyes. Worry? Nervousness?
Guilt?
Cutter had remained in place, sitting in front of the man. But now he was looking back over his shoulder at Gavin with the oddest expression. In a person he would have said it was a maybe, or a tentative yes, with reservations.
Trust him.
Hayley’s words echoed in his mind. And he found himself wishing the dog could explain those reservations.
Laughing at himself inwardly, h
e walked up to the trio.
“Mr. Moore,” he said, holding out a hand.
The man took it, and they shook. Good, solid handshake, not too weak, not overdone to impress him. One small box checked off.
“Mr. de Marco,” Moore said. “It’s an honor to meet you. I just wish my girl didn’t think it was necessary.”
“You don’t think it is?”
The older man—Gavin figured he had to be early to midfifties at least, although he looked much younger—let out an audible sigh.
“Since I didn’t do it, I don’t want to think it is,” he said, “but if it will make Katie feel better, I’ll go along.”
The denial was issued calmly, not an insistent declaration but merely as if it were a statement of fact. And Gavin found himself believing it. Which was odd, since he usually didn’t reach that stage so soon.
That had him wondering even more about what the dog’s apparent reservations were.
Which in turn made him think, ruefully, that he’d completely lost his mind.
Or, he added silently with a look at Katie, something else entirely.
Chapter 14
“As I explained to the police, those calls to Laurel—” his voice changed slightly with her name; definite sadness there, Gavin thought “—were us arranging Katie’s birthday party. And as I also told them, we met several times to go over the arrangements.”
Gavin got no hint of a lie in the words. “Whose idea was that?”
“Laurel’s. She wanted it to be ginormous, she said. She teased Katie because Katie was going to turn thirty before she would.”
They’d been at this for nearly two hours, Gavin doing his usual pacing while keeping a close eye on Moore. He’d begun with small talk, casual, lulling the man a bit with ordinary things before hitting him with a sudden, unexpected question about Laurel and her death. The technique had somewhat backfired on him this time since the topic had, inevitably, veered to Katie. It had been all he could do to stay mentally here in this room when she was right outside, working in the sizable vegetable garden in the back. Doing what, he wasn’t sure, as his skills didn’t run to such things. Something to do with the coming winter, he supposed.
She’d pulled her hair back and secured it in that ponytail that bounced when she moved. To keep her hair out of the way as she worked, he supposed. He was supposing too much and too often, he chided himself. But it was difficult not to when Moore had spoken of her with such pride and love. There was absolutely no doubt in Gavin’s mind that the man loved his daughter. Or that he had cared a lot about her best friend.
He’d been open and calm about answering questions, although he did blink a time or two when Gavin would jump to a new subject. But he always answered, sometimes with thought, but most times with the ease of someone who’d either thought about it a lot, or answered the questions before. In this case Gavin thought both probably applied.
In fact, everything Moore said felt genuine. Yet the old instincts were firing. He couldn’t put a name to the rather vague misgivings he was feeling, but something was off. He was usually able to tell when someone was lying, but as with Katie, omission was something else. In her case, he now thought she’d honestly forgotten about the locksmith thing, since she’d been so young. And he shoved aside the feeling of relief it gave him to no longer think she’d been trying to hide it from him. She was clouding his judgment, and he shoved that realization aside as well, even as he noted he was doing a lot of that since last night when Cutter had practically dragged her into his life.
But in her father’s case...
He just couldn’t pin it down. He didn’t think the man was outright lying, but something was triggering those old gut feelings. He had the sudden thought that he was agreeing with the dog. Yes, but with reservations.
Maybe you’ve been out of the game too long. And while the media used to trumpet that your judgment is flawless, no one knows better than you that it’s not. It’s very, very flawed, and always has been.
He heard Cutter bark from outside and stopped his pacing and turned to look. He’d kept his gaze away from the large window that looked out on the garden, since Katie puttering around out there was apparently more of a distraction than his suddenly unruly mind could handle.
Right now, the dog was crouched in front of Katie in that universal, front end down, tail wagging in the air posture of canine play. She was holding up a stick about a foot and a half long. Cutter barked again, happily. He couldn’t hear it, but Gavin knew she laughed; he could see her face. It sent a bolt of heat through him that was out of proportion to the simple vision of a woman playing with a dog.
She raised the hand with the stick and leaned back, that ponytail swaying. He had a sudden image of pulling away whatever held it, and watching her hair tumble back down to her shoulders, and heat jammed through him again. He sucked in a breath as he watched her throw the stick, following through with the swing of her arm and sending it a decent distance toward the trees at the back of the lot. Cutter took off after it in clear delight.
“I should have gotten her a dog, after her mother died.”
The quiet words came from barely a foot behind him. Gavin stiffened, barely managing not to jerk around. He hadn’t even heard the man move, he’d been so focused on the tableau outside. So focused on the woman out there that he’d lost all sense of his immediate surroundings.
Great. You’ve got your head so far up your backside you let a guy who might be a murderer completely get the drop on you.
“But I was too deep in my own pain. There are so many things I wish I’d done for her. She was so young and hurting so much. But I just wasn’t thinking clearly at the time.”
There was, Gavin thought, no denying those emotions were heartfelt and real. He knew that without even looking at Moore’s face, because it was all there in his voice. And a sudden image of a nine-year-old Katie, maybe with that same ponytail, broken and weeping inconsolably sent an entirely different kind of jolt through him. Pain, sympathy and a sudden wish that she never again have such a horrible ache in her heart.
If her father took the fall for Laurel’s murder, her pain would be unbearable.
He turned then, and stood face-to-face with the man. They were almost the same height, and he found himself looking into eyes exactly the same shade of blue as Katie’s. It was disconcerting for a moment. But then he asked, his voice low and intense, the question he had yet to ask.
“Did you kill Laurel Brisbane?”
The answer came immediately, firmly. “No, sir, I did not.”
Whatever Moore was lying about, Gavin couldn’t convince himself it was this. His misgivings were too vague to even hang a name on. For all he knew, they could stem from something else entirely. There had been a time when he would have trusted them without hesitation, but that time had ended four years ago. December 21, to be exact.
“And if you think I did,” Moore added quietly, “then you should leave. I know your reputation, Mr. de Marco. And what it can do. Don’t get my girl’s hopes up any further.”
For the first time Gavin saw concern in the man’s expression. And he realized Moore wasn’t quite as casual about being a murder suspect as it had seemed. He was putting on a good front for Katie, Gavin thought. He didn’t want her to worry. In a way this relieved him; he’d been afraid the man didn’t understand the gravity of his situation.
And then another realization struck him. That on some level beneath conscious thought, he’d already decided.
“Sit down, Mr. Moore,” he suggested. “We have a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 15
“That de Marco is really something.”
Katie looked across the table at her father. It was the first time he’d paused in eating the meat loaf she’d fixed for his Sunday dinner and lunches next week. The dish was hi
s and her favorite, from her mother’s recipe she’d found in a box shoved in the back of a closet where he’d put many of the painful reminders he’d moved with him from the old house but hadn’t wanted on daily display.
“Yes, he is.” And isn’t that the truth, she added silently. Although now, away from him, she could think of him much more rationally. She wondered what it was that gave some people that kind of overpowering charisma. Was it something in them, some quirk of genetics or chemistry? Or was it something in the people around them, making them react that way? She’d have to research that, see if anyone had ever come up with a plausible theory.
“And that’s really the story, how you met him? The dog?”
She nodded, smiling now although she hadn’t been then. “Cutter’s quite something, as well.”
“He sounds scary smart.”
“Yes.” She wondered if he’d meant the dog or Gavin, but since the same answer applied in either case, she left it at that.
She hesitated before speaking again. It had been a long day, for both of them, but particularly him because he’d spent those hours getting, as he put it, “grilled.” But since she’d been exiled to the garden, she was beyond curious.
“So...did he ask you anything unexpected?”
Her father shrugged. “Some questions I couldn’t see the relevance of.”
“He did that to me, too. I suppose it must mean something to him, or else leads to something else.”
“You know, usually I can figure a man out, after a while. But I have no idea how this one’s mind works.”
“Maybe that’s partly why he was so good at what he did.”
Her father looked at her curiously now. “Do you have any idea why he quit?”
“No, other than to work for Foxworth.”
“I never heard any rumors that he was in trouble or anything.”
Katie was surprised at how much just the idea of that shocked her. She hadn’t found anything in her research to indicate he’d left under a cloud, but she didn’t think she would have believed it if she had, now that she’d met him. Gavin de Marco was intense, brilliant and charismatic, but if he was ethically challenged she’d eat the plate the last bit of her meat loaf sat on.
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