“I can’t imagine him working for a place like Foxworth if he was that type,” she said. “Quinn Foxworth appears to be the straightest of straight arrows.”
“But de Marco is a lawyer.”
“I think he’s more of an advisor now,” she said.
“Seemed like a guy in charge to me,” her father said drily. He leaned back in his chair, took a sip of the small glass of wine he allowed himself in the evenings, and studied her. “You seem...quite impressed with him.”
She managed not to flush, but it took a very deep breath and great effort. “I’ve never met a household name before.”
“He’s a good-looking man, wouldn’t you say?”
The flush won that time. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Aha!” her father exclaimed. “I always know I’ve got you when you answer a question with a question.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what that has to do with anything. And how you can tease me when...when...” She couldn’t finish, and lowered her gaze to that last, lonely bite of meat.
“Baby,” he said, instantly contrite, “I’m just trying to cheer you up. You’re so worried, and I keep telling you there’s no reason. The truth will out eventually. Or maybe sooner, now that Mr. Gavin Household Name de Marco is involved.”
Her gaze shot back to his face. “Then you’re not upset with me for talking to him? You seemed less than excited about it at first.”
“I was,” he admitted. “Maybe I just didn’t want to admit that I might need a lawyer. I’m still not sure I do, mind you, but if I’m going to have one... Well, damn, Gavin de Marco!”
She laughed at both his tone and expression, feeling much better now. Because it was true. Having Gavin on your side was a very big deal.
And given her silly reaction to him, having to deal with him herself was going to be a huge task.
* * *
“Damn, that was fast.”
At Quinn’s words Gavin looked up from the legal pad he was holding. He was sitting beside the fireplace at the Foxworth headquarters, the flames casting a flickering light across the page. Cutter was curled up before the fire, no doubt still a bit damp from his romp in the meadow earlier.
“What?” Gavin asked, lifting the fountain pen from the page. He still took notes with pen and paper because he’d found there was something about the process that got his brain into that zone he needed. Even when he did record an interview, he made written notes, adding to them as he listened to it later, usually with his eyes closed to summon up the memory of how a person had looked or spoken, which was sometimes as important as what they’d said, or more so.
Quinn held up his phone before sliding it back into a pocket. “That was Brett. Word’s out that you’re involved, and already the police are rethinking. Or at least questioning their assumptions.”
“Question is, are they angry?”
“Brett says they’ll get over it. They knew they’d settled on Moore because every other lead washed out,” Quinn said. “Brett gave me the name and number of the lead investigator, who by the way wasn’t at all interested in talking to Moore’s attorney until he mentioned your name.”
Gavin’s mouth tightened. His reputation was the biggest double-edged sword he’d ever dealt with. It sliced through protocol and often reluctance, but it also affected things in ways he wasn’t comfortable with. No one should ever have been negatively impacted just because he was too busy or didn’t want to handle their case. And yet he knew it had happened. It was one of the other reasons he’d walked away.
“If I haven’t said so lately, thanks for taking me on,” he said, not exactly sure why.
Quinn looked startled, then smiled. “I think you have that backward.”
Gavin shook his head. “No. I come with a lot of history, not all of it good, and I know I’m sometimes tough to work with.”
“Tough to keep up with,” Quinn said. “Entirely different thing.”
“Speaking of which, now that we’re rolling I’m going to stay here,” Gavin told him. At his announcement Quinn lifted a brow quizzically. “It’ll be easier on everyone if I’m out of your place,” he explained. “You know how I get.”
He didn’t sleep much anyway, but when he had a case he was up at all hours pacing and going over things, sometimes talking things through out loud.
“Hayley wouldn’t mind, and you know I don’t.”
“But I do. Besides, worrying about disturbing my hosts affects my focus.”
Quinn shrugged. “Well, this is now your baby, so you’re the boss. How did it go with Moore?”
Gavin’s mouth twisted. He stared into the fire, wishing he could let go of that tiny, nagging instinct that said Katie’s father was hiding something. “I quizzed him up and down for nearly three hours. I couldn’t shake him off his story, and I used every interrogation technique I know.”
“Short of torture, I hope?”
His gaze shot back to Quinn’s face. He was clearly joking, but it always rattled him a little to remember that this man had been one of the most elite operators in the military, one who had no doubt been trained in just that sort of technique. He was glad Quinn was on the side of the angels; he shuddered to think what the man could do if he’d gone rogue. But nothing could ever shake the core of who Quinn Foxworth was. Having Hayley in his life now had only solidified that, made him even stronger.
I envy him.
The stray thought flashed through Gavin’s mind. How those in the world he’d once inhabited would laugh at the idea of Gavin de Marco envying anyone, he who had it all. But he did envy Quinn, and what he’d found in Hayley.
He quashed the thought, and the odd shiver that had gone through him when he’d acknowledged it. He was here to work, not indulge in idle musings. And certainly not to have Katie Moore pop into his head every time it happened.
“What does your gut say?” Quinn asked.
“That he’s hiding something,” Gavin admitted.
Quinn cocked his head to give Gavin a curious look. “But we’re taking the case anyway?”
“He’s hiding something,” Gavin repeated, then added, “but I can’t buy that the guy’s a murderer. Especially not of his daughter’s best friend.”
“All right. Need anything from us?”
“Not yet. I’ll be contacting the cops tomorrow, and the victim’s family. Ty’s running down data on them for me.”
Quinn nodded. “Another session with Moore?”
Steven or Katie?
Damn, he needed to get this crazy reaction under control. “Probably. Go home to your wife.”
“Always,” Quinn said with a grin that made that envy spark again.
Quinn headed for the door, then turned to look at Cutter, who hadn’t budged an inch from Gavin’s side. The dog stared back, and Gavin had the craziest feeling they were communicating somehow.
“Not coming?” Quinn asked lightly.
Cutter gave a low woof. Quinn’s gaze shifted to Gavin.
“Well, well. It seems you have a roommate.”
Gavin blinked. “What?”
“I’d say he’s appointed himself your guardian.”
Gavin stared at the dog, who looked up at him with eyes full of utter innocence. “Guardian?”
“He saw you in the aftermath of the whole governor thing. I’d say he knows you’ll bury yourself in this and forget to eat and sleep without someone around to remind you.”
He looked back at Quinn, but saw no trace of a joke in his expression this time. “Seriously?”
Quinn ignored the question. “His food’s in the cupboard next to the sink. Just keep it topped off. He’ll self-regulate. He’ll let you know when he wants out, and he’ll stay close, especially now that he’s adopted you. Oh, and his carrots are in
the fridge. Not too many of those, though, or you’ll be sorry one way or another.”
“You’re really going to leave him here, to...what, babysit me?”
Quinn grinned. “Consider yourself a dog sitter, if it makes you feel better.”
Before he could even formulate a response to that, Quinn gave him a mock salute and was gone. Cutter jumped up on the couch beside him, avoiding his loose papers with delicate care. He settled down against the back cushions, and plopped his chin on Gavin’s leg. He looked utterly at home and satisfied.
Gavin looked down at the dark head, and into the amber-flecked dark eyes looking up at him. With a sigh he picked up his pad again and uncapped the fountain pen.
But when he started writing again he was smiling.
Chapter 16
Gavin awakened in the headquarters bedroom with Cutter once more curled up beside him. He couldn’t deny he again had slept better than he usually did, but he was hesitant to ascribe it to the dog’s presence. But then, Cutter wasn’t your garden-variety dog.
Uncharacteristically, he spent a few minutes petting the dog before getting up. Cutter waited until he was upright, then went and politely sat at the back door. Gavin took the cue and let him out, stepping out himself into the crisp, predawn chill. It felt wonderful to someone used to the frequent humidity of St. Louis, and he breathed it in deeply.
The motion-sensor light came on as Cutter came trotting back. He paused at a basket beside the door, nosing at it. He came up with a grayish-yellow tennis ball and sat before Gavin hopefully. He couldn’t stop the memory that shot into his mind of Katie happily and fairly efficiently throwing a stick for the dog. He shook it off.
“It’s too dark to see it, isn’t it?” He wasn’t used to being this far north this time of year, where it was still dark at this hour. But then, he’d also usually been up and working for a couple of hours by this time, so he’d better adjust.
Cutter cocked his head at an angle, ball still in his mouth.
“I get it. No problem for you, right?”
He hesitated, but figured if it got lost they’d find it once it got light. So he took the rather grubby ball. Cutter, seeing that the human had apparently figured it out, came vibrantly alert, his gaze fastened on the hand that held the ball. Gavin threw it, somewhere between a casual flip and giving it everything he had. The dog raced into the darkness, vanishing the moment he left the circle of the motion light, and Gavin had the sour thought that if he didn’t come back he was going to have some difficult explaining to do to some people he really liked.
A moment later the victorious animal came trotting back, dropped the ball at his feet and spun, clearly ready to do it again. And something about the dog’s playful posture made it impossible to resist. It was thirty minutes later that he finally called a halt. The sky was just beginning to lighten when they went back inside.
He put on a pot of coffee, a little surprised at how much company an animal could be. He waited for the coffee to finish, stifling a yawn, anticipating that first hit of caffeine. And when it came it was worth the wait, and the groggy morning feeling started to slip away.
Cutter nudged his knee. He looked down. The dog started toward the patio door, pausing to look back over his shoulder. That, Gavin thought, was a dog signal anybody understood.
“Already?” he asked. Maybe the ball chasing had distracted him from the real business at hand. He followed obediently, laughing inwardly at himself as he did so.
They stepped outside, but instead of heading off into the meadow the dog stopped, then turned sideways to the building, looking toward the drive. Gavin turned to look, but saw nothing but the empty gravel approach and the thinner stand of trees between them and the road.
“Waiting for Mom and Dad?” The inner laugh was sounding in his voice now.
As if in answer Cutter sat at his feet. Gavin was wondering what to do with him when a brilliant blast of golden light burst through the trees. Cutter stayed still as Gavin stood there watching the sunrise flare, lighting up the sky and clouds in an explosion of gold, orange and pink. He could see the rays as they backlit the branches of the evergreens, and above the treetops the undersides of the clouds fairly glowed with color. It was a show to rival anything he’d seen in any of the myriad places he’d been. He could see that it would soon disappear behind the heavy, hovering cloud layer, but right now it was a glorious stripe of brilliant light and color play along the horizon. And all the more precious for being fleeting.
And when did you start getting philosophical about things like the sun coming up in the morning?
Cutter woofed softly and Gavin laughed because he was the one who’d gotten him out here to watch this amazing show. Of course, that couldn’t really be why he’d done it. Dogs couldn’t even see in color, could they? And did it really matter, when it had worked, had gotten him to stop and watch something he probably would have ignored or been completely unaware of?
“Maybe you should take credit,” he said, and got another quiet, approving woof. “How about some carrots, dog?”
Cutter jumped to his feet eagerly. When Gavin opened the door he darted inside, raced to the kitchen and sat expectantly while Gavin retrieved the treats.
He headed for the shower. In twenty minutes, he was back at the kitchen counter pouring another mug of the strong brew he preferred and checking his phone, planning out his day. Since it was later there, he first called Ty for anything new. There wasn’t much on Steven Moore, who had apparently stayed out of trouble most of his life, except for a couple of speeding tickets when he’d been a teenager. Having had a couple of those himself—one embarrassingly recently—Gavin wasn’t going to hang the man over that, but he told Ty to keep digging.
“I will. Oh, and the ex-boyfriend is apparently out of town, since Friday. San Diego, some seminar for his job starts today.” Gavin made note of that, since he obviously needed to talk to the guy personally, cleared by the police or not.
Then Ty added the unexpected news that the victim had an arrest record. “Minor, but I know you want everything.”
“Yes. What for?”
“For driving under the influence when she was eighteen.”
“Any record of an accident or anything involved with that?”
“Not yet, but I’m still looking.”
“Thanks, Ty.”
Well, now. Gavin thought for a while as he sipped his coffee. No one had mentioned that fact. Was it possible they didn’t know? Didn’t seem likely. Perhaps they thought it of no importance, being so long ago. And maybe it wasn’t.
Like Katie thought her father being a locksmith unimportant?
He grimaced inwardly. He glanced at his watch, saw that it was now after eight and made another call to the number that Detective Dunbar had provided. The man he reached, a detective named Davidson, clearly recognized his name. And that of Dunbar and Foxworth, both of which were apparently worth a lot in law enforcement circles here. He was clearly wary but cooperative enough, and agreed to meet with him this afternoon, after he completed a court appearance.
Which left Gavin a bit at loose ends at the moment. He planned on speaking to Moore again, but wanted to observe him at work, so he needed to give that another hour. He pondered fixing breakfast; there were eggs and plenty of other things available. In the end he settled for a couple of pieces of buttered toast made from bread from the local bakery, something he’d had last time he was here and liked. Cutter munched on some kibble from his bowl, but as Quinn had said, stopped on his own while it was still half-full.
When he was done and had tidied up, he stood for a moment, thinking. Or rather, trying not to think about a particular person.
He could get what he needed from the police detective this afternoon. He was certain they must have looked into that old arrest; since it was a murder case they’d dig deep
. Given how long ago it had been it likely had nothing to do with her murder, but he hadn’t become a success leaving unturned stones.
But right now he was more curious why Katie hadn’t mentioned it.
Shoving those inner warnings into a mental box, he put his phone in his pocket, gathered up his keys and jacket and headed for the door. Cutter beat him to it and slapped the button to open it. Gavin realized with chagrin he’d forgotten to lock the front door last night. Lucky for him he was here, and not at home in the city.
Lucky, too, that he had a self-appointed guard dog in Cutter.
He was a little surprised when the dog raced out to his rental car, clearly intending to come along. Gavin wondered if the dog expected to go home now, like a kid after a sleepover. Well, if he did, he was just going to have to wait. Gavin wanted to get to his own destination.
The new community center hadn’t been open when he’d last been here, but it had been under construction and he knew where it was. He found it without the help of GPS and pulled into the parking lot. He spotted Katie’s blue sedan parked in a far corner, out of the way of patrons, so he knew she was here.
He’d planned on leaving Cutter in the car but the dog had other ideas and was out the moment he could squeeze past Gavin. The dog trotted over to the door of the library as if he’d been there dozens of times. Maybe he had been. Gavin hesitated, fairly certain the dog wouldn’t be allowed inside and wondering how he was going to convince him of that. But then Cutter plopped down beside the library sign, seemingly perfectly happy to wait there.
“So what, dog?” he asked as he caught up. “You know you’re not allowed in?”
The dog glanced up, and Gavin suddenly noticed that behind the library sign—and directly over Cutter’s head—was another sign advising that only service animals were allowed inside.
“If you’re telling me you can read, I’m not buying it,” Gavin said, but he was chuckling inwardly. The dog put his head down on his front paws as if settling in. Gavin sighed. He was trying to think of the last time he’d been in a public library as he pulled open the door. And trying not to think of the woman inside, the real reason he’d decided to come here.
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