Operation Notorious

by Justine Davis

  She wanted truth. He would give her that. Even knowing what it would do, to her and to what they had found together.

  One night, that’s about all you’re good for, de Marco. Then you blow it to bits.

  “I did think that, when it first came together,” he admitted.

  “You thought I was lying from the beginning?”

  “I don’t now,” he said. But that didn’t change the fact that he had.

  For a moment she just stared at him. He waited for some kind of eruption, a flash of anger. After all, he’d just admitted he’d suspected her of some very devious machinations. What he saw in her face was plainly readable, but it wasn’t anger. It was pain, and it echoed in her voice when she spoke.

  “And you thought I was the kind of person who would do something like that? Use you like that?”

  Only then did he realize he’d done worse than make her angry. Even Cutter sensed the change and straightened up.

  He saw it in her eyes. It was impossible to miss. He’d shattered her. He’d taken the closeness of that night and made it a travesty, a sham, at least in her eyes.

  “Katie—”

  She waved him off and stood up abruptly. Cutter whined, clearly displeased by what was happening. She folded her arms in front of her, and Gavin had the distinct feeling that if she’d been alone she’d have wrapped them around herself for some small amount of comfort. Something he should be doing for her.

  Except now he didn’t have the right.

  She walked over to the patio doors, stood for a long, silent moment staring out across the meadow. He wanted to go to her, wanted to ease her pain, but since he was the one who had caused it with his lack of trust, he would likely do more damage than good.

  She turned and came back. He rose slowly as she came to a halt in front of him. When she spoke, it was so controlled it made his own muscles tense up. “Are you quitting?”

  “Katie—”

  “Have you decided my father is guilty, Mr. de Marco?”

  The formality stung, as he knew it was supposed to. What surprised him was just how much it hurt. It took him a moment to get past the unexpected, wrenching pain. He tried to match her flat tone, and it took an effort that amazed him.

  “I haven’t decided anything. And I won’t until I speak to your father again.”

  “Fine.” He had the feeling that single word would have sounded the same no matter what his answer had been. “Now would be a good time. He’ll be home.”

  She turned and walked out without another word.

  Cutter growled. Gavin looked down at him.

  He had never realized an animal could express disgust.

  Chapter 34

  She was going to see this through.

  Katie repeated the words in her head like a mantra, as she had all morning while waiting for the rental, because she didn’t want to be suspected of sneaking ahead to warn her father. She repeated the words as if they were the only thing that could keep her together. She’d vowed to see this through and that’s what she would do. Her feelings didn’t matter now. Nor did the fact that her belief in her father was on the edge of obliteration. Or her belief that what she’d found with Gavin was real, and wonderful. Because she couldn’t love a man who could think her capable of what Gavin had thought.

  It didn’t matter, she repeated to herself. Nothing mattered but the truth.

  She drove rather dangerously, since she refused to look in the rearview mirror to see if Gavin’s new rental was behind her. When she got to her father’s house, she saw his damaged car in the same place it had been. But there were new tire tracks in the soft dirt next to the driveway, indicating someone had turned around. The sheriff?

  She felt a surge of hope. Her father had called her last night, but she hadn’t answered, hadn’t wanted to talk to him. But the message he left said he’d reported the theft and damage. Surely if her father had actually tried to take Gavin out of the picture, he wouldn’t have actually done that. He wouldn’t want law enforcement involved at all, would he?

  But her certainty meant nothing to Gavin. Clearly any emotion of hers meant less than nothing to him. On the bitter thought, she heard another car pull into the driveway. It came to a stop beside her. She got out, started to head for the house, then stopped. She waited for Gavin to get out, followed by Cutter. He walked toward the car, but paused to look at her questioningly.

  “Wouldn’t want to give him any warning,” she said, her tone as chilly as the air.

  He didn’t respond, only nodded and walked on to look at the car. He studied it for a moment, and she was sure he was taking in the missing mirror and the long scrape that showed a streak of color that exactly matched the car he’d been driving.

  “He reported it,” she said, leaving out the hopes attached to that thought. He looked at her, lifting an eyebrow. “He left a message late last night that he’d done it. And,” she said, gesturing toward the tire prints in the ground, “those weren’t here last night.”

  Again he only nodded. Plainly he didn’t want to talk to her. And why would he, when he thought her capable of such deviousness? A belated thought suddenly struck, with such power it took her breath away. Did he think Friday night had been a lie, too? Did he think that part of some great manipulation on her part?

  She didn’t think she’d made a sound, thought she’d stifled the moan of pain, but he looked at her as if he’d heard it. Something flickered in those dark eyes but she couldn’t tell what it was, and allowed herself no foolish imagining that it might be caring.

  When Cutter came to her and nuzzled her hand, she automatically stroked his head. She felt a slight easing of the turmoil inside her, as if the dog had somehow taken some of the ache away.

  The house was locked front and back, and her father didn’t answer the door. She led the way around the back, saw a distant light on in the shop.

  “At least he locked the back door this time,” she said, almost to herself as they started that way. It was a bit of a trek over the soft, uneven ground, past the vegetable garden and through the trees to the small building at the very back of the property. The trees and shrubbery back there were a bit overgrown, but her father liked it that way, said it gave him a sense of peace and solitude when he was there.

  “This is why he didn’t see or hear the thief,” she said when they had passed the first stand of greenery and the house—and carport—were barely visible. Gavin looked back, but he again said nothing. She resolved to say nothing more; obviously he didn’t care to hear anything from her.

  Especially that you fell in love with him.

  Even in her thoughts the past tense hurt, and she kept her face steadfastly forward until they reached the shop.

  Her father was busy tweaking his latest project, welding something on an intentionally crooked weathervane he was making for Mrs. Collier down the street. A few more of his pieces, in various stages of completion, adorned the workbench and shelves. She didn’t look at them, she’d seen them all, but she watched Gavin look at them and saw the fleeting expression of surprise on his face as he took in the room.

  Good. I’m glad you’re surprised. Maybe you’ll see that he’s not who you think he is.

  With a rueful inward laugh at herself about people not being who you thought they were, she watched as her father whipped off his helmet. His face lit up as he looked at her, clearly delighted to see her. Especially after the way they’d parted.

  “Katie, honey,” he said and strode quickly over to envelop her in a hug. She accepted it, although with some lingering hesitation.

  When he released her she nodded toward Gavin. “He needs to talk to you,” she said, not even using his name.

  She saw her father’s expression change, take on a look that could be fear, or simply wariness at facing the fierce Gavin de Ma
rco.

  “Let’s go up to the house,” her father said, and such was her state of mind that she wondered if he suggested that to give himself time to think, time to decide what he was going to say. And not say.

  But Gavin didn’t press, merely agreed. Once inside, she went into the kitchen she knew as well as her own and put on a pot of coffee. She’d pass on it herself. The last thing she needed was a caffeine hit when her mind was already running in circles, but she was sure her father at least would welcome it. And at a second thought, she checked the vegetable bin and found a bag of carrots, broke a chunk off of one and offered it to Cutter. The dog took the treat with a wag of his tail as a thank-you.

  When the coffee was done, she poured one for her father and added his usual large dollop of milk, and pondered for a moment over pouring a cup for Gavin, as well. She hadn’t asked if he wanted any. In fact she hadn’t spoken to him since her explanation about the shop’s location had been met with no response. In the end she poured it anyway and carried the two cups out into the living room.

  Oddly, they were talking about his shop projects, her father explaining how he’d gotten into the whimsical sideline when someone had stopped to ask about the Christmas decoration he’d built one year, a row of wire structures of different sizes and shapes that, when strung with lights, looked like a little village lit up for the holiday.

  She handed her father his mug first, and then held the other out to Gavin.

  “It’s black,” she assured him as he hesitated; she knew he drank it that way or not at all. No multinamed concoctions for him; he drank it for the hit, he’d told her, not the taste.

  Her father was watching them, a considering expression on his face. And then he focused on Gavin. “If you hurt my little girl,” he said conversationally, “I have a welding torch.”

  “Dad!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. Between the coffee and her telling him she would have been with Gavin yesterday morning had she not needed her car, he’d obviously put it together.

  “I think,” Gavin said quietly, “that warning’s a little late. To my anguish.”

  Her head snapped around. Gavin was looking at her, not her father.

  “Well, you’d damned well better make it up to her, then,” her father said sternly.

  “I never intended to hurt her.”

  Katie felt as if she should say something, but she had no words. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but it was close.

  “That said,” Gavin went on, “why are you hurting her?”

  Her father drew back, clearly startled. “What?”

  “You’re lying to her. Or hiding something. And she knows it. Why?”

  Katie’s breath caught. Her mind careened between two things, that the near-apology had not been sincere but a lead-up to this, and that it seemed strange that Gavin had asked why he was lying rather than what about.

  “Mr. de Marco,” her father began.

  “Gavin, please,” he said, and his tone was as it had been, conversational, lacking even a hint of accusation. “You had the sheriff out, for the car?”

  “I did,” her father said, sounding relieved at the sudden switch. “They took a report. I even told them about what happened to you. I have nothing to hide. I’m sorry about your accident, by the way.”

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  “Well, yes, but you know what I mean.”

  “I know several things. I’ll list them for you later, if you like. But right now I’d like to know why you feel the need to hide something from your daughter.”

  It went on and on, Gavin letting her father veer away from the subject, get to thinking he’d successfully diverted the conversation. Then, in the moment she sensed her father relaxing, he was back to it, again catching her father off guard. First from his artwork back to the question, then from the car incident back to it again, then from what he’d been working on at the time back to why he was hiding something. And again, not what he was hiding, but why. As if he thought he would get an answer to the one but not the other. Or that only this answer really mattered.

  She stayed silent, watching and listening intently, trying to shore up her faith in the father she loved. She wondered if that was why Gavin had said nothing about her staying in the room, because he wanted her to see this, to learn what he learned. But that would mean he believed she hadn’t known all along, wouldn’t it? If her father was lying, that is.

  She cut off the circuitous thoughts that got her nowhere and continued to watch and listen. She wondered if this was what he’d been like in a courtroom, pressing, luring, ensnaring until he finally got to the truth. Quietly, determinedly relentless, knowing what he wanted and digging from whatever angle would get him there. Reluctantly, since he was grilling her father, the admiration she’d felt when she’d first watched a trial video of him sparked anew.

  “Why put your shop so far from the house?” Gavin asked, seemingly apropos of nothing. Unless he was insinuating her father had buried bodies back there. The thought came with the bitter memory of Gavin admitting he’d believed she’d been lying all along.

  Her father’s brow furrowed, but he was apparently getting more used to the rapid switching of subjects. “I do some grinding, and other work that makes some noise. I didn’t want to disturb the neighbors, so I put it as far back as I could from the other houses.”

  “Not hiding anything back there?”

  Her father looked offended. “Nothing but Katie’s Christmas present, and thanks for making me give that away.”

  For the first time since this had begun, Katie smiled. “I promise not to snoop.”

  He managed a smile back. “Then it’s safe. Your promise is golden.”

  “Is yours?” Gavin asked her father quietly. “Will you promise her you’re not hiding anything from her?”

  Katie nearly gaped at him. Was there nothing he couldn’t turn to his goal?

  “We all have secrets,” her father said, looking uneasy once more.

  “But why do you feel the need to hide this one from her?”

  “I love my daughter,” he answered, as if that explained it.

  “And she loves you,” Gavin said, still quietly. “Is that it? You’re afraid your secret will change her love for you?”

  Katie nearly gasped aloud as her father’s expression changed again. And this time there was no denying what was right before her. Gavin had hit upon the truth. Or a truth, at the least. Her father truly was hiding something, and it was something he was not just reluctant but afraid to tell her.

  “Dad,” she whispered, staring at him.

  Her father wouldn’t meet her eyes. Gavin’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “I’ve gotten to know your daughter a little. And once she gives her love, only something unforgivable could change it. Something indefensible. So indefensible even her great love can’t get past it.”

  Katie’s breath caught once more. Is this aimed at me, too? Is he talking not just about Dad, but us? She answered her own inward questions. This is not about you, and there is no us. Didn’t he make that clear enough for you?

  “I believe you about the car,” Gavin said. “Have you done something else, Steven? Something so bad that even Katie’s love can’t withstand it? Did you kill her best friend?”

  Her father drew in an audible breath. “No.”

  It was flat, solid, and to Katie utterly believable. He hadn’t done it. And she realized she’d never really believed he had. He was hiding something, but not that.

  “Then what?” Gavin persisted, still gently.

  Her father glanced at Katie, and she read an apology there for what he was about to say. She wanted to encourage him, assure him nothing could change her love for him, but she was afraid to interrupt the flow Gavin had finally established.

  “Get it out,” Gavin said
. “It’s eating you up.”

  Her father looked at his feet. And then, in a voice she’d never heard from him before, he answered.

  “Laurel and I had an affair.”

  Chapter 35

  Gavin heard Katie’s gasp, but didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze fastened on the man before him. But inside he was relieved. Katie would be hurt but not destroyed. Another warning bell went off in his head, that his first thought wasn’t about Moore’s guilt or innocence, but Katie. And she was apparently Cutter’s first thought as well, for the dog was quickly at her feet, leaning in, offering comfort in that way he had.

  “I know it sounds silly,” Moore said, “me more than twenty years older, but she didn’t care. Her only worry was that Katie might not like it.”

  He gave Katie a quick, sideways glance. She was staring at her father, clearly stunned.

  “It started when we were planning Katie’s birthday. The breakup with Ross was already starting. So she cried on my shoulder and then one day...she kissed me. It startled both of us, I think.”

  “Dad,” Katie began, then stopped as if she couldn’t find any words.

  He didn’t look at her, kept his eyes on Gavin. He was clearly uncomfortable, but now that he’d started he was going to finish. Gavin stayed silent, knowing that right now, this was nothing to do with the case and everything to do with what kind of relationship Katie and her father would have from here on.

  “We laughed it off, but...it wouldn’t go away. It kind of...morphed from there into something else. Something special.”

  “So special you kept it secret?” Katie asked. Gavin tried to assess her tone, but there was so much shock there he couldn’t separate out much more.

  “In the beginning, we didn’t even know what it was. At first we met to make plans for the party. Then we ended up talking about other things. For hours. She’d ask for advice. I thought she looked at me as a sort of surrogate father.”

  Katie absently stroked Cutter’s fur. “She always thought you were hot,” she said slowly. “When we were in elementary school she used to joke that she couldn’t wait until she grew up so she could marry you.”