Cold Truth: (Cold Harbor Book 2)

by Susan Sleeman

  She read the final message and leaned back. “Nothing here.”

  “You haven’t opened your emails,” Coop said.

  “That’s because I know what they say.”

  “But we don’t.” Coop’s comment hung in the air.

  Did he miss anything? She doubted it and felt the urge to defend herself. “You don’t need to hear about my life dramas.”

  “No,” Blake said. “But it would be good to see that you weren’t communicating about the theft with your brother.”

  She had nothing to hide, but resented that they were questioning her involvement. She clicked on the first message about an ongoing feud she’d been having with her mother. The email was filled with Kiera’s frustration over wanting to live her life and her mother’s constant worry. She could almost feel Coop and Blake grinning over a problem that a thirty-year-old woman shouldn’t have. Or maybe they were working hard to stifle their laughter.

  “Next one, please,” Coop said, not a hint of what he was thinking in his tone.

  She opened the message, and they continued on until they’d read the last one.

  “I hope you work this out with your mother.” Coop actually sounded sincere. “Seems like she’s quite the helicopter parent.”

  Kiera was surprised at his kind comment, but didn’t acknowledge it, as she didn’t want to linger on this topic. On any personal topic for that matter.

  “Kevin may have filed or trashed messages,” he said. “Do a search by date to bring up everything for the last week.”

  There he was. Commanding Coop. Telling her what to do again. She wanted to refuse. But what good would that do? She needed to review these messages, too. She performed the search for herself—not for him—and brought up a long list of messages. She opened them one at a time, her frustration growing with each one they read that didn’t contain leads.

  Blake shifted his feet. “That was a bust.”

  “What about Kevin’s hard drive?” Coop asked. “You can search for files changed or created in the last week, too.”

  She peered up at him. “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “I do, if you’ll let me.”

  Wow. He was asking permission. She was glad to reward that behavior. She slid out of the chair, and he didn’t waste even a second but dropped onto it. She took a step back, glad to be the one breathing down his neck for a change. Not that her presence likely mattered to him. He seemed quite capable of containing his interest in her. As handsome as he was, he must deal with women being attracted to him all the time. On the other hand, she hadn’t dated much and was a novice when it came to fighting such intense feelings.

  She had to figure out how to handle them. The last thing she needed was a relationship. She wanted to get married someday. Have a special connection like her parents shared, but not now. Not when she’d recently begun to live on her own terms. She didn’t want a guy to screw all that up. Especially a controlling man like Coop.

  Remember that and you’ll have no trouble keeping your focus where it needs to be.

  He entered dates in a search window, and a list of files popped onto the screen. “Most of these are system files and aren’t significant. But there’s a Word document named Rebuttal.”

  “Open it,” she directed.

  He clicked on the file, and the document opened, but it was blank.

  “Odd,” Blake said. “What do you think he was rebutting?”

  “I don’t know, but I doubt it was work related. He used his work laptop for that. This computer is only for personal items.”

  “How about his Internet history?” Blake asked.

  She didn’t mind checking that out, but since she knew how to locate the records, she wanted to reclaim control of the computer. She tapped Coop’s shoulder. “I’ll take over.”

  She expected him to balk, but he got up quickly, and she assumed control of the computer again. She sorted the browser history by date and scanned the short list.

  “Kevin searched for local attorneys.” Coop leaned closer. “Any idea why he might do that?”

  “Could have to do with the recent purchase of this house.”

  “Makes sense,” Blake said. “No red flags here. What about his bookmarks?”

  Kiera opened them and found several regarding Kevin’s fishing hobby, but little else. She started to shut down the computer.

  “Before moving on,” Blake said. “I’d like you to look for bank statements.”

  She swiveled to look at him. “Statements? Why on earth?”

  “Crimes are often motivated by money. The need for it or simple greed. If Kevin was having money problems—”

  “He would have told me.”

  “Would he really?” Coop asked. “Guys don’t like to share that kind of thing. Even with a twin sister, I suspect.”

  “Fine. We’ll look.” She searched until she found the folder holding Kevin’s statements. Hoping to prove her brother was financially stable, she opened the latest document almost a month old. The document didn’t disappoint.

  “Okay, so he’s got his finances under control,” Blake said. “We need access to the details of his account since this statement. Large deposits could tell us if he’s received a down payment on the toxin from a buyer.”

  Kiera shook her head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, but I can log into his bank account online.”

  “You have that password, too?”

  Did she? She suspected Kevin would have used a more secure password for online financial information than his go-to one that she’d used to unlock his computer. “I don’t.”

  “I saw a password keeper app in the search.” Coop leaned in and took control of the mouse with her hand still on it. She should protest, but she was too stunned by his touch to say a word.

  He dragged the mouse across the pad, and when the arrow pointed at the app, he lifted his hand and stood back. Seriously. He seemed like he did what ever he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. Just the kind of guy she needed to avoid.

  She took a long breath and opened the app to find login details for Kevin’s account. Still flustered, she surfed to his bank on the web and hit a wrong key as the password didn’t work and she had to reenter it to get his account to open.

  The summary of his accounts appeared on the screen. Her mouth dropped open. His checking account was ten thousand dollars higher than the statement. She clicked to open details and scrolled down the list of deposits and debits.

  “There.” Coop stabbed his finger at a pending ten thousand dollar mobile deposit made two days earlier.

  Her heart sank. Where could Kevin have gotten that kind of money?

  “Open it,” Coop urged.

  Everything in her being told her not to comply, but she had to know the money source. She clicked on the information link to open the deposit detail. “Check image not available at this time” flashed on the screen. She sighed out her relief. Maybe her frustration. She wasn’t sure how she felt right now.

  “It’s not unusual not to be able to see the image of a pending check,” Blake said. “Any ideas on where he might get a check of this size?”

  Not trusting what she might say, she shook her head.

  “You have to know that it looks suspicious.”

  “Yes.” She closed the transaction and scrolled through his other transactions. Direct deposits of his salary, bill payments, and debits at stores filled the remainder of the page. Nothing unusual. She waited for Coop or Blake to point something out, but when they didn’t, she exited the account.

  She swiveled to face the men. “If Kevin had done something wrong, he wouldn’t deposit the money in his account for you to find. He’d be smart enough to hide it.”

  “Good point,” Coop said. “Maybe we should look for hidden accounts.”

  Grrr, that’s not what she meant, and he knew it. But now that he’d laid the gauntlet, she had to follow through. She searched for statements for other accounts and came up empty-handed. “Nothi
ng.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Coop said. “If Kevin didn’t want the accounts found, he’d have hidden them. At least that’s what I would’ve done.”

  “I’d like to take the computer and have a forensic analysis done,” Blake said.

  Was that a good idea? If she let Blake take the computer, it wouldn’t be available if she needed to perform other searches in the future.

  “I’m not quite ready to do that.” She could almost hear the wheels turning in both men’s heads from her refusal to cooperate, but she blocked it out and shut down the computer.

  She stood and faced them. “We’ll move on, but remember to remain nearby.”

  She stepped toward Kevin’s bedroom and heard both men’s feet crossing the wood floor behind her. Kevin’s room was as sparse as the rest of his home, holding little other than a bed and a nightstand without drawers. A chemistry journal and lamp were the only items on the nightstands.

  Coop stepped up to her. “If the team was here with me, we’d look under the mattress.”

  “Are you asking permission to do so?”

  He nodded.

  She appreciated that he was following her rules. “That’s fine as long as you put it back.”

  He gestured for Blake to help and they lifted it to the floor, revealing no hidden secrets. While they placed it back on the box spring, she looked through Kevin’s closet. She found only clothes and extra bedding, but she ran her fingers through every pocket and shook out the bedding, too.

  “Your brother wasn’t much for material possessions was he?” Blake asked.

  “No.” She dropped the blankets on the bed and got down to look under it.

  Coop dropped down next to her and shone the light from his cellphone into the dark space. She didn’t bother to thank him. Not when she knew he wasn’t trying to help her as much as he was trying to get a good look for himself. But they found nothing, not even dust bunnies. As a neat freak, Kevin had gone through a few housekeepers until he found one who cleaned up to his standards.

  She got to her feet and passed Blake to enter Kevin’s bathroom. She doubted she’d find anything of interest, but came to a stop when she spied a photograph lying on the counter, white powder covering it.

  Had that been there when she stopped by earlier? If so, she missed it and was now even more curious about what the photo contained. She picked it up. “This is odd. Kevin’s so meticulous, I can’t imagine why there’d be a picture in his bathroom or why he’d get powder on it.”

  She started brushing off the powder.

  “Stop,” Blake yelled.

  Too late, she’d already cleaned it off. She spun to look at him.

  “You can’t disturb evidence like that,” he complained.

  “I couldn’t see the picture.” She probably shouldn’t have touched it, but she needed to find Kevin, and so far, this picture was the only thing out of order. “It’s of Kevin and me standing outside his work, but I’ve never seen this picture.”

  She drew in a deep breath and bent closer for a better look. A strand of hair caught in her mouth. She quickly whisked it out and took a long look at the picture. The sun shone down on her and Kevin, both of them smiling as they looked in the direction of the camera. Odd. She didn’t remember posing for this photo. Or for any photo with Kevin outside the lab, someone could have taken the shot from a distance and she may not have seen them.

  Coop and Blake moved closer. Both of them seemed eager to take a look, but she wanted to give the photo a better study before letting them have it.

  She would put them off by describing what she was looking at. “It’s Kevin and me outside Oceanic. Must be on one of my visits, but I don’t remember anyone taking this picture. Maybe he asked someone to take it and didn’t tell me.”

  “Isn’t it kind of odd that he wouldn’t tell you about that?” Blake asked.

  “Kevin is kind of absentminded, so no. But he also isn’t the kind of person to have pictures. That part is odd.”

  Coop leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. “Even odder is keeping the picture in his bathroom.”

  Blake nodded. “And we can’t ignore the powder. Is Kevin into illegal drugs?”

  She shot him a look. “Kevin? Never. Why?”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. “That powder looks suspiciously like cocaine. He could’ve been using the picture for a cutting surface, though it wouldn’t be the best choice for that. Are there any razor marks on the photo?”

  She lifted it for a closer inspection. “Nothing.”

  “Is there something about the picture that you can connect with the spinneret lead?” Coop asked.

  “Like what?” She stared at the photo, but as she watched, the image turned fuzzy. She blinked several times to clear her vision, but it remained blurry. Odd. Warmth started to radiate outward from the center of her chest like someone placed a heating pad on it.

  She rested a hand on the counter. “I feel weird.”

  “Weird how?” Coop’s voice seemed to be coming from the end of a long tunnel.

  “I can’t focus my eyes, and I’m feeling hot.” Her words came out slurred.

  Coop stepped closer and looked into her eyes for what seemed like an hour, and his head appeared to be floating. “Kiera?”

  Panic started setting in. “What’s happening?”

  “You’re not making sense,” Coop said.

  She felt her mind and body drifting. “Help. Please help me.”

  Did her words come out right? They sounded garbled to her. Sounded like they were coming from someone else’s mouth.

  “The powder could have contained fentanyl.” Blake came closer. His face waved in and out of focus.

  “Fentanyl?” Coop mentioned the word she couldn’t manage to form.

  Her leg muscles started to feel like rubber, and she worried she would crumple to the floor.

  “Get her to the couch. Don’t touch her hands and call 911. Tell them we have a drug overdose.” Blake spun and bolted for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Drug overdose? How?

  “Where are you going?” Coop called after Blake, but he continued out the door without speaking.

  Kiera’s legs fully liquefied, and she started to sink to the floor. Coop caught her and swung her into his arms.

  He carried her out of the bathroom, talking to her. Soothing her. Promising everything would be all right. She tried to open her mouth to ask a question, but she couldn't get it open. Couldn’t respond. She felt secure and safe in his arms, so she relaxed as the warmth spread through her body.

  He gently lowered her onto the sofa. Her eyes began to close, and she tried hard to stop them, but failed. She pried them open long enough to see extreme concern in Coop’s expression, but couldn’t gather enough energy to keep looking at him, much less speak. She could fight no longer and gave in to whatever was pulling her into the black void.

  Coop hung up from the 911 call and took Kiera’s hand, his heart racing with concern. “Kiera? Can you hear me?”

  She lay on the sofa, her eyes coming open. They were glazed—dazed, and she didn’t respond other than to blink.

  Why in the world did Blake think she’d overdosed? Had she taken something before they’d left the compound? If so, what?

  Her eyes closed, and he shook her, but she didn’t respond.

  “Stay with me, Kiera.” He leaned close. Listened for her breathing and checked her pulse.

  Blake came running into the room, ripping open a plastic bag. He pulled out a syringe, vial, and what looked like a stopper. “Is she still breathing?”

  “Yes, but she’s not responding to me,” Coop replied. “What’s going on, man?”

  “The powder on the photo likely contained fentanyl or carfentanil. Cocaine is often cut with these highly powerful opiods. They’re fifty to a hundred times stronger than heroin. If enough is ingested it can cause an overdose.”

  He knelt next to the sofa and pulled off a yellow cap on the syringe
and a purple one from a vial. “This is Narcan. The nasal spray reverses the effects of opiods. She may not be overdosing, but I’m not taking a chance.”

  He put the two open ends together and twisted. He took the stopper and mounted it on the end. “I’ll administer it through her nose with this atomizer.”

  He inserted the syringe in her right nostril and pressed. Moved to the other nostril. “This works by taking the opiod receptors off the brain.”

  “What if you’re wrong and it’s not one of these drugs? Can this medicine hurt her?”

  He shook his head. “There are no adverse reactions to this drug.”

  Kiera stirred and tried to sit up. Coop gently pressed her back down.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “What happened?”

  Blake quickly explained. “The Narcan will only last for thirty minutes. When the medics get here, they’ll take you to the ER. Doctors will decide if they need to administer another dose.”

  She started to shake her head then abruptly stopped. “Kevin would never have drugs, especially not deadly ones.”

  Blake sat back on his heels. “Unfortunately, he wouldn’t know if fentanyl or carfentanil had been added to the coke.”

  Coop reluctantly switched his attention to Blake. “Why do you even have this Narcan?”

  “We have an opiod epidemic in this country. Too many overdoses going on. The biggest problem with an opiod overdose is that the person stops breathing. So all across the country law enforcement officers and firefighters are carrying Narcan to be able to administer it and get them breathing.” He stuffed the atomizer back in the box. “Not all departments are doing so, but I decided if we save one life, it’s worth the cost.”

  She grabbed Coop’s sleeve. “But Kevin doesn’t do drugs.”

  The vehemence in her voice brought Coop’s focus back to her. “I believe you.”

  Blake tucked the box in his pocket. “I wish I could, but I’ve seen far too many times when families are shocked to learn a family member is using drugs.”