The Closer He Gets

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “That could be anyone,” he grumbled when she was done.

  “The shaved head isn’t that common, is it?”

  “Half the younger guys go for that look.”

  “You won’t, will you?” Tess wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of creepy.”

  He ran his hand through his hair as if for reassurance. “No.”

  She tried a tentative smile. “You wouldn’t be able to pull it when you’re frustrated.”

  His look said he was not amused. “Brown eyes. You’re sure?”

  “Or a brownish hazel.”

  He grunted. “Call me next time, okay?”

  Tess refrained from rolling her eyes. “I will, but what could you have done?”

  “Hung around until Greg got back.”

  She managed to coax him into telling her about his day. He was expecting three bids on the job of replumbing his house, and had stripped and sanded the molding in two of the bedrooms. He’d pretty well ruled Sam Doyle out as his sister’s killer, although he seemed embarrassed when he admitted that he had offered him the chance to bid on the job.

  “He actually seemed like an okay guy,” he finally admitted.

  When she rose to start clearing the table, Zach took the dirty dishes from her hands. “You worked today, I didn’t.”

  “But you cooked,” she protested. Hamburgers, potato salad and green beans.

  “You deserve to relax.”

  Tess laughed and kissed his stubbly cheek. “You’re more worked up than I am.”

  His scowl returned. “Why weren’t you scared?”

  “I got mad,” she said. “Only after he left did I realize I was scared, too. But... I don’t know.” She took a moment to analyze her reaction. “His voice wasn’t familiar. Plus, this didn’t feel like the other threats. I could be wrong, but my guess is this guy was just expressing his support for a fellow deputy. I don’t think he was part of the earlier threats or slashing my tires. I mean, if he was, would he really show his face? And go with such a weak threat? ‘If you get in an accident on a county road, you can’t count on us.’ That’s kind of underwhelming.”

  “Also an offense that could get him fired if Stokes identifies him.” Zach sounded a lot more grim than she felt. He went into the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

  She trailed him as far as the doorway. “Will you report it?”

  He swung to face her. “Hell, yes!”

  She might have objected, except she couldn’t forget the way the deputy had checked out every corner of the store to be sure she was alone. He’d used her vulnerability because she’d been alone as an implied threat.

  She retreated from the doorway as Zach went back to the dining room to finish clearing the table, then decided to take him up on his offer. She’d done more than her share of meals and dishes this week.

  Not in the mood to work, she took her book from her purse and went to the living room, turning on the lamp beside the sofa. Dusk purpled the sky. Comfortably ensconced, she thought about getting up and closing the blinds, but she’d been enjoying looking out at her garden earlier. The roses needed deadheading—

  Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement outside. She turned her head sharply. A big, dark shape stood on her small front lawn.

  Instinct brought her to her feet. “Zach?”

  Oh, God—it was a man. She was sure it was—only he didn’t have a face. And he was swinging something. What—?

  The window shattered and something shot past her, close enough she felt the wind. It smacked into a framed watercolor on the far wall, making glass explode again.

  Screaming, she dropped to the floor and covered her head.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IT WAS DAMN near killing Zach to see the stress on Tess’s face. Although if she tried to hide it, that might be worse.

  Detective Easley had come to talk to them, as had Detectives MacLachlan and Clayton from the SIU.

  They’d found a softball on her living room floor. A piece of paper bearing another threat had been wrapped around it with rubber bands. Zach still shuddered, knowing how close it had come to Tess’s head. He had a feeling it had been intended to hit her.

  God help him, when he’d heard the window break—

  He inhaled a ragged breath. Tess could have been shot. He’d had a brief vision of a Molotov cocktail exploding at her feet.

  Instead it had been one more effort to terrify her.

  He’d taken a moment to be sure she was okay then torn out the front door, running full-out. Unfortunately he’d been close to a block behind the man by the time he made it out to the street. The man had leaped into a dark SUV; tires had squealed as it accelerated. The light had been too dim for Zach to make out the license plate number.

  The first responder had taken the softball and the note wrapped around it into custody. Within twenty-four hours Easley reported the lack of any useable fingerprints.

  The surveillance cameras? Useless because he hadn’t put one on the front of the house. He’d been so damn sure they wouldn’t risk being seen by a neighbor.

  He’d have felt worse, except Tess insisted the guy had worn a dark ski mask or had pulled a shirt up over his lower face and a hood down over his forehead. Something to disguise his face.

  The couple days since then had sucked, in Zach’s view. He didn’t like leaving Tess potentially unprotected because he had to go to work every day. He did his job, but worried he might be distracted and screw up. The two of them had made love every night with a kind of ferocity, stunning in its intensity, but he didn’t like knowing what was behind her desperation and the way she clung to him afterward.

  Driving into her garage on Thursday evening, he wished like hell it was Saturday. It felt as though it should be.

  He was reaching for the remote to close the garage door when he saw in the rearview mirror that another car had pulled in behind him on the driveway. He turned to look at the gold Toyota Camry. Not the newest model, but only a few years old.

  Instead of closing the garage door, Zach got out of his pickup and went to meet the older man who had climbed out of the Camry. One good look and Zach thought, Oh, hell. The guy was tall, thin, mostly gray, with a mouth that drooped a little on one side. And he had Tess’s eyes.

  “Mr. Granath,” Zach said resignedly.

  “Deputy Carter.” The faintest slur softened his consonants.

  “Uh, yeah.” He held out his hand, because what else could he do? “It’s good to meet you.”

  Tess’s father cocked one eyebrow, either because that’s what he did or because the muscles on the other side of his face didn’t work right. “Interesting to find you here,” he said.

  Zach winced. “I guess Tess hasn’t told you.” Thank God the front window had been replaced yesterday, he reflected, since he didn’t know how much Tess was telling her father.

  The front door opened and Tess appeared on the porch. Her gaze flew to Zach’s. “Dad!” she said brightly. “I didn’t expect you.”

  “Only way I can find out what’s going on,” he muttered.

  Zach went in through the garage to give father and daughter a minute to themselves. Once inside, he endured an awkward introduction that neither man needed.

  Finally, Tess threw up her hands. “Zach is staying here because of all the stuff that’s been happening, okay?”

  And because he was sleeping with her. But, hey... He kept his mouth shut.

  Dinner was already on and she made it stretch for three. While they ate, Mr. Granath extracted most of the story from Tess with strategic silences, that skeptical, raised eyebrow and some inspired guesses. Zach admired his interview skills, although he didn’t enjoy having them turned on him.

  On the whole, however, he decided he liked her father, who accepted the
appearance of a previously unannounced live-in boyfriend better than he might have.

  Nevertheless, Zach was relieved when he left.

  Tess stumbled all over herself apologizing, which annoyed him.

  “It was bound to happen.”

  “Yes, but I know you didn’t want—”

  “Tess, it’s no big deal,” he said with a little more bite. “You told him I’m here to keep you safe. What father is going to object to that?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t mean—”

  “Drop it.” If he sounded testy, that’s because he was. He was glad to be able to turn on a Mariner game and pretend he gave a damn.

  Friday night he suggested they go out for dinner and maybe see a movie. Getting away from the house would be good for her. He vetoed the thriller she suggested, on the grounds that it struck a little too close to home, so they went for a comedy that had them laughing enough to loosen him up.

  Her, too, he decided as he held her close to his side through the exiting crowd. Her cheeks were pink and she tucked her hand into the back pocket of his jeans as they crossed the parking lot.

  “Well, look who’s here,” said a man behind them.

  Zach shot to instant readiness as he turned, nudging Tess to a position half behind him. Crap—it was Hayes with a woman and another couple. If he had to guess, the other man was the brother. There was some resemblance.

  “Hayes.”

  The other deputy’s expression was ugly. “Both witnesses, looking real cozy,” he sneered. “Do those special investigators know how friendly you two are?”

  “Being threatened has been a great bonding experience.” Zach switched his gaze briefly to the woman, whose head was bent so she didn’t have to meet his eyes. At least she was capable of some shame.

  Hayes grinned. “Threatened? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What d’ye say, Tyler? You heard any threats?”

  His brother guffawed. “Not me. Something got you scared, Carter?”

  “Scared? No. Just a little irritated. But, you know—” He shrugged. “I don’t have to worry about it, because the special investigators seem pretty competent to me. Detective Easley with CCPD, too.” He let his gaze rest on Hayes. “They’ll catch whoever is doing it.”

  Hayes pushed his girlfriend away and took a step toward Zach, his hands curling into fists. “You think you’re hot shit, but you’re nothin’. You hear me? You got Stokes mouthing crap he doesn’t mean, but the rank and file, they’re behind me. Sure as hell, nobody will ever call you for backup. I got a right to defend myself and my girl, too. Neither of you saw that stupid Mexican go for my gun.”

  Zach only shook his head. “Didn’t know your girl was there and needed defending,” he said mildly.

  Tess tugged urgently at his pocket. And she was right. It was time to wind this up.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us?” He nodded. “Enjoy your movie.”

  Hayes’s mean eyes narrowed. “Run along. Your time will come.”

  Zach tensed. “Guess you know how to issue threats, after all.”

  Hayes took a step closer, his girlfriend obviously reluctant at being dragged along. “When I threaten you, you’ll know, asshole.”

  Zach nodded politely then took a chance and turned his back, steering Tess to his pickup. He unlocked it with the remote before glancing back to see the four walking toward the theater. An angry voice carried across the lot. Easy to guess which of the two men was mad.

  Neither he nor Tess said a word until they were locked in the cab of the pickup. Then she expelled a breath.

  “Well. Stay in, go out—end result is pretty much the same.”

  “We can’t get away from it, can we?” His hand was steady when he started the engine, but inside he was at a full, roiling boil. What had he been thinking, going unarmed tonight? What if Hayes and his brother had attacked him and Tess?

  Last time I go anywhere without my backup piece, he vowed.

  “Could have been worse,” he said after a minute. “What if we’d known they were sitting two rows behind us throughout the movie?”

  “I think I’d have suggested we change theaters. Some blood and gore on the screen might have seemed way more appealing.”

  Surprising himself, Zach laughed.

  * * *

  ZACH DOGGEDLY MADE time to keep digging into Sheila’s murder despite everything else going on. Maybe, if he was honest with himself, because of everything else.

  He hated being excluded from the ongoing investigation into Alvarez’s death. Being out of the loop so he didn’t know what, if anything, the detectives had learned, grated at him.

  And then there was Tess. If he hadn’t already discovered the limitations of his ability to protect her, the softball whistling by within an inch of her head had been an eye opener. Now he had to add the confrontation in the parking lot, with him stupidly having gone unarmed.

  Too much was happening that left him feeling helpless and he detested it.

  At least, by God, he was making progress toward finding Sheila’s killer. He already knew considerably more than the detectives at the time had.

  Shelby Womack finally took one of his phone calls, but only to insist he leave their mother out of this. Then she’d hung up on him.

  He and Bran were talking regularly. Bran shared what he’d learned from a couple of their father’s other friends. He’d set out to determine whether they might be possible suspects, as well as to pick up more names of anyone who might have been around the Murphy household back then.

  What Zach couldn’t figure out was why Bran was helping when he hadn’t tried very hard in all these years to find Sheila’s killer. Zach wanted to feel a brotherly accord. Sometimes he actually did. But then a niggle of suspicion would surface. What if Bran had taken on Dad’s friends as part of an effort to steer Zach away from Dad?

  What if he hadn’t investigated because the killer’s identity wasn’t a mystery to him?

  Zach instinctively rejected that option. Bran might have a suspicion he didn’t want to acknowledge. But if he’d known Dad was guilty, he wouldn’t still be defending him. Zach didn’t doubt Bran had loved Sheila too much to close his eyes to that.

  Tess surprised him a little when she suggested they invite his brother and Paige to dinner on Sunday night. He’d had the impression she didn’t much like Bran, although she hadn’t said as much. She had obviously guessed that Zach hadn’t been seeing his brother in his off hours because he didn’t want to leave her alone.

  Bran accepted for himself, but said Paige had plans with a girlfriend that weekend. While they were on the phone, he listened in silence to the latest about Zach’s conversation with Shelby Womack and to the update that Zach had found the record of Sylvia Womack’s remarriage and change of name. She and the new husband lived in Mount Vernon, midway between Everett and Bellingham, where her daughters lived.

  Tess spent the day at the store Saturday. Zach picked her up after work, with the plan being that they’d eat out after he talked to the former Mrs. Womack—if he got lucky and caught her at home. He had decided he wanted to see her face when he asked his questions.

  He’d had time to change quickly, so he wasn’t in uniform when he rang the doorbell of a nice older home on the hill in Mount Vernon. He didn’t like leaving Tess in the truck, but he was confident they hadn’t been followed and she’d promised, cross her heart, to lean on the horn if she saw anything worrisome at all.

  An attractive woman with short, stylish dark hair opened the door. Zach recognized her from her driver’s license picture.

  “Mrs. Needham? My name is Zach Carter.”

  Her expression didn’t change, which either meant she was a hell of an actor or that neither daughter had told her about his calls.

  “Your ex-husband handled my parent
s’ insurance.” He paused. “Their names were Michael and Gayle Murphy. I imagine you remember my sister’s murder.”

  She looked startled. “Of course, I do! Oh, my. You’re one of the Murphy boys? But didn’t you say your last name is Carter?”

  He explained and asked if she would speak to him about her ex-husband.

  Finally wary, she said, “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m a police officer, Mrs. Needham, as is my brother. I imagine we were both influenced in our choice of career by what happened. I recently moved back to the area, and he and I have joined forces to look into Sheila’s death. Detective Nolte, who I believe spoke to you back then, mentioned your husband’s name to me.”

  Her fingers tightened on the door. He could see her giving thought to closing it in his face.

  “I’m hoping,” he said quietly, “that you won’t feel you owe him any loyalty.”

  Her mouth thinned. “I do not.” Indecision held her for another minute before she sighed. “Is that your wife in the truck? She’s welcome to come in instead of sitting out here.”

  “I thought you might be more comfortable answering my questions without any additional audience.”

  She studied him, probably trying to determine how trustworthy he was, then nodded. “Very well.”

  She led him to a living room with elegant, brocaded sofa and chairs, Persian rugs over gleaming hardwood floors and dainty side tables with Queen Anne feet. He had a feeling this room was for show, not daily use.

  She sat in a wing-backed chair, her posture very straight, her hands folded on her lap. “I wasn’t aware that Duane’s name had ever come up during that investigation. Why on earth would it?”

  Here’s where it got awkward. If she didn’t know her husband had cheated on her with Zach’s mother, did he have to tell her? She was already having to live with far more damaging knowledge of her ex.

  “The investigators spoke to as many people as possible who’d had occasion to be out at the house,” he said diplomatically. “I am retracing their steps and widening the investigation. In trying to track down Duane, I reached your daughter, Andrea.”