Trap 'N' Trace

by Tee O'Fallon

  Angus barked with unabashed joy at the attention.

  “Ma’am.” Markus York shook her hand, although his overall demeanor was still distinctly different from those of his friends. Brooding, even, and there was something else reflected in his obsidian eyes. Pain. She still hated the ma’am thing, but with Markus, she let it go. This man was hurting. She knew it because she’d seen it in the mirror. Too many times. “I don’t mean to insult you, but your security for this place is some of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Too many feds couldn’t all be wrong. Maybe she did need more security.

  Next, Dayne introduced Kat’s staff one by one and by their first names. As she watched and listened, the depths of her love and friendship with these people hit her with stark clarity. They were everything to her.

  Anguish squeezed her heart like a vise. Three months ago, they’d all sat around this same kitchen counter, sipping on beer, wine, and eggnog for the annual Christmas party she threw for all of them. Amy had been there. But Amy would never be at another Christmas party. Anywhere.

  Her chest tightened to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Was this my fault? By not wanting to turn her property into more of a prison than it already was to her, had she compromised her friends’ safety?

  She pinned her arms over her stomach. Guilt ate at her insides like a cancer. If she’d had better security at the Haven, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps Amy would have gotten some kind of advanced warning that the killer had gotten inside. Maybe she wouldn’t be dead. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

  She wanted to scream. There was only one thing she could think of that she could do. For those she loved, she’d tolerate anything.

  “Kat?” Dayne’s brows drew together. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes.” As much as I can be, anyway. “I’ve changed my mind. Install as many cameras as you think are necessary to keep us safe. All of us. Especially at the Haven.” She choked back a cry of rage. “I don’t care what it costs.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dayne shot Kat a quick glance as he turned onto the Palisades Parkway. “What made you change your mind?”

  “About what?” Her voice was clipped, her hands clasped so tightly together he thought they’d crack.

  “The security system. More cameras.” Right before she’d authorized a blank check for any system upgrades he recommended, there’d been an about-face shift in her attitude. Up until that moment, she’d been dead set against it.

  “I don’t want any more of my friends murdered. I was being thoughtless and stupid.” The last word came out on a decidedly bitter note.

  Understanding smacked him in the face. With it came a healthy dose of compassion. For all her outward composure, she really was scared to death of losing her privacy. A simple thing most people took for granted. Something she’s willing to give up to safeguard those she cares about most. In his world, not everyone was so selfless. “If I had cameras pointed at me every time I went out in public, the last thing I’d want was more of them all over my home. What you’re doing is a good thing.”

  “Good thing.” She uttered a sound of disgust. “I never should have questioned you in the first place.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He squeezed her hand, releasing it just as quickly because it felt too good beneath his rough fingers. He cranked the warm air and was rewarded with a whiff of roses. She really did smell pretty.

  Remy stuck her head through the opening, her nostrils flaring as she breathed in Kat’s perfume.

  “Hello, Remy.” The tone of her voice wasn’t angry anymore, just sad. He wished he could whip up something upbeat to say. Not a damn thing came to mind. His dog nuzzled Kat’s cheek, and she sifted her fingers through Remy’s thick ruff. “Thank you, girl.”

  Remy was good like that. When someone needed canine love, she was all in.

  Dayne shot into the left lane, heading north on the parkway. The dashboard clock read 9:30 a.m. They had just enough time for Kat to pay her respects at the Thorpes then a quick stop at his place to grab a few things.

  A few minutes later, her hands fell to her lap, again clasped tightly.

  “Do me a favor.” He pointed to the glove box. “Grab me a fresh roll.”

  “A fresh roll of what?” Her brow furrowed. “Toilet paper?”

  A snort flew from his lips. “Now who’s a comedienne? Just open it. You’ll see what I mean.”

  Kat did as he asked. “What are these?” She pulled out one of the three-inch wide rolls of paper studded with brightly colored candy dots.

  “Dots.” He indicated the wood dispenser he’d installed on the dashboard between the driver and passenger seats. “It’s old fashion candy. You can buy it by the inch, but I eat so much of it, I order it by the roll. My favorite is the red one. Rootie Tootie Raspberry. Hang it up for me, will you?”

  Ironically, her crack about toilet paper was spot on. The wood hanger his dad had specially constructed was pretty much identical to a toilet paper dispenser.

  She pulled out the wooden dowel, stuck it through the center of the roll, then reinserted the ends of the dowel into the bracket.

  “Try one.” All he wanted was to make her smile again. Even for a few minutes because things weren’t about to improve any time soon. Not with a killer on the loose and two funerals on the horizon.

  From the corner of his eye he caught her look of skepticism as she examined the roll of candy. Finally she peeled off a red dot, popped it into her mouth, and crunched down. “These are good.”

  “Knock yourself out. Tear off a few inches.”

  She did and began popping different colored dots into her mouth. “Is this candy standard issue for all FBI agents?” she asked between crunches.

  “No.” He chuckled. “There’s no line item for candy in the Department of Justice’s budget. My mother used to buy it for me when I was a kid.” One of the few good things he remembered about his mom. “The sugar keeps me going when I’m on the road, and the crunch keeps me awake when I work nights.”

  “Does she still buy you candy?”

  He shook his head. “She died when I was ten.” From a crack overdose.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago, but I remember the dots.” And finding his mother’s body.

  “So you were raised by your father?”

  He grunted. “I never knew my father. I’m not even certain my mother knew who he was.” He’d never told that to anyone before. Not even his closest friends.

  After exiting the parkway, he stopped at a red light and caught Kat staring at him, her features soft as she gave him a weak smile.

  “What?” He frowned. Ah, shit. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

  “It’s not that.” She stared out the windshield, crumpling the now-empty strip of paper in her fist. “I just feel…empathy.”

  He exhaled an angry breath because, fuck. Last night, she’d told him her parents died when she was sixteen, so after that, she’d grown up with no parents at all. At least he’d had his adopted parents. Compared to her, he’d been lucky.

  The light turned green and he jerked the wheel left, harder than intended. Being around her reignited not only his old insecurities about growing up without a cent to his name, but about Britt. Still, that was in the past and it wasn’t fair to judge Kat by the actions of others. She really was turning out to be a decent person. “Sorry. If anyone can empathize, it’s you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have pried into your personal life. It’s none of my business.” Her cell phone dinged, and she dug it from her leather purse. “Emily found several security companies to choose from. She’s emailing the details.”

  “Give her my email and have her copy me on it. Don’t hire anyone until I review everything.”

  “Bossy, aren’t y
ou?” An impish grin tugged at her lips.

  “It’s an FBI thing. We like to take charge.”

  “Apparently.” Her grin broadened, making him feel slightly less shitty.

  He gave her his agency email address and cell phone number, so she’d have it plugged into her phone. “And send me a text so I have your number.”

  “Again with the orders.”

  “Hey.” He braked at a stop sign and twisted in his seat to face her. “I’m doing this to protect you.”

  Her smile faded, and she gave him a subtle nod of acceptance. “I know.”

  “Good.” He nodded back. It was important to him that she understood how seriously he took his job, and that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  Two minutes later, they pulled alongside a 1970s tract house that looked the same as every other one on the street. Several cars were parked in front of the place, including a marked patrol unit.

  There’d been no such support for him when he’d found his mother—his only living relative—unmoving on that ratty sofa. She’d been twenty-six when she died and left him alone.

  “Ready?” He shrugged into a black fleece vest to cover his weapon.

  “Yes.” After taking a deep breath, she opened the door and got out.

  Remy watched him, waiting for a sign that she was coming with them.

  “Not this time, girl.” He lowered one of the windows so his dog could get some fresh air, then gave her a quick scruff on the head and got out of the vehicle. Remy was accustomed to remaining behind, but that didn’t stop her from uttering a sad little whine.

  Kat was already at the top step in front of the house. She pressed the bell, and a few moments later the door opened. A forty-ish man stood in the doorway, his eyes red-rimmed.

  “Kat, thank you for coming.” He opened his arms and embraced her tightly.

  They stood that way for several seconds, wordlessly expressing their grief.

  Kat pulled away, clasping the man’s hands in hers. “Michael, I’m so sorry,” she said in a shaky voice. “I feel responsible, and I—”

  “It’s not your fault,” Michael said.

  She swallowed repeatedly, valiantly trying to hold her emotions in check, and that’s when it hit him. No way was this an act. She really cared about everyone who worked for her. All this time he’d assumed this visit to Amy’s family was a required aspect of the courtesy and protocol she took to an art form. I really am a judgmental dick.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Dayne said. “May we come in?” He urged Kat into the house. The last thing he wanted was her standing in an open doorway.

  “Forgive me,” she said as they moved inside. “This is Special Agent Andrews with the FBI. He’s investigating Amy’s…murder.” Kat momentarily squeezed her eyes shut.

  Several people standing in the kitchen, along with an older couple in the living room, watched them.

  Michael closed the door, narrowing his eyes on Dayne. “Why is the FBI involved?”

  Over Michael’s shoulder, two teenage boys with features similar to their father’s eyed him solemnly from the living room.

  “There may be a connection between your wife’s murder and the murder of a retired FBI agent.”

  “What possible connection could there be?” Michael’s brows furrowed.

  Dayne glanced at Kat, not wanting to publicly voice his opinion that she was the connection. Outing that information wouldn’t bring the man’s wife back, and it would do nothing to ease his family’s pain.

  “We’re not sure yet, but we’re working with the Orangetown PD to investigate every possible lead. We’ll find out who did this. I promise.”

  The man stared at him a moment longer, before blinking rapidly and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Kat rested her hand on Michael’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “How are the boys holding up?”

  “Not much better than I am. We’re all in shock.” Michael looked at his boys. “I’m sure they’d like to talk with you.”

  “I’d be happy to.” She squeezed his shoulder once more before joining the boys.

  Michael nodded to Kat as she hugged first one boy then the other, each clinging to her as if she were close family. “The first time Amy brought Luke and Tommy to the Haven, Kat took them on a personal tour. When they got home, they couldn’t stop talking about the dogs or her. I think they’re secretly in love with her.”

  Dayne grunted. What teenage boy wouldn’t be?

  While he couldn’t hear what Kat was saying, Luke and Tommy listened with rapt attention.

  “Can we speak privately?” Dayne indicated a corner of the kitchen that was currently unoccupied, and where he could still keep Kat in sight.

  “Of course.” Michael led the way to a table loaded with aluminum trays of food. Someone had gone all-out making sure the family wouldn’t have to cook for the next month.

  “Has Detective Paulson been by to ask you any questions?”

  “Yes.” Michael nodded. “Late last night, but I don’t think I was able to help much. I was in shock—hell, I still am.”

  “Would you mind if I asked a few questions?” He glanced at Kat where she now sat on the sofa, with Luke and Tommy on either side of her.

  The other man took a deep breath. “I’ll do anything I can to help.”

  “Thank you.” As an FBI K-9 agent, he didn’t normally take point on homicide investigations—except to locate a body. But this was an exception. Timing was everything, and he had a bad feeling time was not on their side. “Did you or your wife know Rebecca Garman?”

  “No.” Michael shook his head. “The only reason I know the name is because it was all over the news yesterday that she was murdered, and that Kat discovered the body.”

  “Did you or Amy ever retain the services of a private investigator?”

  Again, he shook his head. “No.”

  “Is it possible Amy ran into Rebecca Garman and you weren’t aware of it?”

  “I don’t think so. We had no secrets from each other. We talked about everything, including our friends. Amy was always excited when she met someone new, especially someone who had an interesting job, like a private investigator. I’m sure she would have told me if she’d ever met Rebecca Garman.” He paused to swipe at his watery eyes. “Were they after drugs or money?”

  “Possibly.” But he still doubted it.

  Kat managed to wring wan smiles from the boys. Whatever they’d been discussing, she’d found a way to make them feel just a little better. She always seemed to know just what to say. A skill he didn’t have and wished he did.

  “Did anyone hold a grudge against your wife, or was she threatened lately?” Given the fact that the killer had demanded to know where it was, he didn’t really think Amy was killed because of something in her past, but he had to ask.

  “No, everyone loved her.” Michael pressed a hand to his forehead then dragged it down his face. “She was a sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt or offend a soul.”

  Not wanting to upset the man more, Dayne abandoned his line of questioning. Truth was, he believed it was a waste of time. “If you think of anything else, please give me or Detective Paulson a call right away.” He tugged a business card from his pocket.

  “I will.” Michael accepted the card then clutched it tightly in his fist. “Agent Andrews, please find who did this and-and”—his voice shook—“make them pay.”

  As if sensing their father’s distress, Luke and Tommy came to his side.

  Dayne wanted nothing more at that moment than to plow his fist into the face of the homicidal motherfucker that had torn Amy’s family apart. A renewed shot of determination ripped through him, and he clasped the other man’s shoulder. “I will. You have my word.”

  Kat joined them, casting a sympathetic look at Michael and his sons. “We should give yo
u some privacy.” She hooked her arm around Dayne’s. The look in her eyes was soft and gentle, her brows slightly raised in question.

  Shit. He hadn’t realized he’d been wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

  Michael hugged Kat one last time. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered.

  “If there’s anything you need, or anything you think of that I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Michael sniffled. “I won’t. Thank you for all the food and the beautiful flowers. Amy would have loved them. How did you know orchids were her favorite?”

  Kat smiled sadly. “While we cleaned out the kennels, we talked about all kinds of things. Gardening, flowers, and dogs, of course.”

  The piles of food and flowers had all been from Kat. And she cleans kennels?

  “Will we see you at the wake on Saturday?” Michael asked.

  “Of course.” She gave Luke and Tommy quick hugs. “You guys take care of each other.”

  They said their goodbyes then headed outside. Remy’s head appeared at the open window. He opened the passenger side door for Kat, but instead of getting right in, she paused to give Remy a sound scratching behind her ears. She buried her face in Remy’s neck and wrapped her arms around his dog. Her upper body heaved with a sigh, then she released Remy and got into the truck.

  As he rounded the hood of the SUV, again he was struck by what an enigma this woman was. Filthy rich, yet generous, caring, and sensitive to the needs of others. She wasn’t hung up on status, and he liked that about her.

  He reached for the door handle then froze. Two blocks away, a blue vehicle sat at a stop sign, unmoving. No oncoming traffic in either direction. There could be twenty reasons why the car didn’t take off, but Dayne’s heart thumped faster, and adrenaline shot through his system just the same. The vehicle was too far away to see the driver’s face, and the angle wasn’t right to read the tag.

  Every muscle in his body tightened. Seconds later, the car drove straight through the intersection. Curiosity—and a healthy dose of suspicion—had him wanting to give chase, but it was probably nothing.