Understanding, Luke released her and gestured to the outline taped to the floor. He’d made a decision downstairs, when Purdy told him about the police chief. “Clay wasn’t killed because of who he’d been as a child. He died because of choices he made as an adult. And I have reason to believe those choices involved Chief Graves.”
“Graves killed him?” she asked, stunned.
“I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “I’m not sure what the hell is going on here. Clay turns over a new leaf, comes into some money and tries to recruit Tony to help him. Then he’s murdered in his apartment, only no one hears or sees a thing. Now I find out that Chief Graves has been in this apartment, with two friends that sound familiar.”
Kell’s eyes widened even further. “The men that Tony met? Are they cops?”
“Not likely. I know everyone on Graves’s force. None of them match the boy’s description.” He carefully circled the outline and the chair. “When I left last week, this drawer was half open. The couch was flush against the wall. Both have been moved, as though Graves was looking for something.”
“Clay’s ring,” she surmised. “How did you know they’d been here?”
“The super told me, thought I already knew.” Striding to the kitchenette, he found a hand towel. “There’s been a lot of interest in this drawer,” he explained as he returned to stand by the dresser. “I wonder what else was supposed to be inside.”
Slowly, Luke took the drawer out and held it out for examination. The flimsy plywood construction showed no evidence of a false bottom. Inside, the tan interior bore trace stains and some dust, but nothing that signaled at its meaning.
Behind him, Kell peered into the open space left by the empty slot. Using her shirttail, she tested the remaining handles. The other two drawers proved similarly unremarkable. The top one could be removed like the second drawer, but the bottom one only extended part of the way before stopping because of a mechanism that halted it halfway.
“They’ve been picked clean,” she noted. “Was there something inside when you came the first time?”
“No. This one was standing ajar, and the other two were closed. After we photographed the scene, I had the team check them for contents. All empty.”
Kell studied the bottom drawer from her position and noticed a broken edge in the corner where it would move no further. Below the empty space, a flash caught her eye. “Luke, come here.”
He crossed to her side. “Did you find something?”
“Maybe.” She gained her feet and shifted to the right side of the dresser. Giving an experimental tug, she said, “It’s bolted to the wall.”
“Purdy is cheap.” Luke cocked his head at her. “What are you thinking?”
She grabbed his hand and gestured inside the open space. “See the bottom panel?”
“Yes?”
“Look closely.”
Luke bent his head, nearly stuffing it inside the hole in the dresser. He inclined his gaze to the left and then to the right. And saw it. “There’s something stuck behind the dresser.”
“You can’t get to it by removing the drawers. That’s why they didn’t find it.”
“We have to get it out.”
Kell rose and hurried into the kitchen. “Once, Fin and I decided to snoop in Mrs. F’s attic. We’d been reading Trixie Belden or something, and Fin was certain that one of the cabinets in the attic had a false bottom.” She found a butter knife lying in the sink, unwashed. Flipping on the water, she sprayed the knife clear of what she assumed to be congealed jelly. She gave it a quick swipe with the discarded dishtowel and knelt beside the drawer.
“Turns out, cheap plywood doesn’t really care for being prodded and poked.” Kell wedged the knife into the shadowed slot where the wood joined the sideboard. She prised the wood from its mooring, hearing it splinter with satisfaction. “This type of wood is its own false bottom,” she pronounced, removing the fractured board. The bottom removed, she levered the back free of the sides and the entire drawer collapsed.
Luke squatted down and helped her remove the broken pieces. “Did you find anything in the attic?”
“A game of Twister and a month of extra chores.” She smiled at the memory, and reached into the now open space. “Fin would definitely have preferred jewelry.” Using her shirttail, her fingers closed around the shiny object and lifted it into the light. “Clay’s ring.”
“Which Graves knows about.”
Kell sat back on her heels. “Graves doesn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind, Luke. Seems more likely to be a pawn of the other two.”
Because Luke agreed with her assessment, he nodded, studying the loop of gold with its blue stone. “But we can’t underestimate him. He’s been tailing me and he knows that I’m working with you.” He filled her in on his conversation with Graves. “In fact, I’m fairly certain his man has reported to him that we’ve been in the apartment for more than twenty minutes. If they didn’t find anything, they’re going to be wondering if we did.”
“What do we do now? Take the ring to your office?”
“Can’t. I’m not sure one of my officers isn’t feeding him information.”
“Then what do we do?”
Luke stared at the ring, then slanted a grin at Kell that had her stomach wobbling. “We go to the safest place I know.”
“Where’s that?”
“My house.”
CHAPTER 18
Ivy climbed white railings and tangled with vines of honeysuckle. A slate roof sloped low over shutters that framed the picture windows on either side of the broad front porch. Potted plants hung from the porch ceiling, and an old rocking chair rested in the corner.
Luke led Kell up the cobblestone walkway, her elbow firmly in his grip. Crabgrass peeked through the stones and he made a mental note to spray in the morning before heading into the office. He noted in approval that the lawn had received its scheduled mowing from Cheryl’s son.
Pride swelled as Luke watched Kell take in the 1820s farmhouse he’d spent the better part of three years rehabbing. From the hunter green shutters too dark to distinguish in the moonlight, to the refinished floors inside, every detail had been his vision. Hours of labor on weekends and his infrequent days off had been poured into his house, along with the remorse that had weighed him down for nearly four years. He’d rebuilt himself, and this house. But when Kell remained silent, pride faltered unexpectedly.
As though she could read his mind, she finally murmured, “It’s perfect. Though not exactly what I expected.”
“Which part?” he teased as he unlocked the front door with its original hardware, rescued from the basement.
“It’s so, well, homey.”
“Fixed it up with my own two hands,” he explained. Beneath the porch light, his eyes caught hers and held. “I’m very good with my hands.”
Before she could respond, a black bullet shot past them. Luke whirled her aside as a second mound of fur, this time a golden yellow, bounded out after the first. “Meet my roommates, Jekyll and Hyde.”
Kell watched as the black dog rolled across the midnight lawn in ecstasy, while the golden retriever observed from a safe distance on the rocker. “I take it the lab is Hyde?”
“Excellent observation. Jekyll tends to be the instigator. She prefers to incite Hyde into action and enjoy his comeuppance.” He guided her into the living room and gestured her to a leather sofa. Instead, Kell wandered around the room, taking in the space.
A shade richer than jade adorned the walls and accented the hardwood floors polished to a high shine. The marble mantle displayed a trio of photos that included a tall man in dress whites next to a beautiful woman garbed in the same. The woman held a small bundle, which she assumed to be an infant Luke.
In the second photo, Luke towered over the couple, this time the one in uniform. She spotted the CPD insignia on a flag behind him and figured out that it was his graduation. A third photo showed Luke in a CPD T-shirt, his long arms slung around the shoulders of two
men who laughed up at the camera. Behind them, four others made faces and rude gestures at the picture taker.
“Who are these guys?” she asked, turning to Luke with a smile.
“My squad,” he answered shortly, leaving the room to check on the dogs. He propped the front door open, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and the other wild-flowers that grew out behind the house. He looked at that photo everyday, and it never got easier to see them smiling at him. Unaware how badly he’d soon fail them all. Pushing away his melancholy, he returned to the living room. “Have a seat.”
Kell sat, still thinking about the photograph. In her research, there’d been mention of a tragic accident that killed several members of the same squad. His squad. Kell started to ask, but Jekyll shuffled in, bored with Hyde’s antics. She sniffed once at Kell, then sauntered past her into the den. Deciding not to press, Kell asked instead, “How long have you had them?”
“They came with the house.” With a practiced motion, he unclipped his holster and set it on a sideboard laden with unread catalogs and magazines. “The owners were moving into an assisted-living facility, no pets allowed. They dropped the price five percent when I agreed to adopt.”
“Smart.”
“Yep. The dogs were already named, which should have warned me.” He returned to the foyer and whistled for Hyde, who gave a disgruntled bark but padded inside.
Hyde, unlike Jekyll, decided to investigate the newcomer. A wet nose pressed against Kell’s hand and she stroked his grassy coat. “Aren’t you beautiful?” she crooned, and the dog panted with delight.
“Keep rubbing his fur like that and you’ll have to take him home with you.”
“No pets allowed in my condo. The chair of the homeowners association is allergic.” Kell had never owned a pet, never really wanted to. But the soft rumbles beneath her hand as she pet Hyde brought a moment of regret. “Nice dog,” she crooned softly. Wanting to continue petting him, she lifted her hand and tucked it in her lap. No sense in getting attached.
Luke noticed the wistfulness and filed the reaction away. He snapped for Hyde’s attention and shooed him into the den. “Want something to drink?” he asked, walking toward the kitchen, which opened off of the living room. Bumping open a swinging door, he called out, “Water, wine, or beer?”
“Any chance you have a Coke in there?”
“One Coke coming up.” He returned with two bottles dangling from his hand.
Kell accepted the chilled soft drink in its signature container. Tipping the soda down her throat, she released the sigh she’d held back. At his raised brow, she explained, “I haven’t had a real Coke in years. Used to be a Friday treat at the Center. Cold Coca-Cola in the glass bottle.”
“We had them on base. One of the perks.” He lifted a bottle of pale amber ale to his lips. “However, tonight seems to require something a little harder.”
Grateful for the opening, Kell rushed to ask, “What’s going on, Luke?”
“I’m not exactly sure. But the upshot is that I have sufficient evidence to believe Eliza is innocent.”
“Good,” she replied, but the tension clustered at her shoulders remained. Ever since she discovered the ring beneath the dresser, he’d been in an easy, even lighthearted mood. The austerely handsome face had relaxed, become more mobile. More attractive, if that were possible.
Nerves born of uncertainty and apprehension jittered when that chiseled smile flashed at her. To distract, she commented, “Your colleague may be implicated in a murder, and he’s trying to sabotage your case. Yet you are remarkably sanguine.”
“Michael Graves and I don’t see eye to eye on much,” Luke said evenly. “Apparently, he thinks that by scooping me on the Griffin murder, he’ll have a better shot at my job.”
“Or?”
“Or the Chief of Police is a conspirator in a murder.” The ebony eyes shifted from light to dangerous in an instant. “And if he did have something to do with Griffin’s death, then he’s going to be looking for a scapegoat.”
Disquiet settled over Kell as the implication sunk in. “Why would he target Eliza? Why even think of her?”
“I don’t know that he has,” Luke cautioned. “But while Graves isn’t a bright man, he’s not an idiot. Your sudden reappearance will tip him off eventually.”
“Then I can leave. You think Eliza is innocent, which means you won’t arrest her.” She set the bottle on an oak coffee table that appeared handmade. More of Luke’s handiwork, she imagined. “Unless you have another reason for me to stay.”
A hundred reasons, most of which included the bed upstairs, Luke thought hungrily. But now wasn’t the time to mention the desire that had become a permanent ache whenever he thought of her. “The longer you stay in town, the more he’ll speculate. You leave and he might not look her way.”
Contradicting herself, she countered, “You did.”
“Because I knew about the knives. Graves and Eliza don’t get along well. She thinks he harasses her children.”
“He always has.” Kell recalled a particularly nasty winter afternoon the year Julia arrived. “Once, he trapped Fin and Julia and me in a closet at the general store. Accused us of stealing.”
“Had you?”
Kell took no offense. “That time, no. Julia had on a pair of leather gloves that she’d received from some relative. The store owner swore they belonged to him. Graves demanded that Julia produce a receipt.” Bitterness flared again. “What thirteen-year-old carries around receipts, especially for gifts? Anyway, when we refused to give the gloves to the owner, he shoved us into a utility closet. Propped something under the door to keep us inside.”
“My God.”
“It was worse than you think. Fin is claustrophobic.” Kell winced at the memory. “She just sat on the floor, moaning and rocking. Julia and I begged him to let us out, even offered to give him the gloves.”
“How long did he keep you inside?”
“Two hours. Until Mrs. F came to get us. One of the others found her and told her what had happened.”
“No wonder you hate him.”
“He’s a loathsome little toad who preys on the weak.” Kell swigged from the bottle of Coke, abruptly thirsty. “So how do we catch him?”
“We can discuss that over dinner.” Luke stood and snagged his bottle. “Come into the kitchen, and I’ll wow you with more of my culinary skills.”
Kell followed him through the swinging doors and stopped short, impressed. The kitchen was a wide, airy room complete with a butcher block island and long, deep counters. Where the living room had been painted in shades of green, the kitchen boasted lemon yellow walls and touches of auburn and sage. “All I seem to do around you is eat.”
“The way to a woman’s heart, I hope.”
Luke installed her on a stool at the island and set out an impressive array of pots and pans. He dumped handfuls of pasta into boiling water, sprinkling in a handful of spice. On a separate burner, onions sizzled with garlic, to which he added a splash of wine. She’d been given the mundane task of salad making, which stretched the limits of her skills.
She enjoyed watching him cook, the easy grace of movement, the intensity that flared as he puzzled over a vegetable. Not a simple man, she knew, but one who came with layers and corners that one could easily overlook. Like his reaction to her question about the photo.
“Who were the men in the photo, Luke?”
He hesitated briefly, holding a spoon above the pasta. “I told you. Guys from my precinct in Chicago.”
Kell sliced a cucumber carefully, but looked at Luke. “Do you stay in touch with them?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she probed, needing him to tell her the truth. For once, she understood his constant pressing for more from her, knowing she had to demand the same. “Talk to me, Luke.
His eyes, already so deep and dark, went black and cold. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Rather than retreat, she pressed. “Are they
the reason you left Chicago?”
“Yes.”
Although she’d figured out part of the answer, she asked, “Did you have a fight? Get kicked off the force?”
“No.” He flicked off the heat below his sauce and turned to face her, his lean face dangerous. “I killed them all. Okay?”
Stunned, she dropped the knife and it clattered to the floor. “What happened?”
“Exactly what I said. I killed six of my best friends.”
Kell slid off the stool and came around to where he stood at the stove. She covered his hands with her own, oblivious to the heat that rolled from the burners or him. “Tell me what happened.”
He supposed he owed her. After all, he’d been pulling at her for honesty. It was his turn to reveal a truth. “A stakeout went bad. I was their commanding officer. Had a suspect under surveillance for child pornography.” He jerked his hands free and moved past her into the breakfast area. “We got a tip that he was expecting a large shipment of tapes from overseas. I ordered the team to follow him to the docks. We didn’t have time to arrange for more back up.”
Kell said nothing, but she came around the island and stood, waiting.
“We reached the docks and the slip where the ship was unloading. But he wasn’t expecting tapes and DVDs.”
Comprehension dawned in a wave of horror. “No.”
“We could hear the children crying in their boxes. Stacks of crates filled with stolen children. I didn’t want to call in or wait for orders. I told them to take the docks. Without waiting for more backup.” He could hear the gunfire erupting around them. Hear the first of his men fall. “We scattered, trying to get to the children and pick off the transporters. It took five minutes maybe. Five minutes to wipe out six of my men.”
“Did the children—”
“The kids were safe. I managed to secure them after the firefight stopped.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-three. Crammed into these boxes like animals.”
“And the suspect and his crew? Did they die?”
Luke smiled then, a gruesome twist of lips that chilled her blood. “Most of them were shot by my men. The bastard in charge is serving ten consecutive life sentences in general population.”
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