Dead Reckoning

by Linda Castillo

  “I thought no such thing because there is no connection between what happened last night and the case.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Kate escaped having to answer when someone knocked on Mike’s office door. She glanced over her shoulder to see Frank Matrone enter. His hair was mussed as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, toweled it dry, and hadn’t bothered to comb it. He was wearing a nicely cut black suit, a burgundy tie, and cowboy boots.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He smiled at Kate, then addressed Mike. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I wanted to see you twenty minutes ago.” Mike motioned toward a second chair. “Have a seat.”

  Irritation rippled through her when Matrone walked to the chair next to hers and sat down. “Hi, Kate. How’s it going?”

  Ignoring him, she glared at Mike. “What’s he doing here?”

  Mike frowned at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, he works here. He’s your investigator.”

  She shot Frank a withering look. “I know that. I’m asking you what he’s doing at this meeting.”

  “Be nice,” Mike said, then shot a look at Frank. “You seen the paper?”

  “Not yet. What’s up?”

  “Give him the paper, Kate.”

  For an instant she was tempted to roll it up and hit him with it, but decided that wouldn’t be very productive and instead passed it to him with a tad too much force. “That story is hardly newsworthy.”

  Frank took the paper, his heavy brows knitting as he began to read. Kate made eye contact with Mike, but her attention was on the man sitting next to her. His chair was too close to hers. So close she could smell his aftershave. A pleasing scent that spoke of masculinity and the out of doors . . .

  Silence reigned for a full minute as he read. Slowly Kate’s initial irritation began to give way to uneasiness. She didn’t like surprises, but she had a sinking feeling she was about to get one thrown in her face. She could feel her shoulders tightening, her neck muscles following suit.

  Frank lowered the paper and gave her an assessing look, and suddenly she knew why she was here. Why Mike was looking at her as if she were a naughty teenager about to be grounded for the rest of her life. Why Frank Matrone had been called to join them.

  “You think this has something to do with the Bruton Ellis case?” Frank asked after a moment.

  “You’re the ex-cop. I was going to ask you the same thing,” Mike said.

  Frank rolled his shoulder. “Hard to say.” He looked at Kate. “Did you see anyone? Did they say anything?”

  “No and no,” she said.

  “Did he call you by name?” Frank asked.

  Kate met his gaze, words from the note flashing in her mind’s eye. Are you still as sweet as you were when you were seventeen, Katie?

  “No,” she replied.

  His gaze lingered on hers for an instant too long before he turned his attention back to Mike. “Life, Inc., has been making noise since you announced the DA’s office would be seeking the death penalty.”

  “Prowling around an ADA’s house in the middle of the night isn’t their usual modus operandi,” Kate interjected.

  “Anyone you put away been released from prison recently?” Mike asked.

  “I look at the report from TDOJ every month, and there have been no cautions for this office,” she said.

  “What do you make of it?” Mike asked Frank.

  Frank gave Kate an assessing look. The kind of look a cop gave a hostile witness when he wasn’t getting the whole story. “Hard to tell on so little information.”

  Sighing as if he were annoyed, Mike looked at Kate. “You should have brought this to my attention immediately.”

  “I thought—”

  “You thought I wouldn’t find out and you wouldn’t have to deal with it,” he cut in. “Give me a break, Kate, I didn’t get to be DA because of my outgoing personality.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t think that for a second,” she said under her breath.

  Mike didn’t smile. “I’m an inch away from assigning you personal protection.”

  She stared at him, frustrated because that was the last thing she wanted to happen. Angry because he was right and she was coming very close to looking like an irrational fool. But she didn’t want anyone in the DA’s office to know about what had happened eleven years ago. She especially didn’t want anyone to know she’d hired Jack Gamble to track down the men responsible. Or that she planned to take care of the rest on her own.

  “I understand your concern,” she said. “And I appreciate it, Mike. I really do. But I feel that to assign me personal protection at this juncture is an overreaction and a total waste of manpower and budget.”

  Mike looked at Frank. “What do you think?”

  “Why are you asking him?” she asked.

  “Because he’s the only one in this room who used to be a cop,” Mike snapped.

  Kate turned her attention to Frank. He contemplated her steadily, his expression inscrutable. “I could do a security inspection,” he said.

  “What does that entail?” Mike asked.

  “I did them when I was a patrol officer. People have them done mostly to save money on their homeowners insurance. I make sure she has adequate exterior lighting. All exterior locks are in working condition. That sort of thing.”

  “I have an alarm system,” she said.

  “Most alarms wouldn’t keep out a determined preschooler,” Frank returned smoothly.

  Kate had been hoping fervently that the entire incident would pass with minimal fanfare. Had she been a private citizen, the newspaper story wouldn’t even have been a blip on the media’s radar. But because she was a public figure—a somewhat controversial public figure who was about to try a capital case—it had become a news item and subsequently an issue with her overprotective boss.

  “Do the security inspection,” Mike said to Frank.

  Kate braced when Mike turned his attention to her. “I expect you to be a professional about this, Kate. If anything unusual happens that you feel could be related to the case or this office, it is your responsibility to keep me informed. I will assign you personal protection if necessary. Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal,” she said.

  “This meeting is over.” Mike looked at his watch. “I’m late for a luncheon.”

  Kate didn’t look at either man as she rose and started toward the door. As she left Mike Shelley’s office it struck her that she wasn’t nearly as concerned about her personal protection as she was about keeping her secrets.

  WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 5:46 P.M.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Mike Shelley looked up from his desk. “Have a seat.”

  For the second time that day Frank settled into the wingback chair opposite the DA’s desk and wondered what the hell he was doing there. Kate Megason was conspicuously absent, which told Frank this meeting was going to be a lot less interesting than the one they’d had earlier in the day.

  “Thanks for staying late,” Mike said, shoving the document he’d been working on into a folder and closing it. “I don’t know where the hell the day went.”

  Had Frank given a damn about the job, it might have crossed his mind that he was about to get fired. But in the last year, life had taught him to keep things in perspective. Getting fired was a long way from the worst thing that could happen to a man.

  “You up for a little overtime?” Mike asked.

  “Depends on what you want me to do.”

  Mike leaned back in his leather executive chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “I want you to keep an eye on Kate for a few days.”

  That was the last thing Frank had been expecting him to say and for a moment wasn’t sure how to respond. “I thought you had decided what happened didn’t warrant personal protection.”

  “I had the police report couriered over this afternoon. I didn’t like what I read, so I called one of the detectives. He thinks the situation w
arrants a closer eye.” Mike passed a copy of the police report to Frank. “I’m concerned and wanted to get your take on it.”

  His curiosity piqued, Frank quickly skimmed the report. Two squad cars had responded to Kate’s 911 call. One of the officers had noted footprints in a flowerbed beneath the kitchen window as well as at the rear of the house.

  Frank made eye contact with the DA. “Peeping Tom?”

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Interesting detail for her to forget to mention.”

  “I thought so, too. She downplayed the entire incident.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  Mike shrugged. “The only thing I can think of is that she’s afraid this kind of publicity could get in the way of her trying the Bruton Ellis case.”

  “I don’t see how that could happen. Besides, she’s too smart to put her personal safety at risk.”

  “That’s true. I’ve known her since she was a wet-behind-the-ears intern fresh out of SMU. She’s talented. Ambitious. Driven. I’ve watched her grow into the powerhouse she is today. She’s tough as nails.”

  Having already figured most of that out on his own, Frank waited, wondering what he was leading up to.

  Mike glanced at the police report and shook his head. “But when she lies to me about something as important as this, it makes me wonder what she’s hiding and why.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Stake out her place?” he asked, only half kidding.

  “I know this is out of the usual realm of responsibility for an investigator. But you’re the only investigator I’ve got with law enforcement experience. It would just be for a couple of hours an evening. Low key. Unobtrusive. Just . . . keep an eye on her. Make sure there’s nobody skulking around, peeking in her windows, whatever.”

  “And make sure she doesn’t see me.”

  “That would be a big help since she’s a pretty good shot.”

  Frank laughed, but he wasn’t sure Mike was entirely kidding. “How do you propose I keep an eye on her without her knowing it?”

  “You worked in narcotics. I assumed you could work out the details.”

  Frank rolled his shoulder, thinking it was always the details that got a man into trouble. “You think someone’s going after her? Someone who’s recently been released from prison? Some death penalty opponent? What?”

  “I don’t know. This just isn’t sitting well with me. I like Kate. She’s a friend. I don’t want to see her get hurt if there’s some nutcase out there.”

  The thought that Mike Shelley’s interest in Kate went beyond professional floated through Frank’s mind. She was a lovely young woman twenty years his junior. Shelley was a powerful man. The kind of man a woman like Kate would be drawn to. Frank didn’t like it that the thought didn’t sit well with him.

  “If you’re up to some overtime, I’ll keep you on as her investigator,” Mike said. “If you’re not, I’ll find a way to pull you off the Ellis case so you can make time for the surveillance. Up to you.”

  Frank thought about that for a moment. “I’ll need a car she won’t recognize.”

  “I’ll get you something out of impound. Anything else?”

  “How about a bulletproof vest for when she finds out?”

  Mike made a sound of distress. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Kate said she checked with TDOJ. I’ll check again, just to make sure there’s not some parolee out there with a grudge against her.”

  “Excellent.” Standing, Mike extended his head. “I appreciate your doing this on such short notice.”

  “Let’s just hope she doesn’t mistake me for a prowler.”

  FIFTEEN

  WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 7:02 P.M.

  Kate lived in a classy area of North Dallas known as the Bluffs. The secluded neighborhood was located on a wooded greenbelt overlooking Mustang Creek. The homes were older and set on generous lots with mature trees—both of which went for a premium in Dallas. Her house was a smallish, single-story brick ranch with mullioned windows and glossy black shutters. In some places lush English ivy crept up the brick all the way to the eaves. A leaded-glass door and sidelights graced the front entrance. Dual flickering gas lamps cast warm yellow shadows against the house, giving it a warm and welcoming glow.

  Frank didn’t feel very welcome. When he’d called her earlier and told her he could do the security inspection tonight, she’d made her displeasure clear. That was fine by Frank. He’d never been good at making people happy. The fact of the matter was he didn’t want to be here any more than she wanted him here.

  He parked in the driveway and shut down the engine. Grabbing the clipboard and flashlight from the seat, he swung open the door and stepped into the night. The wind slapped him like a rude, cold hand as he started toward the house. His leg was hurting. It felt as if some little son of a bitch was gleefully ramming an ice pick into his shin all the way to the bone. Since he was working tonight, Frank figured he would start with ibuprofen and work his way up from there.

  On the front porch he rang the bell. A moment later the door opened and Kate was standing there, looking at him as if he were some mangy dog with a dead rabbit in its mouth. She was wearing snug, faded jeans that revealed nicely curved hips and a flat belly. A cropped SMU sweatshirt offered a peek at the silky flesh of her abdomen and her navel—which was pierced with a tiny gold ring—and his initial irritation quickly yielded to a hefty dose of male interest. The sweatshirt didn’t do a thing for her figure, but he saw the faint outline of generous breasts, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  The night was definitely looking up.

  ADA Kate Megason didn’t look the least bit uptight braless and in jeans and a sweatshirt. In fact, she looked so good he had a difficult time finding a place to put his eyes that wouldn’t get him into trouble. He settled on her face, only to quickly discover that her mouth was every bit as sexy as the rest of her.

  “Kate,” he croaked, then cleared his throat noisily.

  “Oh, Frank. Hi.”

  “You look surprised to see me.”

  “Sorry.” Touching her temple with her finger, she rolled her eyes. “I forgot about the security inspection.”

  He was keenly aware of her scent, a musky, mysterious floral that made him want to put his nose to bare flesh and draw the essence of her into his lungs. Or maybe he’d rather run his tongue along her belly until she quivered. . . .

  The thoughts took him by surprise. The hot rush of blood to his groin downright shocked him. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of raw, physical attraction. Since Gittel. That Kate was the focus of that attraction troubled him. He did not want to have a hard-on for a woman who could barely stand the sight of him.

  “I probably should have called on the way over,” he managed.

  “My bad. You called this afternoon.” She looked flustered for a moment. “I guess I should have written it down. Come in.”

  The house was warm and smelled of lemon polish and sugar cookies. The kind his mother used to make at Christmas a lifetime ago. It was a pleasant, sweet smell that reminded him of coming home. Reminded him of a time when life hadn’t been so damn complicated.

  He walked into the living room and was immediately taken in by the loveliness of the place. Her taste in furnishings was eclectic, but ran to the contemporary. A soft beige sofa and two huge chairs with sloping arms formed a comfortable grouping opposite an old-fashioned sandstone fireplace. The coffee table was a glossy mahogany and contrasted nicely with the muted furniture and walls. The shelves on either side of the hearth were filled with books. A nice collection ranging from legal volumes to bestselling novels to leather-bound antiques.

  “Nice place,” he commented.

  “Thank you.” She was almost a foot shorter than he was, and he amended his earlier estimate of her height and put her at about five feet four inches. She was one of those people whose personality made her seem larger than she re
ally was.

  “If this isn’t a good time . . .” He let his words trail.

  “This is fine.” She smiled, and he felt it like a small electrical shock that ran the length of his body and sizzled along his nerve endings. Her eyes were incredibly blue. The kind of blue a man could fall into and get hopelessly lost if he wasn’t careful. Frank had never considered himself vulnerable when it came to women. He was discriminating and cautious to the extreme. But Kate Megason was making him feel a little reckless and a whole lot rash. . . .

  “I was just catching up on some work in the study,” she said.

  “Now, there’s a surprise.”

  She blinked, then gave a self-deprecating smile. “My secret’s out, huh?”

  “Being a workaholic isn’t so bad.” He looked toward the study, where he saw a wall of books, a glossy desk with a laptop open. “The Bruton Ellis case?”

  “I’m just gearing up for the preliminary hearing.”

  “I’m sure you’ll knock ’em dead.” He grinned. “No pun.”

  Her smile widened. “I hope not.”

  “This shouldn’t take long.”

  “What exactly do you need to do?”

  He lifted the clipboard in his hand. “This is the standard home security inspection checklist used by the Dallas PD. What I’m going to do is walk the perimeter of the house. I’ll check the locks on your doors and windows. Exterior lighting. Fencing. Then I’ll fill out this form and make some recommendations. Pretty routine stuff.”

  “I really do have an alarm system,” she said quickly.

  “You get points for that, but I’ll check it and make sure it’s in good working order.” He looked down at the clipboard and checked one of the boxes. “This should save you about twenty percent on your homeowner’s insurance.”

  “That’s good.” She looked impatient for a moment, and he got the impression that her mind was already back at her laptop. That she wanted to get back to it, and he was interrupting her. That maybe she wasn’t quite as enamored with him as he was with her. . . .

  Good grief.

  “I should be out of your hair in about fifteen minutes,” he said.