Blind Trust (20 page)

“Wait a second.” Tom's brain reeled through everything she'd just said. “When did he see you at Grandma Brewster's?”

She ducked her head. “This morning. I was out that way and I thought she might know the plant. And I needed a sample if I'm—”

“You went back onto Verna's property?” Tom clenched his fists. Keeping this woman out of harm's way was fast becoming a full-time job.

“With Grandma B,” Kate said defensively. Then, like a dam had burst, her words tumbled over each other. “I have to act quickly if we're going to save Verna's property. The real estate agent was already showing it to a buyer who seemed really serious.”

This was worse than he thought. The property wasn't even listed yet. The buyer had to have inside information. “Did they see you?”

“Yeah, but they didn't know why I was there. Grandma B pretended to be collecting herbs for her tinctures.”

Tom shook his head. He didn't like it. Given their first meeting with the real estate agent, Westby was bound to be suspicious of her reasons for being on the property.

“Never mind about that right now. I need to know who hacked into my system and if they stole or corrupted any data. That Beck guy must be good on computers to hide his identity so well.”

“Beck didn't do this,” Tom muttered, sitting down to examine the computer.

“How do you know?”

“I—” She looked at him expectantly, and his insides felt as if they'd been blasted with pepper spray. “I can't tell you. You're going to have to trust me.”

She didn't protest, just nodded, and her trust only intensified the burn in his gut. Her father was alive.
Alive.
And he was keeping that fact from her. Tom shoved away the thought. He didn't have a choice. Not really. He plugged in the computer,
ensured that the computer's wireless connections were disabled, then flipped it on.

Flames filled the screen, only now his face, not Kate's, was the shadowy mirage being consumed. Except in his mind's eye, he saw his partner's face and the all-too-real explosion that took him out.

He wouldn't let the situation get that far with Kate. He had let his friendship with his partner mess with his priorities, and he couldn't let that happen with Kate. Yes, he wanted her to trust him. He wanted much, much more. But that didn't matter right now. She might hate him if she ever found out about her father, but at least she'd be alive to hate him, and he'd have done everything in his power to keep her safe.

“YOU'LL PAY” flashed on the screen.

“Turn it off. Please.” Kate's voice came out shaky. She hugged her waist and stared at the warning dancing with flames.

Tom tried a few key sequences, and after a couple failed attempts, he managed to bring up the code powering the message.

“What's that?” she whispered.

“The program that the link installed on your computer. It's actually not as sophisticated as I thought it'd be.”

He contacted her email provider to have them trace the IP address that had spoofed his email address and that of the link's webpage, although he didn't hold out much hope the info would net him a real person. “I'll get one of our computer forensics guys in here to check for data corruption, spyware, malware.” Tom's insides churned. If the message could be believed, she wouldn't escape unscathed, which had him worried the guy planted something in the system that was waiting to be activated.

Kate dug her teeth into her bottom lip. “Do you think it
could've been Lucetta? I mean, if she figured out it was my dad who killed . . .” Her voice faltered.

Tom clasped her arms. “Your dad didn't kill her mother. Lucetta said herself that the fire didn't start until after he left.”

“But”—Kate motioned toward the screen—“the flames. It can't be a coincidence. It doesn't matter if Dad did or didn't. If Lucetta thinks he did, and figured out I'm his daughter, she'd want to make
me
pay.”

Tom nodded reluctantly. It was the most logical explanation, even if he couldn't imagine the petite housekeeper, who didn't own a cell phone, let alone a computer, being capable of pulling this together. “I'll talk to her. And to Nagy. He has the most vested interest in seeing you derailed.”

“The mayor too.” Kate grew more animated, a little righteous indignation eclipsing her fears. “He looked pretty keen on seeing me fry last week for my supposed letter to the editor. And his son Jarrett seemed to be showing up everywhere I was today.”

“Trust me.” He caught her by the shoulders and instantly thought better of the intimate gesture. He averted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
Trust me, right.
He dropped his hands. “I won't leave any rock unturned.”

He heard her gulp and forced himself to look at her. Between her red-rimmed eyes and quivering chin, she looked way too vulnerable for his comfort.

“I'd like to take you up on your offer,” she said shakily.

“Offer?”

Her gaze darted to the computer, and she hugged herself as if the webcam might still be spying on her. “To stay at your dad's.”

“Oh.” Not a good idea. Never was, but especially now. If
he was going to keep his head in the game, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Never mind what seeing her hurt eyes across the breakfast table would do to his resolve to keep her father's secrets. “Uh, I think it would be better if Officer Reed stayed on at your place. She said she'd be happy to. We're actually doing her a favor, because her superintendent had her apartment building fumigated today.”

Hurt flashed in Kate's eyes, slicing his heart swifter than a punk with a switchblade. Yeah, it would definitely be better for everyone.

“Looks like we might be in for a storm,” Kate mumbled as Tom pulled up to the front of the library where she was meeting Julie to have supper with her.

Tom squinted at the bullet-gray sky. “Yeah.”

He'd been responding to her questions in monosyllables ever since she'd suggested staying at his house. And he'd gotten pricklier than a porcupine, especially after the phone call from his dad, which didn't exactly make her feel too good about admitting to needing him.

“You going to be okay?” he asked.

She hitched her purse over her shoulder and reached for the door handle. “Sure. I'm fine.”

“Good.” He didn't rub her arm and give her that empathetic look she'd come to expect. In fact, he didn't look at her at all. His gaze drifted over her shoulder to the park. “Stay put at Julie's house until Officer Reed picks you up after her shift, okay?”

“I know.” She really didn't like being babysat, but after seeing her image swallowed in flames this afternoon, she was too
edgy to argue. So edgy that she was actually glad she hadn't driven herself to work this morning after all. Of course, what she'd wanted to do was hang out with Tom at the lab while the police department's computer forensics investigator analyzed her computer, but something more urgent had come up for Tom to nix that idea, and since she'd already had plans to share pizza and a movie with Julie tonight, she gave Tom the out he'd seemed to want.

“You're being ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, stepping onto the sidewalk.
He's preoccupied. Stop
taking his reticence so personally.

A chilly wind swooped around her as she marched toward the library. Even knowing Tom would keep watch until she entered the building, she slanted glances toward the nearby bushes and the shadowy corner of the building. A poster announcing the mayor's ribbon cutting for the grand reopening of the butcher shop flapped on a telephone pole, reminding her of her suspicions of his son Jarrett.

Patti hadn't said much when she returned from wherever she'd disappeared to while Tom checked the computer, and Kate regretted not saying more to bridge the rift. But the truth was, she didn't trust Jarrett, and she couldn't pretend she did for the sake of her working relationship with Patti. He might not have had anything to do with the computer attack, and maybe he wasn't even spying on her for his dad, but something about him just didn't feel right.

At the library door, she forced herself to turn back to Tom's car and wave. He didn't smile when he returned the gesture. Her heart pinged annoyingly as she plunged into the building.

“You're late.” Julie pushed her chair under the desk and gathered her purse and a DVD.

“I had to stop at your Aunt Betty's”—Kate lifted the ream of papers in her hand—“to pick up the translation she did for me.”

Julie frowned. “Does that mean you don't want to watch a movie?”

“No, a movie is just what I need.” She'd hoped to go over the translation. She would've even spent some time testing the sample she'd picked up from the property . . . if Tom hadn't nixed her idea of waiting with him at the lab for his forensics guy.

As they headed for the door, Kate sniffed. “What's that smell?”

Julie shrank a little, clearly embarrassed, and pushed her nose into her sweater. “You can smell it?”

Kate wrinkled her nose. “What'd you do? Tangle with a skunk?”

“Not me. Ryan's dog. I'd hoped the smell would've dissipated by now. I think I've gotten so desensitized I don't notice anymore.”

“Does the house smell too?”

Julie twisted her mouth into a sheepish half smile. “Afraid so. You want to do pizza at your place instead?”

Kate pushed open the library door and inhaled deeply of the cool evening air. “Definitely.” She tucked her papers under her arm and pulled out her cell phone. “I'll just let Officer Reed know that she doesn't need to pick me up.”

“Hey, isn't that Tom's car?”

Kate glanced up from texting Officer Reed to the black sedan parked half a block up the street. “Yeah.” She looked around, her intestines stomping a Mexican hat dance on her stomach. He must've seen someone spying on her.

“There he is.” Julie pointed toward the park where Tom stood amongst the shrubbery with his back to them.

Hiding?

Julie shifted, squinting. “He's talking to someone. Uh, isn't that the guy on the surveillance video?”

Kate's stomach somersaulted. Beck? Tom said he was harmless. That she didn't have to worry about him. Kate caught sight of the disheveled gray-haired man, confirming Julie's ID. What was he doing here? Spying on her again? Her mouth suddenly tasted tinny. Swallowing, she hit Send on her text message and headed toward Tom. “C'mon, let's find out what's going on.”

They hadn't walked more than three strides before Beck suddenly about-faced and plunged into the hedge maze. Tom turned their way, looking none too happy. “What's wrong?”

“Was that Beck? Was he following me again?”

“No.” Tom raked his fingers through his hair. “I mean, yes, it was Beck. No, he wasn't following you.”

“What's going on? Why did he run off when he saw me coming?”

Tom's gaze flicked past hers, not stopping to rest, and that muscle in his jaw did its telling little dance. “It's complicated.”

Kate fought to contain her growing annoyance with his non-answers. She bit back the impulse to inform him that she was pretty sure she was smart enough to figure out
complicated.
But catching sight, in her peripheral, of Julie fidgeting, she just said, “Whatever. I thought you'd want to know that Julie and I will be at my house tonight. I already let Officer Reed know.”

“That's good. Thanks.” He nodded, then squinted toward the maze as if hoping Beck hadn't abandoned him completely. “Watch yourself. If there's any sign at all that someone's tried to get in, get back in your car and call me.”

“What's going on?” Julie squeaked.

“I'll fill you in on the way,” Kate said. “Let's go.” By the
time she finished her explanation, they'd driven three blocks past the pizzeria. “Hey, we forgot to pick up our pizza.”

“I didn't forget.” Julie flipped on her turn signal and headed toward Kate's street. “It won't be ready for twenty more minutes. I figured I'd drop you home so you could get started on baking a batch of those muffins that taste like donuts that I love so much. Then I'll run back and pick up the pizza.”

“Ah, so avoiding skunk smell wasn't your only ulterior motive for eating at my house.”

Julie shifted into Park. “What can I say? I miss your baking.”

“You know, now that you're married, you really should learn how to bake. They say food's the way to a man's heart.” In their six years of sharing an apartment, Julie had only tried baking once. Once being one too many times.

Julie tossed off the idea with a flick of her wrist. “I've already caught my man. But I bet Tom—”

“Let's not go there.” Kate hurried inside with Julie on her heels.

“Haven't you noticed the way the man looks at you? He can't take his eyes off of you. Well, except back there in the park. Seriously, you need to stop playing hard to get before you lose him.”

Yeah, didn't work.
Whiskers circled Kate's legs, purring. She set the translated pages on the table and picked him up. “You're feeling better, aren't you?”

Julie strolled around the main level, glancing at windows, checking behind doors. “Everything looks copasetic. I'll get our pizza.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.” After giving Whiskers a good cuddle, Kate poured fresh food into his bowl, then set to work on the muffins. She added the flour and milk and melted butter to
the bowl, but when she pulled the salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg bottles from the spice cupboard, the nutmeg bottle was empty.

She glanced out her side window to see if anyone was next door at Verna's. Not seeing a car in the driveway, she grabbed Verna's house key and hurried across the yard. She'd bought Verna a new bottle of nutmeg on that ill-fated shopping trip. Verna wouldn't mind her borrowing some.

Kate let herself in the back door. The house had a stale, shut up smell. And thanks to the dark gray clouds blocking the sun, the kitchen lacked its usual cheeriness. She shook her head. It lacked Verna. Tamping down a rush of sadness, she opened the spice cupboard.

The bottle would have lasted the most ambitious baker a good six months. But it was practically empty. She shuffled the other bottles aside, thinking it must be the old bottle.

Something clonked in the other room.

Her heart jumped to her throat. Holding her breath, she slowly turned.

Whiskers romped into the kitchen.

“Whew, you scared me. I didn't know you snuck past me when I came in.”

Whiskers meowed, tail held high, body quivering proudly.

Kate pulled a chair to the counter to dig deeper in the cupboard.

“What are you doing trespassing in here?” Brian Nagy slammed into the room.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Kate sent a couple of bottles toppling from the shelf. Flailing wildly, she tried to grab them before they hit the ground and broke, but her foot slipped off the edge of the chair, sending her toppling too.

Brian grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back onto two
feet on the chair, as his other hand deflected the rest of the spice bottles to the back of the counter. “What do you think you're doing?” He yanked her off the chair with a hard shake.

“I—I'm baking and ran out of nutmeg. I knew Verna had—”

His fingers squeezed her arm painfully. “You've got some nerve. Get out!” He shoved her toward the door.

She backed away from him, her hands feeling their way along the counter. “I just needed some nutmeg. I wasn't—” She snapped shut her mouth at the sight of his bulging neck veins.

“You can't just barge onto someone's property like you own the place.”

Oh.
His real estate agent must've told him about her being at the other property.

He snatched up the spice bottles that had rolled across the counter, stepped on the trash can pedal, and tossed them in.

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with those.”

He scowled at her, his face redder than the paprika he'd just turfed along with the nutmeg she'd been after. “What are you still doing here?”

Whiskers meowed loudly, twining around her leg as if to hurry her up so he could escape too.

“I'm sorry,” she demurred. “I shouldn't have assumed you wouldn't mind.”

“I
mind
plenty,” he fumed, and reaching over her head, he slapped open the back door.

She scooped up Whiskers and held him against her pounding heart.

“Keep your nose out of my business or you'll be sorry!”

One step on the back stoop, she matched his glare. “Is that a threat?” Clearly he was no longer talking about her borrowing a pinch of nutmeg.

At his look of utter hatred, her heart beat in her throat. She should've just walked away. Why'd she have to—

He jabbed a sharp finger into her shoulder. “Missy, you're the one trespassing. You better believe it's a threat.”

“Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. C waved cheerily from her yard.

Nagy snarled in her direction, then retreated into the house, letting the door slam shut.

Thank you, Lord, for neighbors.
Kate hurried back to her own yard, dropped Whiskers onto the porch, then joined Mrs. C at the fence.

“Everything all right?” Mrs. C asked.

“I just meant to borrow some nutmeg from Verna's kitchen, but Brian . . .” She waved off the episode as if it were no big deal even though her insides were still shuddering and her arm still hurt where he'd grabbed her. “I shouldn't have presumed.”

“Don't mind Brian. I'm sure he's overwrought with his mom's decline. Property tax bills came in today. After the way his wife left him, he doesn't have much money to cover extra bills now that his mom's government pension will go toward her care.”

Kate ducked her head. “Yes, I hadn't considered the strain he must be under.” Maybe it was no wonder he'd be upset to hear she'd been snooping around the property he hoped to sell. Not that it made him selling it right.

Mrs. C patted her hand. “Hang on a minute and I'll lend you my nutmeg.” She hurried into her house and returned a moment later with a bottle. “Here you go. No hurry getting it back. I don't bake much these days.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Through the gap between their houses, she spotted Brian's sports car speeding off. She stuffed her hand into her pocket and fiddled with Verna's key. She probably should've returned it, considering.

She resumed her muffin making and had just finished washing up the mixing bowl and pulling out plates and glasses when the doorbell rang. Seeing Julie through the peephole, she unlocked the door.

Julie held the pizza box up with one hand and danced a DVD in the air with her other. “You left our movie in the car.” She sniffed the air. “Mmm, those muffins smell good.”

“They'll be a few more minutes.”

“And then you have to dip them in sugar and cinnamon. Don't forget. That's what makes them taste extra good.”

“I'm sure you won't let me forget.”

Julie twirled past with a wide grin and led the way to the kitchen where she set the pizza box on the table. She inhaled again, a giddy expression on her face. “What is it that makes them smell so good?”

“The nutmeg and cinnamon. If you baked once in a while, you'd know that,” she teased, reaching for the DVD. “What movie did you get us?”

“
Suspicion
with Cary Grant and Joan Fontaine. They're married and she thinks he's poisoning her.”