Blind Trust (24 page)

Kate stood by the two-way mirror in the adjoining room and waited uncertainly. After what that other detective had said about their evidence, she was pretty sure that it couldn't be good that Brian had asked for his lawyer.

“We can wait in the hall,” Hutchinson suggested.

Tom and the other detective were having an animated discussion, and Tom seemed surprisingly pleased. He must have read her concern on her face, because his expression swiftly changed.

“Hey.” He touched her cheek, glanced at Hutchinson still standing nearby, and let his arm drop, catching her hand instead. “It'll work out. You'll see.” His reassuring hand squeeze buoyed her hopes.

“But you said our evidence wouldn't stand up in court.”

Tom smiled. “Didn't you hear him admit to putting nutmeg in her tea?”

“Yeah, but not deliberately.”

Tom waved the sheet of paper the other detective had handed him. “The trail of internet searches into the toxicity of nutmeg found on Nagy's computer suggests otherwise.”

“Really?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “But he'll argue he looked it up after spilling the nutmeg.”

Tom grinned. “The search dates back to three months ago—around the time he learned of a buyer interested in his mother's
property. I'm sure that'll be enough to convince the judge to revoke his power of attorney.”

“Oh, Tom, that's wonderful!” Without thinking, Kate threw her arms around him. Then, realizing how bad hugging him in the police station might look, she started to pull back.

But Tom unashamedly closed his arms around her and let out the most contented-sounding sigh.

Feeling like she'd come home, she returned his hug. In his arms, she felt safe, cared for, not alone—things she hadn't felt in a very long time, probably not since before her father's arrest twenty years ago. But more amazing than that, she felt cherished.
Lord, thank you for bringing this man into my life
.

He pulled back just a little and tenderly cupped his hand at her neck. “You did good.”

She snuck a glance in Hutchinson's direction, but he'd disappeared. The hall was empty save for them. Tom's thumb brushed her jawline, sending a wonderful ripply feeling through her chest.

“If not for you, Verna could have lost everything to Brian's schemes.”

Kate shuddered at the suggestion. “I'm glad she's feeling better, but she thinks Brian hung the moon. This news is going to devastate her.”

“It's a good thing she has friends like you to cheer her up.” The affection in Tom's gaze left her breathless. That and the way his gaze dropped to her lips.

A ruckus down the hall broke the magical moment.

Tom dropped his hand and took a step back. Kate pressed her back to the wall, wishing she were invisible.

Weller had Greg Nagy by the arm. “He was coming cooperatively until he saw you two.”

Greg yanked against Weller's hold. “I want to talk to my dad.”

“You explained his rights, that he's not under arrest, we only wish to question him?” Tom asked Weller. At his nod, Tom said to Greg, “I'm afraid your dad's in custody. Would it be okay to invite your mom to sit in instead?”

Greg's face went white. “He didn't do it.”

If Tom questioned what “it” Greg referred to, he didn't let on. “Why don't you tell us how it happened and we'll get this mess sorted out.”

Greg snatched his ball cap from his head and curled it in his hand. “Oh man, he's going to kill me.”

Tom motioned toward an empty conference room. “Why don't we sit in here and you can explain what happened?”

As Weller escorted him in, Kate whispered, “I guess I should go?”

“No. Stay.” Tom caught her by the wrist, his fingers reassuringly caressing the tender underside. “I suspect this concerns you.”

The warmth of his invitation—or maybe the depth of his concern—did funny things to her heart. “If you're sure it's okay.”

Tom paused at the door. “Greg hasn't been charged with anything. We're just talking.”

Kate noticed he didn't lower his voice and wondered if the reassurance had been as much for Greg's benefit as hers. As she stepped inside the room, Weller reiterated to the sixteen-year-old his rights and asked him if he was sure he was okay with answering a few questions, on tape, without a parent or attorney present.

“We could invite your pastor or perhaps an uncle to join
you instead,” Weller offered. “Because you need to understand that what you say can be used in court.”

“I understand. I'm not stupid,” Greg groused. “I'll tell you everything.”

After hearing his dad was in custody for what appeared to be his own crime, Kate didn't imagine the boy was all that anxious to call any adult who might deride him.

Greg signed the required waiver Weller presented without hesitation. He didn't even wait until Tom took a seat before he started spilling his guts. “It was Pedro's idea. He—”

Tom stopped him with a raised hand. “Which part
exactly
was Pedro's idea?”

“Sending her the email.” Greg darted a sheepish glance her direction.

At least he seemed ashamed of himself. That was a start, but her stomach still churned at how much he must hate her to be party to such a thing in the first place.

“I was ranting about her being on Gran's property because Dad promised me a dirt bike when the deal went through, and I was afraid she'd mess it up.”

The fact that childish greed, not hate, had motivated him probably should've made her feel a little better, but it didn't. In a way, it was more scary.

“So there's already a buyer interested in the property?” Tom asked, and Kate scrambled to catch up to the conversation.

“Sure. Some real estate guy stopped by Gran's months ago.” Greg slapped his ball cap back on his head and relaxed a little, apparently believing he was off the hot seat.

“When was this?”

“April, I think.” Greg fussed with the brim of his hat, shifted it sideways. “But she said no right out. He tried to tell her how
much money she'd make, but she said she didn't need it and shut the door on him.”

“And you told your dad?” Tom guessed.

“Sure.” Greg took off his cap, scratched his head. “Mom had just cleaned him out. I figured if Gran sold the property, she might lend Dad enough to get another house instead of the lousy apartment we're in.” Greg yanked his cap back on his head. “I can't even fit my exercise equipment in it. Half our stuff is in boxes in Gran's basement. Dad would get the money eventually anyway.”

Kate squirmed at the boy's bluntness. Here she'd convinced herself Greg
enjoyed
visiting his grandmother.

“Okay, so Pedro had an idea?” Tom prodded.

“Yeah, his aunt told him about a picture she found in her house.” He hitched a thumb Kate's way.

“
She
has a name,” Tom said sharply. “Miss Adams.”

Kate's heart fluttered at his implication that Greg had better use it, that he must treat her with respect. She'd never known a man who cared so much about how people treated her, who cared so much about
her
.

“Sorry.” Greg ducked his head.

“Go on.”

“So he came up with the idea to try to scare her—Miss Adams—away with a fire program. I don't know why he thought it would scare her, but he said it would work. He's always finding all kinds of weird programs online. Anyway, I was worried we'd get caught, but he said he could make it look like someone else sent it.”

Tom wrote something on the notepad in front of him and handed it to Weller, who then left the room.

“And the text message?” Tom quizzed the now squirming
young man. “The letter to the editor? Did you do all that to scare her too?”

Greg looked believably baffled. “We didn't do that. I swear. I don't know anything about that stuff.”

“Do you know where your friend's getting the counterfeit money?”

“You mean what Pedro gave that antique lady?”

“For starters.”

Kate swallowed a chuckle. Tom's sister wouldn't appreciate being called “antique.”

“He said Gran gave it to him for hauling some junk away in his pickup. I never heard about any more.” He repositioned his ball cap. “You gonna let my dad go now?”

“He has to talk with his lawyer before anything happens.”

Greg fidgeted in his chair and snuck a glance at Kate. “Am I under arrest?”

“What you and Pedro did was serious. How can we be sure you don't intend to follow through on the threat?”

“I won't.” Greg lifted shaky hands, palms out.

“What about Pedro? Sounds like he holds a grudge against Miss Adams.”

“I don't know.”

The uncertainty in Greg's voice sent a fresh streak of jitters through Kate. She shared a quick glance with Tom.

“Okay, sit tight,” Tom said to the boy, then motioned her to join him in the hallway.

“What happens now?” she asked after Tom pulled the door closed behind them.

“I sent Weller to pick up Pedro. We'll see what he has to say.”

“Do you think he'd really follow through on the ‘you'll pay' threat? It's not as if
I
did anything to Lucetta's mother.”

“He won't after I get through talking to him.” Tom rubbed her arm, chasing away the chill that had swept over her.

“Greg won't go to jail, will he?”

“No, since no data was damaged, it's not an indictable offense.”

“I'm glad. I mean, I think he needs to face consequences so he doesn't pull something like this again. But I don't think he deserves jail.” Kate leaned back against the wall and blew out a breath. She hadn't realized how tense she'd gotten in there. “At least I don't have to worry about opening my emails or anyone lurking in the shadows. You'll let Officer Reed know that I won't need a bodyguard anymore?”

He hesitated.

“You said that Michael guy who was following me is harmless. Right? So if I don't have to worry about Pedro—”

“Yes, I'll let Reed know.”

“Whew. What a relief. Verna's land will be protected, and I can go back to my research.” The director had been livid when he found her testing Verna's tea mix this morning instead of working on her project. She'd ended up booking the day as vacation.

The telltale muscle in Tom's jaw flexed. Not a good sign.

“What's wrong? Don't you believe Greg?”

“No, I do.”

It took a moment for the gist of what that meant to sink in. “So . . . we're still looking for a counterfeiter.”

“No,
we're
not looking for a counterfeiter—that's my job.” Tom's sudden smile reached inside her and filled all her empty places. “You've done what you set out to do—convinced me your neighbor is innocent.”

She returned his smile. “I guess this means no one could
accuse you of fraternizing with a suspect anymore?” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at her boldness, or maybe at the pleased glint in his eye when he realized what she was really hinting at. She bit her lip. Never mind him being a witness in Molly Gilmore's attempted murder case. Kate didn't want to put her life on hold any longer. Tom cared about her, and she wanted to spend time with him, time totally unconnected to any police investigation, open or shut.

She shoved away niggling questions about that letter to the editor. No real harm had been done anyway.

Tom took her hand and gave it a feather-light caress with his thumb. “Would you have dinner with me?” His gaze dropped to her lips, sending her heart thundering. “We can celebrate.”

“Yes, I'd like that.”

A dimple appeared in his cheek. “Is 8:00 okay? I work until 7:00.”

“Perfect.”

He gave her hand one last squeeze, then took a step back as Hutchinson turned the corner, escorting a silver-haired man in an expensive-looking charcoal suit. “Brian Nagy's lawyer,” Hutchinson announced.

Tom opened the door to the room where Brian was waiting.

Kate spotted her stolen papers on the corner of the table. “Oh, can I take those?”

“Not yet,” Tom answered under his breath and waved her back, but not in time to stop Brian from seeing her.

He charged toward the door, pointing an accusing finger. “This is all your fault. If you hadn't stuck your nose where it doesn't belong, I wouldn't have had to—”

“Not another word,” the lawyer bellowed, yanking the door closed on Brian's rant.

But Brian's voice only rose. “She ought to be charged. She can't stop me from doing what I want with the property. She's got no right.”

Tom shot her an empathetic look and ushered her out of earshot. “Just forget about him. We'll make sure he doesn't bother you anymore.”