Blind Trust (7 page)

“I was only ten!”

“Right, of course. Well, I spotted you in the lunchroom at the research center Friday and overheard you express concerns about GPC's proposed partnership with the research station jeopardizing your research project. A treatment for depression, wasn't it?”

“Yes.” She slid a nervous glance Tom's way. As much as she hated GPC for what the company did to their family, she'd refrained from sharing her reservations about the proposed partnership too widely.

“So your call had nothing to do with the counterfeit money?” Tom asked.

With the revelation about her father, she'd forgotten Tom wanted to talk to Peter about his visit to the hardware store.

“What counterfeit money?” Peter looked confused, and she was pretty sure it wasn't an act. He hadn't so much as flinched at Tom's question.

Tom must've thought the same, because he only asked a few questions about Peter's hardware store purchase before revisiting what Peter had overheard at the research station. “Why did you think Kate would want to talk to you—a GPC employee—when she's opposed to their partnership with her employer?”

“Don't you see? GPC Pharmaceuticals has a tendency to silence dissension quickly and decisively.”

Kate shuddered. Okay, so maybe her suspicion that she was
being framed as a counterfeiter wasn't so far off after all, except maybe it was by GPC. Smearing her reputation would go a long way to neutralizing her opposition to their move.

She glanced at Tom to see if he might be thinking the same thing.

His eyes narrowed, focused on Peter. “Did you tell anyone what you know about Kate?”

“No, of course not. Her father was my friend. I'd never betray him that way.”

“When you were at the hardware store yesterday, an older guy in a plaid shirt, medium height, appeared to be watching you through the window. Any idea who he might be?”

Peter frowned and shook his head.

“Doesn't sound like someone you've seen working for the pharmaceutical company?”

“No.”

“Would you mind coming down to the police station tomorrow morning and viewing the video clip just to be sure?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He glanced around, suddenly looking nervous. “I wouldn't put it past GPC to spy on me. I could never prove it, but I was sure they had someone watching me for months after Baxter died.”

Kate shivered.

Tom squeezed her shoulder, and the warmth of his touch would have filled her with reassurance if not for the storm brewing in his eyes. “What do you think GPC will do if they learn Kate is Baxter's daughter?”

“You don't want to find out.”

He pulled his fishing cap low over his eyes and meandered past the threesome on the bench overlooking the harbor. They were so intent on their conversation, not one of them glanced his way. Not even the detective—so much for his investigative training.

He stopped at the edge of the dock, not more than fifteen feet from where they sat, and pretended to search his tackle box for the perfect lure. He chose a rubber worm and speared it on his hook. Peter Ratcher knew too much. Maybe too much for his own good.

Definitely too much for Katy's.

Tom walked around Kate's house a second time, double-checking the position of the wood blocks he'd installed in every window to ensure they were secure, and still couldn't bring himself to leave. The locks wouldn't keep out anyone determined to get in. Not that he wanted to point that out to
Kate. He just couldn't shake the feeling she was in danger—immediate danger.

He hadn't spotted the silver Escort again, but that you-can't-protect-her-forever note had preyed on his mind all weekend. He found her in the living room watering the plant on the table behind the sofa.

“I'll be fine.” She fluttered her free hand toward the window he'd just checked for the third time. “You're overreacting.”

He didn't miss the way her hand trembled, though, or that she'd drawn the drapes over the sheers in the big bay window. “Do you always draw those curtains? Makes the room kind of dark.” He scooped the watering can from her hand, before she drowned the plant, and teasingly lifted an eyebrow.

She snatched the jug back. “You're the one who's making me nervous. What could possibly make you think that GPC would care if I was a Baxter?”

“Because Peter felt the need to warn you.” And whoever had been spying on him had a reason.

She headed toward the kitchen with the watering can. “Do you think he has anything to do with the counterfeiting?”

“No.” Tom trailed her to the kitchen and leaned back against the counter. “His responses betrayed no hint of guilt.”

Kate folded her arms across her chest. “He's a salesman. He's used to pulling the wool over people's eyes.”

Tom mirrored her folded arms with his own. “I'm a former FBI agent. I'm trained to see through it.”

She laughed at his imitation of her, and the sweet sound momentarily eased the tension that had knotted his stomach ever since their meeting with Peter.

“But didn't you get the feeling he was fishing for information?”

“Definitely. What I'm less sure about is whether he was
chumming the waters to see if you knew anything that could be a threat or to see if you knew something that would benefit him somehow.”

“Yeah, I can't explain it, but even after he told me all that stuff about my father, I still don't quite trust him.”

“That's probably good.” Tom adjusted the bar bracing Kate's patio door. “Trust your instincts.”
And
me.
For her own protection, he needed to know if she planned to act on Peter's revelations somehow. Asking the wrong people questions could land her in a lot worse trouble than being accused of passing counterfeit bills. “Have you ever heard of this miracle plant your father supposedly collected on his trip?”
And never delivered.
He didn't say the last part aloud, but the pained look on her face said she'd heard it nonetheless.

She averted her gaze, fussed with the edge of a placemat on the kitchen table. “I don't even remember Dad being away before his arrest.”

“You think Peter's lying about the whole thing?”

She snatched up a spray bottle and spritzed the ferns hanging by the patio door. “I don't know what to think.” The wobble in her voice told him that Peter's story gnawed at her more than she wanted to let on. “When I combed old newspapers looking for information on my dad, I didn't come across anything about stolen plants. If the plants were as remarkable as Peter said, I'm sure the research community, at the very least, would have heard more about them in the last twenty years.”

“There was a lot of upheaval in that area at the time. The political situation could've prevented a team from going back.”

“Can't you talk to the arresting officers? Find out if my dad accused GPC of anything?”

Tom's heart clenched at the hopeful gleam in Kate's eyes. “There was no record in the system, Kate. The station he was taken to relocated last year. A lot of their records never made the move. I wouldn't know who to ask for. Even if I did, they'd probably be retired by now.”

She slapped the spray bottle down on the table. “My father died in police custody. Someone's got to remember who brought him in.” Her voice cracked.

Tom closed the distance between them. “You may not like what they have to say.”

“My last memory of my dad is of him being hauled away in a police car. I want to know the truth.”

He caught her hand and tilted his head to catch her eye. “But what if the truth isn't what you were hoping for?”

“At least I'll know.”

He nodded, impressed once again by her determination. “It's possible that GPC Pharmaceuticals already knows who you are and is using Peter to scare you out of opposing them.”

“By telling me they're corrupt?” The exasperation in her voice left no doubt how ludicrous that possibility sounded.

Tom shook his head. “By filling your mind with conspiracy theories, they could hope to marginalize you, convince any of the directors who might be swayed by your concerns that you're grasping at straws in a desperate attempt to avenge your father's death.”

She jerked her hand from his clasp. “Is that what you think?”

He clamped his fingers around the top of the nearest kitchen chair and drew a deep breath. “Isn't your father's experience with GPC a big part of the reason you're opposed to their move here?”

A muscle in her jaw pulsed, confirming that he'd hit a nerve.

Not that he wanted to upset her. He was beginning to think there might be some validity to her concerns.

Monday morning Kate arrived at the research station before anyone else. She couldn't sleep. Or at least, she couldn't sleep without having nightmares. Every time she'd closed her eyes, she would see her dad wave from the window of a plane. Then she'd turn from the plane taxiing down the runway and step inside the airport, which morphed into a lab.

She swiped her fob over the electronic lock at the back entrance and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind her. The squeak of her sneakers on the polished floor sent chills down her neck. She picked up her pace.

Overhead, the air vents groaned, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Okay, this was crazy. It was just the dream making her jumpy. She'd have to make herself some lavender tea before she got started. That should help soothe her nerves. She turned her key in the door to her lab and her mind reeled back to last night's dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare.

Every time she'd pushed through the lab door, her gaze had been drawn to plants at the window. She'd rushed toward them, thinking they were her father's. But just before she reached them, the room would explode into flames, and she'd wake up screaming.

Her palm was slick against the doorknob as she pushed open the door. The room was dark. The curtains drawn. Her gaze flicked to the table in front of the window. The only plants
there were herbs they were using for their extractions. She let out a breath.

“What did you expect?” she scolded herself. Now that she'd put her silly imaginings to rest, maybe she could get some work done. She slipped into her office, adjacent to the lab, and turned on her computer.

The internet had been in its infancy when Dad died twenty years ago, but lots of universities had been connected. If she could figure out which university was doing the research that her father went to investigate, she might be able to figure out what got him all fired up against GPC Pharmaceuticals.

You're
grasping at straws.

Kate shut out Tom's voice and clicked on her favorite search engine. She experimented with a variety of search words, but the number of potential hits was overwhelming. After scrolling through ten pages of results she clicked on a link that looked promising.

Nope, not even close.

A loud clunk sounded from the other room.

She glanced at the time at the bottom of the computer screen. No one should be here yet. No one could get into the building without a security pass, she reminded herself.

But the reminder didn't calm her racing pulse.

Her gaze flailed around the room for something to use as a weapon . . . just in case. She grabbed the paperweight decorating the corner of her desk and edged to the door. Taking a deep breath, she poked her head around the corner. “Patti?”

Her research assistant jumped, spilling coffee over the side of her hand. Crying out, she dropped a stack of files onto the workbench and lurched for the lab sink.

“I'm so sorry.” Kate let go of her would-be weapon and grabbed a fistful of paper towels. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“You didn't. I mean, I knew you were here. I saw your car in the back lot.” Patti dabbed at the splatters on her trendy, gold-trimmed jacket. “I guess I'm still jumpy from that cop surprising me at your house.”

Remembering Tom's suspicions of Patti, or more particularly of her boyfriend Jarrett, Kate eyed the files Patti came in with. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I found discrepancies in the data you sent me. I wanted to run a couple more tests.”

“Oh.” Kate leafed through the pages to the flagged results and nodded. “Good catch.”

“May I ask why you are so opposed to GPC partnering with the research station?”

“What?” Kate handed back the file. Why hadn't she noticed the subtle changes in Patti over the past few weeks? The new clothes, the thicker makeup, the funky new glasses. Changes to please her new boyfriend, no doubt. What else might she do to please him?

Kate gathered the beakers and test tubes she'd need for her next experiment. “I have my reasons.”

“A lot of people think their coming here would be a good thing. They'd bring more jobs to the area, more housing starts for the researchers who move here, more money for local businesses.”

“Is that what Jarrett told you?”

Patti's finger traced the rim of her coffee cup. “His dad, actually.” She gulped down what was left of her coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. “I know you don't like him. But he makes a lot of good points.”

“I like him just fine. I simply disagree with him.”

“But—”

“Look, Patti, I have no desire to interfere with who you see outside the lab. Just don't let it interfere with your work here. Understand?”

Patti nodded, but the grim slant of her mouth said she wasn't happy about it. If Patti were dating anyone but Jarrett, Kate probably wouldn't have hesitated to share her reasons for opposing GPC's move. Unfortunately, she was dating the mayor's son, which meant Kate needed to watch what she said around her assistant.

Kate grabbed her lab coat from the wall hook. She hated that she'd become so easily suspicious of people since her mentor's murder, but the fact that a seemingly nice girl like Molly Gilmore could poison someone without any qualms proved to her just how guarded she needed to be. Patti might not intentionally divulge confidential information to her boyfriend, and by extension his very powerful father, but Kate had no doubt that the mayor would take advantage of Patti's employment to glean any inside information he could.

She shut down her web browser before Patti became curious about her web search too.

By 3:00 Kate's sleepless night had caught up to her. She turned on the gas, then took too long to light the match. The gas ignited in a whoosh.

“Go home,” Patti said. “Before you blow us up. You're dead on your feet.”