Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice) Read online

  The one reserved for criminal investigation.

  Antennas up, she nodded. “Sure.”

  “I’d like to hear your version of what happened at the coffee shop this morning. Can you talk me through it?”

  “Okay. But may I ask why?”

  He hesitated, as if debating his response. When he spoke, his words were slow and measured. “Let’s just say I’ve been thinking about this while you slept, and I’m coming up with more questions than answers. Especially since the owner of the Perfect Blend assured me they haven’t changed any ingredients. Do you have any other allergies that could have caused the crisis this morning?”

  “No.”

  “Then the question becomes, how did peanuts get into your system? I’m hoping if you walk me through what happened from the time you arrived until you had the attack, I might spot a red flag.”

  Kelly frowned, getting a hint of where he was going with this—and not liking it. “Are you suggesting this wasn’t some kind of freak accident? That there might have been . . . malicious intent?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t like the coincidence of exposure to peanuts and an empty injector all on the same day. So humor me, okay?”

  A chill swept over her, and she tugged up the thin blanket that was draped over her lower body. “What do you want to know?”

  “Start with your arrival, and tell me exactly what happened. Don’t leave out any detail, no matter how inconsequential you think it is.”

  She did as he asked, relaying the events of the morning and answering his questions as she went along. When she got to the part about picking up the drinks, however, she paused and bit her lip.

  He narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Kelly was glad the two of them were on the same side. This was not a man she’d want to meet in an interrogation room. No nuance escaped him.

  “One unusual thing did happen, although it didn’t strike me as odd at the time. The shop was very crowded, and when I went to get our drinks, there were several waiting to be picked up. The barista’s scribbling was hard to decipher, and I couldn’t find my mocha. An older man joined me, also looking confused. Turns out he’d picked up my drink by mistake. He apologized and offered to ask them to make me a new one, but I said not to bother.”

  The grim set of Cole’s lips told her he didn’t think the man had made a mistake.

  “So this guy had your drink in his hands.”

  “Yes. But he was an older man, and I could see how he might have gotten confused. There was nothing sinister about the situation.” She bunched the blanket in her fingers. “Are you thinking he put peanuts in my drink?” The whole notion was surreal.

  Cole set his coffee on the cabinet, picked up the wall phone, and dialed a number after scrolling through his cell phone. “Can you think of any other explanation for what happened?”

  She tried. Failed. “But why would someone do that?”

  He held up a finger and asked for the manager of the coffee shop before he responded. “Do you have any enemies?”

  “No.”

  “But you have started to ask questions again about your father’s death. Have you told anyone you’re searching his house?”

  “Yes. Lauren and Dad’s neighbors who stopped by while I was at his house. And my pastor.”

  Kelly stared at him, trying to digest his implication as he asked the manager about the trash pickup schedule. His disgusted expression told her he wasn’t happy with the answer.

  The instant he ended the call, she spoke. “You think someone wants me to stop asking questions badly enough to try and kill me?” The words curdled her stomach.

  “I don’t know, but I can’t discount the timing. Unfortunately, we’re not going to get an answer on your drink. The trash was picked up at noon, so short of going through a truck full of garbage, we’re out of luck. And I can’t muster the resources for that kind of search without more to go on.”

  Although she was touched he’d even consider such an extreme measure, it seemed like overkill to her. It wasn’t as if she’d turned up any evidence that would convince the police to reopen the case. Nor was she likely to, given the dismal results of her search to date.

  Unless . . . Maybe there was evidence buried somewhere in her father’s house that only his killer knew about.

  That was a chilling thought.

  “Can you describe this guy?”

  Cole’s question drew her back to their discussion. “He had gray hair and a bushy mustache, and he wore thick glasses. I think he was on the stocky side, but I can’t be sure because he was wearing a bulky coat. He was stooped, which put him at close to my eye level, and I’m five seven. And he limped.”

  “Any guesses on age?”

  “Sixtyish, maybe, based on his gray hair and posture.”

  “Any distinguishing marks?”

  She gave Cole an apologetic look. “I didn’t pay that much attention. We only exchanged a couple of words. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You had no reason to take inventory.”

  As he reached for his coffee, the nurse rejoined them. “The doctor says you’re good to go. I’ll unhook you from the IV and run over his instructions. Then you can get dressed and ditch this place.”

  Cole moved toward the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

  As he retreated, pulling the door shut behind him, the nurse circled around the foot of the bed. “Your chauffeur?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lucky you.” The woman grinned. “With my luck, I’d end up with Barney Fife instead of a hot detective.”

  The nurse removed the IV, and Kelly pressed on the cotton ball covering the prick point, as instructed. She did feel lucky to have Cole Taylor as an escort. Yet the questions he’d planted in her mind were unnerving.

  Had today’s incident been an attempt on her life rather than an accident?

  If so, who wanted her dead?

  And most troubling of all—would he try again?

  Following Kelly, Cole pulled into her driveway and set his brake. She’d insisted on picking up her car at the coffee shop, even though he’d told her he’d be happy to drive her back tonight, after she’d had a few more hours to recover. But maybe this was better. If he came back later, he’d have to cancel his dinner plans with Mitch and Alison. And his sister would be all over him, wanting details he wasn’t inclined to offer.

  By the time Kelly braked to a stop in her small attached garage, disengaged her seat belt, collected her purse, and turned off her engine, he was beside her door. She smiled up at him as he pulled it open.

  “I’m not used to this kind of service.”

  You should be.

  He kept that response to himself as she slid out of the car. But he couldn’t imagine why an attractive, intelligent woman like Kelly was unattached.

  Unless there was a boyfriend lurking around somewhere.

  “Don’t tell me your dates have bad manners.” He kept his tone casual as he fished for information.

  “Most guys these days seem to think women would rather fend for themselves.” She slid from the car and shuffled through her key ring. “But I, for one, appreciate those kinds of courtesies. Thank you.”

  That didn’t answer his question. He tried again, taking a more direct approach.

  “You’re welcome. And if you’re involved in a serious relationship, I hope he doesn’t let you down in that regard.”

  She fitted the key in the door that led from the garage to the house and turned toward him. The day had grown gray, and the garage was dim, but he detected an appealing wistfulness in her expression. “I’m not involved with anyone. But if I ever am, it will be with a man who’s considerate.” She fixed those green eyes on him, and her gaze didn’t waver. “Like you.”

  Whoa!

  And he’d been worried about being too direct.

  Blindsided, Cole took a moment to regroup. He was used to flirty come-ons. For whatever reason, a lot of women seemed to find law enforce
ment types appealing. But Kelly’s quiet sincerity put her comment in a whole different league, touching him in a way nothing—or no one—had in a long, long time.

  Not since Sara.

  At the memory of the gentle-spirited, dark-haired beauty, his stomach coiled into a tight, painful knot.

  In the lengthening silence, soft color rose on Kelly’s cheeks. She turned toward the door, her fingers fumbling with the key in the lock, clearly embarrassed by his lack of response to her candor.

  Way to go, Taylor. This is earning you a lot of points.

  Pushing memories of Sara aside, Cole touched her shoulder. Her hand stilled and she stiffened. “Hey. I appreciate that thought. A lot.”

  At his husky comment, she stole a glance at him over her shoulder, her eyes uncertain. “You didn’t look like it.”

  He debated how much to reveal. He’d never told anyone about Sara. Not even his family. Yet he was tempted to share the story with Kelly.

  But this wasn’t the time. Not after all she’d been through today.

  “My reaction had nothing to do with you. Your comment just reminded me of an unpleasant episode in my past. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about it.” Without giving her a chance to process that pseudo-promise, he gestured toward the door. “Do you mind if I take a quick walk-through before I leave?”

  She gripped the doorknob, and some of the color drained from her cheeks. “You think there’s danger in my own house?”

  “I didn’t say that. But in light of what happened this morning, I’d prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  Without saying a word, she turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and stepped in.

  He followed. Noted the absence of a keypad beside the door. Frowned. “You don’t have a security system?”

  “No. I’ve never needed one.”

  Everyone needed one. If people saw half the stuff he did, they’d know that.

  “Okay. Give me five minutes. Anywhere you’d prefer me not to look?”

  “No. But ignore any clutter you find. I didn’t expect to have visitors today.” She tried for a smile but couldn’t pull it off.

  Cole did a quick but thorough sweep of the neat-as-a-pin house. Everything was secure, but he didn’t like her door locks; they were simple keyed knobs, easy to open with a bump key or pick gun. No dead bolts. No sliding bolts, except on the front door—where one was least needed. The basement windows were bottom-hinged hoppers with laughable security, and there were no stops on the main level window frames.

  She needed to beef up her security, and he told her that when he rejoined her in the kitchen and found her pulling off her hiking boots.

  Distress tightened her features, and she massaged the bridge of her nose. “I’ve always felt safe here.”

  He hated to be the one to put fear in her heart, but fearful people were cautious. And he’d much rather have her afraid and on alert than oblivious and vulnerable. There were too many unanswered questions that bothered him. Including the one he’d thought of as he’d followed her home from the coffee shop.

  “Safety is an illusion without first-rate security. Even if today hadn’t happened, I’d recommend some basic enhancements. But today did happen. And I do have one other question for you. When you took the injector out, was there any moisture inside the carrying case?”

  She gave him a blank look. “I have no idea. Lauren opened it for me. Why?”

  “If the medication leaked, wouldn’t it have been in the case?”

  Twin creases appeared on her brow. “Yes. It should have been, but I doubt Lauren will be able to verify that it was. She was really freaked.”

  “Would you mind asking anyway?”

  “No. I’ll call her this weekend.”

  “Okay. Meanwhile, is it okay if I hang on to the injector?”

  “Sure. It’s of no use to me anymore. But why do you want to keep it?”

  “I never get rid of evidence while I’m in the fact-gathering stage.” He softened the comment with a smile. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “I was going to do some hiking. That’s the only reason I was wearing those.” She indicated the boots. “I may not be as fashion conscious as Lauren, but even I don’t wear hiking boots except for that express purpose. I don’t think I’m up for that today, though.”

  She liked the outdoors. Nice. Most of the women he dated preferred spike heels to hiking boots.

  “Where do you hike?” He leaned back against her kitchen counter and wrapped his fingers around the edge.

  “Hawn State Park. Mark Twain National Forest. Weldon Spring Conservation Area.” She tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “All over.”

  “You aren’t also a camper, by chance, are you?”

  “When I can squeeze it in. Mostly, I do day hikes.” She smiled, and some of the tension in her face dissipated. “I tell people it’s research for my paintings, because I do a lot of nature-themed work. And I never, ever go on a hike without my camera to snap photos of ideas. But between you and me, I just like to be outdoors. Do you camp?”

  “I used to, but it’s been a while. Life got busier.”

  “I know what you mean. Plus, with winter coming, I’ll get out less often now. Much as I like to hike, I’m not a cold-weather person. Once it gets below forty, I’m in for the season. Give me a warm fire over a frosty nose any day.”

  Now there was an appealing idea for a Friday night. A warm fire . . . Kelly beside him on the couch . . . a cup of hot chocolate in hand . . . soft jazz in the background.

  Talk about a one-eighty from his typical happy hour routine.

  Yet all at once the luster of the fast lane dulled. Because suddenly he wanted to be worthy of a woman like Kelly Warren.

  She shifted her position, pulling him back to the present, and he realized he owed her a response. Clearing his throat, he pushed off from the counter, needing to put some distance between them. Think this thing through.

  “I’m not big on cold weather, either.” He motioned toward the living room. “Shall I go out the front door?”

  “Sure.” She picked up her boots and followed him, opening the coat closet to deposit them on the floor just inside the door. She aligned them precisely, in a spot obviously reserved for them, and when she caught him watching her, she blushed. “Okay, so I’m a neat freak. A place for everything, everything in its place and all that.”

  She closed the door and leaned back against it. “You know, if you’re right about what happened today . . . if someone was trying to stop me from digging deeper . . . maybe there’s something to be found after all. I might go over to my dad’s later and do some more poking around.”

  The thought of her alone in her father’s house sent a cold chill up his spine. “I saw in the case file that his house has a security system. Is it still activated?”

  “Yes. I figured that was safer, since the house is vacant. I’m glad now he had one, though I never did understand why he felt the need for it. The house is very modest. But he always said burglaries happen everywhere.”

  “They do. So keep the doors locked while you’re there and reset the system when you leave, okay?” He reached into the pocket of his sport coat and withdrew a card. After flipping it over, he jotted his cell number on the back and handed it to her. “Alan’s very competent, and he’ll follow up on anything you find. But if you want to talk with me for any reason, use that number. I always have my cell with me. And I’d like to hear what your friend has to say about whether there was any liquid in the carrying case.”

  Gratitude warmed her eyes as she took the card, reminding him again how alone she was—and how tough it must be to have no family to turn to in a crisis.

  “I’ll check with her this weekend and give you a call. Thanks for being so thorough and professional.”

  “No problem.”

  But that was a lie. Because as Cole looked at her, he felt anything but professional. His usual on-the-job neutralit
y and detachment had failed him this time—prompting a request he wouldn’t typically make. “Would you mind sharing your cell number with me too? In case I need to reach you quickly for some reason.”

  If she thought his lame request odd or unnecessary, she gave no indication. She just recited her number as he keyed it into the directory on his phone.

  “Okay.” He slipped the phone back onto his belt and turned the doorknob. He didn’t want to leave, but there wasn’t any reason to linger. At least none he could come up with. “Lock up behind me.” He stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut. A moment later, he heard the bolt slide into place.

  She was as safe as she could be for now.

  But as far as he was concerned, she wasn’t safe enough. She needed to add a lot more security to her house.

  Which gave him an excellent excuse to call her again in a few days.

  Things had gone well this morning.

  A slow smile twisted his lips as he dipped a cotton swab in spirit gum remover, pried up a corner of the bushy mustache, and dabbed at the dried adhesive. Leaning close to the mirror, he worked his way across the strip of bristly hair with practiced efficiency. Once the gum was dissolved, he discarded the swab in a plastic sandwich bag, peeled off the mustache, and disposed of it in the bag as well.

  Straightening up, he flexed his shoulders to work out the kinks. But the discomfort was worth it. The unnatural stoop he’d assumed for the job had completely altered his usual bearing and gait.

  Next, he removed the green contact lenses. Not that anyone had noticed his eye color behind the thick glasses, but details counted in an operation like this—and he was a master at details. That’s why he was successful on these types of assignments.

  The contacts went into the plastic bag too . . . along with the glasses.

  He hadn’t played a part for a while, but he’d had no trouble shifting back into that mode. And he excelled at it. He knew how to blend in, and he’d perfected the art of disguise to the point that no one would recognize him. Even his wife. Grinning, he added the bottle of temporary theatrical hair color to the bag. She’d been impressed the time he’d fooled her, just for laughs, when they were first dating.