Deadly Devotion (15 page)

“Won’t your boss give you a hard time if you start flashing your badge on a case he’s told you to stay away from?”

“Laslo’s a robbery suspect. Asking about him won’t rouse suspicions.” Tom rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Of course, having you join me at the police station might raise some eyebrows.”

“All right, I get the message. You can take me home now.”

For a few blocks, Tom said nothing, and the silence gave her too much time to think about the research she’d fallen sorely behind on. About the rumors that could jeopardize her funding. About Edward, and what he might do next.

“Is your roommate expecting you?” Tom asked.

Considering how pathetic it was that she had no plans for a Saturday night, Kate let out a laugh that sounded too much like a snort. “You’re kidding, right? What kind of fiancée chooses her roommate over her groom-to-be?”

“How about I drop you off at my dad’s then?”

She crinkled her nose. “So he can protect me from roving exercise equipment?”

“That”—Tom grinned—“and so you can give him the gardening help you promised. I’ll pick up a pizza for us when I finish my shift.”

“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m sure Edward will spend the evening with Molly. Not plot ways to sneak into my house.”

“The fact that you’re even thinking about the possibility is reason enough not to send you home alone. Besides, you’d be doing me a favor by keeping my dad company.”

“Well . . .” Kate injected an enthusiastic lilt into her voice. “If you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

Tom was pretty sure that leaving Kate and Dad alone for a couple of hours was a colossal mistake. No telling what Dad might say about him. But leaving her with Dad beat the alternative—leaving her unprotected.

Tom waited until they disappeared into the house, then backed out of the driveway. When he’d arrived at the research station, he would’ve liked nothing better than to put the fear of God into Edward, but alerting him to their suspicions could’ve backfired big-time. As it was, when Edward wrapped an arm around Kate’s shoulder, he’d had to dig his fingers into a tree to stop himself from tearing the scumbag away from her. And any illusions that he would’ve felt the same surge of protection toward any woman were swept away when Kate burrowed into his chest and dampened his shirt with her tears.

The last time his chest had hurt that much, he’d been lying flat on his back after going five rounds with a semiautomatic. Thankfully, those assailants—unlike Kate—hadn’t had armor-piercing ammunition.

Instead of turning toward the police station, Tom headed out of town. He still needed to take another look at that shed in the woods. Between Kate’s car bomb speculation, the petty thefts from the research lab, and a missing intern,
his terrorist theory wouldn’t stop gnawing at him. Before he admitted to Zeb at NSA that his concerns were groundless, he needed to verify Hank’s fireworks claim.

Tom drove to the general area of the shed and parked behind a farmer’s hedgerow, out of sight of passersby. He checked the batteries on his flashlight, jogged across the road to the bush, and slipped into the trees.

The sun wouldn’t set for another couple of hours, but in the dense trees darkness had already closed in. He jogged along the faint trail they’d trampled a few days earlier, but without fear for Kate’s safety driving him forward, the shed seemed a lot deeper into the bush than he remembered. About to turn around, thinking he’d gone too far, he spotted the roof to his left.

Tom skulked closer. The padlock still hung on the door. He shone his flashlight through the window. Aside from a dusting of residue on the bench, the place was empty. He skimmed the light over the walls. To the side of the bench, a cardboard chart hung from a nail. Chemicals and amounts were listed under names such as Roman candle, glitter palm, dahlia, and crackle—firecracker names.

So much for his bomb-making theory.

He should be relieved. He was relieved, except . . . the theory had neatly connected the missing intern, Leacock, and her muddy-shoed nephew who’d stoop to anything to make a buck. Tom trudged back to the road. Now all he had left was the grow-op angle and the con angle.

If Gord knew about a grow-op and divulged the information to Leacock, or if she suspected foul play in his disappearance and got caught snooping around, the perpetrators might have taken her out. It was just unlikely they’d do it
with a cup of tea. And with no proof, the theory was nothing but pure speculation.

The con angle was the most credible scenario. A scenario that, in the absence of further evidence, relegated the research station thefts and Gord’s unexplained disappearance to mere coincidence.

Tom hated coincidences. There had to be a link.

Back at the police station, Tom quickly realized that on a Saturday night, without a departure date and destination, he wouldn’t get anywhere in his search for information on the Laslos’ trip.

Tom finished his shift and then headed for the Pizza Shack.

The second he stepped through the door, a familiar female voice called out, “Tommy Boy, look how you’ve grown.”

“Hey, Lorna. Go easy on the baby names, okay. How am I supposed to intimidate bad guys if they hear you calling me Tommy?”

Widowed at a young age, Lorna had been the honorary auntie to half the kids in town. Nowadays, pushing sixty and the spitting image of Mrs. Claus, she was probably considered honorary grandma to the next generation of rug rats. She reached across the counter and pinched Tom’s cheeks. “You’ll always be Tommy to me. You were my favorite boy to babysit.”

“Uh-huh. I bet you say that to all the guys.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Just remember, I never ratted you out when I caught you necking with your boyfriend on the couch.”

She laughed. “Just remember, I changed your diapers.”

So much for his tough cop image. Tom shook his head, 99
percent certain his cheeks—the ones on his face—were flaming red. The anonymity of DC definitely had its advantages.

His mouth watered at the yeasty smell of baked dough and the spicy aroma of Italian sausages. “The travel agency so slow that you have to moonlight selling pizza now, Lorna?”

“I’ll have you know my travel business is booming. I’m filling in here for Greg. His Grandma Verna’s cat ate one of her houseplants. The poor thing’s deathly sick.”

“Has she taken it to the vet?”

“Vet’s out of town, but Grandma Brewster made the poor thing an infusion that seems to be helping. That woman’s a genius when it comes to herbs.”

Tom chuckled, recalling Hank’s take on his grandma’s concoctions. Tom had always thought their success had more to do with the power of the placebo, but if she could help a cat, maybe it wasn’t all snake oil.

Marvin pushed Tom’s pizza through the takeout window and then came around from the kitchen. He dried his hands on his white apron—white, that was, if you ignored the tomato sauce smeared across his spare tire. “After what happened to Daisy messing around with that herbal stuff, I’m surprised you’d go in for that rubbish, Lorna.” Marvin snagged a can of pop from the display fridge next to the counter and popped the tab. “If you ask me, all that eye of newt stuff is just another way to part a fool from his money.”

“No one’s asking you, Marvin.” Lorna elbowed him out of her way.

Marvin winked at Tom.

Not about to step into that minefield, Tom took out his wallet and handed over the cash for the pizza.

Lorna twirled her finger in the air and hit a key on the old-fashioned cash register. A bell dinged and the drawer popped open. She grinned. “I get a kick out of that every time. Gotta get me one of these.” She counted out Tom’s change. “Pay no mind to Marvin. Grandma Brewster has helped lots of people around here. If that new drug company that’s moving to town wanted to make a fortune, they’d figure out Grandma Brewster’s secrets.”

“A drug company’s moving to town?”

Lorna’s hands stopped midair, and she gave Tom a you’re-not-from-around-here look.

“What? Am I expected to know every rumor in town just because I’m a detective?”

She slid her hand down the counter, caught the edge of a very thin newspaper, and slid it toward him. “I know the
Port Aster Press
is no
Washington Post
, but every once in a while old Harold actually digs up a decent story. Sounds like the mayor’s been working overtime trying to woo this baby. Between the research station and this new company, the mayor predicts we’ll become the Silicon Valley of pharmaceutical and herbal research. Can you imagine?”

“No. That’s like putting the wolves in the sheep pen.” Tom fished a couple of quarters from his pocket for the newspaper and picked it up with his box of pizza. His stomach gurgled at the aroma.

“If you ask me . . .”

Tom set the pizza box back down on the counter. Whenever Lorna started a sentence with “If you ask me,” it was time to get comfortable.

“The only reason a drug company would want to ally with our researchers is to get an inside scoop on new developments.”

“Could be.” As an FBI agent he’d been weaned on industrial espionage cases. Nothing would surprise him.

The door opened, letting in a waft of cool night air and the counter girl from A Cup or Two.

“Hey, Molly,” Marvin said. “Your pizza’ll be another five minutes.” He polished off his can of pop and disappeared into the kitchen.

Molly, still dressed in her green-and-white smock from the store, dropped tiredly into the nearest chair.

The sight of her reminded Tom that he had his own tea girl waiting for him at his dad’s—well, sort of waiting for him. “I need to get going.” He grabbed up his pizza box again. “Dad can’t stand his pizza cold.”

“Say hi to your dad for me, and tell him I’ve got some great deals on cruises,” Lorna said.

“That’ll be the day.”

“Just you wait. He’ll come around.”

“Hey.” Tom stopped halfway to the door. “Did you happen to sell plane tickets to a couple name Laslo? To Europe.”

“I didn’t. Most people book their own flights these days. This for a case?”

“I’m trying to locate their son.”

“The last time I flew to Europe I flew out of Buffalo,” Molly spoke up.

The
last
time?

Molly must’ve socked her tips away for months to afford more than one trip to Europe. Once upon a time, he’d traipsed across Europe with nothing but a backpack, riding the trains and sleeping in hostels, but in his day, those were once in a lifetime trips.
In his day?
He groaned. He was starting to sound like his father.

“You should check with the border guards at the Peace Bridge,” Molly suggested.

“Not a bad idea. Thanks.” Tom waved good-bye to Lorna and Marv and made a beeline for the door. For the first time in months, he couldn’t wait to get home, and it wasn’t for the pizza.

Kate sat back on her heels and dusted the dirt from her hands. “That takes care of this flower bed. What do you think?”

Keith handed her a glass of lemonade. “Looks a hundred percent better. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure. I love getting my hands dirty.” Kate pushed to her feet and brushed the dirt off her knees. “Of all the jobs I’ve done at the research station over the years, tending the herb garden was my favorite.”

Keith led her to a couple of lawn chairs and picnic table in the shade of a large oak tree to the side of the house.

From there she caught a peek of the back of the property. An ancient swing set sat next to a sandbox, bittersweet reminders of the march of time. The forgotten vegetable garden carved out a third of the yard, while here and there along the weatherworn wooden fence a daisy offered a splash of sunshine.

“Oh, wow,” Kate said, settling into the lawn chair. “We could have a lot of fun with those gardens.” Nothing like a
beautiful display of flowers or a hearty garden of vegetables to lift a person’s spirits.

“I’ve never been much of a gardener. That was always my wife’s domain.”

“Gardening is in my genes. My grandfather was an avid gardener, and my gran was our hometown’s version of Grandma Brewster. Helping Gran was how I got interested in herbal remedies.”

“Like Grandma Brewster, huh? Without the wart on the nose and a straw broom in the corner, I trust.”

Kate swatted his arm. “You’re as bad as the kids.”

“Ah, I’m just teasing you. When I was a tyke, we went to a doctor if we were sick. There weren’t a dozen”—Keith made quotation marks in the air with his fingers—“alternative specialists hanging out their shingle. Just the kooky lady down the street who still swore by mustard plasters on the chest.”

“Oh, I see . . . you’re one of those people who prefer to smell like menthol instead of mustard?”

“That’s me.” His eyes twinkled. “No-fuss medicine.”

“Well, thanks to people like me, the squeamish can now get all those old-fashioned treatments in neat and tidy capsules. Myself, I still prefer tinctures and teas.”

“Blech!” Keith stuck out his tongue and shuddered. “I can still taste the cod liver oil my mom used to force down me.”

“I have a tea for that,” she teased. “To help with the aftertaste problem, I mean.”

Keith leaned back in his chair and roared.

Tom came out the patio door, pizza box and a stack of paper plates in hand. “Sounds like you two are enjoying yourselves.”

His dad opened a lawn chair for him. “Kate was just telling
me about her herbal remedies. I think she has a tea for just about anything.”

“Well, let’s hope she has one for heartburn, because I had them put Italian sausage on the pizza.”

“A spoonful of honey will do the trick,” Kate said.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Keith drawled. “You might make an herbal guru out of me yet.”

Tom set the pizza box on the picnic table, slid a couple of slices onto a plate, and handed it to his dad. “I’ll believe the cure when I see it.”

Kate hopped up from her chair and rinsed her hands under the garden hose. “I can see I have my work cut out for me trying to convert you two skeptics.”

“Nope, Grandma Brewster might beat you to it. I heard Verna’s cat got sick from eating a poisonous houseplant and Grandma Brewster’s given the animal a concoction. I figure if she can cure a cat, there’s probably something to these herbal remedies.”

“She’s probably given the poor thing a purgative to rid the body of poison as quickly as possible. Most people don’t realize how toxic even some common foods can be to their pets. When I was a kid, we had a dog that got violently ill after wolfing down a bunch of cooked onions with the roast drippings.”

A car door slammed shut, followed by a second and third. Moments later, two tawny-haired boys, their grins as wide as their faces, tore around the corner of the house and launched themselves at Keith. “Grandpa!” they squealed in unison. “We brought pizza.”

Keith hooked a boy under each arm and spun them around. “Yum, my favorite. How’d ya know?” His fingers played the piano on their bellies and sent them into a fit of giggles.

A tall, dark-haired woman appeared in their wake. In her casual attire of mint green capri pants and a floral tank top, she looked remarkably elegant, despite having two preschoolers in tow. Even if her munchkins hadn’t rounded the corner yelling for their grandpa, Kate would have instantly pegged the woman as Tom’s sister. Vivid blue eyes obviously ran in their family.

The woman slid a pizza box on the table beside Tom’s. “I see great minds think alike.”

“Hey, sis.” Tom gave her a hug. “I’d like you to meet Kate Adams.”

“Hi Kate, I’m Tess.” She offered a firm, I’m-so-happy-to-meet-you kind of handshake. “You must be the mystery woman who’s keeping the dynamic duo here on their toes.”

Kate laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Good for you. These donut-eating cops need the exercise.” Tess snagged Tom’s lawn chair and made a show of getting comfortable as she flashed Tom a teasing grin.

Kate adored Tess already.

Keith plopped his twin grandsons back onto their feet and restrained them with a palm on each head. “This is Timmy.” Keith patted the boy on his left. “And this is Terry,” he said, patting the boy on his right.

Kate hunkered down to their eye level. “Well, hi there. I’m happy to meet you. I’m Kate.”

The boys pulled away from their grandpa and tackled her. “Hi, Auntie Kate,” they squealed.

She swallowed them in her arms, thrilled by the greeting. She’d always wanted to be an auntie.

Tom plucked each boy off by the collar. “Hey, guys, let her breathe.”

Their mother handed them each a plate of pizza at the
picnic table. “I hope you don’t mind if they call you auntie. We like them to use a formal title when they address adults.”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s sweet.”

“Guess what their father’s name is,” Keith said with a glint in his eye.

“Ted?”

“Not even close.” Tom plopped onto the end of the picnic bench without offering so much as a hint.

“You two.” Tess gave Tom a swat. “My husband is Xavier. He’s French. But since Tom and I both had T names, we decided to continue the tradition with the twins.”

“Is your husband coming tonight?”

“No, he’s away on business—a buying trip. We own the antique store on Third Street.”

“Oh, I’ve been in there. You have some beautiful pieces. I’m partial to the old books myself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there. I always talked with an older woman. Norma, I think her name was.”

“That was my mom.”

Kate felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” She glanced from Tom to Keith. She was supposed to be helping take Keith’s mind off his wife, not heaping on more reminders of what he’d lost. Yet neither man appeared disturbed by her faux pas. They actually seemed pleased that she’d known Norma. “I thought your wife looked familiar when I saw her photo,” Kate said to Keith, “but I couldn’t place where we’d met.”

“She lost a lot of weight after those photos were taken.” Tess’s gaze drifted, and a fleeting smile touched her lips. “After I had these two hooligans, Mom almost singlehandedly ran the store and kept me sane. We have a new girl working for
us now, although I’m always around somewhere. Our house is attached to the back of the store.”

“Oh my. Living beside an antique store adds a whole new meaning to the term ‘baby proofing.’”

“You can say that again.” Tess’s laugh came easily. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an herbal researcher.”

“That’s right. Tom mentioned that to me.”

Kate’s heart shimmied around her chest in a delighted fit. She snuck a peek in Tom’s direction and he winked. A wink that said, “Yep, my talking about you means exactly what you think it means.”

Kate took another bite of pizza and savored how wonderful this new discovery felt.

His nephews practically swallowed their slices whole, downed their glasses of lemonade in one long gulp, then raced to the swing set, escaping their mother’s attempt to swipe their faces clean.

Tess fell back into her chair with an exhausted but amused sigh. “So how do you feel about a pharmaceutical company setting up in town, Kate? It’s all everybody who came into the shop talked about today.”

Remembering the Peter guy who’d recognized her resemblance to Mom, Kate squirmed. If that Peter was the same Peter that Darryl met from the pharmaceutical company, the company’s move could impact her work in more ways than she wanted to think about.

Tom picked up the copy of the
Port Aster Press
he’d brought out with him. “Yeah, I saw the headline in the paper.” He skimmed his finger over the opening paragraph. “Have you heard of the company? It’s called GPC.”

Kate choked on a chunk of pizza. Coughed it loose. Sipped her lemonade.

Tom patted her back. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.” Avoiding eye contact, she took another sip of lemonade.
GPC.
She hadn’t heard that name in twenty years. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Oh, this was so much worse than she’d thought. Peter didn’t just
know
her parents. He’d probably worked with Dad.

Tom nudged Kate’s chin. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve gone white as a ghost.”

Ghost was right. The ghosts Mom had done her best to guard Kate from all these years, going so far as to move halfway across the country, far from their reach, but apparently not far enough. And the worst thing was, Kate still didn’t know what Dad had done that was so bad, or why Mom had adamantly insisted that Kate never mention to anyone where Dad had worked.

“Kate?” Tom echoed, concern pinching his voice.

Kate took another sip of lemonade. “I’m fine, really.”

Keith grabbed the pitcher from the table and emptied it into her glass. “I’ll get us some more.”

After Keith disappeared into the house, Tom turned his attention to Tess. “Are you coming for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure, we’ll be here. The kids just couldn’t wait that long to see their grandpa.”

“Your dad seems like a terrific grandpa,” Kate chimed in. Until Gran and Gramps died, their home had been a place she could drop by anytime, unannounced. She missed that.

“Yeah, Dad’s great with the boys. We all really miss Mom. Tom came home so Dad wouldn’t be alone, but when the kids are around it’s hard to stay sad for long.”

“Where did you work?” Kate asked Tom.

“I was with the FBI in DC.”

“But you’re Canadian, aren’t you?”

Tess laughed. “Technically, not. Mom said that he was born wanting to be an FBI agent. Mom and Dad were happily enjoying their second honeymoon in the Poconos when he stormed into their lives, not about to wait until they got back to Canadian soil. For years after Tom left for DC, Dad would brag about him working for the FBI and no one believed him.”

“Dad bragged about me?” Tom sounded shocked. “I thought he resented my decision to move to the States.”

Tess looked at Tom like he’d turned green and sprouted leaves.

“I acted like that,” Keith said, meandering toward them with a full pitcher of lemonade, “so you wouldn’t get too big for your britches.”

Tom’s jaw dropped, and for a moment he just stared at his dad.

“What?” Keith swiped at his mouth, his cheeks, his chin. “Do I have food on my face?”

“No.” Tom’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “No. I just had no idea you felt that way.”

This time, Tess winked at Kate. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was certain she was going to have a lot of fun getting to know Tom’s sister better.

For the next couple of hours, in between roughhousing with the twins, Keith and Tom one-upped each other with humorous cop tales. Hearing Tom and Keith talk about their jobs like two regular guys showed her how silly her “us and them” mentality about cops had been. It was fun hearing them laugh about their gaffs and spend an evening not thinking
about murder suspects. Best of all, the conversation never circled back around to the topic of the drug company eyeing their town.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment.” Tom slid out of the driver’s side of the car, walked around to her side, and opened the door.

“Thank you,” Kate said, certain she should protest that such precautions weren’t necessary but afraid she might be wrong. “I had a wonderful time this evening. I think hanging out with your family did more to lift my spirits than I helped lift your dad’s.”

“That’s where you’d be wrong. I can’t remember the last time we enjoyed each other’s company so much.” Tom’s hand skimmed the small of her back and her skin tingled.

Kate gulped.
Oh, boy.

They climbed the stairs to her apartment, making small talk as if neither of them wanted to mention the elephant in the stairwell—actually two—the reason Tom felt compelled to escort her to her door, and the attraction that seemed to be blooming between them. For tonight, that suited her just fine. Never mind that she could open her own zoo with the elephants she’d collected of late. She was happy to forget about Edward for one night and dream about spending more time with Tom and his family.