Keeping Watch: Heart of the Night\Accidental Bodyguard (20 page)

“Did you tell him you didn’t feel Mays was Jack?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t made that decision until Kahler’s question had forced her to, after she’d talked to Lew.

“He asked me if Mays had any association with any of the hate groups,” she said, remembering. “I didn’t know, so Lew said he’d ask around, talk to you about that. Did he call you?”

Kahler shook his head.

“He probably didn’t have time to get around to it,” she suggested. She racked her brain trying to think what else had been said. Now was the time to tell Kahler that Lew
had
had time to do the other thing she knew they’d talked about. He
had
made inquiries about Barrington’s injuries. It felt so wrong to tell the police that, but just because she knew Thorne had nothing to do with Lew’s death didn’t mean she could withhold evidence.

“Lew told me he’d check on the possibility…” She paused, realizing how awful her idea would sound in this context. It hadn’t sounded so brutal when she’d believed Thorne might have had something to do with the confetti bomb, but now, with Lew’s murder, it sounded…incriminating. “About the possibility that Barrington had some brain damage. From the bomb. If it could make him do things that were…out of character.”

“Brain damage?” Kahler repeated, his tone disbelieving.

“Sometimes after a head injury, people do things they would normally never think about doing,” she argued. It sounded a lot dumber now than it had the first time she’d proposed it.

“Like blowing people up?” Kahler asked sarcastically.

“No, of course not. I didn’t think even then that Barrington was blowing people up. I
never
thought Barrington was Jack, Kahler, but I
did
think for a while he’d sent me the confetti. You knew that. It was just weird enough…” Again she paused, feeling disloyal.

“What did Garrison think about your idea?”

“That it was way off base. Like you, he never thought Barrington was involved with any of this. Other than being the first victim. We talked about that, too. Maybe not the last time I talked to Lew, but sometime. That Barrington was one name we knew was still on Jack’s list.”

“You think he’s going to try for Barrington again?”

“Before he’s through,” she said, nodding. “We just don’t have any idea when that will be.”

Kahler didn’t comment. There was really nothing to say, but she suddenly realized the possibility Jack wasn’t through was a lot scarier than it had been when she and Lew had talked about it. Before she had gotten to know Thorne. Before they had…

She turned her thoughts away from the shadowed hallway in Barrington’s mansion. What had occurred there seemed to have taken place a long time ago instead of only a few hours. Too much had happened in between. With Lew’s death, the reality of Thorne Barrington’s danger had been graphically reinforced.

“Who was Lew supposed to ask about the injury?” Kahler interrupted that sudden realization.

She looked up, wondering how long she’d been thinking about Barrington instead of what she was supposed to be doing. “I don’t know. He just said they had some mutual acquaintances. He didn’t mention names.”

“So we’ll probably never know if he got around to asking.”

Now,
her brain ordered.
Tell him now.

“He asked
somebody,
” she said, feeling sick.

“How do you know?”

“Judge Barrington told me. At his house tonight.”

“How could he know?”

“The friend called him. Told him someone was asking questions for a news story. He thought Barrington might want to fight the invasion of privacy with some sort of legal action.”

“And Barrington was willing to talk to you after that?”

Kahler had been the one who had told her how much the judge hated the press. No wonder he was skeptical.

“I think he wanted to pick my brain. Maybe warn me to back off any story about him.”

“He thought you were the one making inquiries?”

“I think he knew it was Lew, but he also knew this had always been my story. That whatever Lew was asking was for me.”

“Was he angry?”

Before or after he kissed me? Before he confessed that he wanted me in his bed?
Or maybe, she thought, maybe he had been just setting her up—a willing and ready source of information. Maybe he believed that coming on to her was the way to get her to drop the story. Suddenly, nothing that had happened tonight seemed to mean what she had thought it meant.

“Kate?” Kahler prodded.

“About like you’d expect. He doesn’t like publicity.”

She looked down at the drink she still held. The ice had melted. She took a sip, trying to banish the doubts from her mind.
Not what she had thought it was
wouldn’t leave her head, circling along with all the other memories of this night.

“Did Barrington kick you out?” Kahler asked.

“No,” she denied.
He kissed me. He told me he wanted me in his bed, had thought about having me there. About making love to me.
“No, nothing like that,” she said aloud.

“What time did you talk to him?”

“I got there…maybe 8:45. Maybe closer to nine. I don’t know exactly.”

“Barrington was home when you arrived?”

“Yes,” she agreed, and then she realized why he’d asked, the significance of that question. “You don’t think—” she began and hesitated while she thought about what that meant. “Kahler, you can’t believe Barrington had anything to do with Lew? Because of what
I
said?”

“This is my job, August. Asking questions. It’s your job to answer them. Your duty as a good citizen.” There was an edge of cynicism in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“What time did Lew die?” she asked.

“We won’t know until we get the coroner’s report.”

“When will that be?”

“A few days.”

“Barrington had nothing to do with this,” she said, trying to let him hear her certainty.

“Given the fact that he never leaves the house, that should be easy enough to prove,” Kahler agreed.

But he had, Kate realized. He had been outside the house when she arrived tonight. Because Elliot had been away. Thorne’s explanation had been logical, of course, but—

“Is Barrington a suspect?” she asked.

He didn’t answer her immediately, but it didn’t matter because she already knew.

“Because of what I told you,” she said, despairing. “God, you’re so wrong. Don’t make a fool of yourself, Kahler. Because you’re wrong, and as you reminded me, Barrington’s got all the marbles, all the high-powered attorneys.”

His eyes studied her face for a moment.

“Just like he always has,” Kahler said simply.

Chapter Ten

She spent the night on Kahler’s big couch. She even managed to sleep a few hours. After bringing sheets and a light blanket and showing her the bathroom, Kahler had disappeared into his bedroom, and he hadn’t come out again. Kate appreciated the privacy as much as she did the comfort of knowing he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

When dawn arrived, throwing its weak light into the room, she was ready, welcoming permission not to have to lie there any longer, letting the events of the previous night tumble through her head. She walked barefoot across the beige carpet to push the linen-weave draperies back from the center of the window.

She looked down again at the photograph of Kahler and his sister. She wondered what kind of brother he’d been. Protective, maybe. He had treated her that way last night, like a brother. There had been no embarrassment and no discomfort about spending the night here. Just a safe place to stay.

She picked up the picture, turning it into the fragile morning light, examining both subjects. Kahler, before the reality of what he did for a living made all those intriguing lines she’d noticed last night. Young. Innocent. Like the little girl with her dark, trusting eyes. She had probably worshipped the boy he had been, looking up to him from the far distance of nine years.

Kate smiled, carrying the frame back to the coffee table and again taking her place on the big couch. She pulled the blanket up over her feet and legs, the air-conditioning a little too efficient, especially this time of day.

“Good morning,” Kahler said from the doorway that led to the hall. He was already dressed for work, another starched blue oxford cloth shirt, gun and shoulder holster in place. He walked into the kitchen to begin making coffee. “You get any sleep?”

“More than I expected,” Kate said. “Thanks for letting me stay. I really don’t think I could have gone home last night.”

“That couch is available anytime. Just say the word.”

“Don’t offer unless you mean it. After all that’s happened, I might take you up on it too often.”

“I don’t think you’re in any danger, Kate. If I did—”

“How can you say that?” she interrupted. “Lew’s dead because of something he found out about Jack. And everyone knows this is my story. What makes you think whoever killed Lew won’t think I also know whatever he had found?”

“Because no one was watching your apartment last night. No one was following you. It was Garrison the killer was interested in, because he let the wrong person know that he’d discovered something dangerous.”

“I’m the one who went to see Mays.”

“I don’t think Mays has anything to do with it.”

“He’s crazy, Kahler. Crazy enough to do anything. You didn’t see his eyes.”

“If Mays was going to take out after someone, who would it be? Think, Kate. Who does Mays blame for his troubles?”

“Barrington. The authorities.”

“
Not
Lew Garrison.”

“Maybe Lew found out that Mays
is
involved in one of the hate groups. Maybe he asked that question to someone besides you, asked the wrong person, just like you said. Lew had sources all over this city. This is his city, and after all these years, he knows the people who know where all the bodies are buried.”

“I’ll check it out,” Kahler said, but there was no conviction in the promise, obviously made only to pacify her.

“You think it was some
other
question he asked that precipitated what happened to him last night.” She knew what he thought. He had already made that clear.

“I’ll check that out, too.”

“You’re the one who told me what an upstanding citizen Barrington was. You and Lew. Why are you now—”

“Because Lew’s dead. Apparently he wasn’t as good a judge of character as he thought. He confided in somebody or tried to investigate something he should have left to the police. Playing cop will get you in trouble every time. That’s something you better remember, August. You let me ask the hard questions.”

She nodded. There wasn’t much else to say. Something Lew had said or done had gotten him killed, and she didn’t want to be next. Kahler was only trying to protect her. Her eyes moved back to the little girl in the photograph. Big brother.

“Did she ever get mad at you for trying to boss her around?” she asked, indicating with her hand the picture she’d moved.

“Probably,” he said, hazel eyes studying the photograph as if he hadn’t looked at it in a long time.

“Your folks still alive, Kahler?”

He shook his head. “Yours?”

“Yeah, both of them. Same little town. Nothing ever changes with them. And I hope it won’t,” she added.

“Then you’re lucky.”

“I know. So what was growing up like for the two of you?”

“Ordinary. Small town.”

“Me, too.”

“I don’t remember my father. He wasn’t around long enough to make an impression. My stepfather just disappeared one day. Mom kept telling us he was coming home soon. Jenny may have believed her, but I knew better. It was no great loss. He hadn’t been much while he was around.”

Kahler was leaning against the bar as he had last night, sipping orange juice this time. Relaxed. Discussing what was just another part of the reality of his life, something he had apparently accepted a long time ago.

“Your mom raised you alone, you and your sister?”

“With the help of a succession of…boyfriends.” There was an underlying harshness in his pronunciation of the word. It would have been hard for an adolescent boy to accept another man in his mother’s life, no matter what the circumstances were. “We were always pretty much on our own. I guess my mother did the best she could, given…the circumstances.”

His voice faded, and she watched him lift the glass to swallow the remainder of the liquid it held.

“What does your sister do? She’s not a cop?”

“No, not a cop,” he said. Kate waited through the pause. His eyes, almost as dark now as the little girl’s, were again on the photograph. “Jenny died. Almost eight years ago.”

“God, Kahler, I’m sorry. I never dreamed… She must have been very young.”

There was no response.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

He glanced up, not at her, but at the light coming from the opening she’d created when she’d pushed the curtain aside.

“An accident. A drunk driver,” he said dispassionately, but the emotion was there. Hidden, as always, with Kahler.

“I’m sorry. That must have been really rough.”

“It happened a long time ago. You learn to deal.”

She nodded.

“You want to take me to work, or you want me to call somebody?” he asked, the memories deliberately cleared from his voice. He had driven her car last night, allowing her time to sit in the darkness and deal with what had happened at Lew’s.
You learn to deal,
Kahler had said. And she would.

“No, I’ll drive you. I need to get back to my place and change clothes.”

“You going in to the paper?”

“Yeah,” she said, and she was surprised by how reluctant she was to do that. “It’s what they pay me this enormous salary to do. I want to look around in Lew’s office. It was locked last night. I thought he might have left whatever he was working on in there. There could be something that might give me a clue as to what direction he was pursuing.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kahler said. “Why don’t you let someone from the department take a look? The less involved you are with whatever Lew Garrison found the better.”