Operation Reunion (12 page)

Chapter 20

D
ane paced the small, windowless interview room. Two and a half strides one way, three the other. Definitely small.

He’d been here for hours now, and every minute of it had been spent worrying about Kayla more than himself. He’d managed to find out she was alive, but they would not tell him her condition. She might yet die, as far as he knew. It was killing him not to be able to go to her, and he tried to focus on something else.

A firebomb.

It seemed too bizarre, too impossible to be real. Who the hell would toss an incendiary device into Kayla’s house? Why? She’d never done anything to hurt anyone—only tried to help people who were dealing with a grief she knew all too much about.

His logical mind warned him against making assumptions based on too little information, but he couldn’t help thinking this somehow had to be connected to her parents’ murders. And maybe that was logical; what were the odds that an average citizen would twice in their lives be a direct casualty of violent crime?

But after ten years?

His mind tried to spiral toward grim images of a smoking, burning ruin of what had been Kayla’s—and his—home once more, and he yanked it back.

The door opened. The same detective who had questioned him before stepped in. Dunbar. In another life, he might have liked the guy, Dane thought. He kind of reminded him of his father—not now, he wasn’t old enough, but back when his father had been the same age, mid-thirties, maybe forty.

“Did you see Kayla?” he asked as the man shut the door behind him; he’d heard him tell one of the officers he was heading to the hospital when he’d left a couple of hours ago.

The man didn’t answer. He crossed the room and tossed a folder on the small table in the center of the room.

“Sit down.”

“Did you see her? Is she all right? Tell me, damn it, and I’ll sit all you want.”

Dunbar studied him for a moment. “You’re not in the strongest bargaining position here.”

“I want one simple answer to one simple question. You want answers to many. Sounds like you’d be getting the best of the deal.”

Dane thought he saw the man’s mouth twitch at one corner. “Can’t say I don’t admire your logic,” he said. Then, coldly, “You should be thankful she’s alive. Murder by arson is a death penalty special circumstance.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Dane said. The officer now standing outside the door had almost gleefully pointed that out.

“That’ll land you in Walla Walla waiting for the needle or the noose.” He’d said it as if it were the chorus of a song, Dane had thought. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t care, not if Kayla was dead.

But she wasn’t. He clung to that.

“Sit down,” Dunbar said, “and I promise you before I leave, you’ll have your answer.”

“Is this your carrot on a stick approach? Forget it. I want to know how Kayla is. Now.”

“You don’t trust me?”

Dane had to think about that one. “I was raised to trust the police,” he finally said. “To believe you’re the good guys. And I do. If it was anything else, if it was anyone but Kayla, I’d be in that chair telling you whatever you want to know.”

“But you broke up with her.”

“You don’t turn off a decade of loving somebody overnight.”

Something flickered in the detective’s eyes, something dark and shadowy. As if a vision from a nightmare of his own had just shot through his mind.

“No,” he agreed softly, “you don’t.”

“Please,” Dane said, just as softly, “just tell me if she’s all right.”

Dunbar studied him for a long, silent moment. And at last, as if he’d reached some sort of inner conclusion, he spoke.

“She’s all right. Minor smoke inhalation, a couple of stitches was the worst of it.”

A wave of relief swamped Dane. He sat, not in response to the answer and the agreement so much as because he wasn’t sure he could keep standing.

Kayla was all right.

“She reacted pretty quickly, considering,” Dunbar was saying. “She got down on the floor and I’m guessing got to the door before the smoke did much damage. And her neighbor got her outside right away.”

“Bless Mr. Reyes,” Dane said, still feeling a bit wobbly.

Dunbar pulled out the chair across the table and sat down himself. “Lucky for her he was still up and awake, and he ran over.”

“He’s a night owl. Thank God.”

“He said you were a...good kid, I think is how he put it. Said you helped him fix his garage door once.”

Dane blinked. “Yeah. Couple of years ago. He had the old style, with the big springs, and one of them broke.”

“And the lady on the other side said you saved her cat.”

Dane was completely puzzled now. What the hell was all this about? “I... No. The cat could have gotten down from the roof by himself, and would have, but I was afraid Mrs. Kramer would have a heart attack over it first.”

“If you didn’t do this, who do you think did?”

The abrupt change back to the grim business of the night threw him. As, he thought, it was probably intended to.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” he said. “It just makes no sense to me that it’s not...connected to what happened ten years ago. Nobody could want to hurt Kayla. She spends her life trying to help people who are going through what she went through.”

“But she deals mostly with crime victims. Which puts her on the radar of criminals.”

Dane frowned; he’d not thought of it quite like that. “You mean you think this is related to her work?”

“I’m leaving all options on the table at this point.”

Dane had the sudden thought that if this man had been the one investigating Kayla’s parents’ murders, perhaps things might have turned out differently.

“I can’t help you with that. What happens in those sessions is confidential, and Kayla never talks about it.”

“Never?”

“I mean, she’ll tell me someone new joined and why they’re there, but what they say in those sessions is sacred to her. She’d never reveal it, so I don’t know anything. Not even names.”

“Sounds like an AA meeting.”

“It is like one in that people have to trust her to open up. She’d never betray that trust.”

“Then who else would want her dead?”

Dane winced at the bald statement. Maybe it was the shock, but he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that anyone would want to kill Kayla.

“My first thought was Chad,” he admitted. “That maybe he was back.”

“And you think he’d try to kill her? His own sister?”

“If he killed their parents, why would that be a stretch?”

“According to Ms. Tucker, that’s a very big if.”

“I know. She’s never believed he did it.”

“But you did?”

“Not in the beginning. I stood by her and helped her search for him, thinking he had just panicked and run. But the more time passed and he didn’t come back but kept sending those notes...”

Dane’s voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

“You changed your view.”

“He just wasn’t acting like somebody who was innocent.”

“So you think he’s back? And tried to kill his sister?”

Dane sighed. “I don’t know. None of this makes any sense. If Chad’s back, why would he try to kill her? Wouldn’t he at least talk to her first, find out if she was still insisting on his innocence? Why would he kill the one person who’d stood by him the whole time?”

“You’re assuming he knows that.”

Dane’s brows furrowed. “I... Yes, I guess I am.” Another thought hit him. “Are you thinking maybe Chad feels she’s a threat?”

“There’s never been any direct contact, right? If I were a guy who murdered my own parents, I might be thinking my stubborn little sister would never give up looking for the killer.”

“You mean he thinks she’s looking for the killer, which would be him, rather than what she’s really been doing, which is trying to find him to prove him innocent?”

Dane turned the idea over in his mind. It made sense.

“But then why would he keep sending those notes?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t he just cut off all contact?”

“That’s the kink in that theory,” Dunbar admitted. “Which brings us back to the other big question. If it isn’t connected to the murder of her parents and it isn’t her brother, who else would want her dead?”

Something in the way the man was looking at him told Dane what he was thinking.

“Look, I know you have to look at me, I know there’s some hideous statistic about how often murders are committed by someone the victim knows. Hell, I’ve even used those stats, trying to get Kayla to admit the possibility Chad killed their folks. But I didn’t do this, and the more time you waste with me, the less time you’re spending looking for the guy who did.”

“Funny thing about my job,” Dunbar said, leaning back in his chair. “I get to decide what’s a waste of time and what’s not.”

Dane sighed. “What do you want from me? I’ve told you where I was, everything that happened. What else is there?”

“Let’s say, just for the sake of this discussion, I believe you.”

Hope surged in him, and Dane was almost taken in by Dunbar’s casual tone. He had to remind himself this was no normal discussion—this was an interrogation.

And I’ll bet he’s good at it,
Dane thought.

“Give me some alternatives,” Dunbar said. “Her brother, I got that, but as far as we know he’s not around.”

Dane shook his head in frustration. “I told you, there’s nobody. This is Kayla, for God’s sake. She’s...she’s...”

He stopped. None of the words that came to mind were going to help him. Because they all stemmed from the pain of having to walk away from her and the life he’d always thought they’d have.

“No angry clients, ex-boyfriends?”

“She’s been mine since we were kids,” Dane said. “Everybody knew that. Chad used to rag on her about us—‘two nerds in love,’ he used to say. When she turned sixteen she...blossomed, I guess. People noticed.”

“Guys noticed.”

Dane nodded. “Guys who never noticed her before. I mean, Chad’s friend Troy always used to ask her to leave me for him, but she thought he was just teasing his best friend’s little sister. But then other guys started asking her out.”

“And?”

“She always said no. In case you hadn’t noticed, Kayla’s loyal to the core.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Which is why we’re in this mess.”

“So you’re sure she never cheated on you?”

Dane laughed, short and sharp. “She doesn’t have it in her. That’s just not who she is.”

“Thought you had her under control, did you?” Again Dunbar’s voice seemed a hair too mild.

Dane laughed again at the very thought. “Nobody ‘controls’ a woman as smart as Kayla. I’m saying if she wanted out she’d say so.”

“Hmm.”

Nice and noncommittal, Dane thought. And the silence that spun out afterward invited him to fill it with anything to relieve the tension. Yes, Dunbar was good, he thought. He said nothing more.

A rap on the door disrupted the silence. Dunbar rose and went to talk with the officer outside. The door closed, leaving Dane to wonder what was going on now.

There was no clock in the room, he supposed intentionally; you couldn’t complain about how long you’d been in here if you didn’t know how long it had been. He couldn’t even look at his phone for the time because they’d taken it when they’d brought him here and were probably going through it call by call, contact by contact.

At first he hadn’t been worried, other than that they might screw something up, settings or something. There was nothing in that phone that shouldn’t be—no incriminating pictures or texts or mysterious phone numbers. Nothing in the least suspicious, unless you found a game of Drone Hunt suspicious.

But now he was wondering. Who knows what might seem suspicious to the police?

Sitting there, alone after Dunbar’s interrogation and with the immediate dread about Kayla relieved, the reality of his situation finally began to sink in. And no amount of knowing that that was probably exactly how they wanted him to feel helped alleviate it.

And perversely, ironically, he found himself wondering if he’d been wrong, if maybe Chad was innocent after all.

It could happen. He was sitting here a prime suspect, wasn’t he?

And for the first time, it occurred to him to wonder if he was a prime suspect to Kayla, too.

Chapter 21

W
hen the interview room door opened again, Dane was surprised to see Quinn Foxworth come in alone.

Dane glanced at the door, then back to Quinn.

“Aren’t they afraid I’ll try to strangle you or something?” he asked wearily.

“I think they’re assuming I could defend myself,” Quinn said.

Dane didn’t doubt that. Quinn Foxworth was a tough guy in a very literal sense.

“And I told them they could wait until your lawyer arrived, or let me talk to you now and avoid the burden of attorney-client privilege,” Quinn said.

“I don’t have a lawyer,” Dane said, puzzled.

“You will if it turns out you need one. We have a couple on call. Frankly, I don’t think it will come to that.”

“You’re more confident than I am.”

Quinn smiled easily. “That’s part of the game. They keep you worried and off balance so you’ll make a mistake, say something you shouldn’t, to give yourself away.”

“But there’s nothing to give away.”

“So I’ve been told. Rather vehemently, I might add.”

Quinn’s expression told him by who. “Kayla,” he said, relief softening his voice. “She’s really all right?”

“Yes. Cuts and bruises mostly.”

Dane finally let himself believe it. Quinn saw his reaction. “They told you that, didn’t they?”

“Eventually,” Dane said, remembering the battle of wills with Dunbar. “But I wasn’t sure they weren’t just saying she was okay to get me to talk.”

“Good thinking. And if Dunbar had really thought you were guilty, a good tactic.”

“You think he doesn’t? I mean, I practically lived in that house. It’s not like there’s not evidence of that.”

“I think if he really thought you were guilty, he wouldn’t have let me in here no matter what I said.”

Dane looked around the room. “Are they listening?”

“Probably,” Quinn said cheerfully. “Not a problem.”

“Kayla believes I didn’t do this?”

“Her defense of you was what they call ‘spirited.’”

Dane felt the pressure that had been building in him since he’d wondered if she, too, suspected him, ease a little.

Apparently Quinn found his expression easy to read. “After ten years of her believing in her brother, why would you think she’d abandon you so quickly?”

“Because I said I thought he was guilty. It’s the only part of her life where she’s not...reasonable.”

“Do you really think he did it?”

“I did,” Dane admitted. He glanced around at his surroundings and added, “Then.”

“Easier to see how the wheels of the system grind when you’re in the middle of it, isn’t it?”

“I’ve always believed the cops were the good guys.”

“They are,” Quinn said. “And I get the feeling Dunbar is a particularly good one. But they’re human, contrary to what some think. And when you’re fighting a constant, never-ending battle like they do, there are going to be mistakes made.”

“Like arresting the wrong guy?”

“They haven’t arrested you yet,” Quinn pointed out. “There are cases, yes. But remarkably few, considering. More often the courts—or politicians—have a tendency to let the wrong guy walk.”

Because Kayla had told him Quinn’s history, of how and why the Foxworth Foundation had come to be, Dane was amazed he could speak so calmly about it.

“I didn’t do this,” Dane said, already weary of protesting his innocence and feeling again that perverse twinge of empathy for Chad.

“I believe you. You didn’t do this.”

He hesitated. This man had no reason, no long history with him to draw on to reach that conclusion. “You do?”

Quinn nodded. “And I promised Kayla you’d get all the help you need to prove it.”

Relief swamped him. And he realized what he felt had to be somewhat like what Kayla had felt when she’d realized she had effective, resourceful help in her search for her brother.

“I’m beginning to realize I’ve been...not as understanding as I thought I was,” Dane said with a grimace.

“A dose of walking in another’s shoes does tend to promote understanding,” Quinn said.

Quinn’s cell chirped the arrival of a text message. He pulled it out and read what appeared to be rather lengthy text.

“I’ll be right back,” he said and left the room. Dane didn’t start pacing again; he wasn’t sure he could even get up. He was suddenly tired, almost shaky, as if the adrenaline that had been coursing through him from the moment he’d heard about what had happened had finally ebbed, leaving him enervated.

The door opened again, and Dunbar was back. This time he had Dane’s cell phone and handed it over to him. It was turned on with a familiar screen glowing.

“I like the game,” the detective said. “You do that?”

“My partner,” Dane said. “He does a little designing on the side.”

“Cute. He should market it.”

“He may,” Dane answered, puzzled by the change in attitude.

“Let me know. You’ll be able to because you won’t be leaving town.”

“I hadn’t planned to,” Dane said, but the last word was spoken to the detective’s back as he walked away.

And then Quinn was back.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“Out?” Dane was almost afraid to believe it. “I can go?”

“Yes.” Quinn nodded his head toward the door.

“What—”

“Let’s go,” Quinn said, leading him out.

Dane took the hint and stayed quiet. Unlike his arrival, his exit was through the front door. He followed Quinn out the double glass doors into a brilliantly sunny morning.

“It cleared out,” he said, blinking at the brightness. The sun rose early this time of year, and even now, at 5:30 a.m., it was well clear of the Cascade Mountains.

“Good thing it rained last night,” Quinn said.

“Because of the fire.”

Quinn shook his head. “Because that’s probably the main reason you’re walking out of here.”

Dane’s brows lowered. “What do you mean?”

Quinn unlocked the doors of the blue SUV and they got in.

“So be thankful for the rain,” Quinn went on, “and the cop that lives downstairs from you.”

“Jarrod? What’s he got to do with it?”

“His parking space is next to yours.”

“I know, but—”

“He worked a split shift on DUI patrol last night. Got home about 3:00 a.m. His car was wet. Yours was dry. He noticed.”

“Damn,” Dane said, half to himself. “Thank you, Jarrod. I’ll wash your car for you next time.”

“It’s not enough to clear you completely—you could have used another method to get there—but it got you out for now.”

“I’ll quit complaining when he parks crooked.”

Quinn grinned as he started the engine. “He wasn’t real happy when Teague woke him up two hours after he got to bed, but he cooperated. Called Detective Dunbar right away.”

They pulled out of the parking lot. Dane wondered where they’d be going but was more curious about what had just happened.

“That was the text?”

“Part of it.” Quinn shrugged. “The officers talked to most of your neighbors, but they knew your neighbor had worked that late shift, that he’d been on the street at the time of the explosion, so they let him slide, figuring they’d check with him later. We weren’t so considerate, I’m afraid.”

“Thanks for that,” Dane said fervently. “What was the other part of the text?”

“It was word from our tech-head, that he’d pulled your online messaging session with the company in Dublin from your system. Under the circumstances, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Dane drew back. “He hacked me? How’d he do that? I’ve got some pretty tight security in place.”

“So he told me. But he’s good,” Quinn said.

“He must be really, really good.”

“He is.”

“Now they might say anybody could have been pretending to be you,” Quinn said.

Dane shook his head. “I’ve got a log of that discussion. It’s pretty detailed, with stuff only I would know.”

“Good.”

Quinn made a right turn, away from Kayla’s place and his apartment building.

“We’re not going to Kayla’s?”

“No. I think you’d best stay away for a while. Later maybe.”

“Afraid I’ll get upset? It was practically my home, too.”

“No. It’s the returning to the scene of the crime thing. Arsonists have a tendency to do that. Don’t want to make Dunbar change his mind.”

Dane sighed. “Not sure I want to see it anyway.”

“Actually, from the front, it doesn’t look like anything happened. It was just the back. The bedroom.”

Dane suppressed a shudder. “God. She could have been killed.”

“If she’d been in there, yes.”

“Why wasn’t she?”

Quinn glanced at him. “Same reason you weren’t sleeping at two in the morning, I imagine.”

He couldn’t deny that so Dane fell silent, wrestling with the one question that now seemed paramount. He hadn’t bombed Kayla’s house, so who had?

“Who the hell would have done it?” he muttered.

“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Quinn said. “If we take you out of the picture, then the most likely possibilities are it’s connected to what happened ten years ago or to Kayla’s work now.”

“But why would anybody try to hurt somebody who’s just helping people? And if it’s connected to her folks, why now, after all this time?”

“If we knew those answers we’d have the answer,” Quinn said as he made another turn that told Dane they were headed out to Foxworth.

“Dunbar said all options were still on the table.”

“I said he’s a good cop.”

“So you think he’s considering the other possibilities?”

“I know he is. I’m guessing the speculation is that somebody in her counseling group is a threat. They’re all the victims of crimes, which means there are perpetrators. Maybe one that’s still on the loose is afraid Kayla will discover something from one of them.”

“But then why not go after the person? Why go after her?”

“Exactly the problem with that theory.”

“Then it has to be related to her folks, even if it was ten years ago.”

“That’s a long time to stay dormant,” Quinn said.

“But something’s changed,” Dane said. “She has you looking into it now. It’s not just her trying on her own anymore.”

“Yes.”

“Foxworth has a high level of success. If the killer found out you were involved...”

“It could be that our presence has stirred up something,” Quinn said, “whoever the killer is. And the bottom line is always that there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

Dane absorbed all the implications. “That means...he’s back.”

“Assuming he ever really left, yes.”

Quinn’s calm tone told Dane the man had already realized that. He was beginning to doubt Quinn was ever really surprised by anything.

“What now?”

“Now? We turn up the heat.”