Kansas City Cover-Up (4 page)

“Damn it, guys. If you’re going to eavesdrop on the police scanner, make sure you’ve got your information right. I brought in a...” What exactly was Gabriel Knight? A suspect? A lead on a murder investigation? A not-so-innocent bystander? “I brought in a person of interest who is...helping with a case. He got injured at a crime scene late this afternoon.”

Her father propped his hands at his waist and shook his head, needing a little more convincing for the fear to dissipate. “But you’re okay? You missed dinner. Dad made his Guinness bread and stew. You never miss that.”

“Oh.” She smiled at the silver-haired gentleman beside her father. “Sorry, Grandpa. I lost track of the time. Did you save me a slice?”

Seamus Watson released his double grip on his cane and squeezed her hand. “Of course, sweetie.”

Keir, the brother closest in age to her, loosened the knot of his tie. “I heard you were in pursuit of an armed suspect. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“A couple of bruises and a wounded ego for letting the guy I was chasing get away. But I’m fine.” She beamed a reassuring smile to each member of her close-knit family before reaching up to smooth the rumpled collar of her father’s blue chambray shirt. “Now you want to get the gang out of here? I’m sure somebody in this family besides me has to work in the morning. I don’t know about any of you, but I’m exhausted. Let’s all go to our respective homes, and I promise I’ll swing by the house tomorrow morning.” She winked to the eighty-year-old sweetheart beside her dad. Seamus had always been her go-to guy when she needed someone in the family to listen to her. “A toasty piece of Grandpa’s bread and an over-easy egg to dip it in is my favorite breakfast.”

“I’m glad it was just a misunderstanding and that you’re all right.” His old-country lilt was as softly reassuring as the sweet peck on the cheek he gave her. “I’ll have breakfast hot and ready for you. Good night, Livvy.”

“Good night, Grandpa.”

They were in the midst of hugs and good-nights and going on their way when her father puffed up to his full height and glared over Olivia’s shoulder. “This SOB is your person of interest?”

Olivia didn’t have to turn to know that Gabe had come up behind her. She was learning to recognize him by the size of his shadow and the subtle scent that was a mix of soap and starch and now a tinge of antiseptic. And that deep-pitched voice with the cynical undertones was unmistakable.

“Is this the rest of your family, Detective?”

The
rest
of her family? Although the question didn’t quite make sense, Olivia nodded. Every loud, overprotective, stubborn Irish man belonged to her. “These are my guys.”

Gabe stepped up beside her, his gaze sweeping the circle of her family. “Let me guess, you’re
all
cops?”

“Kansas City’s Finest.” Her father’s shoulders came back proudly as he made the claim. “Not that you’d care.”

Of course, they’d recognize the department’s harshest critic—and be less than pleased to learn he was the man she’d brought to the ER. She didn’t suppose introductions would alleviate the tension rising around her, but it couldn’t hurt to turn the rumored enemy into an actual person with a name and a stitched-up arm—or to let Gabe know just how proud she was of her family and their accomplishments.

“Dad, this is Gabriel Knight. You probably recognize his name from the
Kansas City Journal.
My father, Thomas Watson. Dad retired a senior detective from the department a couple years ago. This is my grandfather, Seamus, a longtime desk sergeant, also KCPD, retired.” There was no sense adding a title to the other introductions—they all wore the badges and ME card from their respective departments proudly on display. “My brothers, Duff, Niall and Keir.”

If anything, the animosity in the air thickened. Her father looked as grim as she’d ever seen him. “Introductions aren’t necessary, Livvy. We’ve met.”

She swiveled her gaze up to Gabe. He wasn’t smiling, either. He nodded, confirming her dad’s icy statement. “Watson. When I met your daughter, I wasn’t expecting to run into you. Maybe I just didn’t want to.”

“How do you two know each other?” Olivia asked.

“Your father was the cop who investigated Dani’s murder.”

Chapter Four

“What were you thinking?”

The fidgety young man sitting in the plush chair on the other side of the desk was crawling out of his skin as he listened to the calmer voice.

“You could have ruined everything. I told you I’d take care of it.”

“I had to do something,” the young man argued.

“No, you didn’t. If you’d been caught, your actions would have jeopardized everything we’ve worked for.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Surprised. Maybe a little disappointed.” That sucked the nervous energy right out of him. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do. But I can’t go to prison.” The young man scratched at the marks on the back of his hand. He needed a shave, some sleep, and most likely, a fix. “I don’t think I could handle that. What if Mr. Kober talked?”

“He won’t now, will he? And he wouldn’t have. As I said, everything is as it should be, according to my plan. I’m taking care of the situation, just as I’m taking care of you.” The host unlocked the top right drawer of the desk and reached inside to pull out a small envelope filled with cash. The young man’s eyes rounded like saucers and he nearly licked his chapped lips in anticipation. “You know I shouldn’t give you this. It’s not much, just enough to tide you over for a few days.”

The young man leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t get any money right now. It’s all tied up.”

“I’m sure you feel frustrated about that.”

“Helpless is more like it. When I saw on TV that Senator McCoy was running for reelection, and that Mr. Kober was being investigated, I had to do something. He knew about that woman. What if he knew about me, too?” The nerves were kicking in again. “I could lose what little I have left. If the truth comes out...”

This misguided, troubled young man had no real understanding of the truth. “You wouldn’t want your family to find out what you’ve done, would you?”

His chair rattled against the floor as he visibly shook. “No.”

“Then trust me. Just like you have all along. I’ve taken good care of you, haven’t I? I’ve helped you.”

His brown eyes fixated on the envelope. “Yeah.”

“When you listen to me and do as I suggest, everything is fine?”

The young man nodded.

“Then listen to me now.” The host slipped the envelope across the desk and the young man snatched it up and stuffed it inside his jacket. “It’s more important than ever that you don’t draw any attention to yourself. Go home to your family. Clean yourself up. Get back to your work and leave everything to me. I’ve got it all under control—”

“
I
want to be in control.” Angry tears dotted his cheeks as the young man pounded his fist on top of the desk. “I’m not in control of my own life, anymore.”

The host inhaled a deep breath and exhaled the irritation this visitor was causing. “That will come in time. I promise you. We can’t solve all your problems in one day.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“I know. But until you learn to make the best choices for yourself, you need to listen to me. Do what I tell you and everything will be fine. Do you understand that?”

The young man’s head jerked with a nod.

“Good.”

* * *

O
LIVIA
TILTED
HER
EYES
to the rearview mirror and drummed her fingers on the Explorer’s steering wheel. It was still there.

The low-slung muscle car with the tinted windows sat two vehicles behind her, waiting at the same stoplight. Normally, she would have dismissed several sightings of the same car on the way to work as a comrade in arms, battling rush-hour traffic en route to his or her job in downtown Kansas City.

But she didn’t like not being able to get some description of the driver—gender, age, ethnicity. She didn’t like having her vision so obscured by traffic that she couldn’t get a license plate number. She especially didn’t like spotting the same car cruising past her father’s house long before she’d pulled onto the Interstate to merge with the thousands of other cars swarming into the city this morning. And seeing the same black car pull off on the same exit to enter the heart of downtown raised every hackle at the nape of her neck.

Someone was following her.

At least, that’s what every instinct that had been on hyperalert since yesterday afternoon was trying to tell her.

Yesterday, she’d made a mental note of the silver SUV Gabe Knight drove when she dropped him off. Although her goodbye and
Don’t call me, I’ll call you
had been firm and to the point, she wouldn’t put it past him to tail her, in hopes of finding out information on his fiancée’s murder. But why switch vehicles? She knew he had an obsessive interest in the case. But other than not sharing the connection he had to her father, he’d seemed like a straightforward kind of guy. This had to be something else, right?

But she’d been wrong about Ron Kober’s murder being a wasted errand for her and Jim. She’d been wrong about the man in the stairwell intending no harm. She might even have been wrong about Gabriel Knight being the coldhearted villain the rest of the department believed him to be.

Maybe yesterday hadn’t been a fluke, and her people-reading radar was on the fritz. She could be wrong about Mr. Muscle Car back there, too. But just to test a theory...

As soon as the light changed, Olivia nosed her Explorer into the turn lane and made a sharp left without signaling. She raised an apologetic hand at the honks of protest and cruised on through the intersection. Good. The driver in the black car wasn’t laying on the horn or making any sudden moves to turn the corner after her.

Huffing out the breath she must have been holding, Olivia relaxed her grip around the steering wheel and merged into traffic to double back to her original route. So maybe the car wasn’t following her. If it showed up again between here and the KCPD parking garage, she could always stick the siren on her roof and swing around to make a traffic stop and get her questions answered. But for now, she could drop her guard.

Olivia drove the last six blocks without another sighting of the black car. Not Gabe Knight. Not a threat. Her suspicion eased enough to chalk up the notion she was being followed to coincidence. Either a car dealer had made a fortune selling more than one customized car, or the driver was simply traveling the same route that she was. Stranger things had happened.

With a little rational thought, Olivia had her emotional armor firmly back in place as she pulled into the KCPD parking garage. She locked up her SUV and headed down the stairs, joining the migration of personnel reporting in for morning duty.

The sun in the east was warm, peeking between the tall buildings of downtown Kansas City. The newly planted dogwood trees in front of the limestone building that served as both Fourth Precinct and administrative headquarters were budding out. Her tummy was full of Grandpa Seamus’s good cooking. Her dad had tolerated her questions about Dani Reese’s murder—even though any mention of Gabe Knight still seemed to get him hot under the collar. The irksome conflicts that had messed up yesterday for her were just that—yesterday’s business. She was nothing if not resilient. Feeling stronger and smarter and more sure of herself this morning, Olivia looked forward to seeing friends and getting some solid investigative work done.

The building’s public facade was feeling more familiar, too, with several months of construction and reinstallation and upgrades to the security system finally complete. The entryway at the top of the gray granite steps had been rebuilt after a tornado the previous summer had toppled stately pine trees and tossed a vehicle through the front doors. There were new benches out front, new shine to the steel framing the double doors, manufacturer stickers still stuck to the glass that had recently been replaced. But despite the torn-up landscaping, shattered windows and damaged antennae and satellite dishes on the roof that had been repaired or replaced, the concrete-and-steel heart of the ninety-year-old building remained intact.

Olivia wished the officer she’d been chatting with a good day and took a detour to one of the benches. Another departmental fixture that hadn’t changed much was Max Krolikowski. Olivia grinned at the burly blond detective in the black leather blazer reclining against the back of the bench, with one foot propped up on the opposite knee and a Churchill-style cigar pinched between his lips. The uniform had changed as he’d moved from assignment to assignment, but now that the two were both working in the cold case unit, she’d learned that the former army sergeant wasn’t as antisocial and bad for the department’s public image as he’d like most people to believe.

He muttered a curse that made her smile when he saw her approach, sat up straight and pulled the flattened tip of the cigar from his mouth. “Here it comes,” he growled.

Olivia sat on the bench beside him. “I thought you gave up smoking.”

Although he wasn’t any older than her brother Duff, Max had his grumpy-old-man shtick down to an art form. “Do you see a match or lighter on me?”

“Well, I can’t imagine eating that stogie is any better for you.” She eyed the trash can beside him. “Why don’t you just throw it away?”

“Mind your own business, Liv.” He flicked the cigar into the trash, then pulled two more wrapped smokes from his chest pocket to show her how ornery he could be. “I’m not one of your brothers. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Uh-huh. That’s why there was a stain from breakfast, or maybe even last night’s dinner, peeking from behind the badge hanging at the front of his shirt.

Olivia checked her watch and stood. “You know I only nag because I care about you.”

“Bite me.”

Olivia laughed. “Come on. Roll call is about to start. Then we have our briefing with Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor. I’ve got a six-year-old murder case I want to take another look at.”

He tucked the cigars inside the front of his jacket and dropped his work-booted foot to the pavement. “Sounds like reason enough to start my day.”

A shadow fell over Olivia and she shivered. But that rush of anticipation at the idea of butting heads with Gabriel Knight again quickly died when she faced familiar cocoa-brown eyes that had once made her heart skip a beat. Marcus Brower’s perfect white smile lit up his face with a grin. “Hey, look, it’s Beauty and the Beast.”

Her heart still skipped a beat. But it was a jolt of surprise, of not being prepared to fend off the inevitable suspicion and remembered humiliation pounding through her veins. Even if the pain wasn’t as intense as it had once been, it took Olivia a deep breath and a needless adjusting of the zippers on her teal leather jacket to paste a wry smile on her own face and answer. “Good morning, Marcus.”

He winked. “Morning, babe.”

What Max Krolikowski lacked in manners, he made up for in loyalty. While Olivia bristled at the endearment, her grousing coworker stood up beside her. “We were just leaving.”

But Marcus’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Hey, Liv. We see each other every day, but we never talk. Can we? Are you free for lunch?”

“No.”

“Dinner?”

She shook her head. “I’m busy.”

“Don’t blow me off. I know you’re not seeing anyone.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.” She jerked her arm from his grasp. “I’ve got plans.” And by dinner tonight, she hoped that pathetic little lie would be the truth.

“Okay, so you’re not purposely avoiding me.” A dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth as the charming smile reappeared. “Morning, noon or night—you tell me when, and I’ll be there. I don’t like the way we left things.”

An image of a naked Marcus rolling around on
their
bed with the receptionist from his dentist’s office or the gym or wherever he’d picked up that latest conquest blipped through her mind. Olivia resolutely slammed the door on that memory and backed up a step to follow Max. “There’s nothing more to say. You made your choice.”

He caught the tips of her fingers with his, lightly hanging on. “We were good friends—partners—before I screwed up. I miss the way we used to be. I made a mistake. I want to fix that.”

Max leveled his icy gaze over Olivia’s shoulder. “We’ve got meetings to get to, sunshine. So do you.”

The charm bled from Marcus’s tone. “Was I talking to you, Krolikowski? Bug off.”

Olivia extricated her fingers from Marcus’s pseudograsp and pushed Max on up the stairs before a real argument with an unwanted audience could start. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not giving up on this, Liv,” Marcus called after her. “I was a better person when I was with you. I owe you an explanation.”

A spurt of her own temper rose like bile in her throat. The explanation was simple. Marcus was a player. His ability to say no to any flirtatious come-on when they’d been together wasn’t any stronger than his ability to grasp the meaning of the word right now. Yes, she’d been good for him—but the reverse wasn’t true. She didn’t need a private heart-to-heart to understand that.

She spun around to let Marcus know exactly when she’d be willing to listen to any excuse he had to say. Never. “You don’t owe me any...”

But the snarky rebuttal died on her lips. Her new partner, Jim Parker, had come up behind Marcus. “Is there a problem here?”

“No.” Great. Just what she needed—her new partner discovering what a naive idiot she’d been with her old one. Olivia quickly excused herself, pushing past Max to shove open the front door. “I’m going to work, even if no one else is.”

A look from Max and Jim wisely kept Marcus from joining them on the elevator up to the third floor. Olivia pushed the button and pretended the number three lighting up was the most interesting thing in the world. Max snorted and drifted to the back of the elevator to lean against the railing. “Does anything ever come out of that guy’s mouth that isn’t loaded with lies?”

When she didn’t respond, Jim turned to Max. “Is there an issue with Detective Brower I should know about?”

“Liv used to be his partner over in Vice until Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor recruited her for the Cold Case Squad.”

Olivia was only partially aware of being the topic of conversation as she pulled her hand away from the panel. She curled her fingers into her palm, caught off guard by a remembered touch. But it wasn’t that cutesy little coupling of fingertips outside when Marcus had stopped her—or even the brush of his lover’s hand across her body months earlier. She was remembering a firmer touch—a handshake, of all things—with Gabriel Knight. An unapologetic stamp of skin on skin. Strong. Warm. Lingering.