FATAL FORTY-EIGHT: A Kate Huntington Mystery (The Kate Huntington Mysteries Book 7) (27 page)

“Stay where you are for a moment, sir.” Tim took a couple steps backward and gestured for Kate to join him. When she had, he whispered, “Does he look like the pictures and the sketch to you?”

She studied the man for a minute. “Not exactly, but he sure could be his cousin. But it’s more his build and the gray hair, I think, than facial features. Sir,” she called out, “how old are you?”

“Fifty-five.”

“So how is it that you have a thirteen-year-old daughter?”

“I married late. Turns out I shouldn’t have married at all.”

“Would you mind if we looked around inside, sir?” Tim said. “We’re working a very time-sensitive case and it would help tremendously if we could quickly eliminate you as a suspect.”

“Suspect of what?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you any details of an open investigation, sir. But a woman’s life hangs in the balance.”

The guy’s eyebrows went up. “No wonder you freaked when you saw that doll’s hand. Sure you can search the house. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Tim’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved it and looked at the screen, then held it to his ear. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

His eyes went wide as he listened. “We’ll find it. There are two uniforms on their way to our current location. I’ll get them to conduct the search here and we’ll head your way.”

The officers arrived just as Tim was disconnecting. He motioned them over and filled them in. “Be careful. This guy seems on the up-and-up, but he looks enough like our perp that we’re concerned. Don’t let your guard down with him.”

The two men nodded and started up the walk to the house. The older officer gestured for Paulson to lead the way to his door.

Kate and Tim returned to her car. He moved around to the driver’s side. She noticed he didn’t holster his gun until the officers and Paulson had gone inside.

Once they were in the car, he asked, “You know where Valley Fields North Park is?” He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

“Vaguely. Turn right when you get back to York Road.” She leaned forward and tapped the GPS icon for points of interest. She had to spell the name into the device. Finally when she got to
North
, it recognized the park.

“It’s in Lutherville.”

“Where the hell is Lutherville?” Tim asked.

“Just north of Timonium which is just north of Towson. What’s at this park?”

He shot her a quick glance. “Charles Tolliver.”

Her heart stuttered, then pounded in her chest. “Is…is he okay?”

“No. The lieutenant said he’s barely alive. He was found by some hikers, lying in the woods. Shot twice, right shoulder, left side. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

~~~~~~~~

It had taken all of Sally’s willpower to control herself until the bastard left. Then she’d hobbled quickly into the bathroom and vomited up beef and shrimp.

Don’t believe him. This could just be more psychological torture.

She longed for the ability to wipe her mouth. After a couple minutes of trial and error, she managed to nudge the bathroom faucet on with her chin. Awkwardly, she maneuvered her head under the stream of water and rinsed her mouth.

She nudged the sink handle back closed again, then stood up and looked in the mirror. No surprise that she looked like hell. Water dripped from her chin. She turned her head and rubbed it on her shoulder.

She wasn’t sure that life without Charles was worth living but somewhere in the last half hour or so, she’d decided that this was not how she wanted to die.

She started working on getting out of the straightjacket. The extra space she’d garnered was helpful but she still couldn’t quite figure out how to get her arm over her head.

She kept at it. Soon she was hot and sweaty all over again.

~~~~~~~~

5:00 p.m. Sunday

Skip and Julie Wallace had just arrived at the small park when Kate’s Prius pulled into the parking lot, which was already crowded with police and emergency vehicles. Skip’s jaw clenched at the sight of Tim Cornelius climbing out of the driver’s side of his wife’s car.

Now is not the time
, he reminded himself.

The two of them approached and he gave Cornelius a curt nod. “How you holding up, darlin’?” he said to his wife.

Kate’s gaze flicked to Julie, then back to him. “I’m okay.”

The four of them started toward an area a couple hundred feet away where they could see signs of activity at the edge of the woods. A thin path had been worn through the high grass. They juggled awkwardly for position and walked single file toward the woods.

A young uniform, his skin so pale it was almost transparent, stood on the path halfway there. He held up a hand. Tim responded by removing the slim wallet holding his badge and flipping it open.

“I know who you are, sir,” the officer said. “I have a message from the lieutenant.” He stared at the gray-blue sky for a second, no doubt trying to remember the exact words. “‘Tell the FBI agents and their sidekicks it’s too damn tight back here. One agent can come back but the others wait by the cars.’”

Cornelius looked at Julie and cocked a thumb toward the parking lot. She didn’t protest. He was the senior agent.

Skip pivoted on the narrow path. They shuffled back the way they’d come, Kate in front, Julie bringing up the rear.

Once at the edge of the parking lot, Kate headed toward her car without looking back. Skip heard a strange sound from Julie–most likely a stifled snort.

He set out after his wife. His long strides brought him next to her just as she reached the Prius and started to open the door. He put a hand on her shoulder.

She froze.

“Kate, we’ve got nothing better to do right now, so we might as well clear the air.”

She didn’t move, still standing with her back partially toward him. “Not in front of her.”

Skip glanced behind him. Julie was far enough away that she probably couldn’t hear what they said, but she was watching them.

“Come on.” He wrapped a hand around his wife’s upper arm and took off at a brisk pace toward a fire engine and ambulance idling several spaces away.

Some of the firefighters were standing around, looking bored. It was unlikely they would be needed but they had been dispatched just in case.

At the moment, Skip would give anything to change places with one of them.

There was relative privacy on the far side of the fire engine. He stopped and turned to her, letting go of her arm.

She turned halfway away from him.

“Damn it, Kate, when are you going to get it through your thick skull that you’re the only woman I want, or ever
will
want in this lifetime?”

She gave him a sideways glance, then dropped her gaze to the ground. “I know that.”

That surprised him a little. “Then why are you mad at me?”

She didn’t answer.

“Look,” he said, “we’ve got enough of a roller coaster going on here, with trying to find Sally, without you inviting the green-eyed monster along for the ride.”

Still no response. He shook his head and stifled a sigh. “I’m only trying to support SA Wallace some, because she’s a newbie detective.”

“I already figured that out.”

He blew out air and threw his hands out to the side. “Then what the hell is the problem?”

She turned. Her lips were pinched into a narrow line but her eyes were shiny. She pointed to his left hand. “I’ve never really believed that you would be unfaithful, but then I never thought you’d take your wedding band off when you’re squiring a young woman around either. That is one of the most despicable things a married man can do in my book.”

Chauffeuring an out-of-town FBI agent wasn’t his idea of ‘squiring a young woman around’ but he figured challenging Kate’s semantics wouldn’t go over well right now.

When he didn’t say anything, she turned slightly away from him again and dropped her gaze to the asphalt.

“I got hooked by a married man,” she said in a low voice, “briefly, when I was in college. I didn’t know he was married until we’d had a couple dates and I was half in love with him. The third date, he forgot to take his ring off before picking me up.”

Skip put his left hand on her shoulder. “Kate.”

She didn’t respond.

He pointed his right index finger at the bumps on his left hand. “Kate,” he said more emphatically.

She turned her head slightly toward him.

“Poison ivy, remember? From last weekend. I’ve been taking my ring off at night and putting that cortisone cream on it.
Yesterday
morning, when I left the house at
three a.m.
, I forgot to put the ring back on.”

The muscles sagged in the shoulder under his hand. She stood still for a beat, a pink tide creeping up her cheeks.

She bit her lower lip. “Okay, feeling like a damn fool here.”

He gently turned her around and gathered her into his arms. “Does this mean the war is over?”

She nodded mutely against his chest.

He kissed the top of her curly head and felt the tension start to leave her body.

“So what’s with you and Timmy?” he said in what he thought was a teasing voice.

She jumped away from him as if he’d slapped her. “What do you mean by that?”

“I didn’t mean anything by that.” His gut twisted. “
Should
I mean something by that?”

“Of course not.” Her voice was huffy. “We’re colleagues consulting on a case.”

A sharp knife of fear stabbed at his heart. He’d never had any doubts about Kate before. Well, only once when someone had intentionally made it look like she and Rob were having an affair. But even then, he’d found the idea hard to believe.

A small voice in his head said,
How arrogant. You think you’re so irresistible, she’d never be attracted to anyone else?

He ignored the voice and stared at his wife. Her response to his teasing was out of character, as was her over-reaction to his leaving his ring off. Although he understood that better now that he knew about the jerk in college.

Was she interested in Cornelius? The man wasn’t bad looking, kinda the rugged type. And he had a psychology background, thought the way she did, spoke her language. He probably had as many fancy degrees as she did.

Skip had never felt inadequate about that before, but suddenly his lousy bachelor’s degree in criminal justice seemed insignificant by comparison to the multiple sheepskins she had hanging on her office wall.

She was staring up at him, an odd expression on her face.

He grabbed her shoulders and practically lifted her off her feet. He crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her fiercely, his tongue probing her mouth in sharp thrusts.

She stiffened, then slowly relaxed against him. He softened the kiss and held her more gently. His groin stirred.

A soft moan came from deep in her throat.

More stirring. Without breaking the kiss, he let go of her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her. She melted into him. Her hands slid under his jacket. One moved around to his back, carefully avoiding his waistband holster, and pulled him snugger against her.

He wanted to tear her clothes off and make love to her right there on the rough asphalt.

Her other hand found its way up under his shirt and stroked his chest. His skin quivered.

Skip stopped breathing. For a brief moment, he felt the sensation of losing himself in her–as if he
had
thrown her down on the asphalt and was making love to her, to all of her, not just her mouth.

She pulled her head back, gasping, her eyes the deep violet they became when she was aroused. “Skip–”

“Ahem.”

They whirled around.

Tim Cornelius was standing at the rear end of the fire engine. “Sorry to interrupt, but Lieutenant Anderson wants us.”

Kate pulled away, but she grabbed Skip’s hand. He was relieved by the gesture. She was letting him know she was with him, not Cornelius.

 She tugged him toward the agent. “Charles? Is he okay?”

“He’s still breathing.” The bleakness in the man’s tone was more effective than a cold shower for Skip.

They rounded the end of the fire engine. The small crowd surrounding the lieutenant included Mac, Rose and Manny Ortiz.

Judith’s called everyone in.

Skip suspected that meant she had a new game plan.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Judith Anderson stood in the parking lot of the small park and scanned the tired, deflated faces of her detectives and the civilian consultants. Even the FBI agents were looking discouraged.

Her own body longed for a chair, or better still, a bed.

She stiffened her spine and said in a brusque voice, “Tolliver’s on his way to the hospital. The techs are processing the scene. There’s a lot of blood but I don’t think he was shot here. Wallet’s gone. A ring and watch are intact.”

“So not a robbery,” Skip Canfield said.

“No. I think the wallet was taken to delay identification.”

“Who found him?” the wiry little guy, Reilly, called from the back of the group.

“Couple of teenagers out hiking. They called 911. Dispatcher realized the description matched my BOLO.”

“Did the paramedics say whether Charles is going to be all right?” Kate’s voice shook.

Judith had asked the same question. The paramedics had just looked at her. “The docs will do the best they can,” one of them said.

She stifled a sigh. “Neither bullet seems to have hit a vital organ, but he lost a lot of blood and he’s shocky.”

She turned away from the anxiety in Kate’s eyes. “I think Tolliver stumbled on our perp’s hidey-hole and got himself shot for his efforts. There’s some flattened grass along the path that indicates someone drove a vehicle up to the entrance to the woods, and drag marks from there to where Tolliver was dumped. He wasn’t very far back in the woods. Tolliver’s a big guy, and Delaney isn’t. So my question is how did he get this big guy, dead weight, into a vehicle in broad daylight without someone noticing?”

“Single-family house,” Cornelius said. “Not a condo or townhouse. Maybe a duplex.”

“With an attached garage,” Canfield added.