Millionaire's Last Stand (19 page)

And he kind of liked it.

What had come over him? He loved his work. Loved staring at empty lots and envisioning the structures he could put up there. How had he become bored and unhappy with the job without even realizing it?

The ringing of his cell phone ended his troubling reverie. A glance at the caller ID showed Hank Shaw’s number, Cole’s private investigator.

“That was fast,” Cole said in lieu of hello. “Got something already?”

Hank chuckled on the other end. “Yes and no. Just wanted to tell you I did a quick check on George Winston. You said you wanted me to look into him first, right?”

“Yeah. What’d you find?”

“Nothing much. Aside from having the reputation of being an ass, Winston is squeaky clean. I did a soft check on his finances and nothing suspicious stood out to me, not in the company account, or his personal checking account.”

Cole didn’t bother inquiring how Shaw had managed to look into Winston’s personal and company bank accounts. There were some things you simply didn’t ask your P.I.

“I also managed to get into his date book and home calendar—”

Again, Cole didn’t even ask.

“—and he’s got an alibi for the night your ex-wife was killed. And he’s alibi’d for the past three days too. He was in Boston with his wife. Airline confirms it.”

“Could he have hired someone to kill Teresa and go after Jamie?”

“Maybe, but again, there was nothing fishy about the finances. No large withdrawals that indicate he may have paid someone to do his dirty work.”

Cole frowned, but he wasn’t really surprised. It had been incredibly far-fetched, the thought that a business rival was involved in Teresa’s death. There might be bad blood between them, but Winston didn’t strike him as a killer.

“Thanks for the update, Hank. Anything else I should know?”

“Word around town is that Winston is gloating over your current predicament,” Hank said in an apologetic voice. “He’s spoken to several bankers and urged them to cut your financing.”

“Shocking,” Cole mumbled to himself. Out loud, he said, “Thanks again, Hank. You’re looking into Donovan Enterprises next?”

“Yep, I got the email you sent.”

The email in which Cole had pretty much given the investigator a key to the company. Pass codes that would allow Hank to access employee computers through a back door, passwords for personnel files, staff evaluations, everything only Cole was privy to. He hated giving Shaw such free rein, but with Jamie’s life potentially at stake, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“I’ll be in touch,” Hank said. “Expect an initial report on past employees in twenty-four hours.”

Cole thanked the man for the third time, then hung up the phone and sighed. A part of him still couldn’t accept Jamie’s suggestion that the killer might be after
him.
He’d always prided himself on his integrity, the honest way he did business. To think that someone might despise him and was plotting to hurt him was a concept he couldn’t reconcile.

“Uh-oh, why do you look so serious?”

Jamie’s quiet voice came from the doorway. His head lifted as she entered the kitchen, wearing nothing save for one of his long-sleeved shirts. The material hung down to her knees, the same cute knees that had straddled him just an hour ago.

“I talked to the investigator,” he said as she walked over and sat in his lap.

The feel of her firm, warm bottom against his groin made him shudder with pleasure. Lord, he would never tire of this woman. Everything about her turned him on beyond belief.

Trying to quell the desire rising in his body, he continued the recap of his conversation. “He checked out one of my competitors and didn’t find anything suspicious. Doesn’t look like the guy is involved in any of this. He’s looking into my employees now.”

Jamie rested her chin on his shoulder. “If he doesn’t come up with anything, we could always look at Valerie Matthews.”

“Valerie? Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about her. It seems like she’s always getting in my face, and that’s a red flag for me—people who get too involved in ongoing investigations.”

He nodded. “Yeah, she is pretty vocal about this case. But I’m pretty sure Valerie has an alibi for that night. She was out of town at some office retreat.”

“And now she’s first in line yelling at everyone to send you to jail. You know, law enforcement would be so much easier if the murderers just did their thing and then came in to confess.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Ever the optimist.”

With a giggle, Jamie hopped out of his lap. “A girl can dream.” She headed for the fridge. “Is there anything to eat? Because I’m starv—”

There was a loud buzz, causing Cole to groan in irritation. “Now what?” he muttered as he stumbled to his feet and headed for the intercom. He pressed a button and barked, “Yeah?”

“Donovan, it’s Finn,” a voice crackled. “I need to speak to you.”

Again? Cole was tempted to tell the sheriff to get lost, but then realized this might be about Jamie’s shooting. Had Finn found something already? Quickly opening the gate, Cole left Jamie in the kitchen and went to answer the door, hoping the sheriff was here to deliver the good news that the shooter had been apprehended. When he opened the door, however, he was taken aback by the grave look on Finn’s face. Oh no, this definitely wasn’t a good news visit.

Finn stood on the porch, his shoulders tense, his expression clearly saying
I don’t want to be here right now.

Cole glanced past the other man’s broad shoulders and spotted a second vehicle in the driveway, occupied by Deputies Holt and Patton. A police cruiser and Finn’s Jeep. This couldn’t be good.

“Finnegan…what’s going on?” Cole asked warily.

The sheriff briefly closed his eyes, then opened them to reveal a flicker of pleading reluctance. “Please don’t give me trouble here, all right? I’m just doing my job.”

“Finnegan…”

“I need you to come with me.”

Cole’s stomach went rigid. “Pardon me?”

“Christ, I don’t enjoy having to do this, okay?” Finn exhaled a ragged breath. “But I need to bring you into the station for questioning.”

Jamie heard Cole’s outraged voice from the porch and promptly shut the refrigerator door. She hurried to the front entrance, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood. She didn’t know what she was expecting to find, but it wasn’t the sight of Cole and Finn facing off with their faces inches apart as Cole said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded.

Finn gave her pained look. “I need Cole to come into the station. And willingly, because I’m not in the mood to use my handcuffs on him.”

“What?
Why?
”

Finn ignored her and turned back to Cole. “Come on, Donovan, don’t do this.”

Jamie stepped between the two men, glaring at Finn. At five-nine, she was a tall woman, and nearly at eye level with her friend. “Finn, tell me what’s going on.”

Finn glanced at Cole, then at Jamie. With a sigh, he edged backward and gestured for her to follow him. “Give us a second, Donovan.”

Jamie battled confusion as Finn led her over to his Jeep, where he crossed his arms over his broad chest and lowered his voice. “We found the gun, Jamie. The murder weapon.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago. The operator at the town dump found a forty-five caliber Smith & Wesson by a pile of construction debris.”

“So?”

“So the bullet the coroner fished out of Teresa came from a forty-five. The ballistics guy just tested the gun and determined it was the one that fired that bullet.”

Jamie frowned. “What does this have to do with Cole?”

“Anna got the logs from the dump—there’s a record of everyone who goes there, the trash is weighed, recorded, the whole deal.” Finn gave a reluctant pause. “Cole was there, Jamie. Three days after Teresa died.”

Shock slammed into her. “Finn…so what if he went to the dump? That doesn’t mean he tossed the gun.”

“Maybe not, but I still need to bring him in.”

Anxiety swam in her belly. “Cole didn’t kill his ex-wife. You have to believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. But do you honestly expect me to ignore this? You’re a federal agent, damn it. You know I need to bring him in for questioning. You would do the same thing in my place.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Forcing herself to forget her personal involvement with Cole, she thought about what she would do in Finn’s position, if she’d discovered that Cole could be linked to the place where the murder weapon had been found.

What would
she
do?

“Okay. Okay.” She sighed. “You’re right. Just let me talk to him for a moment.”

“Convince him to come in without a fight, Jamie. I don’t want a scene here, not in front of my guys.”

Drawing in an unsteady breath, she walked back to the porch where Cole stood with a stoic expression. “Cole,” she started. “You need to—”

“No,” he cut in. “Don’t tell me to cooperate. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m not going anywhere with that man.”

“You have to,” she said sadly.

His eyes flashed with anger.

“He’ll arrest if you don’t. So please,” she pleaded, “go to the station. I’m sure this will all be cleared up in no time.”

“
What
will get cleared up?” Frustration thickened his voice. “What the hell is happening?”

“Go to the station, Cole. Finn will explain everything.”

“Why don’t
you
explain it to me?”

“Because I can’t. I can’t get involved in this.” She was frustrated too now, and she could feel Finn’s unhappy gaze burning a hole in her back. “Please, do what he says. I’ll get dressed and meet you there, okay?”

After a second of obvious reluctance, Cole gave a bleak nod. “Fine. But only because you asked, Jamie.”

Relieved, she glanced at Finn and nodded imperceptibly.

He took that as his cue to advance, and when he reached them, she met his tense blue eyes and said, “Can you ask your deputies to stay while I put some clothes on? I’d like to meet you at the station. I’d drive Cole’s pickup but the painkillers are still in my system.”

Finn’s face softened. “No problem.” He quickly instructed Anna and Max to stick around, then turned to Cole. “You ready, Donovan?”

“What the hell do you think?” Cole muttered, but he didn’t put up another fight as he followed Finn down the porch steps.

Jamie had never felt so helpless as she watched Cole get into the passenger seat of Finn’s Jeep. She waited until they drove off, then flew into the house and bounded upstairs. She threw on one of her sleek black suits, left the jacket unbuttoned, and hurried back downstairs to slip into a pair of comfortable black flats.

Neither Anna nor Max spoke to her during the drive to the station, but she noticed the sympathy in Anna’s brown eyes and knew the younger woman felt bad about this new development. Jamie still couldn’t wrap her head around it. Cole might have visited the place where the murder weapon had been stashed, but that didn’t make him a killer. Lots of other people had probably been to that dump. Someone else must have planted the gun at the dump, and Cole’s visit was just a coincidence. There was no other explanation. “We’re here.”

Anna’s soft voice drew Jamie from her thoughts. She was surprised to see that they’d reached the station. Without waiting for the deputies, she jumped out of the backseat and raced into the building through the rear door. She figured Finn would be in one of the interrogation rooms with Cole, but instead she found him in the hallway, rubbing his forehead and looking utterly frazzled.

“Is everything all right?” she demanded.

Finn looked ready to tear his hair out. “No, everything is not all right. He lawyered up.”

“What?”

“I told him why I brought him in, how we found the gun, and he said some very unladylike words and demanded a lawyer.”

Jamie closed her eyes. Oh God. A morning shooting and an afternoon arrest. This day just kept getting worse and worse.

“Please tell me you let him make the call,” she said with a sigh.

“Of course I did. I’m aware of the whole ‘you have a right to an attorney’ part of the Miranda. Only thing is, his lawyer’s flying in from Chicago, so the guy won’t be here for another two hours.”

A headache began to form at her temples. She reached up to massage the ache, wondering how everything had spiraled out of control in the blink of an eye.

“What about my shooting?” she finally asked.

Finn blinked. “What about it?”

“Did your deputies find anything in the woods, a shell casing? Maybe my shooter used the forty-five and then went to the dump and got rid of it? Because if that’s the case, it couldn’t have been Cole. He was in the house when I got shot.”

“We didn’t find any evidence in the woods,” Finn replied, promptly bursting her bubble. “And the dump operator said nobody dropped anything off today, which means the gun was already there when you got shot.”

Disappointment crushed her chest. “Okay. Fine. What about prints then?”

“Our forensics guy is testing it now.”

“Cole didn’t do this,” Jamie whispered. “He couldn’t have done this.”

“Why? Because you’re sleeping with him?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I’m sorry, but it needed to be said.” He lowered his voice. “You can’t just ignore evidence because you’re obviously sweet on the guy. He was at the dump. The gun was at the dump. He wanted his greedy ex-wife out of the picture. She died. What do you expect me to do? Look the other way?”

Jamie was surprised to feel tears stinging her eyelids. Oh God. Not now. She didn’t cry. Ever. And this wasn’t the time to start.

“I know you care about him,” Finn finished, his tone so infinitely gentle her tears threatened to spill over. “But you’re a professional, honey. And we’re splat in the middle of a murder case.”

“I know.” She cleared her throat, trying to control her emotions. “You did everything by the book, Finn. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”