Murder.Com (29 page)

     
Knowing there had been drastic advancements in DNA testing, he figured the results would be delivered within a few days.
 
Meanwhile, he'd keep a man on Weber.
 
He didn't trust him.
 
Never had.
 
Also, he worried about Mrs. Conners and those two pitiful little urchins.
 
If Autumn knew anything, their lives might be in danger.
 
Even though he'd questioned her several times, she seemed nonchalant about her husband and his work.
 
However, that didn't mean she wasn't shrewd.
 
He'd checked on her background.
 
She and Ryan had met in college.
 
Both carried high grade averages and had graduated with honors.
 
They never belonged to any social clubs in college but a counselor remembered them as participants in rallies and marches against the establishment.

     
One classmate remembered them as loners, strange or weird.
 
The woman's solitude worried him.
 
If he could find a legal reason, he'd also have a man watching her and those two kids.
 
Since the death of her husband, he'd made it a daily routine to cruise by her place and check for signs of activity.

     
Back at the station, Cliff wrapped the gray sports coat and sent it to the lab with priority instructions.
 
Now, he'd play the waiting game.

*****

     
Angie stared out the kitchen window toward Marty's cottage as she waited for Tom to come out of the study.
 
Marty had wanted to fix them dinner, but Angie refused her offer and insisted she go rest.

     
Her mind wandered over the events of the long day and she suddenly felt exhausted.
 
Yet, Angie didn't want Tom to leave.
 
She'd grown dependent on him for support through these trying times and needed him tonight.
 
Then it struck her that he must be starving.
 
It had been hours since either of them had eaten.
 
One way to keep him with her a little longer would be to start preparing dinner.
 
Immediately, she grabbed an apron from the drawer and opened the refrigerator.
 
By the time Tom joined her in the kitchen, she had meat frying, a sauce cooking and spaghetti boiling.

     
"Hey, what's going on in here?" Tom asked, eyeing the stove.

     
"Well, I thought it time we had some nourishment.
 
It's been a long day."

     
"You got that right," Tom said.

     
"Any news from the station?"

     
"A little.
 
I talked with Cliff before he left to go home.
 
He's making a few strides on his own, but nothing of importance at the moment," he lied, not wanting to load her down with more heavy stuff.
 
"Can I set the table?"

     
"Sure."
 
She pointed at the cabinet where the dishes were stacked.

     
Angie smiled to herself, noting that he did a darnn good job of putting the utensils where they belonged.
 
She put the spaghetti and sauce into bowls and placed them on the table.

     
After dinner, Tom pushed back his plate and patted his stomach.
 
"You don't know how nice it is to eat something besides fast food and frozen entrees."

     
She laughed.
 
"I can tell you enjoy a home-cooked meal, even though it's nothing special."

     
"I loved every bite.
 
And to show my appreciation, I'll do the clean up."

     
"We'll do it together."

     
As they worked, Tom reached around her to get the dishcloth when she accidentally turned into his arms.
 
He caught her from stumbling and their eyes met.
 
Her heart skipped a beat.
 
Tom backed away clumsily, releasing her arm.

     
"Uh, sorry.
 
I wanted to wipe off the table.
 
I sort of made a mess."

     
He quickly ran the cloth across the table.
 
Angie stood frozen to the spot, staring at him.
 
The electricity she'd felt between them kept sparking inside her.

     
Tom turned around, one hand full of bread crumbs, the other clinging to the dishcloth, and looked at her with a puzzled expression.
 
"Am I not doing this right?"

     
Feeling her face grow warm, she shoved loose wisps of hair behind her ears and quickly turned toward the sink.
 
"No, you're doing fine."
 
What's the matter with me, she thought.
 
Bud's only been gone a couple of months and you're feeling like a giddy young girl on her first date.
 
Get hold of yourself.
 
This man's a good friend and you need him.
 
Don't push him away with your silliness.

     
Tom put the last plate into the dishwasher and closed the door.
  
"Thanks, Angie, I really enjoyed the dinner.
 
I'm going to get out of here and let you rest.
 
You know how to reach me."

     
She started to protest but felt it best not to push her luck.
 
"Glad you stayed.
 
I'll talk with you tomorrow after I get Sandy back here.
 
I hope she'll settle down and be her old self again."

     
He waved his hand.
 
"Don't expect miracles.
 
The woman has a lot to face."

     
"You're right," she said, walking him to the door.

*****

     
On the way to his place, Tom found himself thinking not only about what Cliff had reported, but of Angie's reaction to their touch in the kitchen.
 
Did he imagine it or did she too feel the electricity between them?
 
Her stunned reaction told him something.
 
But what?
 
How should he interpret it?
 
God only knows how badly he wanted her to feel the same as he did.
 
But those were hopeful dreams.
 
Proceed with caution, remember she's recently widowed and her emotions are very fragile.

     
He promised Cliff on the phone that he'd drive by the Conners' place on his way home.
 
The news he'd received from his right hand man disturbed him.
 
Cliff seldom made a misjudgment on a case, and when he told him how concerned he felt over the Conners family, it bothered Tom.
 
Even though Cliff had a man on Ken, he worried that somehow he might get past him.
 
Would Ken really harm Conners' wife and children?
 
Tom shook his head.
 
"God, that's a scary thought," he mumbled.

     
When he turned the corner and headed toward the Conners' house, his heart leaped into his throat.
 
He'd swear Ken Weber's BMW, identical to Sandy's except for its color, a light green, had just pulled away from the Conners' house.
 
Tom came to a screeching halt, dashed up the sidewalk to the front entry, and pounded on the front door.

     
When he received no answer, he called out.
 
"Mrs. Conners, this is the police.
 
Open up."

     
He heard the faint padding of footsteps.
 
Then the door opened only as far as the security chain allowed.

     
"Yes, what do you want?"

     
Autumn Conners had a dark shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
 
The smell of rancid cooking oil, mixed with dirty diapers, drifted out the crack in the door, penetrating Tom's nostrils.
 
He stepped to the side without losing sight of the woman.
 
"Did Ken Weber just leave here?"

     
"No one has visited me."
 
With that, she shut the door and threw the deadbolt.

     
Tom walked with heavy steps back to his car.
 
He felt the fatigue of the day taking over.
 
He pulled away from the house and called Cliff on his cell phone.
 
"I can't swear to it, but I think Ken Weber just paid a visit to Mrs. Conners.
 
She's okay, but denied his visit."

     
"She's lying," Cliff said.
 
"My man just followed him there."

     
"Why would she lie?"
 

     
"Because she's got Ken over a barrel somehow.
 
I think she knows something and is gonna make sure she's taken care of for the rest of her life.
 
What she doesn't realize is that she's dealing with a madman.
 
We'll have to keep a close watch on that family for the next couple of weeks, until we get the test results back from that sports coat.
 
Let's hope we can get him behind bars before he does any more damage."

     
After they concluded their conversation, Tom felt the last drop of energy drain from his body.
 
There had been few clues in Bud's murder, but with the Conners murder, evidence seemed to be falling into place.
 
Something else nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

*****

     
Angie lay in bed in the darkened room, staring at the ceiling.
 
She felt bewildered by her reaction to Tom's touch.
 
The spark she thought had died with Bud, had come alive.
 
But it's too soon, she thought.
 
I've not even had time to realize I'm alone in the world.
 
Bud's murderer hasn't been caught.
 
And all the other things happening.
 
Maybe I'm just vulnerable and miss a man's touch.
 
No, that's not true, she thought.
 
I've certainly got more sense than that.

     
She rolled over and covered her shoulder.
 
What did Tom think of her response?
 
He noticed something, that's for sure.
 
She'd just stood there staring at him like some silly schoolgirl and he looked so alarmed.
 
Poor guy.
 
All he needs is another crazy woman to deal with.
 
She flopped over on her back, pulling the sheet up around her chin.

     
Her thoughts went to Marty.
 
Would Melinda press charges? Would the state prosecute her for shooting Melinda with the intent to kill? However, Melinda had attacked Marty and no telling what she intended to do if I hadn't intervened.
 
Would Melinda claim I'd pulled a gun on her? Oh, dear, I could be in some serious trouble.
 
But I couldn't let her hurt Marty anymore.

     
Even though Sandy ran to Melinda's side when she heard the shots, she may not have seen what happened.
 
Did she think I shot Melinda?
 
She knew I had the gun.
 
Of course, in her state of mind at the moment, Sandy might not have comprehended the situation.

     
Dear Sandy.
 
You've definitely been through hell these past few days.
 
Before I pick you up in the morning, I'm calling the twins.
 
They should be here.
 
I know you won't agree, but this situation with Ken is boiling.
 
You need your girls with you.

     
Angie drifted off to sleep, her dreams a jumble of facts and fiction.

Chapter Twenty-six

     
Ken pulled into his garage and glanced up at the rearview mirror.
 
His mouth twitched when he saw a car slowly pass the house.
 
"Don't get paranoid, you know they're watching you.
 
Act normal," he said aloud.
 
He pushed the button to lower the garage door and went inside the house.