SEE HIM DIE (7 page)

“This one,” Marie gave her a nod, “definitely finds you attractive.”

If Marie was right, Julie absolutely had the worst timing in the world.

Her estranged husband had just been murdered, and she was either a prospective suspect or a potential victim. Either way, she was a person of interest.

She supposed she wouldn’t know which until she was either arrested or dead.

God help her.

Sunday, June 28, 12:30 a.m.

Blake stood on the opposite side of the street and watched the house belonging to Julie Barton’s friend. He couldn’t sit in the car any longer and he’d lost count of the times he’d walked the block. Drawing in a deep breath, he propped against a tree in the darkest area he could find and fixed his attention on the window of the room where Julie was sleeping.

His gut tightened. He did not want to feel sympathy for her and somehow he did. She’d looked so tired and so afraid tonight. He hoped she’d hired herself a damned good attorney. He was surprised she’d offered to pay him for the damages to the Mustang. Had she come into some money since Wednesday? Randall Barton had visited her. Maybe the two of them had planned Austin’s murder. Was her innocent act, just that? Jealousy followed immediately by fury jolted through Blake. He had to get his head on straight. All these months he’d been watching the Barton brothers and Julie. He’d learned nothing that would help prove Randall killed his brother. What he had learned was that he couldn’t keep his head on straight around her.

A shadow passed across the window of Julie’s bedroom, drawing his attention there. Damned sheer curtains didn’t give enough privacy. He’d watched her silhouette exactly this way night after night the first few months he was in Mobile… until she’d gotten too deep under his skin. He pushed off the tree and started pacing again. He’d watched her until he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore.

How could any woman married to a Barton look so damned vulnerable and innocent?

Part of him wanted to believe she wasn’t involved in the ugliness. Austin could have kept her away from the business. Maybe she really hadn’t been aware of what she’d married into.

“Yeah, right.” It was bad enough Blake had allowed himself to become infatuated with her. He shook his head. What he needed to do was run about ten miles to work out the frustration—mostly at himself.

When had he become that guy? The one who fell down in his search for justice over something as insignificant as money or a woman? Some part of him kept seeing her as a victim but the truth was, the real victim was his brother. His brother had just turned twenty-seven. He’d barely gotten his feet wet as an FBI agent. Luke had been so excited about the assignment in New York.

A soft click travelled through the darkness, snapping Blake to attention. He moved back to his car. Someone had exited the Morrison home. He spotted Julie’s blond hair as she darted between the shrubs lining the driveway. His instincts went on point. She stepped into the street and headed toward him. Her arms were wrapped around a big bundle. He couldn’t quite make out what she was carrying. His tension ramped even higher.

“I thought you might like a pillow and a blanket,” she said softly as she paused on the other side of his borrowed car.

“Thanks, but—”

“I know. I know. Tough guys don’t need pillows and blankets.” She walked around the front end of the Taurus and right up to him. A new and far more potent tension rippled through him.

She sighed, the sound soft and immensely appealing. “There are no words to convey how much I appreciate what you’re doing. I need to help. Or at least, I need to feel as if I’m helping.”

He supposed he got that. He’d been a cop for ten years. He’d seen more than his share of homicides. He’d learned to distance himself from the human side of the tragedy and to focus on solving the case. At least he had been able to until the victim was his younger brother. His life had been turned inside out and he hadn’t rested until he’d found the person responsible. Learning the identity of the man who’d ordered his brother’s execution should have been an occasion to celebrate.

Except, it doesn’t matter what you know, it matters what you can prove
.

Randall Barton was untouchable. He’d built an empire and gained allegiance any way necessary.

 Blake reached for the pillow and blanket. “Thank you, Mrs. Barton.”

“Call me Julie. I stopped being Mrs. Barton long before my husband was murdered.”

“The divorce.” He wasn’t surprised. Everything he’d learned about Austin Barton was bad for his wife. He had been a habitual cheater. Blake had wondered why Julie stayed. Based on the very public fight she’d had with her estranged husband, she’d been holding out for a settlement. Maybe she was nothing but a gold digger, like his partner suggested. What did she stand to inherit now that her husband was dead?

“I should have left him months before I did,” she went on, “but I guess I kept hoping I was wrong and that he’d go back to being the man I first met.” She shook her head. “I guess I was more naïve than I realized.”

There it was. That vulnerability that drew his protective instincts. Made Blake want to pull her into his arms and hold her.

“Sometimes we see what we need to see,” he offered

“I suppose so.” She gifted him with a shaky smile. “Anyway, I appreciate you being here. I couldn’t bear it if I thought my presence in Marie’s home put her family in danger.”

“Rest easy, Mrs.—Julie, I’ll be here.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night.”

She hurried across the street and back into the house. He clocked her every move with far more interest than he would have preferred. One way or another he had to keep his focus on nailing Randall Barton for his brother’s murder. If using Julie was the only way to get to him, then that was what he’d do.

Randall’s visit today proved he considered Julie part of the family in spite of his brother’s death. The fact that she now had additional resources at her disposal indicated Randall was prepared to take care of her needs. Her Jag had been delivered earlier in the afternoon—the same Jag her dead husband had taken from her.

Maybe Randall Barton had decided he wanted Julie for himself.

More of that crazy jealousy and red-hot fury roared through Blake. What happened between her and her brother-in-law was none of his concern unless it helped him prove who Randall Barton really was.

What if Randall had wanted his own brother out of the way? The raw emotions eating at Blake faded. Austin had been getting a little sloppy with his public persona, which drew unwanted attention and made Randall look bad. Had Austin grown careless in his business dealings as well? Had Randall decided it was his turn to have the hottest wife in town?

Now all that Austin had possessed was there for the taking.

Interesting theory.

Frankly, Blake didn’t give a damn who killed Austin Barton. He wanted Randall.

One way or another he intended to get him.

Noon

“I should come in,” Julie insisted. Skip had sent her a text letting her know two waitresses hadn’t shown for the lunch shift today. Midtown Marie’s was insanely busy and they needed help in a bad way.

“Absolutely not,” Marie argued. “There are at least two reporters loitering about. You stay in the house out of sight. Your face is all over the newspapers today. So far they haven’t figured out that you’re at my house. Let’s keep it that way.”

Julie felt sick. She and Austin were dominating the television news that was for sure. Marie had scanned the channels this morning and they were all taking about one thing: the murder of one of the city’s rich and famous. The marriage had been dissected. Austin’s appetite for cheating had been mentioned more than once. All the fundraising work Julie had done had conveniently been forgotten as the reporters waxed on about her
Cinderella
story. Now the prince was dead—murdered in her bed on the wrong side of town.

“Marie, I—”

“Gotta go, Jules. Do not leave the house!”

The call ended and Julie tossed her cell aside. They had talked about how as long as Austin’s killer was at large Julie had to be careful. What was she going to do if the killer was never caught? She couldn’t stay holed up like this for the rest of her life. Every minute she stayed hidden like this, was another that Marie suffered. Not only did Marie need her help at work, but Julie’s presence in her home was a burden. She’d heard the kids arguing this morning. Madison wanted her room back. Her brother was too bossy. Chase whined that his sister touched his stuff.

No matter what her friend said, Julie was in the way. The police were watching her, why couldn’t they watch her somewhere else?

But where?

She had no money—wait, yes she did have money. Randall had transferred ten thousand dollars into her account. She could rent a new place. Today, if she wanted. Ten thousand sounded like a lot of money but it would go fast. Whatever else she did, she needed to be earning a paycheck.

Austin was dead and maybe she should feel guilty that she’d only cried once. Yes, she felt terrible that he’d been murdered, but that wasn’t her fault. She, on the other hand, was alive and she had to figure out how to survive. According to the prenuptial agreement she had signed, everything that belonged to Austin stayed with the Barton family. Julie’s only inheritance would be what he had deemed as proper settlement—one dollar. If she had been the one murdered, Austin certainly wouldn’t have put his life on hold even for a minute for her.

After a quick trip upstairs to change into her work tee, she hustled out to the garage and climbed into her Jag. Marie had suggested they park it in the garage so no one would see it. The ploy had evidently worked since no reporters had shown up. Julie suspected the good detective had created a diversion to prevent the entourage from following them from the police station. The idea was the only reasonable explanation.

When she pulled out onto the street, she paused long enough to roll down her window and give the detective a heads up. “I have to go to work.”

The frown of confusion that furrowed his brow told her he was surprised. “Are you sure you’re up to a public outing? Reporters are scouring the city looking for you and anything else they can dig up.”

Nothing he said registered. She was too busy staring at him. Had he shaved in his car? The shirt was definitely different. His lips were still moving. What was he saying?

A horn blared and she jumped. A glance in the rearview mirror reminded her she was blocking the street. “Gotta go!”

Driving away, she gave herself grace. She wouldn’t be so easily distracted under normal circumstances. These circumstances were anything but normal. Another check in the rearview mirror confirmed that the detective was following her. She breathed easier knowing he was close. As much as she wanted to believe the backup was for her protection, she had a feeling the cops were keeping an eye on her to ensure she didn’t leave town.

Like she had any place to go.

She hoped they were expending the necessary effort to find Austin’s killer. What was she thinking? Randall would make sure his brother’s killer was found. She should call Randall again about the funeral arrangements. The furious words Austin had hurled at her Friday night made her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. When had he come to hate her so much? How could so much have changed in a mere three and a half years?

Forcing her full attention back to the street, Julie made the final turn and started looking for a decent place to park. Her jaw dropped.

“What in the world?”

Dozens of news vans were parked along the street. Reporters and their camera crews lined the sidewalk. No way in the world could she get inside without being spotted.

“Try the back,” she muttered, determined not be thwarted.

Shouting drew her gaze to the rearview mirror once more. Reporters were running after her. She’d been recognized. “Damn it!”

She navigated her way through the crowd of pedestrians heading for their favorite lunch spots and then sped up. Unfortunately, a couple of the reporters had made it back to their vans and given pursuit. Splitting her attention between the street in front of her and the two vans behind her, she made an abrupt right turn. Wheels squealed and her heart thundered.

Julie dared to press the accelerator a little harder. Even as she did, one of the vans roared up beside her. The reporter practically hung out the passenger side window shouting at her. Julie made another hard right.

In an attempt to make the same turn, the van almost hit another car. Squealing tires and blaring horns filled the air. Julie sped up. Maybe if she put enough distance between her car and the van, she could make a few quick turns and lose them.

The sound of squealing tires jerked her attention to the rearview mirror. A black car had cut between her and the van and skidded to a stop, blocking the street.

As the images grew smaller in her mirror, she spotted Detective Duncan emerge from the black car that had blocked the van’s path. A smile lifted her lips. “Thank you, Detective.”

She didn’t know what had happened to the second van. Maybe the detective had blocked its path early on in the pursuit. Whatever the case, Julie was immensely grateful. As much as she hated to admit it, Marie had been right. She should lay low for a few more days.

As she drove back to Marie’s home, Julie called Randall to ask about the funeral arrangements. The call went to his voicemail. She left him a message to please let her know about the arrangements.

No matter what kind of ass Austin had been, he’d still been her husband. Showing up to pay her final respects was the least she could do.

After parking in Marie’s detached garage, Julie checked the driveway and yard before exiting the garage. If a reporter was watching Marie’s home, she did not want to be discovered. She hurried along the row of overgrown shrubs that bordered the backyard. All she had to do was reach the backdoor and she was good to go.

“You might want to rethink your strategy next time.”

Julie jerked to a stop. She’d just rounded the deck to start up the steps. Detective Duncan stood at the backdoor. How in the world had he beaten her here?

Her hand went to her chest. “I see that now,” she admitted as she climbed the steps. “I won’t be going to work or anywhere else for a few days it seems.”

“The sooner the police can solve your husband’s murder, the sooner you can have your life back.”

At the door, she waited until he stepped aside so she could insert the key into the lock. Something about the way he uttered the statement made her feel as if he were blaming her for the delay. “No one wants to see that happen more than me.”

“I’m certain Lieutenant Cannon informed you that anything you could recall might be useful.”

She unlocked the door but hesitated before opening it. Standing this close in the bright light of day, she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes. Was that accusation she saw there as well?

Swallowing back the uncertainty, she mustered up her courage. “He did. I wish I had some knowledge that would lead the police to his killer. Sadly, I have no idea who would’ve wanted him dead. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t be keeping it to myself considering whoever killed him tried to get to me as well.”

The detective stared at her with an intensity that made her immensely uncomfortable. “He never talked about business with you? You never overheard any of his phone calls? Never met any of his associates?”

All the eavesdropping she’d done and the names on that list whirled inside her head like a merry-go-round rushing at warp speed. “No,” she lied.

Why lie? Maybe this was her chance to help. Could she really trust this man or anyone else? If the person who murdered Austin discovered she had information, he might work even harder at trying to find her.

How could she be sure the information she had was relevant to anything?

“I’m here to help you, Julie.”

The way he said her name made her shiver. Deep, soft. “And I appreciate it, but I don’t know anything. If I did, I would tell you. What would I possibly have to gain by hiding anything from the police?”

“If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”

He walked away. She felt suddenly alone and cold, despite the heat beating down on her. How could he know she was hiding something?

Maybe she should just tell him and get it over with.

Inside, she closed and locked the door. She gazed around the kitchen. Signs of the busy single mother who lived here with her two kids were everywhere. Dirty dishes in the sink. The skillet Marie had used for making pancakes sat on the stove. Julie knew what she had to do. If she couldn’t go to work, the least she could do was clean up the house. What woman didn’t like to come home to a clean house?

Keeping busy would ensure she didn’t have to think about a murdered estranged husband or a sexy detective who was all too alive.

9:22 p.m.

Blake walked the block for the fifth time. Marie Morrison wouldn’t be home for hours yet. Her kids were with a sitter. All of which meant Julie Barton was in the house alone and had been all afternoon and evening. Not that it mattered what she was doing except that Blake had imagined all sorts of things. Like her running on the treadmill. He’d watched her at the gym three times a week for months. That toned little body would be glistening with sweat at the end of each session. Then she’d go home and shower. He didn’t have to see her to imagine her stripping off her sweaty clothes and climbing beneath the spray of water. Her hands would smooth the body wash over her skin, her fingers pausing on her breasts to trace the delicate contours. He imagined her touching herself for pleasure on those lonely nights when her husband was out with another woman.

Was it possible she had hired someone to end the cheating? Had she decided that whatever he’d offered in the divorce settlement was inadequate? With his death, would she stand to inherit much more than a meager settlement?

Motive was there, but so far no evidence. According to Lutz, Cannon had nothing so far. Randall was keeping a low profile. What was up with that? Blake would have expected him to be on the news offering rewards to anyone who could find his brother’s killer.

When Blake reached his car once more, another dark, nondescript sedan had parked behind him. He eased into the shadows for the rest of his approach. As he reached the second car, the driver side door opened.

A figure emerged. “It’s me.”

His partner
.

Blake exhaled a big breath. “What’re you doing here, Lutz?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Now get in.”

For no other reason than to prevent drawing attention, Blake complied. “I’m off duty. I don’t have to give you my reasons for being on a public street.”

Once he was settled in the passenger seat and the door was closed, Lutz commented, “A public street that just happens to be the one where Austin Barton’s widow is hiding out.”

“She’s not hiding out. She’s avoiding the reporters.”

“FYI, partner,” Lutz announced, “she’s about to become the prime suspect in her lowlife, cheating husband’s murder.”

Whoa! This was the first Blake had heard of this. “How did that happen?”

“Randall Barton, how else?” Lutz picked up a cup of Starbucks from the console and offered it to him.

Noting his partner had a cup as well, Blake accepted it. “There’s still no physical evidence.”

“Nothing except her bloody handprints all over the apartment and her threat that she’d see him in hell.”

“Cannon knows that’s not going to carry much weight with a jury. He needs more.”

“How about Randall Barton’s statement that his brother confided in him that his wife was cheating on him and had threatened to kill him in his sleep if he didn’t give her a divorce with a hefty cash-out.”

A frown tugged at Blake’s brow. “When did he do this?”

“This morning.”

“He’s setting her up.” Blake mentally ran through the possibilities for why Barton would bother. The theory that he’d wanted his younger brother dead kept rising to the top.

“Before I tell you the rest,” Lutz went on, his tone somber, “I need you to tell me the whole truth, Blake.”

Blake glared at him across the darkness. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What is it between you and the Bartons? Is it about your brother?”

The guy could ask the question twenty different ways and the answer would always be the same. “This has nothing to do with my brother,” he lied. “There’s nothing between me and the Bartons.”

Lutz stayed silent for a moment. “You keep lying to me and I’m going to start believing it’s true.”

Blake dropped his head against the back of the seat. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re going to start believing what’s true?”

“The motive for Austin Barton’s murder.”

That was it. Blake was done here. “What motive is that?”

“Listen to me.” Lutz turned to face Blake in the darkness. “If you hear nothing else I say, here this: Randall Barton says his brother’s wife is having an affair with
you
. That, my friend, is the motive.”