The Investigator (2 page)

“Miss Collins, I presume? I’m Detective Munro. We spoke on the phone.”

His voice slid over her like warm toffee. His rich, latte-colored skin and the broadness of his nose hinted at aboriginal ancestry, but his accent bespoke a private school education. He wasn’t in uniform, but he exuded the same air of deceptively casual authority she’d grown up with. Instinctively, she took a step back.

A slight frown marred his otherwise smooth forehead. Mistaking her reticence, he said, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t smell the best. I had a run in with a dairy cow. I was on my way home to shower and change when you called. Hopefully, we can get this over with quickly.”

Without waiting for her reply, the detective turned and headed toward a stairwell at one end of the reception area.

Kate scanned the waiting area. It was after five-thirty. Keyboards had stilled. The ringing of phones was only sporadic. She’d deliberately chosen this time to minimize the likelihood of running into someone familiar.

She looked over toward the stairwell where the officer had disappeared. With a sigh of resignation, she walked toward it and started the ascent. She’d come this far. She might as well do what had to be done to finish it.

* * *

Riley Munro’s
thoughts centered on the woman who climbed the stairs behind him. Christ, she was a looker. More Gwyneth Paltrow than Demi Moore, but still beyond adequate compensation for the delay of his Friday night revelry.

She was younger than he’d pictured. Despite the blond hair pulled back into a tight, uncompromising bun, her face was clear and unlined. An expensive-looking black coat covered a pair of tailored charcoal-gray, woolen pants and concealed much of her tiny frame, but nothing could hide the ocean-deep blueness of her wide, wary eyes. Nor the full softness of her mouth that had fallen slightly open in surprise when he’d met her in reception. He was sure her reaction hadn’t entirely been a consequence of his drenching in the dairy.

He was used to confusion and surprise from newcomers—as if banishment to the small country town perched in a far outpost of northern New South Wales wasn’t punishment enough. When he’d shown up for his first shift in Watervale, it became clear he was the only aboriginal detective in town. During the ensuing months, he’d come to expect curious stares.

Slanting a look behind him, Riley watched as the woman reached the top of the stairs.

“Over here,” he said, striding toward the nearest interview room.

She took a cautious step forward and then hesitated. Her gaze darted around the squad room, glancing off the jumble of vacant desks.

“It’s change over,” he said by way of explanation. “Most of the day shift’s gone home. Night shift’s doing a hand-over in the tearoom.”

Her gaze clashed with his. The wariness in her eyes had intensified to something that looked akin to fear. He wondered at her curious reaction, unable to ascertain what might have caused it.

“I-I’m… I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered, her gaze skittering away from his. “Maybe there’s someone else who could do this? You’re on your way out. I don’t want to keep you…”

The voice was as he remembered: low, husky and now a little uncertain.

She was right. His shift had ended. It was time to go home and shower and prepare for some R & R at The Bullet.

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t have any plans. Just another Friday night.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it.

She eyed him steadily, as if she could smell his lie.
Don’t be stupid, Munro.
It was probably the smell of cow shit that was turning up her nose, not some supersonic ability to detect falsehoods.

Breaking the eye contact, he opened the door to the nearest interview room and moved into the small, windowless space. Pulling out a chair, he indicated the one opposite.

“Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

A frown creased her forehead. She hesitated before reluctantly lowering herself into the other chair. Riley understood her reticence. Most people felt off balance in the stark, sterile environs of a police interview room, especially if it was their first time.

In an effort to put her at ease, he offered her a reassuring smile and reached for the notepad that had been left on the desk by a previous occupant. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he scrawled the time and the date at the top of a clean page.

“Right, then. Let’s make a start.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll begin with your full name and address.”

Her gaze lowered to her hands which now lay twisted in her lap. Her mouth tightened and her flawless skin suddenly seemed leached of color.

Curiosity tingled his nerve endings. First the odd reaction in the squad room, now this. Even for a first timer, her reaction seemed a bit over dramatic. He watched her closely and waited her out in silence.

She finally spoke, as he knew she would. Her words were halting; her voice laced with an accent he had yet to identify.

“My name is Kate—sorry, Kathryn Jane Collins. Most people call me Kate. I live at apartment 5B, 17921 Kensington Court, London.”

Riley started in surprise. “London? As in the UK?”

“Yes. I flew into Sydney late last night and caught a connection to Grafton this morning. I hired a car and arrived in Watervale a few hours ago.” Her voice hitched. “I’m here to find my mother.”

Her gaze glanced off his and then returned to her lap. “As I told you earlier, I can only spare a fortnight at the most. I have a business in London that needs attention.”

Riley angled his head and continued to write. “That explains the accent. What line of work are you in?”

Her lips relaxed. “I’m an art dealer. I have my own small but exclusive gallery in London. I have a major exhibition opening in three weeks.”

“Where are you staying?”

She hesitated. “I’ve checked into a motel on Byrnes Street—The Jackeroo, I think it’s called. You can leave a message at reception if you need to reach me.”

“No cell?”

Another pause. Her lips compressed. With reluctance, she provided her number.

Riley took down the details, then sat back in his chair and looked at her. Her hands were still fidgeting in her lap and her gaze darted away from his each time their eyes connected. His cop instincts went on alert. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was askew.

Tossing his pen down, he leaned back in his chair.

“So, tell me about your mother.”

* * *

Kate felt his unswerving gaze and struggled to keep her mask of control in place. Her chest felt like it was being slowly squeezed in a vice and panic threatened at the edge of her consciousness. On top of her fears for her mother, she’d been forced to return to Watervale. And not only to Watervale, but to the police station.

She took a surreptitious breath and eased it out on a silent sigh. It wouldn’t do to let him know how much she hated her stepfather. If this man was like all the other officers she’d encountered in her youth, he’d never think badly of one of “their own.” She’d slipped up when she lost her temper during the phone call. She couldn’t afford to do it again. She steeled herself to look up at him.

“My mother is Rosemary Watson. She married Darryl Watson when I was four.”

“Darryl Watson? That sounds familiar. Why would I know that name?”

Her smile was humorless. “You obviously haven’t been in town very long, Detective Munro.”

“You’re right. I rolled into Watervale three months ago. Relocated north from Sydney.” He shrugged. “Had to get out of the big smoke. Too much noise, too many bad guys. I didn’t have time to scratch myself.” He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, once again displaying those perfect teeth.

She ignored the tiny flutter low in her belly. “Three months? I guess that explains it, although, I would have thought three months was enough for anyone to have heard about the legendary Darryl Watson.”

The lazy smile stayed in place. “Enlighten me.”

“Darryl Arthur Watson, pillar of Watervale society, Local Area Commander for twenty-five years. The mayor even gave him the keys to the town.”

A single dark eyebrow lifted. “Commander Watson, of course. No wonder the name sounded familiar. I walk by his photograph in the foyer every day.”

“The wall of honor.” Kate bit down on her rancor. She really had to be more careful.

The detective seemed not to notice. He stretched his body out in the chair, lifted his arms above his head and opened his mouth wide on a cavernous yawn. “When did he retire?”

She shrugged, irritated. “I couldn’t tell you. Sometime during the last ten years, I guess. He was still well and truly ensconced here when I left.”

“You’ve been gone that long? Ten years?”

She offered a tight nod.

“Never been back?” Curiosity was plain on his handsome face.

Kate remained silent. Let him draw his own conclusions. She couldn’t care less what he thought. All she cared about was finding her mother.

A pang went through her. Fear and stress and the fact she was still jet lagged sharpened her tongue. “Is any of this relevant, Detective? I fail to see how my absence from Watervale or the date my stepfather retired could possibly have anything to do with my mother’s disappearance.”

He stared back at her, his face now impassive.

Impatience surged through her. She glared at him, anger and frustration and the ever-present fear swirling to the surface. “I’m sorry, but it seems I’ve had the grave misfortune of approaching the laziest officer on the Watervale Police Force. An officer who would prefer to waste my time on nonsensical trivialities rather than actually doing something about finding my mother.”

She stood and leaned over the desk, the slight height advantage her movements gave her steeling her spine. Her eyes burned with desperation.

“Look, Detective. I’ve already told you she’s been missing for at least a month. I know something’s happened to her. I just
know.
”

To her horror, hot tears welled up in her eyes. A flush of embarrassment glazed the officer’s cheeks and he looked away.

His discomfiture enraged her. “Would you at least have the courtesy of looking at me and
pretending
you give a damn?”

CHAPTER 2

Riley stared back at her, his initial discomfort over her emotional outburst fading. He watched as she pulled a tissue out of a black leather handbag that looked like it cost more than he made in a month.

Deciding to give her a few moments to compose herself, he stood. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee from the machine. Can I get you something?”

The woman sniffed and swiped the back of her hand under her nose. The unconscious action made her seem even younger. Blue eyes met his for a brief instant before falling away.

“Coffee, please,” she murmured.

“How do you like it?”

“Black.”

Riley bit back the instinctive quip her answer provoked and refrained from commenting. He headed to the tearoom and returned a few minutes later armed with two black coffees.

She’d resumed her seat and now sat calm and composed, like a CNN newsreader, the tears completely evaporated.

Surprise shot through him. It hadn’t taken her long to get a grip on herself. He’d have to remember that. Maybe she was one of those women who could turn it on and off as they pleased, whenever circumstances dictated?

As much as the thought irritated him, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration. Regaining composure so quickly was a talent he’d like to have.

He sat the Styrofoam cup in front of her. She glanced up and murmured her thanks. Returning to his seat, he took a sip of his coffee and sighed.

“It appears we have gotten off to a rocky start, Miss Collins. How about we try again? I’m Riley Munro, one of the detectives here. I’m sorry if I offended you with my manner. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that…” He shrugged. “It’s been a pretty slow week—hell, what am I saying? It’s been a pretty slow
month.
”

He offered her another grin, hoping to put her at ease. “This afternoon, I got called out to investigate a stolen cow. No one told me there are certain places you should never stand when you’re in a dairy shed during milking.” He sniffed with great exaggeration at his clothes. “But hell, I can’t complain. It’s the most excitement I’ve had since I arrived here.”

She gave him a slight grin that changed everything about her. His gut caught on her cool beauty and the sad vulnerability in her eyes. He wondered if there was a man in her life.

The thought was intrusive and as irritating as it was unwelcome. Clearing his throat, he pulled the notepad toward him and got busy finding his pen.

“All right, let’s keep going. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four. Born June eighth, in Sydney.

“Ah, so you’ve spent time in the big smoke, too?”

Her face gave nothing away. “I was born there. We moved to Watervale when I was four.”

“We? As in, you and your mother?”

She nodded.

Riley looked down at his notepad. “You said your mother married Commander Watson when you were four. I take it they’d known each other from before?”

“No, she met him not long after we moved here. They’d only known each other a few months when they married.”

Her voice was distant and controlled—as if she was talking about strangers. It was in stark contrast to her earlier emotional outburst.

“Okay. Let’s talk about your mother.” He looked up from his notes and eyeballed her. “What makes you think she’s missing?”

Her gaze held his for a millisecond before skittering away. He again waited her out in silence. She drew in a deep breath. Her fingers stilled in her lap, seemingly by conscious effort.

“I’ve been living in London for the last three years. My mother calls me every week, without fail and we email each other all the time—at least once or twice a day.” She caught his gaze. “It’s been over a month since I heard from her. Heard
anything.
” Her gaze slid away. “It’s not like her.”

Riley studied her closely. Her hands once again moved restlessly in her lap. And what was with the eye contact thing?
What was she hiding?