White Collared Part Three: Revenge (2 page)

She went to him and placed a hand on his back. “Stephanie never told her?”

“No,” he said sadly, shaking his head and turning to her. “She was murdered before she got the chance. After . . . it didn’t matter. I let Martha believe it. Alyssa knew. My father knew. I even told the police the truth, not that they cared.”

She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Oh.”

He tipped up her chin. “Yeah, oh. You didn’t trust me.”

“I trust you.” She trusted him as much as she could trust someone she’d only just met.

His muscles relaxed and his expression softened. “Why didn’t you ask me to take you?”

“I’m not used to relying on other people. Since I was fourteen, if I wanted food, I’d have to work to earn the money for it and then go buy food. No one told me when or where or how. If I waited for my mama to buy groceries, I would’ve starved.”

He put his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t pity me.” She slapped a hand on his chest. “I don’t want it and I don’t deserve it. So my mother was an alcoholic. She didn’t abuse me. A lot of people had it a lot worse.”

How many times had Caden come to school with a black eye or bruised ribs? Who did you complain to when your father was the small town’s sheriff?

Her lips quivered. “When my dad died, I spent two years pitying myself until I realized how bad it could really be. After that I grew up pretty quickly. I had to. My best friend Caden and I found a couple of bikes to fix up. Neither one of us ever wanted to rely on our parents. We had each other. Whenever things got bad at home, we’d meet at our secret spot and go driving. For hours. Sometimes we didn’t ever want to go back. But we did because we were responsible. We had to graduate and get out.”

He covered her hand with his. “This Caden. Do you love him?”

She didn’t think it was possible under the circumstances, but she managed a small smile. “Yes, but not the way you’re thinking. He’s my best friend. That’s it. Believe me, we both wished it could be more, but since he’s gay, that was out of the question.”

Jaxon’s eyes registered relief, and his thumb brushed an arch across her palm. “Where is he now?”

“Still there. He doesn’t live with his folks anymore, but he never left our town. He opened a garage where he fixes cars and refurbishes motorcycles. I’ve begged him to move to Detroit, but he won’t leave. He says he’s got unfinished business.”

She saw him only when he came to Detroit, which wasn’t often. Between school for her and work for him, their time together was limited to a couple days twice a year, weekly phone calls, and e-mails. She didn’t understand what kept him from leaving the town that failed him time and time again.

“I’m glad you had him. But that still doesn’t explain why you felt the need to go to Martha’s without an escort. Unless you didn’t want me there because you were worried you’d find out I killed Alyssa.”

She bit her lip. As much as she believed she trusted him, a part of her had worried he’d either stop her from talking to Martha or she’d learn something she didn’t want to know. Now she realized she was wrong. She should’ve asked him to come with her even though her strongest reason for shirking his help hadn’t changed.

“I wanted to prove to Nick I could do it on my own. He saw the pills. Saw how weak I am. How can he recommend me for associate if I have panic attacks?”

His gaze narrowed. “There’s more. What is Nick to you?” His eyes shut for a moment and then reopened. “Are you in love with him?”

She swallowed hard, attempting to relieve the pressure in her throat. “I . . . don’t know. I’m confused. Until a few days ago, I thought I loved Tom, and I guess I did in a way. I cared about him. But I’ve harbored a crush on Nick for years. Since I first read about him in the news. He’s my idol; who I’d hoped to become. I’m not sure if I’m in love with him or if it’s hero worship. Like a teenage girl with a crush on a rock star and finally meets him in person.” Before he could interrupt, she pressed her fingers to his lips. “Then I met you. Everything’s happened so fast, but my feelings for you are so much more intense than I’ve ever experienced. They’re real. I don’t want to hide from you. I want you to know me. Not Kate, but Katerina.”

She threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth against his. His lips were closed tightly and his body rigid. She slid her tongue across his bottom lip, and when he didn’t open, she bit him.

Banding an arm around her waist and plunging the other hand into her hair, he yanked her to him. His mouth conquered hers, his tongue caressing hers with desperate intensity. She needed to submit. Needed him to help her release the guilt and the shame of sneaking off to see Martha Webber and causing Hannah’s assault. Needed to prove to him that she trusted him with more than her body. Needed to prove she’d chosen him.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway drew them apart.

Her front door creaked open, and Nick stood there, staring at the both of them with suspicion in his eyes. 

Chapter Three

H
AD NICK WITNESSED
their kiss?

In all the chaos, she hadn’t noticed that they’d left the door ajar until Nick appeared in the doorframe. But the suspicion she thought she’d seen in his eyes disappeared as he dropped his briefcase by the door and then strode to her with his arms outstretched.

He pulled her into an embrace and held her tight, breathing hard. “Are you okay? God, Kate, when Jaxon told me about Hannah . . .” He stepped back. “How is she?”

“Someone stabbed her in the back.” The irony of those words dawned on her. “When I found her, she was unconscious. The paramedic said her lung collapsed, and they were taking her to Detroit Receiving.”

Nick squeezed her shoulder. “They’ll take care of her.” He frowned. “We need to call her parents. Do you have their number?”

Her stomach plummeted. How could she explain what had happened? “No, but they live in Grosse Pointe.”

Maybe he read the panic in her eyes because he nodded to her and said, “I’ll call them.”

She heard more footsteps on the stairs.

“Police,” a man in blue announced at her door.

“Come in,” she said.

The young black officer waved two others inside her small apartment, one carrying a camera and the other carrying a silver case. He joined her by the couch and flashed his badge.

“Kate Martin? I’m Officer Michael Price. I’ve brought Officers George and Hannon to collect evidence while I take the report.”

They moved closer to the kitchen table, allowing one officer to take photographs of the blood saturating Kate’s carpet. She’d never again look at the carpet without seeing Hannah’s nearly lifeless body lying there.

Nick handed Officer Price his business card. “Nicholas Trenton, Ms. Martin’s attorney.”

The cop’s eyebrows arched with suspicion. “Is there a reason she called an attorney?”

“Ms. Martin interns for me at Joseph and Long, as does the victim,” Nick said. “But she didn’t call me. Mr. Deveroux did.” He motioned with a jab of his chin toward Jaxon.

The cop’s lips tugged up in a mocking smile. “Bodies just seem to turn up when you’re around, huh?”

A muscle in Jaxon’s cheek twitched, but otherwise he didn’t react. “The same could be said about you, officer.”

Officer Price smiled. “Touché. And what is your relationship to Ms. Martin?”

Jaxon didn’t blink. “She’s part of my legal team.”

“And that’s why you’re at her apartment on a Sunday night? To work?” the officer asked with a clear implication in his words.

“Yes,” Jaxon said, not giving the cop anything to work with.

Officer Price moved closer to her. “Is that true, Ms. Martin?”

She froze. A prickling sensation crawled down her spine, and a cold sweat broke out on her neck. The scents of sulfur and fresh leaves joined the copper of Hannah’s blood. As if someone turned off the lights, a curtain of black descended over her eyes.

“Katie, tell us the truth. We won’t get mad. It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“Can I wash my hands?”

The beefy cop frowned. “You already washed your hands after the nice officer took samples. Don’t you remember?”

She flipped her palms over. They were streaked with brown. “It won’t come off. I can’t get them clean.”

He nodded but didn’t even look at her hands. “We’ll get you some special soap. Katerina, you’ll have to forgive me for having a hard time believing it was an accident. You’re the town’s best shooter.”

“It was an accident. I loved my father and he loved me.”

“Did he touch you inappropriately? Beat you or your mother? You can tell us and we won’t judge you.”

She clenched her fists. “That’s disgusting. You know—everyone in this town knows—he was the most decent man in the world. He never hurt me. Never even spanked me. I’m done answering your questions. Don’t I have a right to an attorney?”

He paused and then smiled like they were best friends. “Learn that in school, huh? You don’t need one. You’re not under arrest. We were just talking until your mother gets here. But if you don’t want to talk, we’ll take you to another room.”

She pushed back from the table. “Let’s go. I’m done talking until my mother gets here.”

Ouch. Who pinched her hip?

Jaxon stared at her with concern.

Her heart sped dangerously. She needed a pill or she’d faint.

Nick’s spine straightened. “Officers, you’re treading on dangerous ground. Any communication between Ms. Martin and Mr. Deveroux is protected under the attorney-client privilege.”

The cop scowled and held up his hands. “I’m just trying to figure out how a suspected murderer wound up at the same place as the victim. What was the victim doing at the apartment? Is she part of the legal team as well?”

Dizzy, Kate collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. “No. I don’t know what she was doing here.” If she’d only listened to Hannah at the office, her friend probably wouldn’t have come here tonight.

Officer Price pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “Start at the beginning.”

She twisted her blood-splattered hands together and glanced nervously at Nick. He gave her a subtle nod. “I got home about a half hour ago. My door was unlocked. When I came inside, I found Hannah, and I called nine-one-one.”

“Did you touch the weapon or any part of the victim’s body?”

Slicing pain darted from her chest into her back as if she’d been the one stabbed. “Not the knife, but I did touch her face. I may have touched other parts accidentally, but I don’t remember.” She turned to Jaxon. “Could you get me a couple pills from my purse?”

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he’d refuse. Then he gave her a sad smile before going to dig them out of her purse by the front door.

The cop raised a brow. “Is there something wrong, Ms. Martin? Do you require medical treatment?”

She pushed her hair back from her eyes. “No. I have an anxiety disorder. My doctor prescribed medication to treat my panic attacks.”

Jaxon came back and dropped two pills in her waiting palm. She couldn’t read his expression. Was he disappointed in her? Concerned? She hated not knowing.

“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.” Officer Price’s suspicious gaze bounced between her and Jaxon. “You said you found her when you came home? Where were you?”

Her breath caught, and she pressed her lips together.

Nick held up his hand. “Ms. Martin, if it was related to Mr. Deveroux’s case, I’d advise you to invoke the privilege.”

She exhaled. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry, officer, but my whereabouts were in relation to my client’s case and is privileged information.”

Officer Price grimaced. “Convenient. You said your door was unlocked?”

She nodded. “Hannah had a key.”

“So she’s more than just another intern,” the cop said.

A vice squeezed her heart. “We’re . . . friends. Since college.”

“Do you know why she was here?”

The guilt ate at her insides and burned her throat. When would those damned pills kick in? “I have no idea.”

Liar.

“Has she used your key before?”

The flash from the camera startled her, and she jumped in her seat. “No, but we gave each other our keys in case we got locked out.” And for Hannah, it had happened on a regular basis.

Officer Price’s eyes narrowed, and her chest constricted. She recognized that look. She’d seen it in the cops’ eyes in her hometown. Seen it in Officer Lawrence’s when he’d interrogated Jaxon.

Disbelief.

He was going to arrest her. Put her in handcuffs and lock her up behind bars.

“When was the last time you spoke with her?” he asked.

Breathe.
“This morning at work.”

“What did you talk about?”

She crossed her legs. “Just girl stuff like periods and yeast infections.”

He didn’t smile. “Right. Now what did you really talk about?”

If she told him the truth, she’d be giving him a possible motive. He’d pin the crime on her. “Nothing. It was so meaningless I don’t even remember.”

He paused, scrutinizing her. “Is there any reason someone would try to kill her?”

“No.” And that was the truth. Other than Kate, who had reason to hurt her?

“What about you?” he asked, as if he’d plucked it from her thoughts.

“Excuse me? I didn’t do it.” Her voice cracked, and Jaxon patted her back a few times, reassuring her.

It wasn’t enough. She wanted him to hold her and tell her it would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not now. In front of Nick and the police, they were simply attorney and client.

“That’s not what I meant,” Officer Price said. “She was in your apartment. Is it possible she was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Nick placed his hand on her shoulder. “Ms. Martin, don’t answer that question. It’s speculation. How would she know?”

Officer Price ignored him. “Do you have any enemies? Anyone want you dead?”

Bile choked her throat, and the room tilted. If she’d been standing, she would’ve fallen to the floor. Had the knife been meant for her?

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head.

The officer flipped his notepad closed and stuck it in his pocket. “I think we should go to headquarters and continue this conversation.”