13

“How’s your friend Trish doing?”

Colin was focused so intently on his computer screen that it took a second for Mac’s question to register.

He glanced over as the other man dropped into his chair at the adjacent desk. “Last I heard, she was okay.”

“When might that have been?” Lips twitching, Mac linked his hands behind his head.

He would ask that.

“We had a brief conversation at lunchtime.”

“In other words, you have a recent update.”

“Yeah. You have an issue with that?”

“Nope. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t pursuing her. She strikes me as a class act. Hot too.”

“I wonder how Lisa would feel about that comment?”

“Hey—I’m married, not blind.” He straightened up and rolled closer to his desk. “What’re you working on? Your nose was glued to the screen when I came in.”

Colin tapped a finger against his keyboard. Why not get his colleague’s take on the latest developments? Mac’s instincts were strong, and he could use some additional brainpower on this puzzle.

“Are you going to be here for a few minutes, or is this a quick in and out?”

“I’m here for the duration . . . unless Sarge assigns me to a breaking case. But at three o’clock on a Friday afternoon, I’m hoping that doesn’t happen. Lisa and I have plans for the evening. Why?”

“Trish shared an odd experience with me yesterday. I’ve been doing some digging and I wouldn’t mind a fresh perspective on the situation.”

“Lay it on me.”

Colin recapped the behavior Trish had witnessed yesterday in the foyer, ending with her theory about the alleged lapses. By the time he finished, Mac was frowning.

“That’s raising some red flags.”

“No kidding . . . especially in light of the photo found in the schoolyard, which implies the mugging was a setup. Given all that’s happened, I decided to dig into Matt Parker’s background.”

“Find anything suspicious?”

“Not yet. According to his LinkedIn page, he has an MBA from Wharton and worked in international finance for . . .” He consulted his notes and read off the name of the firm. “That’s a prominent banking syndicate. He started out in New York, was based in London for two years, finished up in Atlanta.”

“Why did he leave a plum job like that?”

“Unknown. Based on the progressively more complex job descriptions on LinkedIn, he was on an upward career path. But five years ago, he quit. He next surfaces here, three years ago.”

“What was he doing during the two years in between?”

Colin lifted his shoulders. “No idea. It’s a black hole.”

“You look anywhere besides LinkedIn?”

“I did a basic background check. He appears to be clean. No criminal record or financial red flags popped up in a preliminary search, and his past addresses follow his career moves. I did discover he was in Boston—his hometown—during the black-hole years.”

“Any news from the city detective on the mugging?”

“Nothing positive. I talked to him earlier this afternoon. They’re still putting out feelers, but the guy appears to have vanished.”

Mac rolled a pen between his fingers. “So we have a death that was ruled an accident—but may have been homicide. A mugging that seemed random—but may have been a targeted attack. An accountant with excellent credentials and the image of a respectable, law-abiding citizen—but who may have a darker side. A stressed-out woman who appears to have made some mistakes—but who may be the victim of a setup. Am I missing anything?”

“No.”

“That’s a lot of maybes—with no proof any of them are legit.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

“There’s a little problem of motive too.”

“Yeah.” Laid out like that, the theory that Parker might somehow be involved in an evil plot sounded highly speculative—at best. “But Sarge is on board with further investigation.”

“You must have done some fast talking.”

“It worked.”

“You going to chat with Parker again?” Mac pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen.

“I might—depending on what I find after I do some more digging.”

“If you need any help, let me know. This is intriguing.”

“I might take you up on that if the case heats up. Have fun tonight with Lisa.”

“Always.” He grinned and put the phone to his ear.

As Colin went back to googling, Mac’s comment lingered in his mind. The case was intriguing . . . but it was more than that.

It was also unnerving.

Because if his and Trish’s instincts were right, the odd occurrences over the past five weeks were somehow related—and Matt Parker could be the link.

But whoever was behind them, one thing was clear.

He or she had a motive powerful enough to trigger murder.

Oh. My. Word.

As Trish peeked through the peephole at six thirty sharp, her heart skipped a beat.

Colin Flynn would turn any woman’s head in his work attire of dress slacks, dress shirt, tie, and jacket . . . but in tonight’s casual jeans and a rolled-to-the-elbows shirt, he was one handsome hunk of masculinity.

He leaned over to reach for the doorbell again, and she jerked away from the peephole.

Good grief. She’d been gawking at him like a love-struck adolescent.

Doing her best to rein in her galloping pulse, she pulled the door open and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi back.” His lips curved up too, and a tingle ran through her as he gave her casual, shoulder-baring sundress a swift but appreciative scan. “You look very nice.”

“Thanks.”

“How’s the arm?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. And as you can see, I downsized the bulky dressing.” She lifted her arm to display the narrow strip of gauze she’d taped over the stitch line. “Would you like to come in?”

“If you’re ready, why don’t we head for the restaurant? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Me too.” Which was a welcome change. Since her mom’s death, her appetite had vanished—until Colin had restored it with his omelet . . . and his presence in her life. “Let me set the alarm and I’ll join you on the porch.”

Less than a minute later, she slipped out, locking the door behind her.

He took her arm as they walked down the stepping-stones to his Mazda. The courteous gesture felt good—as did the easy conversation that flowed between them during the drive to the restaurant. He didn’t bring up his promised research, and neither did she. There would be time for that later. For now, she wanted to pretend this was a simple date unencumbered by death and knife attacks and malice.

Colin seemed to be similarly inclined. During dinner under the muted outdoor lights, he kept their exchange focused on pleasant topics, telling stories that made her laugh and asking her opinion about movies and books and sports.

Only after he reached over to wipe some stray salsa off the corner of her mouth with his napkin, then ordered dessert, did he introduce more serious subjects.

“I’ve been doing some digging on your friendly accountant.”

“So have I.” At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “Since I didn’t have anything important on my agenda for the past two days, I thought I’d see what I could unearth. I don’t have access to all your resources, but the internet can be a gold mine if you persevere.”

“Does that mean you came across some useful stuff?”

“Curious might be a better word—but I’d rather hear what you found first.”

She listened in silence until he finished filling her in on where he’d searched and what he’d discovered.

“Well, at least he isn’t a criminal.”

“I didn’t say that. The National Crime Information Center database culls from local, state, and federal files . . . but it’s not a perfect system. For example, misdemeanors often aren’t in there. They have to be sent from the county to the state and from the state to the FBI, and breakdowns can happen. However, I think it’s safe to conclude he’s not a felon. What did you find?”

“My search wasn’t as official as yours. I tapped LinkedIn too, and googled a lot of the information that was on there. I found news releases about his promotions, some blurbs in alumnae magazines, an article about his volunteer work in Atlanta with Big Brothers . . . all positive stuff that verified the information on LinkedIn and my own impressions of him. There wasn’t one negative.”

“I thought you said you found something curious.”

“Yes.” She waited while the waitress set an order of sizzling hot apple pie à la mode in front of each of them and moved off. “Knowing Boston was his hometown, I tried googling his name in connection with that city. I stumbled onto this.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her purse and handed it to him. “It’s a death notice for a man named Lawrence Adams, from three years ago. Look a few lines down.”

He gave it a quick read as she dipped a spoon into her melting ice cream, homing in on the part that had caught her eye. “‘Faithful husband of the late Margaret, loving father of Matt Parker, cherished friend to many.’”

“Yes. Isn’t it curious that a father and son would have two different last names?”

“He could be a stepson.”

“Or he changed his last name for some reason. The birth certificate you mentioned you’re waiting for should shed some light on that. To be honest, I doubt I’d have given it a second thought if we weren’t dealing with a bunch of other baffling stuff.”

He set the sheet down and tackled his own pie. “At this point, anything out of the ordinary is worth investigating.”

“I do have one other piece of information that could be relevant. I googled Lawrence Adams’s name and got a lot of hits. He was a lifelong resident of Boston, ran a small construction company that did residential developments, won a number of industry awards, and was known for his honesty and integrity. However . . . there were rumors he had financial difficulties near the end of his life.”

One side of Colin’s mouth quirked up. “If you ever want to change careers, we could use your investigative skills on the force.”

“No, thanks. My teaching job provides plenty of adrenaline.”

“Eat your pie.” He waved his spoon toward her dessert. “And tell me about these rumors.”

She scooped up a hearty bite of apple and pastry. “There were a couple of stories in the community newspaper and in the local construction industry newsletter about delays in his last development. A few vendors said bills were being paid late. Some home buyers weren’t happy about how long it was taking to build their houses. He also sold his own house, moved into a small condo, and relocated his office to less expensive real estate. I can forward you the links.”

“That would be helpful. Was Parker mentioned in any of those stories?”

“No.”

“Did the residential development get finished?”

“Yes—three weeks before Adams died. The company was subsequently closed.”

“Closed, not sold.” He set his spoon down. “There had to be some blue-sky value if he was in business for a lot of years.”

“Maybe not much after the rumors of financial instability.” Trish scraped the bottom of her dish, gathering up the last of the pie.

“Less if all the physical assets had to be sold to keep it in the black.”

“Right. But interesting as all this is, I don’t see how it could have anything to do with what’s going on here, three years later.”

“I don’t either . . . although my gut tells me there’s a connection.” He leaned back in his chair. “I may need to have another talk with Parker.”

“Won’t he be upset about you digging into his background based on nothing but instinct?”

“What you witnessed in your foyer is fact.”

Her stomach tightened. “Are you going to bring that up to him?”

“I don’t know yet. I may just tell him we’re continuing to investigate your mother’s death—unless I can think of another excuse to talk to him.”

She shifted in her seat. “I’m not comfortable with lying.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“What does that mean?”

He scooted around the small round table and leaned in close, lowering his voice. “I talked with my boss today. He’s given me the green light to dig back into the case, based on what’s been going on. I also called to see if your mother’s prescription medication might still be in the evidence locker. It is—and they’re going to hang on to it.”

“Why?”

“It may prove helpful.”

“How?”

“I don’t know—but I want it to be available if we need it.”

She pushed her empty dish aside and folded her hands on the table. “You really think foul play might have been involved in my mom’s death? That someone actually wanted her to die?”

“I think it’s a possibility. That’s why my boss also let the prosecuting attorney know we’re continuing to investigate. I expect he’ll issue a taken-under-advisement ruling, which would change the case status to open-ended and allow for the possibility that further evidence might be presented.” He covered her clenched fingers with his. “The difference is, this time you’re not the prime suspect.”

Prime suspect.

The qualifier sent a shock wave through her.

Did he consider her one of the suspects?

Apparently so, based on his next comment.

“Now that the case is open again, I’m going to need to keep a professional distance until it’s resolved. But I want you to know my long-term goal is the same . . . and I’ll continue to be a phone call away, day or night. Okay?”

Okay?

Was he kidding?

She dropped her chin and regarded his strong fingers covering hers. His warmth and caring and kindness had been her lifeline through this torrent of crises.

Now she’d have to soldier on alone.

“Hey.” He squeezed her fingers. When she looked up, his intent gaze locked on hers. “In case you’re wondering, my feelings about you . . . and us . . . haven’t changed. I intend to do my best to wrap this up and get us back on track ASAP—but I can’t date a woman who’s involved in an active case. I wanted us to have this evening together so you’d know what my intentions are once this is over, but for now I need to concentrate on finding out the truth behind your mother’s death . . . and your mugging.”

Of course he did. That was his job.

And she wanted to uncover the truth as much as he did.

The waitress came by with their check, and as soon as he paid the bill, they left.

Colin didn’t talk any more about the case on the drive back to her house or as he walked her to the door—but there was no good-night kiss . . . even on the forehead. Nor would there be until this wrapped up.

He touched her cheek, reminded her to arm the security system, then turned and walked down the path to his car.

Leaning against the doorframe, she watched him drive away—and prayed God would lead them to answers soon.

Because they could use all the help they could get figuring out the motive behind the evil things that had already happened . . . and those that might be looming in the days ahead.