Paranoid(100)

“I’m in,” Trace Azure said, his voice a deep baritone and sounding faintly amused at his partner’s frustration. “Let’s roll.”

Donahue muttered loud enough for anyone within fifteen feet to hear, “Effin’ elk.”

“So where do you think you are? Effin’ New York City? Deal with it, Donahue,” Azure said, making a point. Chinook was a large county, primarily rural, with a few small towns in its boundaries, Edgewater being included. Their voices faded and the backdrop of ringing phones, low conversations, and shuffling footsteps returned to its usual dull cacophony.

Kayleigh tried to get back into work, still going over the reports, hoping for something, any damned thing she might have missed on her first quick scans.

Cade had called and reported Moretti was MIA.

Great.

Kayleigh’s first thought had been the wronged husband might have sought out his vengeance on his wife’s younger lover, but it turned out Clint Cooper, too, had an iron-clad alibi. He hadn’t even been in the state. And, once more, no fortune-hungry kids were waiting for her to die. Annessa Cooper’s stepchildren by Clint’s first and second marriages wouldn’t get a dime until Clint himself kicked off.

She drummed her fingers on her desk, then caught herself and stopped, only to pick up a pencil and twirl it nervously. She was antsy because of too little sleep and too many unanswered questions. Where the hell was Moretti? Had he been scared off last night? Was he in hiding, in fear for his life after what he’d seen, the attack at the school? But why then not call 911 or try to break up the assault himself?

So what was the connection?

And why the staging? Why leave her alive? Had the killer been scared off? Had he been confronted by Nate Moretti?

She came back to the same thought over and over again: the victims graduated together from Edgewater High twenty years earlier and they both had been at the abandoned fish-packing plant when Luke Hollander had died. They’d both been witnesses on Rachel Gaston Ryder’s behalf.

But that seemed far-fetched.

Who would care after all these years?

Nate Moretti? Reportedly Luke Hollander’s best friend? Why would he suddenly go homicidally berserk? Because of the articles in the paper? She snorted at that thought. Because of the twentieth anniversary of the homicide or was it because of his upcoming high school reunion? She almost smiled. A lot of people hated reunions and didn’t want to be reminded of high school, but killing classmates seemed a little on the extreme side.

She wondered about Harper. Poor kid. No teenager should have to witness the horrifying death of another at such a young age. Well, never, of course, but death happened, often at the hands of another person. Seeing the girl at the scene, so young and broken, beyond upset, clinging to Cade, had gotten to Kayleigh. Watching the interplay between father and daughter had only confirmed to Kayleigh that her decision had been right, that breaking it off with Cade before it had ever really gotten started had proved to be the only path to have taken.

But it was still hard. Painful.

Observing him comforting his daughter had torn at Kayleigh’s heart, had caused her to want Cade Ryder even more than she had before. Why?

Because you’re an effin’ cretin when it comes to Cade Ryder.

She tossed her pencil onto her desk in disgust and watched it slowly roll to the floor, then picked it up and stuffed it back into the mug of writing utensils she kept near her monitor.

She needed to do something. Get out of the office. Away from the desk. Clear her mind. Get a fresh perspective. She was tired from lack of sleep the night before and nothing was happening here. Her phone buzzed and she saw it was Travis McVey. For a second, in her mind’s eye, she saw his bare chest and ropey arm muscles, remembered how it felt to have him turn her easily in the bed and run his hand down her spine and over her rump. She felt a little shiver of desire deep inside but quickly shut it down. “Not now,” she said and let the call go to voice mail. Then added a silent: Not ever.





CHAPTER 31


At 4:47, Cade was done waiting.

Still at his desk in the office, he put in another call to Dr. Richard Moretti’s office and was told that “Doctor” wasn’t returning. Yes, the receptionist had assured Cade she’d handed him the message, but mentioned that the doctor had been called to the hospital. She assured Cade that Moretti had his number.

“Tell him it’s important,” Cade said and heard a pat, if distracted, “Of course,” as she disconnected.

Frustrated, he called the medical supply store Moretti owned.

The phone was picked up by a bored woman who sounded as if she was chewing gum as she said bluntly, “He ain’t here. Ya wanna leave a message?”

“Already did.” And he explained.

“Okay. Got it,” she said and hung up.

“Strike two.” He glanced at his desk, noted the faded manila file folder on Luke Hollander’s death, and wondered why it still bothered him, why he thought it was important in the recent murders. Yeah, the two victims had been at the cannery the night Hollander was killed, along with a lot of others. Their connection was that they’d both testified for Rachel.

Did that mean anything?

He couldn’t see how.

He flipped open the file again, rifled through the statements until he came to those of the people he knew.