McAllister Justice Series Box Set Read online

  “Thanks for coming with me. I wouldn’t have wanted to walk into that mess alone.”

  “You shouldn’t have walked into it at all.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s a man’s job, a man’s profession, a man’s world.”

  “Not what I meant. What if you’d walked in on the crime in progress? How would you have defended yourself?” He let that sink in as the cobwebs cleared from her thoughts. “It’s not like you could sic your ferret on the killer.”

  “I would’ve come up with something. I always do.” Popping the latch for the door, she shoved to her feet and collected her keys from her jacket pocket.

  “Hold on. We need to talk. Let’s go inside. I’m hungry.”

  “How about we pick this up tomorrow. I’ve got some errands to run.” Rounding the hood, she approached the clunker she sometimes called home. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. I’ve found a buyer for this thing and have decided to buy your buddy’s truck. It’s four-wheel drive and only has twenty thousand miles on it.”

  “It’s about time you got rid of this scrap metal.” Matt sidestepped to block her access to the Civic. “We do need to go inside for a minute.”

  A low groan accompanied her long exhale. “I’m tired. Let’s make this quick.”

  Before she could pocket her keys, he took them, securing them in his fist.

  “Hey! What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just want to make sure we finish our conversation.” Whether she agreed to it or not, she wasn’t staying alone until the mess had been resolved. As her unofficial mentor, he owed her that much.

  Damien greeted them at the door with excited chuffing and sniffing at her furry partner. Gila hopped to the floor and the two began their usual romping.

  Probably what it’s like to have kids. Strolling to the kitchen to make coffee, he rehearsed his planned speech, but it dissipated like ashes spreading on a breeze.

  The clink of car keys landing on top of the cabinet and out of reach got her attention. She remained silent.

  “What are you and your friend, what’s her name from the diner, Alena, up to lately?”

  If Katt chose to stay with someone else, trouble might follow and endanger them as well. A glance at the front door revealed Denny’s jacket still hanging on the coat rack.

  His little PI didn’t know it yet, but she wasn’t going to risk her life to prove her independence.

  “Alena’s doing great. She’s just started taking classes online. When she finishes the prelim courses, she wants to enroll at the university. It’s great that she can get so many of the lower level courses out of the way at a cheaper rate. She’s got two kids to consider.”

  Not a place to take sanctuary. “What about other girlfriends?”

  “I don’t have other girlfriends. What are you trying hard not to tell me?”

  A familiar chime interrupted the conversation as he answered his cell. “Yeah, Larrick. What’s up?”

  “Carina’s not home. I’ll beat the bushes and see if I can find her. Ethan says you two have history. Wanna explain?”

  “No. Uh, not at the moment. I don’t know anything that might help you locate her. We were—casual.”

  “You mean as in short term? A few hours at her place?” Larrick snickered in understanding.

  Matt’s acknowledgment came out on a sigh. “Just find her, please.” He disconnected the call and turned his thoughts back to the problem child who proved every day, in some small fashion, she was no longer a kid.

  Something dark inside prevented him from asking about her male friend. He’d met the boy once. Underwhelmed categorized the assessment, youth lacking specific motivation and a bit too casual in his friendship with Katt.

  As Matt first suspected, his nugget would have to stay right where she was, whether either of them liked it or not.

  “Katt, don’t you think it’s a bit more than coincidence that you’re fired and then your client’s girlfriend is found dead within days? Let’s add to that. You haven’t been able to contact said client, who by the way, was using a burner phone. On top of that, he left his jacket, his bloody jacket, in your car.” Matt finished the coffee prep and pushed the button to start it percolating. The same jacket my guest almost took.

  “Hey, I can’t control other people or their actions.” Katt gathered Gila in her arms before plopping down on the sofa.

  He hadn’t meant to ruffle her feathers, only to lay the groundwork for what he needed to say. “No one expects you to. I’m just saying, either your client killed his girlfriend, or perhaps someone looking for your client got to her first.” Matt let that soak in a minute before continuing. “If they haven’t found him yet, they might go after others associated with him. Like the private investigator he hired.”

  “You think he’s using me to cover his crime? Shit. How do I keep getting into these messes?”

  “Nature of the business. Either way, it’s not safe for you to go home. Alone. Without protection.” Matt took two coffees to the living room and set them on the table in front of the couch. Wisps of steam curled and twisted back to mimic his relationship with one independent smartass PI.

  “I have protection.”

  “Angry ferrets don’t count.”

  “I have a Ruger LC9s.” Her gaze slid to the side, as if unable to meet his glare.

  “What?” Panic charged his voice. She had to be lying. “Where the hell did you get a handgun? You definitely don’t have a permit to carry.” Without his knowledge, she’d delved deeper into a world where she didn’t belong.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ve practiced and I’m good. I also have a side-by-side 12 Gauge. Luc put me in touch with one of his friends who modified it to stagecoach style. It’s really sweet.”

  “Shit. I’m gonna kill my brother. Just the same, it’s not safe for you to go home.” His brother hadn’t minded bending the rules now and then since leaving the force, but he should’ve told Matt about something as significant as obtaining a handgun for Katt.

  “Well, I can’t take this shit to Alena’s house. And I can’t go to my father’s place.”

  “I know, which is why you’ll stay here in the spare room.” Prior to her finding another woman in his home, he would’ve had no difficulty convincing her to stay, yet the subtle rebuff since greeting the dominant female who’d visually devoured him had chaffed her confidence.

  “No. I won’t.” Without another word, she scooped up the ferret and headed for the door.

  “I’ve got your keys and you don’t have a spare in your rattletrap.”

  She turned and smiled before slamming the door.

  He waited, less sure of the outcome. Damn. What else had his family taught her?

  The grinding creak of her car door, then quiet, filled the room. If she slept in her vehicle, she’d be less inclined to accept his company when inspecting the truck she wanted to buy.

  Minutes later, her clunker coughed to life. Before he could reach the door, she’d shoved it in drive and sped down the lane.

  “Well that worked out just great.”

  Damien whined, acknowledging his partner’s loss. “Damn kid. Too smart for her own good and gonna get herself killed.”

  A conversation with Luc would end in a yelling match. Even if his brother had turned down her request, he should’ve informed Matt that she was asking. Instead, the first call went to Billy, the only one sure to make sense of the situation.

  “Hey, I need some help. Katt’s stepped into some shit, and I’m not sure how deep.” Explaining the situation brought a low whistle and agreement.

  “I can ask Malone and his partner to keep an eye on her house tonight,” Billy replied.

  “Thanks. I’ll let her cool off and pick her up tomorrow, then let you know what’s happening. Can you call Ethan and ask him to stop by? I’ve got a jacket here that belonged to Denny Alscher. Tell him its right inside the door. I want him to take it to the lab. If the bloodstain doesn’t belong to him, I think we’ll be looking for an
other body.”

  “What aren’t you telling me? I hear the hesitation but not the explanation.”

  “Katt arrived last evening... while I had a visitor.”

  “Oh, hell, man. What’d you do?”

  “Nothing. Shit. It was Carina Frendal. I, uh, dated her once.”

  “As in... for a few hours one night?”

  “Yeah, but it was four months ago. Last night she just showed up out of the blue.”

  “Aw, man. You fucked up. Royally. Katt doesn’t deserve that. Not after you’ve danced around the edges all this time. Did you at least explain the reason for the visit?”

  “No.” Fuck. “What was I supposed to say? Hey, don’t worry about Carina. She was just a bar pickup with incredibly long legs, one whose athleticism in bed outmatched anyone I’ve ever encountered.” Fate had handed him the perfect opportunity to send a message to Katt, that he wasn’t the man for her, and he’d taken it. So, why do I feel like shit?

  “You need to decide. What’re you going to do?”

  “For tonight, I’m gonna sit on her house. Tomorrow I’ll convince her to stay here for a while.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  The line went dead before Matt’s string of curses filled the air.

  He’d been inside Katt’s house when helping to move some furniture. Her duplex was situated on a street such that he could park his truck close to the cul-de-sac and not be seen if she looked out her window. If she caught on to his staking out her house, he’d end up with airless tires or some equally foul prank.

  Chapter Eight

  Unlike Lexi, Katt’s resume didn’t include B&E. Slow breaths inhaled the misty night air but failed to calm her racing heart. Each snap of a branch, rustle of leaves, or repeated chant of a whip-poor-will inspired visions of a horrid death.

  According to his driver’s record, Denny lived in this quiet neighborhood. He’d said he lived in the sticks, but she’d soon learned different. A quick database search divulged few other details she hadn’t expected. He rented the home, had lived at his current residence for less than a year, and had never been involved in a civil case in Oregon.

  Records of a Ph.D. in chemical engineering revealed a 3.8 GPA. Although the man came across as intelligent, her gut declared something off.

  Aerial maps revealed an approach which provided cover, a thick wooded barrier between neighborhoods. She’d parked her car along the desolated street and quietly made her way through the woods. The muted beam of her flashlight prevented her from stepping in holes or stumbling over fallen limbs.

  In a fair self-assessment, she wasn’t sure if the roots of her procrastination to proceed resulted from fear of finding another dead body or becoming one herself. Pain from the elevator prick grabbing her hair had reinforced the conviction she needed to take more self-defense classes.

  At the edge of the tree line, she doused her light and waited, visualizing the map in her head and comparing it to what lay before her. A somewhat-straight line from her car through the woods put her at the back of Denny’s house, confirmed by the small fenced area off to the side built for garbage cans. From what appeared to be the kitchen, a small light spilled through a window.

  Shade trees in his backyard presented enough cover to shield her path to the two-story colonial. No back porch meant she’d be vulnerable for about twenty yards. Fancy wooden rails bracketed brick steps and inspired a plan for an early warning system. From her backpack, she retrieved her wire and snips. Gloves hindered the process but were necessary.

  Without a breeze to shuffle the clouds across the sky, the atmosphere retained its dark and foreboding nature. She couldn’t put her finger on the specific reason the tremor in her hands increased or why the hair on her nape pricked. If pressed for an answer, she couldn’t even define what drove her to search his house. Maybe she’d find something to validate her suspicion that he wasn’t a murderer. There’d been no doubt he’d lied to her, but the why of it didn’t come.

  Picturing the necessary steps to pick the lock created a sense of calm. It wasn’t as if she didn’t do this every time she visited Matt. It was, however, the first time she’d broken into a stranger’s home. The back door contained no glass inset, meaning she’d go in blind.

  Denny’s education rated more than a nice car. He’d graduated years ago, so, what had he done with his money? His demeanor directed her thoughts to a cultured male who enjoyed life’s more expensive pleasures. The home was nice, but nothing set it apart and spoke money, as did his clothes and car.

  Less than two minutes and she’d opened the door, but its drawn-out squeak made her wish for a can of oil. When she stepped inside, expecting death’s rot to assault her senses, she took a cautious breath. A little stuffy. He hasn’t been here for a few days.

  As per Lexi’s pointer on how to commit a crime and stay safe, she thumbed the door’s lock. The other pointer Ethan’s girlfriend had given entailed establishing a low thin trip wire between the back stair railings.

  To her left, several loud cracks forced her to drop into a crouched position. Her heart stuttered in her chest while bile rose in her mouth. Yet nothing jumped out to grab her or knock her down. No sudden pain made her clutch her body in shock.

  The icemaker. Feeling silly trumped feeling nothing at all.

  From a side compartment of her backpack, she retrieved her modified flashlight with a small slit in the lens covering. Its narrow swath of blue light allowed her to inspect the home’s interior.

  A bowl of hard candy and a small vase of flowers sat on the extended bar, the blooms long since faded. A gift from Molly? Four stools allowed plenty of elbow room for diners. To her left, a small closet held a broom, bucket and mop, along with various cleaning fluids on the far shelf.

  No specific expectations guiding her search meant visually cataloguing everything encountered. The first sweep of her flashlight revealed evidence of a neat freak. Everything in its place, sparse furniture. No dirt, no dishes with half-eaten food.

  Her next step toward the door leading to a suspected dining room halted in midair. Muffled cursing outside preceded a heavy hand landing on the doorframe. Someone had stumbled over her tripwire.

  Since the house had a garage, it seemed doubtful Denny would enter through the back door. She hadn’t heard a car drive up.

  If the elevator prick wanted another crack at her, he must have waited until she was inside for a quieter space for interrogation.

  They must have seen her crossing the yard, maybe waiting at the tree line a little farther down.

  With no knowledge of the home’s layout, she couldn’t risk stumbling over furniture in another room. It seemed improbable the intruder would open the kitchen closet upon entering.

  The heavy metal light in her hand offered little comfort as she scooted into the closet, heaving a quiet sigh when it didn’t squeak. No immediate plan formed after dousing the blue beacon, its small click echoing in the tight confines. Leaving the door ajar admitted ambient light from the window over the sink.

  Seconds passed with no mumbled complaints and no telltale whoosh of the outside door opening.

  Lack of rushed footsteps in retreat spurred the thought that maybe there were two; perhaps the partner circled the home to cover the other exit.

  The slight creak of the back door opening increased her hand’s shaking. She gripped the flashlight harder to compensate for sweaty palms. Shit! Whoever entered employed stealth. No click of a switch, no swath of light beamed in the closet to expose her presence.

  Her breath came with the sour taste of panic. If they were searching for Denny, there existed an increased prospect of violence. The image of Molly’s sightless eyes swam in Katt’s vision.

  On the shelf behind her, the assorted cleaning fluids would prove useless as weapons. If she tried to remove the mop, it might have weight, but the noise created would alert her guests. The broom presented less opportunity for defense, unless she could land a face jab.

  Whisper
ed words defied clarification except that two men had entered through the back. One walked with a limp, the odd cadence suggesting an injury.

  The other wore heavier boots, or maybe more mass created heavier steps. The second carried himself with a stealthier stride, as if surfing the shadows.

  When the louder set of footfalls rambled off, she lifted the broom. Wrapping one hand around the broom handle and her flashlight, she used the other to nudge the closet door open a few inches.

  Her eyes had adjusted to low-light conditions and allowed a glimpse of the man’s back, head, and shoulders. A black hood disguised any specific features. Christ, he’s bigger than the elevator prick.

  Flatware slid when he opened the next drawer, subtle clinks masking her soft footfalls. His progress halted at the sink where he looked out through the window, opposite her position. He had three more drawers to open before turning sideways and discovering her approach.

  If she’d waited and he opened the closet door, his partner might be close enough that two-to-one odds wouldn’t end well. Matt always encouraged her to take the initiative.

  In a desperate bid for freedom, she lunged forward to pause behind the stools. The kitchen bar stood between herself and the hulking intruder. Sensing her, he turned, moonlight accenting his open mouth which narrowed to a predator’s grin. “Why, hello there.”

  The sheer size of him halted her movement until he cleared the bar and prowled closer.

  “Hey, who’re you talking to?” The second intruder’s hissed words distracted his partner.

  “We have company, man. A nice little morsel.”

  Without waiting, Katt jammed the broom handle at his face, striking his throat instead. Between the choking cough, stumble-steps backward, and grabbing his neck as he hunched over, she gained a few seconds. She struck again then turned tail and ran.

  The broom handle clattered against the wooden stool during her rush to exit. She didn’t remember dropping it.

  Leaping off the steps cleared the trip wire but increased her instability on landing. One bobbled step and she regained her balance.