How Secrets Die. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ “Whatever she’s up to, she’s a cop’s kid.”

      “Yeah, I get it.” Professional courtesy again, he supposed. Kate, like it or not—and he suspected she didn’t—was part of the fraternity. Protect and serve. He owed that to every person in his community, yes. But he also owed it, and more, to someone like Kate.

      So whatever it was she thought she’d found out about her brother’s death, he had to take it seriously. To help, if he could. And to do that, he had to convince her to open up to him.

      “Thanks, Phil. I’ll do what I can.”

      * * *

      BY EVENING, KATE was feeling less than satisfied with her progress. She’d been hired by Emily Waterston with no problem, but the woman hadn’t been as forthcoming as Kate had hoped.

      Emily, as she’d insisted Kate call her, looked like the stereotypical chatty elderly lady, with her halo of curly white hair and bright, inquisitive eyes. However, when Kate brought up the subject of her brother, Emily had shied away like a skittish cat that didn’t trust a stranger’s hand.

      Kate would have to take time to earn the woman’s trust. Patience. Unfortunately, patience wasn’t her strong suit.

      Tomorrow, she decided, she’d find a way to make contact with Nikki, the receptionist. Nikki might not be entirely reliable, but she’d clearly been ready to gossip. In the meantime—

      Kate rubbed the back of her neck, where tension seemed to be setting up permanent residence. The only useful course at the moment was to go back to the video diary once more. Painful as it was to watch Jason alive again, she might begin to understand some of his esoteric references now that she’d met a few of the people he’d known.

      Pushing past her reluctance, she settled in front of the computer, a notepad ready at hand. A few clicks brought up Jason’s image. She’d start with the one posted on his arrival in Laurel Ridge and work through them.

      Jason’s hope and enthusiasm for his new start came through so clearly in the first entry that it brought hot tears to her eyes. This was how he’d looked when he’d discovered a new fantasy game or a wonderful author. He’d seen a new world opening up in front of him. What had gone wrong?

      Listening intently, she began jotting down every reference to the people he’d met in Laurel Ridge. She’d get them down, then try to figure out what they meant.

      When a sound impinged on her concentration, Kate glanced up, startled to see that darkness crowded against the window. She’d been so intent she hadn’t noticed the passing of light. The noise had come from outside, she thought, and her heart thudded uncomfortably.

      A second later someone knocked at the door. Cautious, she advanced to within a couple of feet of it. “Who’s there?”

      “Mac Whiting. I’d like to speak to you.”

      I don’t want to speak to you. But she opened the door.

      “Sorry to bother you so late.” He was coming in even as he spoke. His movement was casual, but beyond that Kate had the sense that he held himself under tight control.

      Whatever this was, she didn’t want to deal with it now. “I don’t want to sound unwelcoming, but it’s late.” She managed a smile. “And I have it on good authority that the neighbors will talk.”

      Mac’s face tightened, all planes and angles. “They’d talk more if I asked you to come to the station to meet with me.”

      “You can’t be serious.” She was instantly poised to fight. “You can’t have any possible reason—”

      She stopped, realizing he wasn’t paying attention to her words. He was focused on something beyond her. Kate spun to see Jason’s face looking out at them from the computer screen.

      She sped toward the computer, but even as she reached for it, Mac caught her hand.

      Her breath caught. “Let go of me. That’s private.”

      “Not just yet. What is it?”

      “Nothing. Just a video clip of my brother.” She tried to twist away, to no avail.

      “Something you found among your brother’s belongings when you cleared the house?”

      Her gaze met his, her temper flaring. “How do you know about that? Who told you?”

      His eyes shifted. She felt his reluctance and knew the answer.

      “Don’t bother.” Bitterness laced her words. “I should be able to guess. Phil Durban, I suppose. You cops stick together, don’t you?”

      “We have to.” Answering anger flashed in his face, and she saw him fight to control it. She suspected he didn’t often let impulse get the better of him. Unlike Tom, who would have exploded by this point in the conversation. He’d had a short fuse, and it wasn’t until she’d grown and gone that she’d appreciated the stress that went into his temper.

      “Whatever your buddy guessed, he doesn’t know anything. I wasn’t foolish enough to confide in him.” She threw the words at him, clinging to the enmity between them.

      But Mac didn’t flare back. Instead he studied her face, and his expression softened. “Phil’s a good guy. If you needed help, he’d have been the first to offer it.”

      That sudden gentleness got under her guard. She turned away, and this time he didn’t try to stop her. “I don’t need help. Not from him. Not from you.”

      “Well, now, that’s too bad.” The country-boy casualness was back in his voice again. “Because Phil thinks you found out something that made you suspicious about how your brother died, and I can’t leave it alone. If I made a mistake, I have to fix it.”

      Kate hadn’t expected that, and the admission jolted her. “You mean that?”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have any reason to think I don’t?”

      “No, I suppose not,” she admitted. Even Tom, as much as they’d fought, had always meant exactly what he’d said.

      “Okay.” He made it sound as if they’d taken a giant step forward. “Let’s start over. What makes you think there’s something I didn’t find out about how Jason died?”

      She tried to arrange her thoughts. Her instinct was to tell him nothing, but that had become impossible. But she didn’t have to say she suspected suicide. “It’s not a question of how he died. But why he died.”

      Mac seemed to process the difference instantly. “An overdose...” he began, his voice gentle.

      “An overdose, yes.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t imagine any coroner could miss that. But why? He’d been clean for nearly three years. He’d graduated with honors. He had a bright future. Why would he throw all that away?”

      “Addiction is a day-by-day battle.” Mac rubbed the back of his neck, and frustration threaded his words. “Twenty years ago the worst thing Laurel Ridge cops had to deal with was a Saturday night drunk. Now we fight drugs like every other place in the country.”

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