MAC TOLD HIMSELF he’d done everything he could about Kate Beaumont’s troubling presence in his town. Unfortunately, his efforts hadn’t amounted to much. As for Kate herself, she made him think of nothing so much as a barricaded fortification—impenetrable walls bristling with weapons, ready to fire at the slightest provocation, or even at nothing at all.
Kate had every right to be here in Laurel Ridge. He just wished he could get rid of the feeling that she was nothing short of a roadside bomb, ready to explode at the slightest vibration.
Kate lingered at the back of his mind throughout the routine on his plate for the afternoon. Plans for the usual fall safety talk at the elementary school reminded him of Kate, saying that her stepfather had drilled self-defense into her. A meeting with the downtown merchants’ association over a rash of shoplifting made him think of her insistence that someone had tampered with her computer.
By the time he went back to his office, Mac had made up his mind. He had to find out more about Kate Beaumont, even if it meant letting her know he’d been inquiring about her. His lips twisted wryly. The words “police harassment” would undoubtedly be heard.
Marge lifted her eyebrows at him as he walked in. “Something funny?”
“Not really. Be sure all the usual stuff is collected for the elementary school safety talk, will you? We’re supposed to do it Friday afternoon.”
Marge nodded. “Will do. Johnny is down at the bank. A fender bender in the parking lot.”
Johnny was young John Foster, a raw patrolman who showed little signs of ripening. He sighed. “Maybe I’d better get down there.”
“You told me to remind you that he has to learn to do a few things on his own, remember?”
Marge was right. She usually was.
“Okay. I guess he can’t mess up a minor accident report too badly.” Doubt assailed him even as he said the words, but the kid had to do something to earn his salary.
Besides, Mac had something else to do. “Tell him to check in with me when he’s finished.” He headed into his own office. “I need to make a couple of calls.”
Actually there was one call on his mind. Phil Durban had served with him briefly in Afghanistan before returning to the Philadelphia PD, and he’d been Mac’s contact point over the whole disturbing business of Jason Reilley’s death. Phil knew the family, and if there were any rumors floating around about Kate Beaumont, he’d be aware of them.
Luckily Phil was in the station. Mac leaned back in his chair, which creaked in protest, propped his feet on the pulled-out bottom drawer and prepared to exchange the usual backchat with an old comrade.
The genial exchange of friendly insults over with, Mac got down to business. “Listen, Phil, I need some information.”
“Don’t tell me one of our local boys has ventured as far as the middle of nowhere to cause you trouble.” There was the ordinary gibe in the words, but he could sense Phil’s attention sharpen.
“Nothing like that, but someone has shown up here unexpectedly. Kate Beaumont.” He waited for a reaction. Phil might look as bright as a trout, but he had a brain that never forgot a thing.
“Tom Reilley’s kid.” Phil’s voice had slowed. “I wondered.”
“Wondered what?” Mac prompted. “Don’t be too forthcoming now, old buddy.”
“It’s not like I really know a lot, but I did stop by and see Tom once in a while. Poor guy.” Mac could almost see him shaking his head. “He took the boy’s death hard, and then when the cancer showed up, it was like he didn’t have the will to fight it.”
“Rough.” There wasn’t really anything else to say.
“Yeah. Not easy to be a cop’s kid, I guess. My wife not only carries the load, she knocks sense into me when I start bringing job issues home. Tom wasn’t so lucky.”
He’d had a vague notion Kate’s mother was out of the picture, but nothing more. “What happened to Tom’s wife?”
“Alcohol. She tried to drive on the expressway in the wrong direction. Left Tom to raise the kids the best he could.” Phil made a complicated sound in his throat that might have expressed either sympathy or regret. “Suppose he made some mistakes. Who wouldn’t?”
“Right.” He let the word hang for a moment, and when Phil didn’t speak, he prompted him. “What do you know about why Kate decided to come to Laurel Ridge?”
Another silence. When Phil finally spoke, he sounded reluctant. “Understand, I’m only saying this because you’re the one who’s asking.”
“Got it.” A man owed things to the people he’d served with—trust, for one.
“I stopped by to see if I could help when Kate was clearing the house. She’d found a lot of her brother’s stuff, including his computer, that Tom had put away. She didn’t confide in me. Well, she wouldn’t. But I got the idea she’d found something in her brother’s things that raised questions about the boy’s death.”
There was a sour taste in the back of Mac’s mouth. “Found what?” He ground out the words.
“Don’t know. She didn’t say. Maybe I’m wrong about the whole thing.”
“No. I don’t think you’re wrong.”
Phil had good instincts when it came to people. So did Mac. And he’d thought from the first moment he’d set eyes on Kate Beaumont that she was hiding something.
“Listen, about Kate...” Phil hesitated. “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