Bone Deep Page 11

  Kat wondered if she helped herself to something most days. She’d done that so damned professionally, Kat bet she did, or close enough. Everyone knew she did some selling on eBay; she grumbled when she had to work Fridays or Saturdays, because those were the fruitful days for her to hit the garage sales.

  Or so she’d always said. Maybe her entire online business was based on items lifted from Sauk River Plant Nursery.

  “Damn, damn, damn,” Kat exclaimed. Firing Tess wasn’t going to bother her at all, not after what she’d seen, but it sucked to have to hire and train someone new now, in one of the busiest months. And how much inventory had Tess helped herself to?

  The bigger question, Kat asked herself, was whether she called Grant to have him arrest an employee she’d trusted for almost two years. Was the tape definitive enough evidence? What if Tess claimed she’d grabbed the figurine for a gift and intended to pay the next day?

  After a minute Kat started the feed again and watched herself walk across the camera’s eye and take the money bag from Melinda. The two of them had left together, turning out the lights when they went. The room was now shadowy and still; eventually the camera shut itself off with no movement to activate it.

  Kat realized she had a headache. No wonder. Lord knows she was operating under a teeny bit of stress right now. She’d learned through the grapevine that George Slagle had been not-so-quietly talking about her, about how bones had been found at the nursery, hinting that her arrest was imminent. She’d known George resented her winning the award when he never had, but she wouldn’t have guessed he’d be petty and mean. She’d never done anything to make him dislike her.

  There were a lot of people, she was discovering, who disliked her. More and more this past week she’d left the customers to her employees and hid out in the office or one of the greenhouses. She’d endured enough rumors and innuendo when Hugh first disappeared, and pretended she didn’t notice the way people murmured something quickly to a companion before gazes slid from hers. But she’d thought she was past all that. And this time…this time it was different, because what if George was right? What if her arrest was imminent? It wouldn’t be all that hard to set her up. She kept expecting Grant to get a tip that the rest of Hugh’s bones were in her basement, and find that they were indeed there.

  Where did reasonable fear cross over into paranoia? Did it matter? She felt most of the time as if hysteria was crowding her chest, pressing her lungs, constricting the passage into her throat. She was scared.

  Mad, too, she’d discovered. Mad, mostly, at Hugh. And herself, too, for being so willfully blind. Grant’s incredulity made her ashamed that she’d managed to convince herself that she was happy. Had she ever really been happy? She didn’t know.

  Yes. The night of the banquet, when she heard her name.

  “This year’s Snohomish County Business Owner of the Year is…Kathryn Riley of Sauk River Plant Nursery!” That might have been the happiest moment of her life. She’d made something of herself. She was somebody.

  And there had been that instant when her eyes met Grant’s, and she saw in them pride in her, and yearning that told her he still wanted her. And the rueful tilt of an eyebrow that said, If you don’t want me, why was it me you looked for first?

  They both knew the answer, but he wouldn’t let it stop him from arresting her if he decided she had something to do with Hugh’s death.

  She had always thought she would genuinely grieve if she found out Hugh had been dead all this time, that he hadn’t run out on her. But Grant’s revelations had made her so angry, she thought maybe she hated Hugh. Hated him for telling her so many lies, for making her feel dirty now at the memory of sex with him. For knowing that he’d never loved her at all, not really. To him, she’d been…a convenience. The fun and excitement in his life had come from the pursuit of other women. Apparently, lots of other women.

  Had he intended to leave her for Angie Hiatt? Kat couldn’t remember him seeming any different than ever, those last days. If anything, he’d suddenly noticed her again, in that way he had. Maybe…maybe Angie had quit her job and moved away because Hugh had broken up with her.

  Kat was surprised to find herself thinking viciously, That woman deserved to get hurt. She deserved whatever she suffered. They all did.

  Kat wouldn’t have understood why any woman would so much as look at a married man, except for Grant’s kiss. What she’d felt, and had no right to feel. What she’d done and, more, might have done if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  Clearly Hugh had been good at deluding women. It could be so seductive, seeing what you wanted to see. Who knew better than her?

  But no, she thought wearily, she hadn’t been altogether deluded. She’d known something was missing in their marriage, and even in their partnership at the nursery. A whole lot of something. The trouble was, she had convinced herself that she was being foolish to yearn for some kind of ideal passion and intimacy and meeting of minds. Probably real life wasn’t like that. If it existed at all, she’d never seen it.

  Except… Her throat still clogged at the memory of the first time she saw the newly hired police chief, Grant Haller. She’d been attending a city council meeting because the city was on the verge of annexing the part of the river valley that included the nursery. Hugh couldn’t be bothered going.

  “We’ll be fine either way,” he had said, with one of his who-cares shrugs. He’d given her that crooked, sweet smile. “You can represent us.”

  Now she wondered if he’d been glad to have the evening to himself so he could slip out to meet whoever his latest lover was while his wife sat through endless, droning speeches pro and con regarding an annexation that was, by then, probably a done deal.

  But toward the end, Grant had been introduced and strolled to the front of the room. She remembered losing her ability to breathe. Her heart had contracted, squeezed like a fist, and she didn’t even understand why. He wasn’t that handsome, just tough and solid and male. Broad shoulders. Deep grooves from nose to mouth. Brown hair cut short enough to subdue what she suspected was a tendency to curl. Gray eyes that scanned the audience with a certain cynicism.

  Eyes that had stopped at her, stared. There had been a stunning moment that stretched long enough to make her dizzy, a moment during which she felt things she never had before. Then he’d blinked, turned toward somebody in the audience who had been asking a question, and she’d done her best to become invisible. If he looked at her again that night, she hadn’t been aware of it.

  But every time she saw him after that, her pulse became erratic, her breath either stopped or came too fast. And every time, he looked at her a little too long, and she saw in his eyes the same reluctant attraction she felt.

  Until the night when she’d slipped out of a chamber of commerce meeting a little early, and encountered him in the parking lot. By then they knew each other to speak to; he’d been out to the nursery a couple of times in response to problems, and they had heard each other voice opinions in various meetings. Kat had even met his wife, Rachel, a beautiful, petite blonde with bright blue eyes and a smile that sparkled. Rachel was the kind of woman who, entirely unintentionally, stole Kat’s limited confidence and made her feel awkward. And yet, Grant looked at Kat, even when he stayed at his wife’s side.

  Until that night, when he’d spoken quietly to Kat and walked her to her car. No one else had followed them out of the grange hall. The night was particularly dark, she remembered, the few sodium lamps not casting light to the far reach of the lot where she’d had to park. She had unlocked the driver door and opened it, then turned to face Grant. He was closer than she’d expected.

  “You make me wish, Kat.” His voice was rough. “I do the same to you, don’t I?”

  She still didn’t know if she’d ever answered. His hands had framed her face, tilted her chin up, and his mouth covered hers. From the beginning, the kiss had had a quality of desperation. It wasn’t tentative at all. Most shocking was the feeling of
rightness, as if in him she’d found something missing from her life. It was like coming home to a barely remembered place. She had never, never wanted him to let her go.

  Later, ashamed, she wasn’t sure even the sound of voices spilling out as the grange doors opened would have recalled her to any sense of who and where they were. He was the one to stiffen, his fingers momentarily tightening. He’d groaned against her mouth, whispered, “Kat…” and taken a step back. The cool night air was between them, the sound of other car doors opening and slamming, voices calling across the parking lot.

  All she remembered now was scrambling into her car, yanking the door shut, shoving the key into the ignition. Driving away without looking back, hot and cold pouring in turn through her body. When she got home Hugh had barely glanced away from the TV and she’d gone to bed, pretending to be asleep when he came up later.

  Grant had stopped by the nursery a few days later, but she’d dodged him. She knew he saw her escaping and didn’t care. Did he think she’d sleep with him? She wasn’t like that. Honestly, she wasn’t that crazy about sex, anyway.

  Except, of course, she’d known from the first touch of his large, calloused hands on her face that it would be different with him.

  She had tried very, very hard not to think about that. It wasn’t many weeks later when Hugh disappeared, which made not thinking about Grant that way a whole lot easier. He had looked at her differently after that: as a cop.

  Except, even then, there’d been an odd moment here or there when she saw in his eyes that he was remembering, or feeling the same unwanted attraction that had been there between them from the beginning.

  Until these past weeks, she would have said it was not only water under the bridge, but water that had long since reached the sea and dispersed. She had wanted so much to believe what they’d felt had been no more than momentary temptation. Because otherwise she’d have had to accept that she had betrayed her husband in a way that wasn’t just physical.

  Only, now she knew. He’d been betraying her all along.

  The niggling fear crept over her that it was her fault. Maybe she was cold. She hadn’t gotten a lot of satisfaction out of sex. Hugh’s laziness and ability to slide out of hard work or responsibility had increasingly begun to irritate her. Maybe if she’d loved him more…

  “Don’t do this!” she said aloud, startling herself in her quiet office. Hugh had been gone—dead—for four years now. It was too late for regrets. And, damn it, there was plenty of blame on his side. In fact, right this minute she felt entitled to throw most of it his way. He could have talked to her if he thought something was lacking in their relationship. He didn’t have to start sneaking around looking for it elsewhere. He didn’t have to act as if he liked his life fine, if that wasn’t how he felt.

  Kat was astonished to realize she was crying. She hardly ever did. It couldn’t be this crap with Tess that had set her off. Not Hugh’s death, either; she was too mad at him for that and it was too long ago, anyway. Was she shedding tears for what she and Grant could have had and lost? Maybe.

  Or maybe she was just scared. Scared to find that Hugh’s lies weren’t the only ones, that people she’d liked secretly detested her or stole from her or talked about her behind her back. What she’d wanted most from life and had thought she’d found was a place to belong. Security. A home, a chance to prove she was capable, to see respect in the eyes of other people.

  And now she was finding how easily her business could be undermined, that the respect she thought she saw might have been something else altogether. And Grant had been able to look her in the eye and ask if she’d killed Hugh. He had believed she might have done it, and that hurt more than she wanted to admit.

  But I’m good at something. I have proved that much. She’d turned a marginal business into a thriving one. That was something to be proud of, wasn’t it?

  She did have friends, too, not many, but some. Joan, for one. And she inspired loyalty from some of her employees, like Jason, who she was uncomfortably aware might have a crush on her. She had good customers, too, like Becca Montgomery and Carol Scammell who’d been back today and Annika Lindstrom, who’d been in to buy half a dozen old roses on Tuesday rather than having ordered them from one of the heirloom rose nurseries. Nobody was universally popular. Most employers sooner or later caught an employee stealing from them. Of course she hadn’t been immune.

  Most people, though, weren’t in danger of being arrested for murder. Now she was being paranoid, she thought wryly. All this brooding because she’d caught an employee stealing. She’d fire Tess tomorrow… No, Friday, if she wanted to do it face-to-face. Tess was off until then.

  Okay, Friday.

  Kat gathered her purse and hurried to her truck, wishing she hadn’t lingered until night had fallen. Grant was right; she shouldn’t be here alone, especially with dark gathering.

  But then, she’d be alone at home, too. She’d taken to leaving lights on in case she was late getting in. Kat had even considered, lately, buying a handgun and learning to use it. She carried a marble rolling pin with her when she checked window and door locks. Tonight she would take it with her into the basement, when she went down to be very, very sure the rest of Hugh hadn’t been left for Grant to find.

  “CAN YOU TAKE A BREAK?” Feeling awkward as a schoolboy, Grant stood in front of Kat. Since that last, ugly confrontration, they hadn’t been alone. “I brought lunch.” He held up the pair of white paper bags.

  Her gaze flicked to the employee behind the counter. Chad somebody. She had three guys working for her: this Chad, young and buff, the community college kid and James Cheung, at least mid-twenties, quiet, reserved.She’d been arranging potted pansies on a multilevel plant stand near the front doors when Grant walked in. He’d seen her go very still when she saw him, like a rabbit caught in the open. Now, after a brief hesitation, she nodded. “Sure.”

  “Your office?”

  “It’s a nice day. Why don’t we eat outside?”

  She led the way out the rear door and through the nursery grounds, greeting at a few people on the way. With Grant in uniform, it was a given that pretty much everyone turned to stare. They were probably wondering when he was going to whip out the handcuffs. Kat didn’t ask why he’d come, or anything else. With her walking ahead of him, he got lost in the way even the weak spring sunshine shimmered in her hair. That was when he could lift his gaze from her long-legged stride and the subtle sway of her hips.

  Whether it made sense or not, he had it bad for her. Grant didn’t think that would be changing.

  He’d noticed before that there was a small patio behind one of the greenhouses, accessible only to staff. It was nice: white-painted metal table and set of four chairs on what was more like a courtyard paved with bricks in a herringbone pattern. Pale leaves were unfurling on thorny shoots of roses in the surrounding beds, and it looked as though a bunch of daffodils or tulips were going to burst into bloom soon.

  He set the bags down on the table and pulled out a chair. Kat chose the one opposite Grant rather than the one beside him.

  She looked straight at him for the first time. “What’s this? A condemned woman’s last meal?”

  “More like an apology,” he admitted. “I don’t believe for a minute you killed anyone.” He shouldn’t be saying this to her at all, but the past week had killed him, seeing the wariness and even fear in her eyes when she saw him.

  Now her lashes fluttered, the only way she gave away her surprise. “Have you shared that opinion with anyone?”

  He opened one of the bags and took out the two bowls with spicy black bean soup. “Mortensen.”

  Jeffrey Mortensen was the city manager, which made him Grant’s boss. He was a humorless stick lacking, in Grant’s opinion, any human empathy. If it couldn’t be put down on a spreadsheet, it didn’t exist.

  Kat knew him well enough. Her eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”

  “Not a lot.”

  Do your effing job
had about summed it up. Which Grant had every intention of doing. But his gut told him Kat was another victim, not the perpetrator.

  After a moment she reached for one of the bowls, peeled off the lid and sniffed appreciatively. “I forgot to pack a lunch today.”

  “You’re still losing weight.”

  “Some people eat when they’re stressed. I don’t.”

  He handed her one of the plastic spoons and dipped the second one in his own soup. “Sandwiches and drinks in the other bag.”

  Not having any idea whether she was a meat eater or not, he’d bought croissants heaped with cream cheese and veggies. She unwrapped hers, lifted the top and peered at it, then said, “This looks good.”

  They ate in silence for a moment. He was tempted to tip his face back, close his eyes and let the sun soak in. He didn’t have the excuse Kat did to be feeling stress, but she wasn’t alone in it.

  Maybe because her stress had become his.

  “Why?” she asked finally. “Why did you change your mind?”

  “I didn’t change it. I’ve never believed you had it in you to kill a man.”

  “What?” Looking pissed, she set down her spoon. “How can you say that? You’ve accused me at least twice. Last time—”

  “I asked you a question. I didn’t say, ‘Kathryn Riley, I know damned well you murdered your husband and one of these days I’ll prove it.’ Did I?”

  “The way you looked at me.” Furious color slashed across her cheeks.

  “You saw frustration.” He couldn’t tell her how many shades of frustration she’d really seen. “The truth is, I’m getting nowhere. And you, you keep throwing stuff at me. Sometimes, I think you want me and everyone else to hold you responsible.”