Love at First Sight

She proceeded to tell him about Liz’s message on her answering machine.

“What’s eerie about it is that at the same time Liz was calling me to tell me she’d found out who he really was, I was coming down the hallway. She was expecting him. On the tape, I heard a knock at the door and she said something like, ‘That’s him now.’

“Add to that the way she greeted him at the hotel, trying to slap him, and his reaction, pushing her into the room as if he didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation or to see them together,” she concluded.

“You think he’s married?”

“Seems likely, huh?”

He finished his coffee. It was time to turn all of this over to his partner. And time for Jack Adams to get on with his so-called vacation. Denny could handle it from here. So why was Jack dragging his feet? Did he even have to ask? He smiled to himself. At thirty-four he knew himself pretty well.

“We need to get you, your information and that message on your answering-machine tape to Detective Kirkpatrick at the police department,” Jack said finally.

She nodded. “You’re not on the case?”

He laughed and looked down at his clothing. “I’m actually on vacation.” Kind of.

She smiled. “You must be very dedicated, chasing speeders on your vacation.”

He almost told her about seeing her at the Hotel Carlton, about making a bet with himself about her, about thinking there was something interesting and suspicious about her, about picking up the coffee-stained napkin she’d dropped and following her. “Just a chance encounter,” he said.

“Just my luck.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that, but she was smiling.

He met her gaze and almost laughed at the tension that sparked between them. Sexual tension? It had been so long he almost didn’t recognize it. Almost.

“What now?” she asked, her eyes large and expectant.

Several thoughts leaped to mind. He wondered if she had plans for later tonight. Except later tonight, he’d be frying freshly caught fish over his Coleman miles from here. Remember all those plans you had at the lodge?

“Oh, there is one other thing,” she said, toying with her coffee cup, the nervousness back. “The guy I saw at the hotel with Liz—” Her gaze came up to meet his. Fear darkened her eyes. “He saw me, too.”

Jack felt his gut clinch. “Did he know you?”

She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. “I don’t think so. He looked…surprised when he saw me, but it could have been because I had red wine all over my dress, which as you know looks a lot like dried blood.”

He nodded, remembering only too well. He finished his coffee, then excused himself. In the quiet of the men’s room, he punched in the number on his cell phone, telling himself he was doing the right thing. But he wondered if the woman back at the table would agree. She seemed to have a definite mind of her own.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he said, when he returned to the table. “By now the police could already have someone in custody.”

She looked relieved as she put down her empty coffee cup. “That is possible, isn’t it?”

“I’ll try to find out for you.”

She gave him her home number and he dug one of his cards from his wallet and wrote his cell-phone number on the back, still thinking he’d be fishing before nightfall. “Call me if you need anything.”

THE PAST TWENTY-FOUR hours felt like a twilight-zone roller-coaster ride. Karen drove back to her apartment in a strangely electrified daze, wondering when the ride would end and the old Karen’s quiet life would return. She couldn’t believe she’d tried to chase down a killer. Even a possible killer. That just wasn’t like her.

No, she wasn’t anything like the Karen Sutton she’d been prior to running into Liz yesterday morning. The old Karen Sutton had only read about murder and she’d definitely never been pulled over for speeding and frisked.

She felt her cheeks flush at the memory. Just the thought of Detective Jack Adams warmed more than her face. She’d even thought she felt high-voltage currents at the coffee shop. Crazy. She’d just met the man. He was a cop, for heaven’s sake. A cop who’d pulled her over for speeding. So how did she explain her reaction to him? Shoot, she couldn’t even explain her reaction to this new fearless her.

Maybe it was adrenaline. Adrenaline and too much sugar and caffeine.

She decided she’d take this new Karen home, get her cleaned up and properly clothed, then wait for Jack’s call. Once the sugar, caffeine and adrenaline wore off she’d be her old self again.

When she reached her apartment, she was actually glad to see Howie waiting for her on the front step. She needed a good strong dose of reality right now.

“I have a confession,” he said solemnly.

A confession. Great. She’d heard enough confessions for a while. But she and Howie did need to talk and she didn’t mind the company right now.

She opened her apartment door, just thankful to be home. She still felt numb from the shock of Liz’s murder. But at least it was out of her hands now.

She put Detective Adams’s card by the phone, cell-phone number up. Just in case.

“I’m not sure I’m up to any confessions,” she said and turned to find Howie inspecting her poor, deprived houseplants.

“Do you have any organic fertilizer?” he asked.

“Howie, we need to talk.”

“Your plants really need water—and fertilizer, Karen.”

She decided to take pity on her poor neglected plants, which she only remembered to water when they looked as if they were on their last stems, to ease her own guilt.

“I think there might be some Make-It-Grow that your aunt gave me under the sink,” she said, then added, “This isn’t going to work, you know.”

He looked up from digging under her sink. “What?”

Why did she feel they had never been on the same page? Maybe not even in the same book? “This. You and me.”

Howie straightened, turning bright red. “You mean you thought—” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “But, Karen, you and I don’t have anything in common.”

Now she was the one confused. “If you realize that, then why did you take me out, bring me pies, offer to water and fertilize my plants?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was interested in you, but, Karen, there’s someone else.”

“Someone else?” For just an absurd instant, she felt betrayed. No, this weird ride wasn’t over yet. She took a wild guess. “Your friend at the Hotel Carlton?”

He nodded and smiled, almost starry-eyed.

Okay. She was starting to get it. That’s why he’d taken her to the Carlton. “You took me out to make her jealous.” It didn’t do much for her ego but hey, if she could help out true love—

Howie shook his head.

She plopped down on the sofa. “Okay, then I don’t get it.”

“Aunt Talley asked me to take you to dinner because she thinks you would be perfect for J.T. and she wanted my opinion. I was planning to talk to you about it but then I spilled your wine and the time just never seemed right after that.”

Her head hurt. It had been a long day and it wasn’t even half over. “J.T.?”

“My cousin.”

Another of Aunt Talley’s grandnephews. She watched Howie mix the fertilizer, wondering how many nephews Aunt Talley had. Well, she wasn’t dating them no matter what her Cupid-playing neighbor tried to tempt her with.

The memory of the fried pies almost made her reconsider. What was she thinking? “Howie, I’m not going out with J.T.”

“Don’t worry,” he said as he began to water her pitiful plants. “He’s not interested, either.”

Karen winced although she didn’t know the man and knew his rejection wasn’t personal since he didn’t know her, either.

“Aunt Talley will be disappointed,” Howie was saying. “She really believes that each of us has a perfect match and that J.T. might be yours.”

Karen hoped that was meant to be a compliment. She closed her eyes. Not a good day. “Are there any of your aunt’s pies left?” she asked, opening her eyes hopefully.

Howie brought her one on a plate with a glass of milk. He was going to make someone a fine spouse.

“Aren’t you going to have one?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never cared for sweets.”

The man was an aberration. Probably ran on the male side of the Iverson family. “So—” she licked icing from her lips “—what is J.T. like, just out of curiosity?”

“He’s…interesting,” Howie said, returning to the plants.

Interesting? The kiss of death. Worse than “nice personality.” Good thing he wasn’t “interested” in her.

Karen finished her pie and milk and Howie finished reviving her plants and left. She locked and bolted the door, feeling vulnerable and a little afraid. She wished Jack would call soon.

As she showered and dressed, she kept thinking about the man she’d seen at the hotel with Liz. She jumped when the phone rang, her heart thundering, her fingers trembling as she picked up. “Hello?”

For one heart-stopping moment, she was afraid it might be The Breather again. When she heard Detective Jack Adams’s voice, a bubble of pleasure filled her. Pure helium.

He burst that bubble immediately. “I just talked to Detective Kirkpatrick.”

“Did they find the killer?” She held her breath.

“Sorry. Denny says he didn’t interview anyone who admitted to even knowing Liz.”

Karen stumbled into the nearest chair. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping the killer had already been caught. “He was in the hotel ballroom this morning. I saw him.” He’d returned to the scene of the crime. Why?

She closed her eyes and tried to calm her hammering heart. “I’m the only one who can place him at the hotel last night with Liz, aren’t I?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“It looks that way.” Jack seemed to hesitate. “Karen, when you and Liz exchanged phone numbers on napkins at the coffee shop, did you see Liz put hers in her purse?”

“Yes… Oh, God,” Karen whispered, seeing where he was headed. “You think she still had my number in her purse when she was killed?”

“I had Denny look through her personal effects. No napkin was found in her purse. Nothing with your number on it. But I checked. Two calls were made from her hotel room last night. Karen, both were to your number. One before her death. The other after.”

Karen felt as if all the oxygen had been suddenly sucked out of the room. The Breather. That had been him calling from Liz’s room. She hugged herself, fighting for air. “He has my phone number.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“He just has a phone number written on a napkin,” Jack continued quickly. Liz must have left it by the phone when she’d called Karen and been interrupted by the killer. “That doesn’t mean he knows you’re the woman who saw him in the hotel hallway.”

“Yet. How long will it take him to get my name and address?” All the man had to do was look in the city directory. Karen’s name was listed along with her address. Jack had already checked.

He wanted to reassure her. But he couldn’t. Now he just wanted to get Karen out of her apartment as quickly as possible. Make sure she was safe. Let Denny handle it from here on out. If Jack was smart, that’s what he’d do. If he wanted to keep his job, that’s what he’d do.

“Detective Kirkpatrick wants to talk to you,” he told Karen. “It’s probably best that you not stay at your apartment. Why don’t I pick you up? How long will it take to pack enough for a couple of days?”

“I pack fast when there’s a killer after me.”

He’d known she wouldn’t argue; she was too smart for that. At least, he’d hoped that was the case and was relieved when she said, “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

He smiled. He also liked a woman who knew when to move quickly. “Good. I’ll pick you up.”

He hung up feeling relieved. Actually, too relieved. How had he gotten so involved in this? It wasn’t his case. Hell, he was on probation, a forced two-week vacation. He should be miles from this case, from this town. Detective Captain Brad Baxter wouldn’t like this.

But once Jack was sure she was safe—

He put the cell phone into his pocket and looked up to find his friend and partner staring at him, waiting, and none too patiently.

“You want to tell me what this is all about?” Denny demanded, from across the table at the small greasy spoon on the edge of Missoula where he’d met Jack. “I thought you were on vacation. What’s with all the questions about the murder?” Denny asked, more quietly, although at this time of the afternoon, the place was almost empty.

“What do you mean, ‘I thought you were on vacation?’” Jack snapped. “You called me this morning with that cryptic bull about ‘Jack, I’m in trouble. I’ve got to talk to you. It’s urgent. Come to the Carlton. Hurry.’ Remember?”

“It’s not important now,” he said, glancing at the waitress refilling a ketchup container at a far table.

“Not important?” Jack said, trying to hold his temper as he stared at his friend. Denny Kirkpatrick had been cursed with dark good looks that as far as Jack could tell, got him in trouble with women. It was his affinity for practical jokes that got him in trouble with everyone else.

Denny’s call early this morning had sounded like the real thing. Jack had leaped out of bed, grabbed the first thing he found to wear and took off for the Carlton, running scared that Denny truly was in trouble. But when he’d gotten to the hotel and seen all the cop cars, he’d thought it had been one of Denny’s tasteless practical jokes.

Either way, he wanted to throttle his friend.

“If this is another of your jokes—”

“I did need to talk to you, but it can wait, that’s all,” Denny said.

“What happened to urgent?” Jack demanded.

“This murder.”

Jack decided to let it drop. He had Karen to worry about right now. She was in worse trouble than Denny. Maybe.

“What is the story on this murder?” Jack asked.

Denny shook his head. “Probably just invited the wrong man to her room. You never answered my question. What’s your interest in this and why didn’t you show at the hotel?”

“Oh, I was there,” Jack told him. “The minute I saw the cop cars, I figured you’d set me up just to mess with Captain Baxter. So I waited for you to go to the men’s room to give you a swirlie before I officially began my vacation.”

Denny smiled and seemed to relax. “Sorry I missed that. Couldn’t you just see Baxter’s face when I came back to the crime scene dripping wet? Imagine what he’d say when I told him that Jack Adams had done it to me.”

Unfortunately, Jack could imagine that. He was already on the boss’s list as a rebel cop who had stepped out of line one time too often. It was why he was on this…vacation.

“Because of you, I met a woman this morning,” Jack said.

His friend laughed. “And you’re mad about that?”

“Unfortunately, it turns out she’s a witness in your murder case.”

Denny sat up abruptly. “Why didn’t you mention that right away?”

“Because I was hoping to find out why you called me to the Carlton this morning.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he said, actually sounding as though he meant it. “You’re a good friend. So, tell me about this woman.”

“We’re picking her up,” Jack said, getting to his feet. He tossed the cost of their coffee and a tip on the table. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”

When Jack finished telling him about Karen, Denny grinned and shook his head. “She really went after the guy she thought was the killer? She’s some gutsy lady. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Yeah, Jack thought miserably. Karen Sutton was turning out to be Denny’s kind of woman.

“Do you have your tape recorder?” Denny asked on the way to Karen’s apartment. “I was thinking I’d take her statement some place quiet away from the office.”

Jack shot him a look.

Denny grinned, acknowledging that Jack knew him too well. “Baxter’s going nuts over this case. I don’t really want him to know about this woman you found. Not yet.”

Jack wanted to warn his friend about bucking Baxter. Denny should have already learned from Jack’s example. But Jack also knew dispensing advice to Denny was like spitting into the wind. “Why would Baxter care so much about this case?”

“Are you kidding?” Denny asked in surprise. “I thought you said your witness knew the murder victim?”

“Liz Jones, right?” Jack had gotten his information from the same bellhop Karen had talked to.

“Liz Jones, now,” Denny said. “Until the day before yesterday, she was the Mrs. in Dr. and Mrs. Carl Vandermullen.”

Jack let out a low whistle. “She was married to him?”

“Was is the key word here. Nasty divorce. She’d been living in their place in Columbia Falls—he’d returned to Missoula to the house they own here up Rattlesnake Canyon.”

“So, what was she doing in Missoula?” Jack asked.

Denny shrugged and looked away. “I guess just finalizing her divorce.” Was it Jack’s imagination that his friend seemed to avoid his gaze? “Baxter wants us to tread softly. He doesn’t want to get on the doctor’s bad side by seeing headlines like High-Profile Doctor Suspected in Wife’s Murder. It’s hard on a man’s political career. And you know Baxter.”

Unfortunately, Jack did. Brad Baxter had much higher aspirations than police captain.

As Jack pulled up in front of Karen’s apartment, he saw Denny frowning to himself. Why did Jack have the feeling that there was a lot more to this case than his friend was telling him?

Jack felt a surge of happiness when the door opened and he saw Karen looking freshly scrubbed and smelling wonderful as if she’d just come from the shower. She couldn’t have looked more like his Girl Next Door. Except, call him old-fashioned, but his idea of the Girl Next Door didn’t include chasing killers.

As Karen looked past him to Denny, Jack saw the flash of interest in her gaze. He’d seen it a million times before. Denny just did that to women and one look was usually all it took for Denny to have a conquest. Annoying as it was, it was something Jack had gotten used to over the years. But it had never made him feel such a pang of jealousy before.

WHEN KAREN HAD PEEKED through the peephole, she’d felt a surge of joy just at the sight of Jack’s boyish face.

“That’s it?” he asked in surprise when he saw only the one small bag beside the door.

“I travel light,” she told him, handing him the tape from her answering machine. That’s when she’d noticed the man with Jack.

“Karen Sutton,” Jack said by way of introduction as he pocketed the tape. “Detective Dennis Kirkpatrick.”

Detective Kirkpatrick had classic good looks and the moment Karen saw him, she knew she’d seen that face before somewhere.

“Everyone just calls me Denny,” the dark-haired man said smoothly, flashing her a snake-oil-salesman of a smile as he held out his hand.

His dark eyes shone with faint amusement—and definite interest as he gazed deep into hers. She’d never liked his type. Too smooth, too charming, too much. But she couldn’t be sure about this new Karen. She’d showered and changed and didn’t feel half-naked anymore, but she also didn’t feel quite herself, either. This new braver, more impetuous Karen scared her.

That’s why she wasn’t sure what her reaction was going to be as she let Denny envelop her hand in his larger one and was relieved when she felt nothing. Zip. Not even a little flutter. Nothing that is, other than frustration at not being able to place where she’d seen him before. She liked this new Karen better all the time.

“You look familiar,” she said, taking her hand back.

Denny grinned, looking pleased, obviously taking it as a compliment as they walked to her car. “Got that kind of face, I guess.”

No, actually, few men had such a classically handsome face and she was sure he knew it. She shook her head. “No, I know you from somewhere. You look very familiar.”

His grin faded a little. He shot a look at Jack.

Jack put her bag in her car and looked over at her, his expression dark as if he suspected it was some kind of pickup line.

Right. She told herself Jack would be singing a different tune when she remembered where she’d seen Denny before. “Don’t worry. It will come to me,” she assured both detectives. “I’m good with faces. I always remember.” Eventually.

JACK DROVE KAREN to Denny’s favorite bar in her Honda, while Denny took the Jeep and a different route. Jack picked up the tail a couple of blocks from Karen’s apartment. With relief, he didn’t notice anyone else following them.

Denny led them through the back entrance and down a set of stairs to a small conference room in the basement. Jack took a seat across the table from Karen, wondering what he was still doing here. Denny could definitely handle it from here on out. In fact, the best thing Jack could do, careerwise, was to clear out now.

“Interesting place to interrogate witnesses,” Karen noted.

“It’s a safe place.” Denny set the tape recorder on the table but didn’t turn it on. “And right now the fewer people who know about you the better.”

She nodded. “I understand the situation I’m in. The killer must be worried about me or he wouldn’t have called my number from the murder scene.”

Smart woman, Jack thought.

“How did he get your number?” Denny asked.

“I figure he either overheard Liz leaving a message on Karen’s answering machine or he found the number on the napkin beside the hotel phone or a combination of the two,” Jack said.

“You think he’s afraid she told me something?” Karen asked.

Who knows what the man was hiding, Jack thought. “Possibly.”

“I would imagine he wants to tie up any loose ends,” Denny said. “You’re a loose end.” He reached over and turned on the tape recorder.

Jack sat listening to Karen retell her story, realizing he wasn’t going anywhere until he knew she was safe.

When she’d finished, she asked, “What now?”

“You go somewhere safe while the department tries to find the guy,” Denny told her.

“For how long?” she asked anxiously.

Denny shook his head.

“What if you don’t find him?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter. “I have work. I have responsibilities.”

Denny reached over and turned off the tape recorder. “There might be another way.”

Jack had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.

“What?” Karen asked, sounding interested and making Jack all that more leery.

“You say Liz met this guy through a newspaper personals ad,” Denny began. “It’s a long shot, but what if you were to put—”

“An ad in the personals,” she said, jumping on it. “That’s a great idea.”

“It’s a stupid idea,” Jack interrupted but neither of them seemed to be listening.

“It would have to be something that he’d recognize, maybe might even be looking for,” Denny said. “Such as, ‘I saw you at the Hotel Carlton Saturday night. You saw me. I know everything. I think we’d better talk, don’t you?’”

“Right,” Karen agreed. “Bluff.”

“Run an ad for a murderer?” Jack demanded, loud enough he got their attention. Just when he thought the woman might have some sense. “Great idea,” he said getting to his feet. “Right up there with chasing the killer in your Honda.”

“Excuse me, but if you have a better idea, let’s hear it,” she snapped back.

“Give the police a chance to find him?” Jack suggested.

“I’m not stopping the police from finding him,” she said. “I’m just not going to sit around waiting for the killer to find me first. I have to do something.”

“She’s right, Jack.”

“Stay out of this, Denny,” Jack warned. It might be Denny’s case, but he and Jack both knew he had no business suggesting this to Karen. Cops didn’t put their witnesses in danger. Not good cops, anyway. What was Denny thinking?

Jack leaned toward her, his palms on the table. “You can’t even be sure that the killer is the mystery man or even the man you saw with Liz.”