The Detective And The D.A.
Leann Harris
District Attorney Kelly Whalen was investigating a case that led into the highest circles of Texas society, a murder that someone very important wanted to remain a mystery.And she was going to need help from the last person she wanted in her life - the ex-husband she'd never quite gotten out of her system . Tony Ashcroft still knew more about crime than any detective in Houston.Trouble was, he also knew how to get under Kelly's skin - and make her want him with the same breathless hunger she'd always felt for him. And working with him, day after day and night after night, was really turning out to be murder .
“You’re a dangerous man, Detective,” Kelly murmured.
Tony’s knees nearly buckled. Concentrate, he told himself. But all he wanted was to reach out and run his fingers over her cheek and down her neck. She had a little place there that, if he kissed it, would make her melt.
She leaned forward, and for an instant he thought she was going to kiss him. Suddenly she jerked back and turned away, color in her cheeks. “All right, Tony. Let’s see if we can turn up any evidence of murder.”
She was in her crusader mode, fiery and sincere. And it reached deep within him. He wanted to help, wanted to slay this dragon for her. “You got it, Kel.”
Her smile sent a jolt racing through him, making him want things that couldn’t be.
Oh, he was in trouble. And it had nothing to do with murder….
Dear Reader,
Once again we invite you to enjoy six of the most exciting romances around, starting with Ruth Langan’s His Father’s Son. This is the last of THE LASSITER LAW, her miniseries about a family with a tradition of law enforcement, and it’s a finale that will leave you looking forward to this bestselling author’s next novel. Meanwhile, enjoy Cameron Lassiter’s headlong tumble into love.
ROMANCING THE CROWN continues with Virgin Seduction, by award winner Kathleen Creighton. The missing prince is home at last—and just in time for the shotgun wedding between Cade Gallagher and Tamiri princess Leila Kamal. Carla Cassidy continues THE DELANEY HEIRS with Matthew’s story, in Out of Exile, while Pamela Dalton spins a tale of a couple who are Strategically Wed. Sharon Mignerey returns with an emotional tale of a hero who is Friend, Lover, Protector, and Leann Harris wraps up the month with a match between The Detective and the D.A.
You won’t want to miss a single one. And, of course, be sure to come back next month for more of the most exciting romances around—right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Enjoy!
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
The Detective and the D.A.
Leann Harris
LEANN HARRIS
When Leann Harris first met her husband in college, she never dreamed she would marry him. After all, he was getting a Ph.D. in the one science she’d managed to avoid—physics! So much for first impressions. They have been happily married for over thirty years. After graduating from the University of Texas at Austin, Leann taught math and science to deaf high school students until the birth of her first child. It wasn’t until her youngest child started school that Leann decided to fulfill a lifelong dream and began writing. She presently lives in Plano, Texas, with her husband and two children.
I would like to thank
the following people for their help with this book:
Lt. Dave Davis for his ideas
on how to get a case kicked back.
Warren Spencer for his suggestions
on how police and the D.A.’s office interact.
Robert Hurst of Houston PD for his willingness to
answer all my questions. Any errors are strictly mine.
A dedication:
This is for you, Dad. I miss you.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“You can’t go in there unannounced.”
Kelly Whalen heard her secretary yell from her desk in the next room.
“You gonna stop me?” The man’s tone held true menace.
An assistant D.A. for the city of Houston, Kelly recognized the voice of her ex-husband and wondered why he was here. And apparently unhappy. Very unhappy.
A moment later all six feet two inches of Detective Tony Ashcroft barreled into her office. He wore his let’s-frighten-the-socks-off-the suspect expression. “What the hell is going on here, Kelly?” he demanded.
Ash was still an incredibly handsome man with wide shoulders, dark brown hair, and green eyes that sparked with anger.
Teresa Myers, her poor secretary, rushed into the room behind Ash and came to a halt. “Sorry, Kelly. I tried to stop him, bu-but it was like trying to stop a herd of cattle from charging.” Teresa knew of what she spoke, having been raised on a cattle ranch in West Texas.
“Don’t worry about it, Teresa.” Kelly stood. She wanted to be at eye level with her ex—as much as she could—in a position of power instead of looking up at him like a servant. “When Ash makes up his mind, nothing short of calling in the marines could stop him.”
Teresa glared at the detective. “I don’t doubt it,” she mumbled as she walked out of the room.
Ash folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t look amused at the exchange between Kelly and Teresa. “Now that the show’s over, you want to explain yourself?”
It had been close to four years since she’d spoken to Ash. She’d seen him in passing at the courthouse and around city buildings, but they hadn’t spoken since they had cleaned up the property issues remaining after their divorce.
“You want to let me in on what it is you want explained?” Kelly shot back, irritated with his attitude.
“Why was I tapped to do the reinvestigation of the Carlson case since it was originally Ralph Lee’s?” he snarled.
“What?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “You’ve been assigned the case?” Kelly felt as if a bomb had just exploded in front of her, leaving her disorientated and disconnected to the world.
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know?” He sounded skeptical. “Didn’t request it?”
“No, I didn’t request it.” Did he think she was nuts? “And no, I didn’t know.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was called into my captain’s office this morning and told to c-o-o-p-erate with you on this case.”
Kelly hated when Ash got that tone in his voice.
“I’ve been pulled off my active cases, which didn’t make my partner happy, and told to report to you. So explain what’s going on.”
Taking a deep breath, she said, “Sit down, Ash, and quit glaring at me. I’m not a suspect that needs to be interrogated.”
“If only it were that easy,” he grumbled.
She had had enough. “Just sit down and stop acting like a hard case.”
“I’m the hard case, Kelly?” His brow arched. “If I recall, I wasn’t the only one.”
She didn’t want to open that can of worms. “This situation is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. I’ll call your captain and see what’s going on.”
He didn’t look as if he wanted to cooperate. He looked more like a man approaching a deadly situation, determined not to let down his guard. He moved to the chair in front of her desk and sat.
Kelly grabbed up the telephone and, with a vengeance, punched in the number of the captain over the detectives. After a couple of rings the captain answered.
“Captain Jenkins, this is Kelly Whalen of the D.A.’s office. Detective Tony Ashcroft is in my office. He says he’s been assigned to the Carlson case. What can you tell me about it?”
Captain Jenkins answered in a nonchalant manner. “Yes, I assigned him the case, Ms. Whalen. Is there a problem?”
Was there a problem? Of course there was a problem. “Could you explain your reasoning to me?”
“Detective Lee is in Amarillo testifying in a murder case, then scheduled for a vacation. Since your office needed someone immediately, I assigned the case to Ash.”
“What about Lee’s partner?”
“He’s retired.”
Well, wasn’t there another man in the entire department that they could assign this case to? Kelly wanted to yell into the phone, but obviously couldn’t say it with Ash glaring at her. “I see. Was there a particular reason you picked Detective Ashcroft?”
“Yes. Ash has just closed several high-profile cases and his caseload is light. And he’s very adept at handling the press and the public.”
Kelly knew when she was being jerked around.
“Also, Ms. Whalen, you’re going to need someone who can stand up to all the different bickering parties in this case. And the man that came to my mind and that of our department lawyer was Ash. Besides, we don’t want Carlson or his lawyer to complain that the Houston Police Department tried to railroad their client a second time. Do you have an objection to Detective Ashcroft?” he asked, innocence in his voice.
Jenkins knew exactly what the problem was. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to work with his ex-wife in the glare of the TV cameras and radio microphones. Their divorce had been messy. But she wasn’t going to let police go one up on her. This was a little game that the police and the D.A.’s office played. Unfortunately, both she and Ash were on the short end of this stick.
“I would’ve appreciated a heads-up on the situation, Captain.” She let her displeasure color her last word.
“Do you want another detective assigned to the case, Ms. Whalen?” he asked again.
“No. Detective Ashcroft will be fine.” As she hung up the phone, she gritted her teeth.
She studied her ex over the desk. She could just imagine the sparks that had flown in Jenkins’s office earlier in the day. “What did you do to make your captain mad at you?”
Ash clenched his jaw. From his reaction, she’d hit the nail on the head. “Why don’t you just fill me in on the case.”
Obviously, something had gone down to put him in the doghouse. And although it was a daunting thought to have to work with Ash, she couldn’t complain that Houston PD had sent her a bad officer. She may have personal problems with him, but he was a fine cop. And a fine specimen of manhood.
Shaking off the errant thought, she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Last Friday the state supreme court threw out the Carlson case. Reversed and Rendered and the man is out of jail. Apparently, Carlson got a new lawyer and he discovered that one of the jurors knew the victim’s parents and was persuasive during the deliberations. Also, the lawyer pressed the issue that the cops had searched his apartment before they had a warrant. The clothing was tossed. I have to refile this case, and I need an investigator to flesh out some new leads.
“My boss is not happy with the court’s decision. Andrew Reed is crying foul and raving how his wife’s murderer was let out to walk the streets. Catherine’s parents, George and Nancy Procter, will probably have everyone on the social register in Houston howling by the day’s end and calling every official they know.” She mentioned the prominent couple to remind Ash of their problems. “I don’t doubt they’ll give interviews to every media outlet in the city.”
She handed him a copy of her file on the case, then stood and walked around the desk.
Ash opened it. “Ralph Lee was the lead detective?” Ash’s solemn tone set her nerves on edge. He looked up and studied her face. From the hard planes of his jaw and cheeks, she had no idea what he was thinking.
“He was, and I’m not happy with the man for doing that search before he got the warrant. He also left several dangling ends. Carlson claimed he was in the Reed house and stole her jewelry, but he didn’t murder her. I know I’m going to need another piece of solid evidence that I can give the jury to connect Carlson with the murder. I’m going to need more evidence now that I don’t have the clothing I can present to the jury.” She didn’t mention that there was something in the file that made her uneasy. Maybe once he’d looked at the file, he could identity it.
Ash placed the file on the desk, stood and met her eyes. The air between them became charged. The magnetic pull that was always there between her and Ash sprang to life, surprising and unnerving her. Her heart started to pound and her stomach dropped to her feet.
Why suddenly had the old chemistry that had burned so hotly between them flared to life now? She tried to ignore it, but it was like trying not to see the elephant in the room.
“When Lee finds out about me taking over his case, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Then Lee should take up the problem with your captain. He’s the one who screwed up.”
Stepping away, Ash mumbled a curse, then ran his hand through his brown hair. The thick waves flowed over his long fingers. She remembered doing the very same thing—running her hands through his hair. She knew how it felt, the richness, the thickness of his hair and what it usually led to.
Stop! her mind screamed.
“Just what I wanted—a fight with Lee and working with my ex-wife on a political hot potato.”
His comment jerked her out of her fantasies. What was the matter with her? “Since when did it bother you to go against the establishment?” Kelly snapped. “You always enjoyed poking the powers that be in the eye. And I suspect that was the reason you got assigned to this case. But I need that rebel in you, Ash, to find me something new that I can take to court.” She shook her head. “There’s going to be a lot of publicity on this case. I won’t mention what the mayor had to say about that.”
The meeting she’d attended with the mayor, who’d stressed that Andrew Reed and the Procters were powerful in the city’s political scene and had supported him, could cause them no end of grief. And he didn’t want that headache.
Ash picked up the file folder. There was a question in his eyes and some fleeting emotion that caused her heart to beat faster.
“I’ll review this and get back to you.”
“I’m going to want to refile this case as quickly as I can.”
His brow arched, then he nodded and walked out of the room.
Kelly collapsed against her desk and took a deep breath. She felt as if she’d just finished running a marathon, physically and emotionally wrung out.
She didn’t want to work with Ash. It was bad enough she had to revisit this nightmare. Remembering this case, and what had been going on in her life was painful. Add to that all the political fallout, then Ash being assigned. The captain knew exactly what he’d done by giving this case to Ash.
Ash’s husky voice had sent goose bumps rushing over her skin. When they were married, he’d whisper the things he wanted to do to her, and she’d melt into a puddle at his feet.
But that couldn’t happen again. They were only working with each other. Period. End of story. Nothing more.
Too bad her body didn’t believe that.
Ash marched down the hall of the main police facility, his temper building with each step.
He’d been blown away this morning when his captain announced he’d been assigned to work with Kelly. Then coming face-to-face with her had knocked him for a loop. She was still a gorgeous woman, blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a figure that had stopped more than one attorney at the courthouse.
He pushed open the door of Matthew Hawkins’s office and barreled inside. Ash’s ex-partner now worked as a lawyer for Houston PD. “What the hell were you thinking, Hawk?”
Hawk looked up from his desk and sat back in his chair. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Ash. It’s kinda the nature of my job. You want to narrow it down?”
“Kelly.”
Ash threw himself in the chair in front of the desk. “You know how I feel about—” He gritted his teeth, not wanting to think about his ex-wife and the tide of emotions their meeting had jerked out of him. Dammit. He didn’t want to work with her.
Hawk put down his pen and studied Ash. “You’re lucky if that’s all the fallout from this past week.” Hawk shook his head. “Wrecking two cars within six days, then you finish up by punching out the suspect’s sister.”
Ash glared at his friend. The first wreck had been his fault, running the light as he chased the suspect who got away. The second wreck, the suspect had rammed him. “The woman was trying to stab me in the neck with a nail file as her brother ran away.”
“Well, you created a media nightmare, and Jenkins was ready to send you to Pasadena on an exchange program, when Kelly called him. When Jenkins talked the situation over with me, asked me what I thought, what was I to say?” Hawk shrugged. “Your butt was in a sling.”
Ash ran his fingers through his hair. “How’d you like to work with your ex?”
“My ex-wife already tried to run that scam on me, remember? And I nailed her on it.”
Ash remembered the incident. It was after Hawk had married his current wife, who turned out to be an heiress. “Yeah, Brandy didn’t take to kindly to your second marriage.”
Hawk shook his head. “She wanted money. But Kelly is nothing like her.”
Years ago, when they were still partners, Hawk and Ash had gone through their divorces within months of each other. They drowned their sorrows together and commiserated with each other on the disadvantages of marriage.
Recently Hawk had remarried and now had a child. He was happy with his life for the first time in years.
“It was Ralph Lee’s case,” Ash grumbled, wanting Hawk to know how truly miserable this situation was. “His screwup.”
“I know.”
“So just throw me into the biggest, darkest pit you can find.”
“I’ll admit Ralph can be an SOB to cross—”
Ash’s brow arched.
“But you can go toe-to-toe with him, Ash,” Hawk finished.
Ash shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Hawk. It was weird standing there, looking at Kelly. I haven’t had a face-to-face meeting with her since we divided the property.” He ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to admit the feelings that had ripped through him earlier. Feelings that he never thought he’d experience again. And certainly not in response to Kelly.
Ash glared at Hawk. “I don’t know whether to punch a hole in the wall or the supreme court jurists for letting Steve Carlson loose.”
“My legal advice is that you do neither.”
He shook his head. “So not only do I have to work with my ex, I have to dance around Ralph Lee’s ego. The man’s worse than an old dog with a bone. What a mess.”
“You got it.”
“You know, since you’ve discovered love, Hawk, you’ve become a real pain in the butt.”
“Ash, if you need any help, let me know.”
“What I need is another A.D.A. and someone else to do this case,” Ash grumbled as he left Hawk’s office.
“Unfortunately, you’re it.”
Didn’t he know.
“So, that was your famous ex-husband?” Teresa Myers asked as she placed a letter on Kelly’s desk, then lingered longer than necessary.
If Teresa only knew what Ash and she’d been through—but she didn’t, and Kelly had no intention of sharing. Of course, after this afternoon, Kelly could understand Teresa’s awed tone. Meeting Ash under the best of circumstances was intimidating. Meeting him when he was fit to be tied wasn’t a pleasant experience.
“That was him.”
“Is he always so—uh—dynamic?”
Kelly shook her head. She’d bet that dynamic wasn’t Teresa’s first choice of words to describe Ash. “Pretty much.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened.
“Ash is good and doesn’t take shortcuts.” The words tumbled out of Kelly’s mouth before she thought. “If he brings me evidence, I can count on it. And that’s what’s important right now, not how I feel.”
“So, what you’re telling me is you are going to be able to work with you ex and have no problems?”
That was the question that had plagued Kelly since Ash had left. “Why shouldn’t I?” she answered.
“Because the man’s a hunk.”
Great, just want Kelly needed to hear. She clenched her jaw and forced a neutral tone. “Ash could strip naked in this office and it wouldn’t affect me, except that I would call another cop to cite him for indecent exposure.”
Teresa’s expression said she didn’t believe a word of it. “If you say so.” She picked up the newspaper on the desk. The headline proclaimed Carlson’s release. “Isn’t this going to be a nightmare? My mom asked about double jeopardy.”
“If Carlson had been found innocent, that would be the case. This order throws out the original verdict and part of the evidence, so we have to start all over again. I need to refile on this case. Would you bring me the paperwork?”
“Sure.”
Once alone, Kelly stood and walked to the window. Downtown workers poured from the buildings, hurrying home. Home to their families and loved ones. Kelly didn’t have to worry about anyone waiting on her. She was her own woman. No one to tell her what to do. No one to tell how her day had gone. And she liked it that way.
When she reviewed the case days ago, after the court had ruled, she was distressed with the dangling ends left in the case. Also, although Carlson copped to the burglary, he vigorously denied murdering Catherine Reed. There was fiber evidence to prove he had been in the Reed house, but no blood evidence could be found to connect Carlson with the murder. And it had been a bloody scene.
She shook her head. Working with Ash wasn’t going to be a problem, she assured herself, even though their approach to the law was as different as night and day. He thought outside the box. She wanted all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed. Her miscarriage had intensified those differences, driven a wedge between her and Ash that had finally resulted in their divorce. He hadn’t understood—Kelly stopped her thoughts from going further.
Those were issues that weren’t involved in this case and she wouldn’t have to revisit them. They could work together on a professional level.
Yeah, and since when did the assistant D.A. start lying to herself? asked a voice in her head.
“Since the Carlson case got kicked into my lap,” she whispered.
Ash walked slowly into the building that housed the criminal division of the D.A.’s office. He’d spent the night reviewing the Carlson case. Reed claimed that he and his wife had gone to a society dinner. Then afterward, he had dropped his wife off at their house and gone out for cappuccino at a trendy coffee bar by their house. When he had came back home, he had found Catherine in their bedroom, hacked to death with the Civil War saber that had belonged to Catherine’s great-great grandfather. He’d immediately called the police. Afterward, it had been discovered that their safe had been robbed of two diamond necklaces.
All the pieces fit together into a clear picture—except that there wasn’t any blood evidence on Carlson or in his apartment. Fiber evidence, yes, but no blood. Of course, Carlson could’ve disposed of the shirt, but as bloody as the crime scene had been, it would’ve also gotten onto his pants, too, which had contained fibers.
Carlson’s hands had been cut and bruised, but he claimed it was from changing a tire on his car.
What didn’t make sense to Ash about this case was that Carlson was a burglar. He’d done time for theft. He didn’t have a history of violence, with the one exception of being arrested for hitting his ex-wife. The manner in which Catherine Reed had been killed indicated rage. Carlson’s history didn’t fit with the crime.
Ash wondered why Kelly hadn’t questioned this aspect of the crime the first time around. Then it hit him—the timing of the murder. Five years. Kelly had just miscarried their baby.
No wonder Kelly hadn’t questioned the little nagging doubts in the file. He didn’t doubt that some of the work he had done right after the miscarriage could have been called into question.
It sounded to Ash as if Steve Carlson had gotten the short end of the stick, and he didn’t have a decent lawyer to complain about it the first time around. Kelly wasn’t going to be too pleased with his observations.
When he walked into lobby of the criminal division, Kelly stood next to her secretary’s desk.
“Good,” she sighed, “you’re here.” She didn’t wait on him but walked into her office.
“Is the detective here?” Ash heard someone ask Kelly.
“He is.” Kelly stood by her desk.
Seated in the chairs before her desk was an elderly couple. Introductions were quickly made to Catherine Reed’s parents, George and Nancy Procter.
“So when are you going to rearrest that killer?” Mrs. Procter asked. The elegantly dressed woman pinned Ash with a hard stare, which belied her soft tone. Her husband also watched Ash with cold regard.
Ash looked at Kelly. “There’s a lot of work to do, beginning the case, again. And it’s a cold trail, which makes things even harder.”
“Do you mean you’re not going to arrest that man today?” Mrs. Procter’s voice reminded Ash of a queen issuing an order to her servant. Ash had always resisted being pushed or bullied. It was a quirk he’d acquired in the first grade when an older third-grader had tried to bully him. After a week of taking it, Ash had punched the bully and ended the terror. He’d learned a valuable lesson, never to be victimized again.
Ash opened his mouth, but Kelly stepped forward. “We want to make sure nothing else will go wrong and that we can nail Steve Carlson.”
“And will you press for the death penalty?” George Procter questioned.
Well, it was certain that the Procters weren’t going to be happy unless Carlson fried. Apparently the genteel society folks were out for blood, not that he could blame them. But he had the feeling that the Procters were going to be breathing down his and Kelly’s necks.
Kelly leaned back against her desk. “I’ll have to talk to my boss about the disposition of the case.”
“I want that man to pay for what he did to our little girl,” the older man insisted, “and I don’t care what it takes to make him pay.”
It sounded as if George Procter was ready to take justice into his own hands.
“I’ll be sure to pass your feelings on to my boss,” Kelly told him.
“There’s no need. I’ll tell him myself,” George informed her. “Come, Nancy, let’s go.”
After the couple left, Kelly closed the door to her office. She leaned back against the door. “This is going to be a nightmare. I’ve already had five calls this morning about this case—from my boss, the newspapers, the victim’s husband—all demanding to know what I’m going to do.” Her gaze met his, and she silently asked if he had the answer.
“Have you looked at the file, Kelly?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I have.”
“So you see our problem.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I do. That’s why I wanted the case reinvestigated. I need more to tie Carlson to that crime. I want you to go over it again, Ash. Interview the people at the dinner party that night. Something’s wrong. I didn’t catch it before, but I’m not going to make that mistake a second time.”
“All right. I’ll start digging, but you realize, in the intervening five years, a lot of the people who could’ve helped might not be there. And the evidence from the crime scene, we need to reevaluate it.” He wanted to paint as dark a picture as he could.
“I know that, Ash. Remember who you’re talking to.”
As if he could forget it. He had tried for the past four years to avoid having to deal with Kelly Whalen. He’d been fairly successful in his quest. Until now.
But she had a point. Of all the people in the city, Kelly would know how hard it would be to investigate this murder.
“I know you know how difficult this is going to be. Tell everyone we’re going to have to go from square one and it’s going to take some time,” Ash replied.
She rubbed her neck. “What I need is a miracle. You got one?” Her eyes begged him to have an answer. That look sizzled down his spine, warning Ash that he was walking into trouble.
A loud rap on the door stopped Ash from answering Kelly. Immediately, the door opened and the D.A. walked into the room. Jake Thorpe, a tall man with a shock of white hair, had made his way up through the ranks. He had joined the D.A.’s office in the early seventies after he got out of the army and had gone to college and law school.
“Ah, good, you’re here, Ashcroft. That will make things easier.” He turned to Kelly. “I just got a visit from George and Nancy Procter. I must say they were very concerned about the disposition of this case.”
“I just bet they were,” Ash muttered.
Kelly glared at him.
Jake’s brow arched. “What we need to do is make sure you can refile this case. Are we going to be able to do that anytime soon?”
Kelly’s chin came up. “Ash was just enumerating the problems we’re going to have with the evidence and witnesses.”
Jake turned to Ash. “What problems?”
“As I started to explain to Kelly, the case rested on Carlson’s confession to the burglary, and fiber evidence on his clothes. With the clothes out, all we have is the jewelry. He could claim the necklaces were given to him. We need to connect him with the murder. Over the passage of time, witnesses have left the area and if we don’t have the evidence in storage, then I doubt we can uncover anything new.”
Jake studied Ash. “We all understand the problems, Detective. What we need is a new pair of eyes to view the evidence. But we also need you to do so quickly. I can only take so much heat.”
Ash understood. Jake was between a rock and a hard place, and he didn’t much care for it. He wasn’t the only one.
Ash leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. He reviewed the file Kelly had given him.
“So you’ve been given my case.”
Ash glanced up into Lee’s hardened face. The scowl the older man wore was enough to frighten anyone with a lick of sense or guilt. At six foot, two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, Ralph Lee looked as if he could take down any suspect and beat him into a pulp with his ham-sized fists. It didn’t matter that the detective was fifty. He was still in top shape, with a steely gaze that had been known to bring more than one suspect to his knees.
“You through testifying in your case in Amarillo?” Ash asked.
“The man took the plea bargain the D.A.’s office offered.”
“I thought you were going to go on vacation,” Ash replied.
“I heard about the Carlson case and decided to come back. You’ve been assigned the case?”
“Yeah, Jenkins gave it to me.”
Lee’s expression hardened. “I’ll talk to him.” The older man marched into the captain’s office. Twenty minutes later, Lee walked out of the office. “I’m going to take my vacation. If you have any questions, you just run it by the captain. It seems he’s got all the answers.”
Ash glanced at the captain’s door. It was open and Ralph made sure he’d been heard.
Oh, things were going to hell in a handbasket.
Kelly settled down in her bed and tucked the blanket under her chin. It was an unusually chilly night in Houston, the damp cold seeping into her bones. Ash had always teased her about being a wimp when it came to cold. When he had been beside her in bed, she never had a problem with cold. It was like sleeping next to a furnace.
“What’s the matter with you, Whalen, thinking like that?” she grumbled out loud to the empty room.
It didn’t bode well for her if, in twenty-four hours of working with Ash, she was remembering how it felt to be in bed with him.
Not in her wildest dreams had she thought the cops would assign the case to Ash. He really must have made someone mad. She ought to check it out.
Who would have thought a week ago that she’d be facing this political hot potato and have to deal with her ex.
As she stared into the dark, she wondered if she would survive this case? There were wounds that had been inflicted that had never healed, issues that Kelly had never wanted to deal with. That was the trouble with issues—they always managed to crop up at the most inconvenient time. She didn’t think Ash was anxious to revisit the old wounds, either; nor did he seem pleased to be working this case. Well, if they came to an understanding to leave the past in the past, then maybe they could work together on this case.
That was a plan. She hoped Ash would go along with it. But then again, when had Ash ever made things easy?
Chapter 2
Ash glanced around Honey’s Hideout. The seedy bar, with the uneven floor, chipped tables and grimy walls probably had failed the last four or five health inspections. Of course, the clientele at the bar wasn’t interested in food or eating. The liquor this joint served would probably kill any germs.
Sunlight had a hard time penetrating the cloudy windows, but Ash spotted Steve Carlson at the end of the bar, nursing a beer. The man’s expression didn’t look like one of victory or enjoyment, but rather like a dog that had been kicked one too many times.
Ash had lucked out that Carlson was here at his old hangout. After five years in prison, Steve Carlson’s first trip out of his apartment, he had come to this dive—not the grocery store or a job placement office, but this dump. Some of HPD’s best business came from here.
Ash slid onto the stool next the man.
“I’m been looking for you, Carlson,” Ash began. He pulled out his badge and flashed it at Carlson.
The other man’s pinched features hardened. “What do you want?” he demanded. “I’ve been out of prison less than a week and done nothing wrong.” Carlson was a slight man, in his early thirties, five foot ten, thick glasses and thinning hair. He didn’t seem strong enough to have butchered Cathy Reed with a saber.
“You want to discuss this in front of an audience—” Ash glanced at the bartender “—or you want to talk in private?” Ash asked, his voice pitched low.
Carlson’s eyes went to the bartender, who eyed them, and around the nearly empty bar. “Private.”
Ash motioned to a table in the corner of the room. Once they were seated, Carlson demanded, “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you about Catherine Reed’s murder.”
“Go away.”
Ash shrugged. “Hey, I thought you might want to help clear your name.”
Carlson’s harsh laugh bounced around the room. “Sure, that’s what cops do, try to prove the suspect innocent.” He took a swallow of his beer. “If you think I’m going to say anything to you after what you cops did to me, then you’re crazier than my last cell mate.”
Ash leaned forward. “Think about it, Carlson. There’s going to be another trial because of who the victim was. Both Catherine Reed’s husband and parents are powers in this city, in this state. They’re not going to let this go. They’ve already been yammering at the D.A. about the situation.” With each word, Ash watched the other man’s face close down.
“So?”
“So you want a repeat of the first trial?”
Carlson’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you talk to my lawyer?”
Ash leaned back in his chair. “Hey, I got no problem with that. I was just wondering why a pro like you would stoop to murder? I didn’t think guys with your talent would hack a women to death.”
“Too bad that thought didn’t occur to that woman D.A. at my first trial.”
“Well, your hands were torn up.”
“Changing a flat will do that.”
Ash bit back his irritation. “So you saying you didn’t do it?”
Carlson glared. “That’s what I’m saying.”
Ash sat back, considering him. “Makes sense to me.”
“Yeah, tell it to the D.A.” Carlson swallowed the rest of his beer.
“All right.”
Carlson went still, his eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
The man responded to the lure Ash had put out. “Well, Catherine Reed is still dead and someone needs to be tried. I thought that maybe you’d be interested in helping me catch the real killer.”
Carlson laughed. “Who hit you in the head?”
Ash shrugged. “You’re right, Carlson. It is farfetched for me to believe that you want someone else to pay for that murder. Besides, I don’t believe you were ever charged on the burglary. I think the D.A. needs to do that immediately. We’re getting grief about you walking around. Of course if you help, those charges can go away. But if you don’t want to help…” Ash stood.
Carlson’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait.”
Pausing, Ash looked at Carlson.
“What do you want to say to me?” Carlson asked, fingering his glass.
Ash sat and leaned forward. “After reviewing the case, I don’t think you killed Catherine Reed.”
He nodded. “You’re damn straight.”
“My problem is, if you didn’t do it, I need to find out who did.”
“So find him.”
“That’s why I’m here. I want you to recount that night to me. Maybe you’ve got the key and don’t know it.”
Carlson stared at his empty glass. “I should have my lawyer here.”
“Fine.” Ash pushed away from the table. “We’re going to refile on this case soon and if I don’t have someone else, you’re it.”
Carlson knuckled his glass. “What the hell. I broke in the house to rob them. I saw her necklace the week before when I worked a society party, parking cars. I discovered who they were and where they lived. I worked the charity fund-raiser they were at that night. After I parked their car, I cut out and went to their house. She didn’t have the necklace in her jewelry box, so I looked for a safe. Found it in the library. I’m good with safes and it was a piece of cake to break into it. I took a couple of necklaces and a ring.”
A rush of excitement flooded Ash. “So no one was there when you broke into the house?”
“No. I heard them drive up. The party wasn’t supposed to be over until ten. It was nine when the car pulled into the driveway. I heard yelling and cut out. I steal, but don’t murder.”
Carlson’s reasoning sounded firm. Ash knew that thieves rarely changed their modus operandi. When they chose a victim, many professional thieves didn’t carry any sort of weapon with them.
Carlson shook his head. “But as I was leaving, I knocked over a plant in the library. I didn’t have time to set it upright. Someone else did that lady. It wasn’t me.”
“What about the murder weapon? Did you see it?”
Carlson’s eyes dropped to the table. “I’ve got a thing for weapons like that. I considered taking it. Took it down from the wall, but I noticed the engraving on the blade. I couldn’t fence anything like that, so I left it. But in my hurry, I didn’t hang it back on the wall.”
There was something about Carlson’s story that rang true. “Okay, I believe you.”
The look of surprise on Carlson’s face made Ash want to laugh.
“You do?”
“Houston PD isn’t after you, Carlson. We want who killed Mrs. Reed.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“I’ll want to keep in contact with you in case any other questions come up.” Ash handed Carlson his business card. “When you get a job, let me know where I can get in contact with you.”
Carlson nodded.
Ash stood and walked out of the bar. Carlson sounded innocent to him. But he had discovered that the Reeds were fighting when they returned home.
It was a new lead.
Kelly packed up the papers she needed to take home with her to review. This day had been a little better than the day the Texas Supreme Court overturned the Carlson conviction but not by much. She had a headache, her feet hurt from standing in court most of the day, and if she had to listen to one more complaint—one more society matron telling her what an injustice had been perpetrated on the state—she might run screaming from the room.
She’d had to get out of her office before anyone else could protest or ask her to do something or tell her what else had gone wrong.
Leaning down to grab her purse, she heard the door to her office open. “Rats,” she mumbled.
When Kelly stood up, Ash filled the doorway. His expression didn’t bode well for what he had to say. Her plans for escape vanished like smoke.
“I’m warning you,” Kelly quickly told him, holding up her right forefinger, “if you’re going to give me bad news, don’t.”
“Have a bad day?” He looked too good for her peace of mind. He had on jeans, a white shirt and an old sport coat that she’d bought him. Her heart jerked in reaction.
“You really don’t want to hear about it, Ash.” She shrugged her purse over her shoulder, grabbed her briefcase and started out of her office.
He followed her. “Then you’re certainly not going to want to hear about what I’ve come up with in the Carlson case.”
She stopped beside her secretary’s desk in the outer office, her head bowed. She didn’t want to hear the doom he was sure to deliver, but she couldn’t avoid it. That had always been Ash’s complaint—that she couldn’t ignore problems.
“I don’t want to know about it right now,” she muttered, surprising herself and no doubt her ex. She marched out of the office into the hall.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked, following her.
His question surprised and annoyed her. She pushed the elevator button and glared at him. “I don’t know. Breakfast, maybe. Why?”
The doors to the elevator opened and they moved inside.
“Still not taking care of yourself?”
She glared at him.
“What you need, Ms. A.D.A., is a meal. You still like stuffed crabs?” His expression was smug, as if he knew a secret that no one else did. And he did. She was tempted not to answer, but her stomach growled. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go get some of Sal’s stuffed crabs and fettuccine Alfredo.”
If he had asked her to strip naked here in the elevator, she couldn’t have been more surprised. He knew the weakness that she had for Sal’s crabs. When they’d been married, dirt-poor, her a law student, him a beat cop, they would allow themselves a meal at Sal’s once a month. It had been the highlight of the month. Eating at Sal’s, a bottle of cheap wine and a walk in the park afterward. It had been heaven, and some of the best times of her life. They were certainly more enjoyable than ninety-nine percent of the official functions she had to attend as a D.A.
It was ridiculous that going to Sal’s would hit such an emotional note for her. She was hungry and the stuffed crabs sounded heavenly. If Kelly told him she didn’t want the memories Sal’s invoked, he might misinterpret it. She was tired, that was all. “All right. You’ve bribed me.”
He grinned, an expression of cocky arrogance. She didn’t want to add to that arrogance, but stuffed crabs—it would be a brief reprieve from the lousy day, she told herself. “You going to buy?”
“Will that get you to go?”
“Yup.”
“Then I’m buying.”
“After you buy me dinner, then you can tell me what ugly facts you’ve uncovered.”
“I will, but only after you’ve eaten.”
Sal’s was a little place, the last business in an old turn-of-the-century building with atmosphere that you could scrape off the walls. Ash was sure that, if he pulled the health records on this place, he wouldn’t be happy. But on this point, ignorance was bliss.
Sal smiled when he saw them walk into the restaurant. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Ashcroft. It’s been too long since you’ve come to my fine establishment. Come, the table you like is empty. I will seat you.”
Ash winced inwardly. Hadn’t he been here since the divorce? He glanced at Kelly to see her reaction to Sal’s mistake. Her face drained of color. She followed the little man without a word of protest.
After they were seated, Sal asked, “Stuffed crabs and fettuccine Alfredo and a sauvignon blanc?”
Ash looked at Kelly. When she nodded, Ash agreed. “I’m surprised you remember what we like to order, Sal, with all the customers you’ve had over the years.”
Sal grinned and leaned down. “I’ll tell you a story, Mr. Ashcroft. When you and the missus used to come into my place, I’d tell my wife, look at those two lovers. There’s a passion there that is reserved for the few. Then I would grin at my Catherine and give her a good kiss and a pat. She enjoyed when you came into the restaurant.”
Ash couldn’t have been more surprised. Glancing at Kelly, he saw the wounded expression in her eyes. Her jaw clenched. Sal’s words had inflicted a serious wound.
“I’ll get the wine and turn in your order.” Sal hurried away.
Ash glanced at Kelly. “I’m sorry—”
She shook her head. “It’s okay.” But from her body posture, her shoulders hunched as if to protect herself, it wasn’t.
Taking a deep breath, she hid her emotions behind that cool lawyer mask of hers. It was one of the things that had always grated on his nerves.
Finally she shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “Well, it’s just too perfect an ending for today.”
Before Ash could respond, Sal returned with the wine and poured them each a glass.
He took a sip of wine. “I understand. It’s been one of those days for me, too, when you want to kick the hell out of your tires to vent some of the frustration.” He shook his head, noticing that he had her attention. “I was tempted, but decided I didn’t want broken toes in addition to all the other problems we’ve got. Besides, dealing with the city when you smash up your car is worse than dealing with the snotty rich kids in the Memorial area.”
Kelly’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m sure the city is grateful you didn’t take your frustration out on another municipal vehicle.”
His brow arched.
She shrugged. “A friend of mine in the department called today and commented on your trouble.” Carrie Nelson, a forensic psychiatrist with the PD, had also given Kelly sympathy about having to work with her ex, even if he was a good detective. “Tell me what you’ve discovered,” Kelly quickly asked.
He was more than ready to move on to another subject. He told her about the conversation he had had with Steve Carlson. “I’ve got to tell you, Kelly, I believe the man,” he told her as the waiter arrived with their dinner.
“Oh, come on, Ash.” Doubt and disbelief rang in her words. “I’ve seen you nail a dozen different guys who were all claiming to be innocent and you brought me the evidence to back up your hunch. What’s the problem now?”
He put down his fork. “The problem is the blood evidence. Why wasn’t there any found in Carlson’s apartment, considering how bloody the crime scene was?”
“That bothered me, too, when I looked over the file.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t it bother you the first time, Kelly?”
“It did, but Lee assured me that Carlson could’ve gotten rid of the shirt. He had the jewelry.”
“Yeah, he ripped them off, admitted it, but he claimed he left when he heard the a car coming up the driveway.”
From her expression, she wasn’t convinced.
“Carlson admitted he was sloppy in his escape, leaving evidence of the burglary.”
“So.”
“So, if we believe Carlson, then we’ve missed the murderer completely. He’s been walking around for the past five years. Has he killed again?”
Her expression hardened. “Do you have another suspect in mind?”
Grinding his teeth, he pulled a hard rein on his anger. Kelly wasn’t the enemy. “I wish I did. I’ll interview all the neighbors to see if I can come up with anything new, and comb through the evidence we have. You want to call your people tomorrow and see if they can pull the evidence you’ve got stored?”
“I’ll do it.” She cocked her head. “As a matter of fact, we can go over it together.”
“Don’t trust me, huh?”
“No, that’s not it. Maybe your point of view will help me see things in a different light.”
What he needed was some time and distance away from this woman. But since that wasn’t going to happen, maybe he could make this as fast as possible. “All right. Call me when we can go over the evidence.”
“I will.”
Of that, he didn’t doubt.
Kelly pulled her car into the parking lot of the old warehouse where the evidence from tried court cases was stored. With the darkening shadows and unsavory atmosphere in this part of downtown, Kelly felt her body tense. She wished the D.A.’s office would store their evidence in a police facility. At least cops were there.
When she opened the main door to the warehouse, she saw Ash standing on the far side of the little room, leaning against the counter that separated the waiting area from the smaller office. He laughed at something the male attendant said.
“You’re wrong, Ray,” Ash answered.
Ash was a handsome man, Kelly admitted, with a body that would fuel any female fantasy. It certainly had fueled hers once upon a time.
Enough, she mentally scolded. She didn’t need to remember that about him. What she needed to remember was what a pain in the rear he could be. But that mulish quality of his was what she needed right now, a man not afraid of causing ripples and stepping on toes. And toes were going to be stepped on.
“I wasn’t,” Ray answered. “And Jeffies got his chops busted when his boss came back.”
Ash glanced at her and the grin on his face evaporated. “You’re a little late, Kelly.”
“It’s rush hour, Ash.”
His brow arched, silently reminding her that she was the one who’d set the time they were to meet.
She stepped to the counter. “I need the evidence on the Carlson case.”
Ray nodded and entered the name into his computer terminal. After several moments, he asked, “You want the door from the bedroom where they found Cathy Reed in addition to all the other evidence?” he asked.
She remembered the door. Blood had splattered on it when Catherine Reed had been murdered. Kelly had kept that door in her office for close to six months, studied it, knew the evidence on it. She didn’t want it back again.
“No, since I’ve got pictures of it in the file. If we need it, I’ll send someone over to get it.”
“Okay. You got the request form I need to keep?” Ray asked.
Kelly pulled the paper from her shoulder bag. Ray took it and, after carefully looking over it, he nodded and walked through the door into the warehouse.
“Where do you want to go over this evidence? Your office?” Ash asked.
“Yes. I have an opening argument to write, so it would be easier if we did it there.”
Ash studied her and she knew he noticed the circles under her eyes. For a moment, his concern showed in his eyes and it caused the oddest sensation in her stomach. The outside door opened, dispelling the moment, and Ralph Lee walked into the building. He carried a box of evidence.
“Ah, if this isn’t a coincidence,” Ralph murmured. He set down his box on the counter. “The A.D.A. and her detective.”
Kelly didn’t want to trade insults with Detective Lee. She kept her mouth shut and smiled at him.
“You here to collect the evidence on the Carlson case?” Ralph asked.
“We are,” Ash quickly answered.
“You going to right the wrong the state supreme court committed?”
Ralph Lee’s thinking had never made it past the seventies, when men ruled every part of the justice system. He was obnoxious but had good instincts on a case.
“We’re reviewing what we have and searching for new information,” Kelly replied.
Ralph’s eyes narrowed.
“And what are you doing here, Detective?” Kelly asked.
“Returning the evidence on the case I went to Amarillo to testify. The assistant D.A. had an emergency and asked if I’d return the evidence.”
Kelly felt Ash move behind her. Oddly enough, it was a comfort to have him standing behind her.
The door to the inside part of the warehouse opened and Ray appeared with a pushcart with two boxes on it. “Here you go, Ms. A.D.A. Evidence in the Carlson case.” Ray noticed the other detective. “How are you, Ralph? You got stuff for me?”
“I do, Ray.”
Ray held out a clipboard to Kelly. “You have to sign for the evidence.”
She quickly signed the sheet. Ash took one box and Kelly the other. Ralph opened the outside door for Kelly. There was an expression in his eyes that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. As she walked by Ralph, he whispered, “That bastard is guilty.”
Kelly stopped. “Well, that may be, Detective, but because we’ve got to do this again, I want my case airtight. There were some holes when I reviewed it, so Detective Ashcroft and I want to look at the evidence again.”
Lee’s eyes hardened. “I’ve got the best damn closure rate in the department.”
“This isn’t about your closure rate, Detective. This is about convicting a murderer.” She walked by him, her jaw tight. “The man is a self-centered, puffed-up, three-eyed monster,” she grumbled, walking to her car.
A laugh jerked her out of her fuming. She turned to Ash.
“Ralph has that effect on women. They want to kill him. That’s why his partner usually interviews them at crime scenes and leaves Ralph to interview the men.”
She shook her head. “Why does HPD keep him?”
“Because, Kelly, he’s got good instincts and a good solve rate.”
“So he said.”
“It’s true.”
“Then why does this case have holes in it?”
His frown only confirmed her suspicion. “That’s a good question.”
“If my case had holes, do his other cases have problems?”
She didn’t like the look in his eyes.
Chapter 3
Ash cursed a blue streak as he followed Kelly’s car through downtown Houston to her office. The little bug she’d put in his ear kept whispering.
And whispering. And what it said left a hole in his gut.
Ralph had a legendary closure rate, one he held over everyone’s head. But what if that rate wasn’t all it was cracked up to be? What if Ralph had done things in other cases that had helped close them prematurely? Ash’s mind shied away from thinking about such things, because if the Carlson case wasn’t just an aberration, but part of a pattern in Ralph’s closure rate, then they were in deep trouble. If anyone caught wind of this, the courts would be waist deep in prisoners claiming their cases had been railroaded.
He tried to bury the worry as he carried the boxes from Kelly’s car to her office. Teresa, Kelly’s secretary, smiled coyly at him when he walked into the room.
“Let’s go into the conference room, where we can spread out this evidence on the table,” Kelly called over her shoulder.
Ash followed her into the room, noticing what a nice butt she had. He tried to ignore his awareness and set his box on the long table.
“Are you going to need me for anything else, Kelly?” Teresa asked from the doorway. She smiled at Ash again.
Kelly looked from Ash to Teresa. “No, you go on home, Teresa. We’re fine.”
Once they were alone, a warning flashed in Kelly’s eyes. Ash shrugged and opened the box in front of him. Inside was Catherine Reed’s blouse, covered with blood, different items from the room that had blood on them, a carpet sample from the bedroom and pictures from the crime scene. But the murder weapon, a Civil War saber that had hung on the hall wall outside the upstairs bedroom, wasn’t in the box.
Kelly unloaded her box. Evidence from Steve Carlson’s apartment, envelopes containing DNA results and samples of blood evidence. Kelly leaned back in her chair, glancing over the items on the conference table. They compared the items on the table with the inventory sheet. Kelly shook her head.
“Where’s the saber?” Ash asked.
Kelly looked through her file. “We gave it back to Andrew Reed, since it was a family heirloom and was valued around fifty thousand dollars.”
Kelly studied the evidence. “There’s nothing here that could be thought of as a smoking gun.”
“Let’s go over the inventory items.”
Kelly read them off the sheet.
Ash surveyed the items. “Nothing different from the file I reviewed yesterday.” He shook his head.
“What?”
He forgot that Kelly could read him in ways that other folks couldn’t. But that was before she had miscarried and turned inward and they had drifted apart. “The blood evidence still bothers me. I need to investigate it further.”
“It bothers me, too.” She shook her head. “I should’ve seen this problem the first time.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Kelly, you just went on what Ralph gave you.”
“What I did was accept his word and didn’t look closely at the case. It was a slam dunk, and I didn’t want to see anything else. I was worrying about my conviction rate. Wanted another promotion.”
No, what had really been going on at the time was Kelly had just miscarried their first baby. It had been a devastating experience for both of them. This case was the first one she’d handled after she went back to work. He saw that truth in her eyes.
“Let’s not panic. There’s no magic key here. It looks like I’ll just have to start from scratch and reinterview everyone listed here, see if I can develop any new leads.”
Kelly picked up a picture of Catherine Reed. “She was a beautiful woman.”
Ash looked over her shoulder at the picture of the victim. As much as they tried to divorce their feelings from these crimes and violence, once in a while a case got to you. “She reminds me of my vision of Snow White.” He shook his head. “Who’d ever think I’d say that?”
She smiled at him. After a quiet moment, she asked, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this, Ash?”
He shook his head and stood. “That’s because there’s something wrong here.”
A moan escaped her. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me that. But I knew…” She took a deep breath. “Okay, Ash. You’re the detective. I’ll go with your interpretation.”
“That’s a first.” The comment slipped out of his mouth before he could think.
Kelly laughed. The sweet sound made Ash want to kiss that lovely mouth.
Whoa, boy. Don’t go there.
Her eyes darkened and the air between them vibrated with their awareness. He stood and took several steps away from her to keep from touching her.
Ash didn’t mention that he had doubts about Andrew Reed. He wanted a closer look at the man. Since Catherine’s death had been so violent, it spoke of rage. Did Andrew Reed have a problem with anger? What was his relationship with his wife? That hadn’t been explored in the previous investigation. And why not?
Terrific, just what he needed, a nasty murder case among the rich and famous.
They quietly put the evidence back into the boxes. “Do you want me to put these boxes in another location?” When his gaze met hers, the electricity in the room exploded between them.
“Uh—” She swallowed. “Just leave them there.”
He wanted to reach out and draw her into his arms and kiss her senseless. The thought scared him.
“I’ll be in touch.” He strode out of the room before he did something stupid.
Ash glanced around the elegant den of Andrew Reed’s mansion. The maid informed Ash that Mr. Reed would be with him momentarily. An original oil painting of the Texas Hill county by J. Williams hung over the fireplace. A photo of the artist, famous in Houston and San Antonio, and Andrew Reed, smiling and shaking hands graced the other wall.
“Do you like my Williams?” Andrew asked as he walked into the room.
Ash looked at the handsome man. Pictures of Andrew Reed with other local celebrities hung on the wall. A president, governor, a couple of senators. But there were no pictures of Catherine Reed. “I’m not much into art. My ex-wife said I had taste in my feet,” Ash commented.
Andrew’s brow arched. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“The D.A. wants more evidence for the upcoming retrial. I’ve been assigned to the case. I want to review with you what happened the night your wife was murdered.”
Andrew didn’t look pleased. “How long will this take? I’m scheduled to pick up my fiancée and take her to the opening of J. Williams’s new art show.”
“Probably a half hour.”
He glanced at his watch. “Could we do this tomorrow, a.m.?”
Alarm bells went off in Ash’s head. “Yes. But if you have five minutes now, I’d like a walk-through of the house so I can visually put it together.”
Andrew nodded. “Of course. Follow me.” Andrew walked to the library and showed Ash where the wall safe was located.
“After the party, I wanted a cappuccino. Catherine didn’t feel well and wanted to go home. So I left her off at the back door.”
“Did you drive into the garage?”
“No. There’s a door in the back that leads out to the deck and pool. She went in that way.”
If what he said was true, then Andrew Reed was, in Ash’s book, a selfish bastard who didn’t bother with anyone but himself. Ash would never let his wife walk into a dark house by herself. But then again, Ash had seen too many evil things.
“Where did you find her?”
“Upstairs.” He nodded for Ash to follow. Once on the second-floor landing, Andrew walked to the first doorway. “She was lying just inside the door on the floor, dead.”
“It was noted that the murder weapon was given back to you after the trial.”
“Yes, since it was an antique treasure.”
“Where is it now?” Ash asked.
“I gave it to the Civil War museum at Rice University.”
Ash observed the bedroom where Catherine’s body had been found. Obviously, it had been repainted and new carpeting put down. There were no pictures of the dead woman.
Andrew glanced at his watch. “I have to leave now, Detective.”
As they walked to the front door, Andrew’s expression seemed too pleasant. “I’ll be sure to block out the time for you tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
As Ash climbed into his car, he glanced back at Andrew Reed. He hadn’t moved from the front door. For a man who needed to get going, he wasn’t moving very fast.
Ash smiled and nodded at him. Andrew Reed turned and walked into his house. Glancing around the exclusive neighborhood, Ash decided to start interviewing Reed’s neighbors now. He might learn about the Reeds’ marriage. There wasn’t any mention of their relationship in the file and he wanted to know how things stood on that score.
He got out of the car, closed the door and walked to the next house.
Kelly rushed into the little burger joint tucked on the edge of downtown. She needed to talk to Ash and had called his office, but had been informed he was at dinner. They had told her where.
The evening traffic in this place was strictly folks who worked late at the jail, D.A.’s office and city hall. She immediately spotted Ash in a corner. Their corner booth. When they’d been married, they had often come to this little place for a quick meal together. Since the divorce, she’d only been here once. She walked over to the table. In the past two days, she’d visited too many of their old haunts for comfort.
“Well, Ash, you’ve lived up to your reputation,” she blurted out, not wanting to think about the past.
He rested his arm on the booth behind him. “Exactly what reputation is that? All-around pain in the butt or the tenacious detective?”
“I heard you’ve been cutting a wide swath through the upper crust of Houston society these last forty-eight hours.”
He cocked his head. “Is that what you heard?”
“From more than one source.” She leaned forward, not wanting everyone in the place to hear her answer. “You simply can’t bludgeon these folks, Ash.” The smell of his hamburger wafted over her and made her stomach growl.
“Sit down, Kelly. I’d planned on going by your office tomorrow, but since you’re here—” he shrugged “—we can talk about what I’ve discovered these past two days.”
She didn’t like the tone of his voice or the look in his eyes. She slid into the booth opposite him.
“I told you that I probably wasn’t the best man for this job. And as I recall, you didn’t object to my directness. You wanted it.”
She held up her hand. “You’re right. And you gave it to me in spades. I’ve heard from Catherine’s parents about you asking their friends and neighbors ugly and tasteless questions about the status of their daughter’s marriage.”
Ash grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Tasteless? But true.”
She ignored him. “And I’ve heard from Mr. Reed that you weren’t very civil to his fiancée. I think Andrew Reed said you were as cordial as a damn carpet-bagger. I assured him that you were a native Texan and had grown up in Galveston.”
“What did he say, Kelly?”
“When I told him you were a native, he wondered why you didn’t have more genteel Southern manners. Then he decided you must’ve come from poor white tr—people.”
His wicked smile appeared. “What did you tell him?”
“What I wanted to tell him was he was a snob and to stick his opinion in his ear. But what I said was that if he wanted his wife’s murder solved and Mr. Carlson back in jail, he needed to cooperate with you and not worry about your manners.”
“What Mr. Reed is upset about is me discovering that he was fooling around with Catherine’s best friend. He’s probably worried that his spotless reputation with his in-laws might be tarnished.”
She sighed in disgust. “So that’s how the wind was blowing.”
“Indeed. Convenient that Steve Carlson confessed to the burglary. It prevented a lot of dirty laundry from being aired.”
“This just gets better and better,” she murmured. Her stomach growled again.
He handed her one of his fries. “Here, start on this while I order you dinner.” Ash turned to the man behind the counter and yelled, “Mark, I need another burger.”
“And onion rings and a Coke,” she added.
A twinkle of mischief sparkled in his eyes. After he yelled out the additional items, he settled back against the booth.
“All right, Ash, what have you got?”
He handed her another fry. “Andrew Reed is going to remarry next week.”
“Why would that be a problem?”
“He was not a happy camper when I showed up. In that house, there was not a picture of Catherine Reed anywhere to be found.”
“Reed, it’s been five years.”
He leaned closer. “I’ve thought about it. But wouldn’t it make sense that some trace, some memento of his dead wife, of their time together would be around? I mean he played the grieving husband to the hilt at the funeral and trial.”
“Why do you find that so unusual?”
“When my mother died, my dad kept her pictures all over that house until he passed away three years later.”
She frowned. “But Andrew’s case is different. Because of the heinousness of the crime, I wouldn’t expect him to have pictures of her around. Just like a divorced couple, I wouldn’t expect either partner to have things around to remind them of their ex.”
He didn’t respond and Kelly’s nerves were on alert. Had he—? She swallowed hard. “Maybe there’s something there you didn’t know about. A piece of furniture or picture, something that you wouldn’t know about.”
Mark showed up with the burger and onion rings. He winked at them. “Never thought I’d see you two again, sitting with each other.”
Kelly’s eyes widened.
“We’re working on a case, Mark,” Ash explained.
“Oh, is that what those vibes were I felt coming from here? Hey, maybe I should get into police work.”
This was the second time within a week that someone had commented on them being together. She stared down at her burger. Confusion rumbled around her head. What was going on?
“The point I’m trying to make, Kelly, is that Andrew’s neighbors said that within weeks of the murder, he had someone come in and redo the entire house. Nothing of Catherine remains.”
She took a bite of her burger and thought. “Still, Ash, it’s not that unusual a response to a death. A violent death.”
“Well, you wanted my gut reaction in this case. There it is. Also, this fiancée is the second one he’s had since his wife died. The society woman he was seeing while Catherine was alive expected to be the next Mrs. Reed. She was very shocked when Andrew dumped her.”
“Ash, I wish I could charge Andrew Reed with being a louse, but we generally don’t prosecute things like that. If we did, I’d have to charge over half the male population of the city with it.”
“When I interviewed the neighbors, I got a picture of a couple that fought frequently. Loud. Yelling and slamming of doors going in and out of their house. I also discovered Mr. Reed liked to spend money. And his business wasn’t doing well.”
Kelly lost her appetite. She pushed away her plate. “Why didn’t Ralph Lee come up with this evidence?”
“Because he conveniently had a suspect that had confessed.”
“You’re going to need to go back and talk to Steve Carlson, again.”
“You want to go with me?”
“Yes, that way no one can accuse you of being biased if I’m there to watch and record the interview.”
“Let’s do it now.”
There wasn’t a reason on earth they couldn’t do it tonight. Except it meant spending more time with Ash, at night, surrounded by darkness and breeding an air of intimacy. “All right, I’ll follow you to his apartment.”
“Don’t trust my driving, Kelly?”
“When the interview is finished, I can go home. It’s got nothing to do with your driving.”
And it had nothing to do with spending time in a car with him. Nothing at all.
When they arrived at the apartment building where Steve Carlson lived, they parked in the dimly lit lot. Several people stared at them as they walked up the outside stairs to the second-floor apartment. Ash knocked. There was no response.
“He’s there,” a little girl told them as she moved away from the door of her second-floor apartment.
Kelly smiled at the child. “How do you know?”
“I saw him let another man inside. Then they started to yell. Later, the man came out, but the other man didn’t.” She shrugged, then started to jump rope.
Ash looked at Kelly. “You think I’ve got reasonable doubt that something’s wrong?”
“I do. See if the door’s open.”
Ash drew his gun, then tried the knob. The door opened easily. They walked into the small apartment. There was no sign of anyone in the living room. The kitchen and dining area were empty. And neat. In the bedroom they found Steve Carlson, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, a bullet hole in his right temple. A gun lay inches from his hand.
Ash looked at Kelly. “Why do I get the feeling this case has taken another ugly turn?”
“That’s because I doubt Steve Carlson killed himself.”
“Which means that someone wanted to shut him up.”
“Or, Ash, maybe someone wanted our investigation stopped. With Carlson’s death, that would be the logical assumption.”
“But you’re not going to quit, are you, Kelly?”
She looked back at the body, then at him. “Give me a reason to continue, Ash. Give me the evidence I need.”
“All right, I will.”
Chapter 4
Kelly stepped back against the kitchen counter and watched the police evidence team work the scene. Ash stood inside the bedroom door, carefully observing the activity. He glanced at her, and they both knew the trouble they were facing.
A commotion outside the front door drew Kelly’s attention, and she saw the news reporter.
“You can’t go in there,” Kelly heard the officer tell the woman.
“I want to interview someone in charge about this murder. It’s big news.” The young woman looked into the apartment. She caught a glimpse of Kelly. Unfortunately, Kelly knew her.
“Ms. Whalen, can you tell me what’s going on here? Isn’t this the man who was just released from prison, Steve Carlson? And why are you here?”
Kelly didn’t want to talk to the eager-beaver reporter, but had discovered the hard way the more you tried to dodge the press, the more they pursued you. She walked to the front door. “Hello, Amber. I accompanied one of the detectives here.” Kelly didn’t mention she and Ash were the ones who had found the body.
“Is Steve Carlson dead?” Amber shoved the microphone in Kelly’s face and the cameraman behind her started taping.
It was better for the situation if Kelly gave the reporter a minimum of information. Squinting because of the camera light, Kelly answered, “Yes, Steve Carlson was found dead in his apartment.”
“Was he murdered?”
“At this point, I don’t feel free to supply any more details. The police haven’t finished working the scene. Further details will be released later.”
Amber frowned. “Can you comment on the method of death?”
“You’ll get all the information you need from the police information officer,” Ash interjected, his tone hard and professional. He stood behind Kelly, a solid, welcome presence.
Amber ignored his silent warning. “Can you tell me anything more?”
“No.”
Any sensible person would have understood the danger in pressing her case. Apparently Amber didn’t fall into that category.
“But this is important for the public to know. What happened?”
Ash glared at young reporter and said nothing. He pushed his way through the reporter and her cameraman. Kelly followed.
“Damn press,” Ash grumbled as he walked down the stairs. He stopped by his car and glanced around the parking lot.
When the captain had mentioned that Ash was good at dealing with the press, Kelly had wondered what the man had been drinking. She felt fortunate that Ash had simply walked away from the confrontation instead of blistering the young woman for her stupidity. He had done so in the past with other reporters.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes I wonder where they dig up these little wonders.”
“I’ll give you brownie points for waiting until you were out of earshot to make your comment.”
His head came up and his eyes locked with hers. A hint of humor twinkled in his eyes. “Yeah, well even this old dog can learn a new trick.”
He didn’t look like an old dog. Instead, he looked like a strong presence that she could depend upon. She shied away from the thought. “You going to interview Carlson’s neighbors tonight?”
“Yes. I’m waiting for my partner to help.”
“You have a new partner?” Of course he had. The last partner she knew about was now a lawyer with HPD, advising the department on legal matters. She purposely had not kept up with Ash’s career.
Suddenly two sedans pulled into the parking lot. From one car emerged a well-muscled man in his early forties with a steely-eyed gaze. A woman got out of the second car. Tall, shapely and very pretty, the woman’s blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Was this Ash’s partner? A stab of jealously knifed through Kelly.
The captain over Homicide nodded at them. “Ms. Whalen.”
“Captain Jenkins.”
“Ash, what do we have here?” Captain Jenkins asked. He wore a want-to-chew-nails expression.
“Kelly and I wanted to talk to Carlson. When he didn’t answer the door, a neighbor—” he glanced at Kelly to see if she would point out their witness was a little girl, but she remained quiet “—assured us that he was there, that she’d seen Carlson and another man enter the apartment, then heard them argue. The other man left. I felt the circumstances warranted entrance. We found Carlson dead on the floor of his bedroom.”
His expression hard, Captain Jenkins turned to Kelly. “Detective Ashcroft had your opinion on the exigent circumstances?” The good captain wanted the department’s rear covered.
“He did and the circumstances were urgent.”
Captain Jenkins nodded. “Show me where you found the body.”
Ash, Captain Jenkins and the woman turned and started back toward the building. Ash paused. “Kelly, are you coming?”
She wanted to go, to make sure everything was seen to, but she wouldn’t appreciate the cops trying to tell her how to try a case. “What’s happening is your job. I’m going home. I’ll let the D.A. know about Carlson.”
A gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes, then he nodded and turned. As she watched him go, Kelly knew things were going to get ugly if they continued the investigation into Catherine Reed’s murder. Everyone would expect the inquiry to stop with Carlson’s death, but neither she nor Ash wanted to let it go. It wasn’t finished. The case had just taken an unexpected turn.
Ash didn’t understand why he was here, parked in front of Kelly’s house—their home pre-divorce.
His skin prickled as the air of familiarity washed over him and a thousand memories assaulted him. What the hell was he doing here?
He came to fill Kelly in on what he’d discovered from the neighbors, he told himself. Share with her what the lab techs thought about Carlson’s death, and nothing else.
Liar, a voice in his head whispered. You could’ve done all that with a call tomorrow morning.
He didn’t have an argument against that truth. Instead, he walked to the front door. The color had changed. It was no longer a mud-ugly brown. Now a soft peach graced the wood.
He knocked and heard steps in the entranceway, then the door opened. Kelly stood there in a robe of some soft material that clung faithfully to every curve. He cursed under his breath.
You’re batting a thousand, Ashcroft.
“Ash, what are you doing here?” She held a cup of coffee.
“I thought I’d fill you in on what we discovered.” It sounded lame to his ears.
Her level of interest intensified. “Did you turn up something significant?”
“No.” He felt as if he was six years old and had stumbled in front of the entire school at the Christmas pageant. “It seems no one saw anything, but that didn’t sit right with me or my partner, Julie.”
“Julie?”
“You goin’ to make me stand outside for this entire conversation? I doubt the neighbors want to hear about the Carlson murder.” He glanced around at the other homes.
“You’re wrong, Ash,” she grumbled. “Everyone wants to hear about it, from my boss to Mrs. Schattle.” The elderly woman was the neighborhood’s busybody.
Apparently things had already gotten sticky. “So you want Mrs. Schattle involved?” he asked.
Her cheeks reddened. She stepped back and motioned him inside.
Ash glanced around as he walked into the living room. She’d replaced most of the hand-me-downs they’d been given. New sofa and chairs.
“You mentioned Julie. I assume that was the woman who arrived at the crime scene with Captain Jenkins.”
Julie had laid into him for his lack of manners in not introducing his partner to his ex. He’d argued there hadn’t been time, but his conscience hadn’t bought that excuse. When Julie left the crime scene, he told her he would introduce her to Kelly at their next meeting. Julie had laughed and told him she was over the slight. She assured him that she wouldn’t introduce him to her former boyfriend and to forget it.
“Yes, it was,” he answered.
“What did she think about the crime scene? She think it was a suicide or murder?”
“She agrees with our conclusion.”
“It’s nice to know you and I aren’t that far off the mark.”
He leaned against the wall inside the door. “Both of us had the feeling that our little witness wasn’t the only one who overheard this exchange between Carlson and the other man, but no one is talking. I think we might have better luck in a couple of days when the entire building isn’t crawling with cops. Julie is good at putting witnesses at ease and getting them to talk.”
Kelly held the cup close to her chest. His gaze locked onto her chest. “You want a cup of coffee?”
He thanked heaven she misinterpreted his gaze. “Sounds good.”
He followed her into the kitchen. Kelly poured him a cup, then opened the refrigerator door for an exotic-favored coffee creamer. “Want some?”
He frowned and stepped closer, grabbing the cup. “No.”
She shrugged and poured a little more into her cup.
He didn’t remember her liking her coffee smothered in cream. It emphasized that time had moved on and they were both different people. “Why even drink coffee if you put that much funny milk into it?”
She glared at him. “Because I’m an A.D.A. and not a cop. And I need the caffeine to stay awake. I’ve got work.” She took a sip and sighed. “What did the lab guys say?”
“They were going to run tests on Carlson’s hand and temple to see if there was any gunpowder residue. But they agreed with us that it didn’t look like a self-inflected wound. The body position looked staged.”
He took a sip of the dark roast. “You mentioned you heard from your boss. What did he say?”
She shook her head. “When I got home, I found a message on my machine from Jake. It appears he saw the news flash earlier in the evening. He wanted an explanation for what we were doing at Carlson’s apartment.”
From her expression, Ash guessed that Jake Thorpe might have done more than politely ask for an explanation. “What’d did he say?”
She hesitated.
“You might as well tell me it all. We’re in this together, and I’m sure I’ll get mine tomorrow.”
“You mean your boss didn’t nail you tonight?”
“He wasn’t happy that it was me who found the body.” Damn fool had been Jenkins’s exact comment, but Kelly didn’t need to know that.
From her expression, she knew he had gotten grief but didn’t press the issue. “I think Jake talked to your boss, because I got the same reaction. He wanted a report from the scene. He didn’t want any more trouble with this case than we’ve already had. Apparently, the news flash on the local stations reached a lot of people. Carlson’s lawyer called, upset. And the Procters also called.”
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