Cold Target Part 32

"Why?" she asked, instinctively knowing it was something bad. His eyes told her that. So had the insistent knocking at this hour in the morning.

He didn't have to say anything. She knew their message before they opened their mouths. Her head knew it. Her heart wouldn't accept it.

She couldn't bring herself to ask the question.

After a few seconds of silence, Byers repeated his request. "May we come in?"

Wordlessly, she opened the door for them, then went around the room, turning on the lights. Doing something kept bad news at bay. It delayed what she knew was coming. Someone had died. Someone close to her. If it had been her mother, a call from the hospital would have sufficed. There was only one person whose death would be announced to her this way.

She looked at the sofa where her father had sat several hours ago. In her mind's eye, she saw his worried face, the desperate plea in his voice. A plea she'd ignored.

Finally, she asked the question. "My father?"

Byers nodded.

"Is he dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

She slumped against a wall.

"Are you alone, Ms. Rawson? Is there anyone you can call?"

"No. My mother is in the hospital." She padded across to a chair and sat down. "What happened?"

"Hit-and-run in the parking lot of his building."

Her heart thudded so loudly she thought they must hear it as well.

"When?"

"He was found two hours ago. The paramedics think he had been there less than an hour when they were called. So the best guesstimate as to time of death is one to two A.M."

"There's a guard on duty in that parking lot. How--"

"We don't know. He says he didn't hear anything, but he also admitted he might have taken a nap. He's the one who found him."

She was numb. Too numb to think. Except of her father's words.

'Do you realize what you have done?'

She hadn't then. She was terribly afraid she did now.

The impact of those thoughts were like a boulder hitting her.

"Did your father have any enemies?" the second detective asked.

"I imagine he had quite a few. Attorneys usually do. There are losers in every case. But I can't think of any who would want to kill him."

"Do you know why he was in his office so late?"

She wanted the questions to end. She didn't want to think that perhaps something she'd done had cost her father his life.

'Do you realize what you have done'? The words echoed over and over again in her mind.

"Ms. Rawson?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "What was the question?"

"Do you know why he was in the office so late?"

"He often worked very late."

"Do you know what he might have been working on?"

"You'll have to ask his a.s.sociates," she said slowly. "I'm not that familiar with his cases. There has been a big corporate case but that's drawing to an end."

"When did you last talk to him?"

The question she dreaded. "Earlier tonight."

"Did he seem worried about anything?"

She hesitated, then said, "I need coffee."

She really needed time. To think. To decide what to say.

Byers nodded. Nicky, who hadn't wandered farther than a few inches from her feet, went with her to the kitchen. Byers followed. Mechanically, she started the coffee.

The phone rang, and Gage rolled over to his bedside table.

He had been up until three this morning, following up on the Starnes case. He looked at the clock and groaned.

'Five.'

Less than two hours' sleep.

He picked up the phone receiver.

"You left too early, partner."

"What do you mean?"

"Charles Rawson was just found. Dead."

Gage sat up with a jolt. "What did you say?"

"Prominent New Orleans attorney Charles Rawson just bit the dust. A hit-and-run in his building's garage. Strange that his daughter was a murder witness yesterday, huh?"

"Christ," Gage said. "Who has the case?"

"Not us. It's high profile now. I suspect we'll be taken off the Starnes case. I'm not sure if the captain knows the connection between the cases, but he sure as h.e.l.l will soon."

"Thanks for letting me know."

"Hey, we're partners."

The line went dead.

Gage hurriedly took a cold shower to wake up, then stepped into a pair of Dockers and found a clean blue s.h.i.+rt. Beast waited impatiently, obviously eager for a meal. He poured some dry food into a bowl and filled the water dish.

The impact of the news slowly sank in. Meredith would be devastated. Her mother dying. The Starnes murder. Now this.

Had she been notified yet?

Surely she had.

He wished she'd called him.

Would she want him near? Did she have anyone?

Surely yes.

Still, he would stop by her house, make sure she was all right.

Then he would start his own investigation. To h.e.l.l with the department. Meredith Rawson was involved in something extremely dangerous. And he was d.a.m.ned well going to find out what it was.

From the time the phone rang to the time he stepped inside the car, only fifteen minutes had pa.s.sed. He had not taken the time to shave.

Her house was lit. An unmarked department car was in front of the house.

He hurried up to the porch and tried the door. It opened.

Meredith was sitting in the living room, wrapped in a robe. Her hair was tousled. Her face was pale but under tight control.

She glanced up and a look of relief crossed her face.

The detective in a chair opposite her looked annoyed. "I didn't know you've been a.s.signed to this case."

"I wasn't. I'm an acquaintance of Ms. Rawson. I thought she might need someone."

Max Byers shook his head.

"Her father has just been killed, for G.o.d's sake," Gage said. "She's not a witness."

"But she was yesterday, wasn't she? That's one h.e.l.l of a coincidence."

Gage ignored him and sat down next to her. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

"No."

Gage turned to Byers. "Can she have some time?"

"She should identify the body."

"Later today."

Byers nodded. "Call me and I'll send over a car."

"I'll take her."

Byers raised an eyebrow but handed her a card and left, taking his partner with him.

Gage turned to Meredith and held out his arms. She went into them, her body shuddering against his.

"I'm so d.a.m.ned sorry," he said.

"Thank you for coming. I know they're doing their jobs but..."

He ran his fingers through her hair, then down to her neck, ma.s.saging the muscles.

He didn't say anything, just held her close, wis.h.i.+ng he could absorb some of her pain. He knew how he'd felt when his mother died. She'd never had time to be much of a mother, but she tried. G.o.d knew she had tried. He had been twenty-two and devastated.

"Cry," he said.

"I can't," she whispered into his shoulder. "I can't even comprehend.... He was here last night. Just a few hours ago."

For a moment, he felt as if his breath had been knocked from him. Death was following her like some dark shadow.

"Did he say anything? Was he worried?"

"He wanted me to stop looking for my sister."

"And you said .. .?"

"No. We argued. I didn't say good-bye." A tear rolled down her cheeks.

Her body was tense. Rigid.

"Some coffee? Tea? Or rest?"

She gave him a wan smile. "Maybe some coffee. There's some already made."

"I'll get it," he said, gently unwinding from her.

"I have to tell Daddy's housekeeper. She ..." She looked back at him. Tears hovered in her eyes. They were held back, he thought, by sheer determination. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ..."

"h.e.l.l with that," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. She'd just been orphaned. Her father was dead, her mother was dying, and someone was killing people around her. Perhaps they had even tried to kill her. And missed.