Munro Family: The Investigator Part 7

Kate's eyes widened in confusion at the sudden change in topic, but she answered quickly. "Yes, I do. I bought her a Tos.h.i.+ba laptop a couple of years ago. I sent it to her from the UK."

"Darryl said she was going to take it with her to Skype him from the s.h.i.+p, but for some reason, she left it behind."

Kate paled. Riley stepped forward, alarmed. She stumbled back against the door, her hand up to her mouth, her eyes filled with horror.

"Oh, my G.o.d! Her laptop was there? She never goes anywhere without it. That computer is her life; it's her window to the world. Oh, my G.o.d! He's killed her! I told you! He's killed her! I know it! I just know it!"

Without warning, she turned and pummeled Riley's chest with her fists. He braced himself against the attack, holding his arms straight at his sides until she calmed enough that he could stop her without force.

His heart constricted at the sight of fresh tears welling up in her eyes. A s.h.i.+ny wisp of blond hair fell across her face. She sc.r.a.ped it away with impatient fingers. Finally, her tortured gaze found his.

"Why won't you believe me? How many times do I have to tell you? He's done something to her. You have to make him tell me where she is!" Her voice cracked. As if a torrent had been unleashed, she cried in heartbreaking sobs.

With fierce reluctance, his arms came up around her and he drew her in close against his chest. She cried against his s.h.i.+rt. He tried not to think how well her head fit the hollow of his shoulder.

Long moments later, she pulled away and stared up at him. Her face was red and blotchy. She sniffed and then looked away.

He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it over to her. She took it in silence, her eyes conveying her thanks. He turned away and walked back to the bed.

What the h.e.l.l was he doing? Another minute or two and he would have been crus.h.i.+ng those oh-so-kissable lips against his and to h.e.l.l with everything. He no longer doubted her mother was missing, but had she disappeared voluntarily or was there something more sinister at play? And, if so, who was responsible?

He'd formed his own opinion of Watson. The man was a right royal p.r.i.c.k, but as Riley had told Kate, it didn't make him a murderer. And why would Watson have come up with such a far-fetched story to explain her absence? A wheel-chair bound woman who couldn't swim and hated the water had gone cruising on the high seas? It was totally and utterly unbelievable. He must have known people would be doubtful. A cop of Watson's caliber and experience would know that the implausibility of his story would be the first thing the police would seize upon. Of all the ways Riley could describe the former commander, stupid wasn't one of them.

Darryl had been married to Rosemary for two decades. Why would he suddenly decide she had to be done away with? If things had really gotten that rough, divorce was a h.e.l.l of a lot less risky than murder, even for an ex-cop who knew the ropes.

And what about Kate? Beautiful, distant... He sensed she hid a lifetime of secrets. There was more to her fallout with Darryl than she was telling. Far more, if the bitterness in her eyes at every mention of his name was anything to go by.

It troubled him that her insistence on Darryl's guilt might have arisen from a different motive-something related to her volatile past-and have nothing to do with the woman who may or may not have come to a violent end.

He raised his gaze to hers and tried to ignore the vulnerability that stared back at him.

"Tell me about your mother's will."

Kate's breath caught in her throat. Her pulse rate skyrocketed. How the h.e.l.l had he found out? No one knew about the will. No one but her and her mother and the lawyer who'd drafted it.

There was no way her mother would have told Darryl. She was the one who'd sworn Kate to secrecy-had made her swear it on her life.

She swallowed the lump of emotion that had lodged itself in her throat and steadied her gaze on Riley. She hadn't called him Riley-not to his face-but that was the way she'd begun to think of him. A strong and s.e.xy name; it was perfect for him. Too bad he was one of them.

How much did he know? Maybe he was just fis.h.i.+ng? Maybe he didn't know anything about it at all. She decided to call his bluff.

"How would I know anything about my mother's will? I've been living in the UK for the last three years. Besides, it's none of my business. I've never even discussed it with her." The lie tasted bitter on her lips, but she held his gaze without flinching.

Which wasn't easy.

He seemed to see right through her, right into her soul, right into the place where her darkest secrets had been buried for more than ten years.

But that was impossible. He knew nothing about her. No one did. She'd told Cally about it once, but they'd both been children and her secret had been way beyond what either of them knew how to deal with. After that, she'd given up.

Well, if you called running away giving up. She called it survival.

Kate felt the heat of his gaze on her face and swallowed. His voice was soft in the tense silence.

"Why are you lying to me?"

Her gaze skittered away. Guilt burned up her neck, scorching her with its relentless heat. "I-I'm not."

"Bulls.h.i.+t." The same mild tone was now laced with steel.

She gritted her teeth and thought fast. She couldn't tell him the truth. Could she?

His gaze felt as heavy as her secrets. Coolly a.s.sessing, waiting, watching, probing for a c.h.i.n.k in her armor.

He moved closer, looming over her.

"Your mother made a will right about the time you said she went missing. I only have your word that you don't know you're the sole beneficiary." His eyes hardened. "And right now, Blondie, your word's worth squat."

CHAPTER 8.

Riley frowned unseeingly at the paperwork that lay on the desk in front of him and thought about last night. Kate had appeared surprised when he'd dropped his bombsh.e.l.l about her mother's will, but what did he really know about her? She could be an award-winning actress, for all he knew.

He hadn't forgotten how quickly she'd composed herself after her loss of control during their first interview. She'd told him she was an art dealer, but he hadn't even bothered to check her story. She'd told him Darryl was a murderer. She'd told him a lot of things.

If she'd known about the will beforehand, it gave her a strong motive to make her mother disappear-except that under New South Wales law, they had to find a body before she could make a claim. Maybe she didn't know that? Or, maybe she was just biding her time, waiting for the right moment? Building suspicion against her stepfather slowly but surely so that when a suitable amount of time had elapsed, she could "discover" the body and watch Darryl hang for it.

Was she really that vindictive? That cold? That calculating?

He shook his head to stem the jumble of thoughts. Until now, he prided himself on being an astute judge of character. Had his hormones gotten his head totally confused? Was he looking past the obvious because he wanted her? Or, perversely, was that the reason he kept trying to find excuses for her guilt?

Had his self-esteem been damaged more than he wanted to admit when Iris left him for another man? He could now see he'd had a lucky escape, but at the time, he'd been devastated. Was there some kind of residual hurt he'd refused to recognize, or did he subconsciously feel the need to jeopardize his next relations.h.i.+p?

What the h.e.l.l was he talking about? A relations.h.i.+p? He and Kate weren't in a relations.h.i.+p, or anything like it, for Christ's sake.

He glanced up and caught sight of his boss strolling into the squad room. He stifled a groan.

Great. Just what he needed.

He reached across his desk and made a grab for his morning coffee. He was going to need a caffeine hit to get through this one.

"Good morning, Detective Munro. How are things?" The suit was flashy, the comb-over still wet.

Riley smiled through gritted teeth. "Fine thanks, sir."

"You found that cow yet?"

Riley shook his head and filled his mouth with coffee so he didn't say something he'd regret.

"I spoke to Commander Watson last night. He was a bit upset after your visit." Hannaford's tone was still light but the black eyes that pinned Riley had a feral gleam.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him? You're not trying to cause trouble are you, Munro? Perhaps I should call your old commander-Detective Inspector Shattler, wasn't it? I'm sure Commander Watson knows him. They've both been in the force for decades."

Riley eyeballed his superior, refusing to back down. "I was merely following up on a missing person's report that was made last week."

"You were enquiring as to the whereabouts of Commander Watson's wife. I believe he told you she was holidaying." Hannaford's eyes narrowed. "Need I remind you, Munro, that Commander Watson is a pillar of Watervale society? He has had to put up with a lot in his life. He gave everything he had to this town, kept it in good shape for more than twenty-five years and in his down time, he cared for his disabled wife and her child. The man's a saint.

"That stepdaughter of his was nothing but trouble, right from the start. She had a penchant for telling lies. She used to give Darryl grief like you've never seen. Most of the town breathed a sigh of relief when she up and left."

"That's not the way she tells it."

Hannaford shook his head and looked down at Riley with growing anger. "You're not listening to me, Munro. The girl was trouble. h.e.l.l, she wouldn't know the truth if it came knocking on her door. Between her and that little Savage s.l.u.t she used to hang around, I don't know how Darryl put up with it."

Riley frowned at the mention of the name Savage. Sonia had mentioned it on Friday night, at the bar. Cally Savage had been Kate's school friend. He'd meant to look up her father.

He made a note on the pad in front of him, catching Hannaford's frown out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you listening to me, Munro? Let me make myself clear: I don't want Commander Watson being annoyed again. If you want to know anything about his family, you come to me. Got it?"

Riley didn't bother to conceal his surprise. "I didn't realize you knew them so well."

Hannaford's face became shuttered. "Let's just say, I'm a good friend of the family." He turned and heaved his bulk toward his office before Riley had the chance to question him further.

With the late afternoon sun glinting off the aluminium window frames of the Watervale Police Station, Riley dialed the number Cally Savage's father had given him. The man had been oddly curious about why Riley needed to contact his daughter, but Riley resisted the man's pointed questions and had politely left his house.

The phone rang out for what seemed forever. He was about to hang up when it was answered.

"Cally Savage."

"Oh, h.e.l.lo. It's Detective Munro from the Watervale Police Station. I was wondering if I could talk to you about Kate Col-I mean, Kate Watson?"

"Kate Watson? You mean the Kate Watson whose stepfather's the Police Commander?"

"Yes, although Darryl's no longer the commander. He retired a few months ago. I understand you knew Kate from school?"

"Yes, we were friends when we were kids. She's all right, isn't she? I mean, you're not calling because something's happened to her, are you?"

He noted the concern in her voice and hastened to rea.s.sure her. "No, nothing like that. She's fine. In fact, she looks great. She goes by the name of Collins now."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Riley heard the sound of a child calling out in the background. When Cally spoke again, her voice was rough with emotion.

"Collins. That's her father's name. Her real father. I'm not surprised she ditched Watson. She couldn't stand that man."

Riley sat up straighter, flicking the lid off his pen and drawing his notepad closer. "Really? Even back then?"

"Yes, Detective. Even back then. Especially back then. Darryl Watson used to make my skin crawl. He was one of those guys you didn't want to be around. The few times I did visit Kate at her place, I made sure I was never alone with him."

A slow, hard thud started in Riley's chest. He stared blindly at the blank page in front of him. "Did she ever say anything to you about Watson hurting her?"

Cally's voice lowered, becoming harder to hear over the noise in the background. He strained to hear her words over the phone.

"I don't think I should say anything more, Detective. Not before I talk to Kate."

Stifling his disappointment, Riley thanked her for her help. "I'll give you my number. Who knows? You might remember something you think I should know."

After giving her his contact details, he ended the call. Images swirled around in his head as he tried to make sense of what she'd told him-or, more to the point, what she hadn't.

Could Darryl Watson have abused his stepdaughter? Was that the reason for her sudden flight and continued animosity more than a decade later? Was this her way of evening up the score? Or was it just another example of the Kate Watson described by others-the trouble-seeking teenager, teller of tall tales?

He dragged air deep into his lungs and held it there until his pulse slowed. If Kate had been abused, as abhorrent as the thought was, it gave her a strong motive for wanting to see her abuser suffer.

Setting her stepfather up for questioning about his wife's disappearance by repeatedly telling the police her mother had been murdered could lead to charges being laid against the former commander, if someone bothered enough to investigate-someone like him. Someone new to town, someone who didn't have an emotional connection to the man who'd been given the keys to Watervale.

Especially if the missing woman didn't materialize. Maybe it was all part of Kate's charade? To make him think she relied upon him; to act like she needed him.

Had she set out to bamboozle him with her beauty and vulnerability so he would eat up her story and set about destroying the man who'd destroyed her?

Unless the abuse theory was utter bulls.h.i.+t. Then his prognosis went down the toilet about as fast as bad seafood and he was back where he'd started.

But the thought persisted. Did Kate really believe her mother had been murdered, or was it all just an elaborate ploy?

Revenge was a dish best served cold. Or so they said.

Riley shook his head in disbelief. Cold...? More like frozen. And if he really believed Kate had been abused, what did he intend to do about it?

The ringing of the phone on the bedside table in Kate's room at The Jackeroo pierced the silence. She tensed. She'd been in town nearly a week and it hadn't rung the entire time. Her thoughts skittered around who it might be. None of them were comforting.

The plaintive noise continued and she shook her head with impatience. For G.o.d's sake, is this what her life had come to? Jittery over answering a d.a.m.ned phone?

She strode over and picked it up. "Kate Collins."

There was a slight hesitation and then she heard a voice from her past that sent relief flooding through her limbs.

"h.e.l.lo, Kate. It's Cally."

"Cally? Cally Savage? I don't believe it! How on earth did you know I was here? How are you? Where are you?"

Cally's laughter sounded just as it had when they were teenagers. It was almost as if the years hadn't moved forward at all.