A Killer Among Us Read online

  She slid into the passenger seat and grabbed her seat belt. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Thank goodness he didn’t ask if she was sure she was up to it.

  “When did he get home?”

  “Just a few minutes ago.”

  Ten minutes later, they flashed their badges at the guard who raised the gate and allowed them entrance to the subdivision. Noah followed the GPS directions and pulled up in front of a two-story brick house. Noah waved to the other unmarked car. She was glad they were there in case they needed backup.

  Kit studied the house and observed, “The judge is living pretty well, isn’t he?”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Don’t suppose we’ll get lucky and Justin will be just waiting for us to ring his bell so he can confess to killing his ex, do you?”

  Noah quirked a smile. “Somehow I doubt it, but guess it won’t hurt to try.”

  “Right.” She drew in a deep breath at the smile and did her best to ignore the sudden surge of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. What in the world? She was investigating a murder, for crying out loud. Being attracted to her partner was not an option.

  Was it? She’d never found herself in this kind of situation before and wasn’t sure of the protocol.

  She cleared her throat and climbed from the vehicle.

  Noah had already started up the steps to the door. Before he could press the doorbell, it opened, and a good-looking young man in his midtwenties stood before them dressed in a green robe and matching slippers. Red-veined eyes, shadowed underneath with dark circles, widened in surprise. “May I help you?”

  They flashed their badges, then Kit’s eyes zoomed in on the area just above Justin’s collar. “Yeah, how’d you get those scratches, Justin?”

  The young man crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “None of your business.”

  “Heard you had a little argument with Bonnie.”

  “What? Who’d you hear that from?” He snorted. “Oh wait, don’t tell me. Bonnie called the cops? Over our little tiff?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then it was that little witch, Chelsea, huh?” He called her a few more choice names and ended his tirade with a vow to cut out her tongue.

  Noah and Kit exchanged glances. “Violent, aren’t you?”

  “Just toward that—” He reined in his words.

  Kit nodded. “We get the picture, Justin. You don’t like her.”

  “She should keep her mouth shut.”

  “Why would you think we’d hear about your argument from her?” Kit shifted and Justin moved to close the door as he stepped outside onto the porch.

  “Those two are thick as thieves. She’s never liked me and never made any secret of that fact. Bonnie probably called her up and told her we had a fight and she called you guys.” He shook his head. “Whatever.”

  “We need you to come downtown with us and answer a few questions.”

  Hesitation slid over him. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Because we need you to answer a few more questions about your relationship with Bonnie.” She deliberately didn’t say anything about Bonnie’s death. She wanted him to trip over himself and his lies.

  But he opened the door and stepped back. “Forget it.”

  Kit narrowed her eyes. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s really up to you.”

  “Try no way.” He attempted to shut the door in their faces, and Kit stuck a foot to block it from closing all the way.

  “Hey!” Justin stuck out an arm and caught Kit in the shoulder. Her shoulder that was attached to a very painful upper arm.

  “Ah!” She spun around, blinking back tears and another scream. Desperately, she gathered herself under control and hardened her expression.

  Noah stepped forward and grabbed the guy’s arm, spun him around, and cuffed him. “You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer. You’re also a suspect in the murder of Bonnie Gray.”

  Justin went still as a stone. “What? Someone killed Bonnie?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  The young man went still as he stared at Noah. “Wh-what are you doing? Bonnie’s dead? I didn’t kill her! You’re making a huge mistake!”

  “Right,” Kit snorted and stepped in front of him, keeping all signs of weakness or pain hidden.

  Justin stared at her, fear igniting in his eyes.

  Kit kept her guard up even as she confronted him. “So how’d you get those scratches from your ear to your collar?”

  Nostrils flared. “I can explain those.”

  “So can I. You went to Bonnie’s house to kill her and she put up a fight.”

  “No, that’s not what happened.”

  “Save it. You have the right to remain silent . . .” She read him his rights.

  Anger flushed away his shock and two bright red patches appeared on his cheeks. “Stop reading me my rights. I didn’t do anything. I went there because she was seeing someone else and I wanted to know who it was!”

  “Do you have a lawyer you want to call?”

  “No! I don’t need a lawyer! My dad won’t let you get away with this.”

  “We’ll talk downtown.”

  They listened to him protest his innocence all the way to the jail. By the time Noah pulled into the parking spot, Kit was ready to stuff cotton in her ears—or slap duct tape over Justin’s mouth. Instead, with her good arm, she hauled Justin from the backseat and led him toward the door.

  Once inside the interrogation room, Justin took a seat, his back ramrod straight, jaw clenched. “I didn’t kill her.”

  Just as she was getting ready to fire off a few questions, a knock on the small square window of the door brought her up short. She shot Noah a look and he shrugged. Hiding her irritation, she muttered, “Hold that thought. I’ll be back.”

  Stepping from the room, she came face-to-face with District Attorney Stephen Wells and the young intern Edward Richmond. Neither of them looked happy. Raising a brow, she asked, “May I help you?”

  Noah exited the interrogation room and planted himself beside her.

  The DA sighed. “Do you know who you have in that room?”

  Noah gave a half laugh, half grunt. “Yes, I do. The question is, how do you know who’s in there?”

  “A neighbor witnessed the arrest and called Judge Marlowe, who in turn immediately called me to tell me to get my officers under control.”

  Noah crossed his arms and Kit felt her blood pressure kick it up a notch. “And your response?”

  “I told him I was sure there was a good explanation and I’d look into it.”

  “There is a good explanation. The kid shoved a police officer. Not only that, he probably killed his ex-girlfriend. Unfortunately, being a judge’s son isn’t going to get him off of facing the consequences for all of that.”

  Thus far Edward, the intern, had kept his counsel. Now he asked, “What kind of evidence do you have?”

  Kit jutted her jaw. “A knife with his initials and prints were found at the scene connecting the deaths of Bonnie Gray and Walter Davis. Not to mention the scratches that are going to match up with the DNA found under the victim’s fingernails.”

  “But you won’t know that for sure until you get the test results back.”

  Snotty kid. Kit kept her lips clamped and said, “He already admitted he could explain the scratches. Let’s give him a chance.” A chance to hang himself.

  “Not without representation,” Stephen was adamant.

  “Where’s the judge then? He can sit in and offer advice to his son.”

  “I believe he was wrapping up a court case and then heading straight over.”

  “Well, as soon as he gets here, let us know.”

  Kit stomped off with one last glare toward the DA and his sidekick.

  12

  “Are you going to press charges for assault?” Noah asked.

  Kit snorted as she sat at her desk chair and
propped her feet up on the top drawer that was stuck in a permanently open position. “No. What’s the point?”

  “Might teach him a lesson.” Noah leaned against the desk to face her and crossed his arms. She really was a beautiful woman. Even with anger flushing her cheeks.

  “Somehow I doubt it. In this case, it’s no big deal.” Her phone rang and Noah watched her good hand dart out to grab the handset. “Hello?” She listened, then a smile crossed her face. “Thanks, Serena. I’ll pass that along.”

  When she hung up, Noah couldn’t resist. “What?”

  “Serena said Bonnie died sometime this morning between the hours of midnight and three.”

  “Then we need to find out where Justin was during that time.”

  “You bet. We also need to find out where he was at the time of Walter’s murder.”

  They headed back down to the interrogation room to find the judge holding court with his son. A big man topping six feet two, with bushy gray hair, dark penetrating eyes, and a booming bass voice that carried well, he yelled and Justin drooped.

  Noah rapped on the door, cutting the judge off mid-yell. He turned and glared. Seeing Noah, his brows shot up and some of the red in his face receded. He strode to the door and pulled it open. “What is it?”

  “Hello, Judge Marlowe.” Noah motioned for the man to step out of the room. He shut the door so Justin couldn’t hear the conversation.

  “Don’t hello me.” Judge Marlowe narrowed his eyes, fury still spitting from his blue eyes. “Tell me what you think you have on my son.”

  “Evidence,” Kit snapped. “We need to know where Justin was from midnight on.”

  “At home. Asleep. Just like he is every night at that time.”

  “Do you mind if we hear that from him?” Kit placed her hands on her hips.

  Noah figured he was the only one who noticed the flash of pain in her eyes as she ignored the pressure on her wounded arm.

  Judge Marlowe narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, I do mind.”

  Noah rubbed his jaw, then said, “Look. We had a car on your house all night. Justin didn’t get home until about seven this morning. We need to know where he was. Because he wasn’t at home.”

  The man blanched and dropped his arms. “He wasn’t?”

  “No sir.”

  “Well, he isn’t a kid anymore, he probably spent the night with a friend.”

  “Then let him tell us that.”

  Hesitation. “All right, but I’m in the room with you.”

  “Absolutely. We’ve already offered him a lawyer. He refused.”

  The man’s face hardened. “He doesn’t need a lawyer, he has me.”

  The three returned to the room to find Justin with his head in his hands. He didn’t bother to look up when the door opened.

  “Justin.” Kit’s voice was soft. Noah looked at her in surprise. She flicked him a glance and he let her lead.

  “Justin,” she repeated more firmly.

  He looked up. “What?”

  “Where were you last night?”

  His bloodshot eyes darted to his dad, then back to his clasped hands. With his right thumb and forefinger, he started picking at a hangnail and mumbled, “At . . . at . . . home.”

  His father blew out a breath, slapped a hand on the table. Justin jumped and glared at the man. Judge Marlowe kept his voice low, controlled. “No, you weren’t. They had a car on the house all night, Justin. They watched you drive up and go inside early this morning.”

  Justin flushed and looked at the door, his desire to escape clear. “Fine. I was with some guys. We were just hanging out. Went to a few bars.” He scrubbed his eyes. “Then I came home to go to bed.”

  “What time did you go to Bonnie’s?” Kit asked. “And don’t deny you were there, we have evidence. We’re just waiting for the DNA results to come back from the lab. I’m sure it’s going to match up with the sample you’re going to give us. What do you think?”

  More fidgeting, another glance at his father, then back at Kit. He raised his hand to touch the fresh scratches on his neck. “All right. I went to see Bonnie around midnight.”

  “And she wasn’t happy to see you, was she?”

  “No.” He clipped the word, then continued without further prompting. “We fought. She scratched me. I left. That’s it.” He stopped, rubbed his eyes, and sighed. “Oh, and you’ll probably find bruises on her upper arm. Her left one, I think. She kept walking away from me so I grabbed her pretty hard to get her to look at me. That’s when she slapped me and scratched my face.”

  “What about her mother? Did she hear this argument?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She was already in her room. Plus she’s so sick and with all that medication she takes . . .” He rolled his eyes. “No, she wouldn’t have heard anything.”

  “Was anyone else in the house last night?”

  “No. When her father’s out of town, Bonnie pretty much takes the night shift with her mother, checking on her and making sure she doesn’t need anything during the night. Then in the morning, the housekeeper comes in.” He shifted and looked at Noah, then Kit. Kit noticed he avoided eye contact with his father. “Look. When I left her, she was still shouting obscenities at me and was very much alive. I’m not going to say I wasn’t mad enough to belt her one, but I didn’t.” He spread his hands. “I can’t help it if you don’t believe me, but that’s all there was to it.”

  “Why did you think she was seeing someone else?”

  “Because she said she was. Told me we were finished, that she didn’t need me anymore.”

  “Did you buy her expensive jewelry?”

  A frown creased the skin between his brows. “No, why?”

  “Are you still doing or selling drugs?”

  “No!” his shout echoed around the room. This time he did look at his parent, a cross between a glare and a plea. “No. I’m clean. Dad makes me test once a week.” Justin’s jaw worked. “If I use, I’m out of the will—and the house.” He tried a smirk, but it fell into a grimace. “I can’t afford to use.”

  “What about a pocketknife we found at the scene with Bonnie’s and Walter’s blood on it?”

  His head snapped in Kit’s direction as she pulled out the plastic bag containing the knife. She tossed it on the table in front of father and son.

  Justin looked at it. “That’s mine.”

  “We figured. The initials kind of tipped us off.”

  “Where did you find it? I haven’t seen it in a while.”

  “How long is a while?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed and he shot a nervous look at his father. “I’m not sure. It must have fallen out of my pocket somehow. Um . . . a couple of weeks ago or something.”

  Kit narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe that for a minute. “You’re lying.”

  Justin raised a hand to rub it across his lips. Then his jaw firmed. “I’m not lying. I don’t know where I lost it or why it turned up in Bonnie’s house.”

  She wasn’t going to get him to admit anything. That last look at his father told her plenty. “How did you and Walter Davis get along?”

  He shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

  Noah leaned forward. “Look, Justin, I’m going to lay it out for you and your dad. We’ve got two dead college students who knew each other and hung out. One of them is your ex-girlfriend. The other a guy whose company she seemed to enjoy. She ditched you and was moving on. That can be hard for the one left behind.”

  But Justin was shaking his head. “I know where you’re going with this and it’s not true. No, I didn’t like the fact that Bonnie wouldn’t even talk to me about the possibility of giving me another chance. The only reason I went over there was to beg her to talk to my dad so he could tell her I’ve been clean. She went crazy, told me to get out, that she couldn’t be seen with me. She just wouldn’t”—he held his palms up in a little-boy gesture—“give me one more chance. How can you not give someone a second ch
ance?” A single tear spilled over, ran down his cheek and dripped to the table.

  Kit exchanged a look with Noah and he asked, “Is there anything else you want to add?”

  “No, nothing. I swear I didn’t have anything to do with Bonnie’s death.” His voice cracked on the last word and his breaths now came faster, in short pants. “I swear. You have to believe me.” Then he dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.

  Kit walked from the room and grabbed a cup from the water cooler. Filling it up, she took a long drink, popped two ibuprofen, then turned to find Brian Sands standing beside her.

  The one who’d pulled the trigger and killed the man she’d talked into surrendering.

  Spinning on her heel, she started to walk off, but his voice stopped her. “Kit.”

  Without turning to look at him, she said, “I’m not a good person to talk to right now, Brian.”

  The SWAT member stepped in front of her. “Look, we’re going to have to work together in the future. We’ve got to get past this. That man was lifting his gun to shoot. You didn’t have on a vest . . .” He blew out a sigh.

  “He wasn’t going to shoot. And nothing,” she jabbed a finger at him, “that you say is going to convince me otherwise.” She paused and sighed. “However, I suppose I need to apologize for blasting you in front of everyone.” She swallowed and met his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I don’t care about that. What I care about is our working relationship, because the way it is now . . .” His brows furrowed and he sighed. “Can we agree to disagree on this and move on? Because we’ve got to figure out how we’re going to be able to work together.”

  “We’re not. If you get a call and I’m the negotiator, pass it to someone else. I can’t work with someone I can’t trust to read my signals and trust my judgment.”

  Impatience stamped his face. “I don’t want to do that. I might not be able to do that.” Something else flickered across his face and she narrowed her eyes. He reached out a hand and touched her arm. “Kit . . .” He broke off and she realized with a start he was struggling to tell her something personal.

  Oh no, he wasn’t going to ask her out or anything, was he?

  She watched his lips press together, then, “I wanted to ask if you would meet me for a cup of coffee or something sometime. Soon. You know, maybe across the street at the little café or . . .” He shrugged and flushed.