“It was dangerous when Ruby was a suspect in Agatha Shepherd’s murder,” I said. “Remember what happened when Owen and I got locked in the basement of that old cabin?” I felt a fleeting rush of panic as an image of that small dark cellar flashed into my mind.
“I remember exactly what happened,” Marcus said. He narrowed his blue eyes. “You could have been killed in that basement or you could have died from hypothermia. It was dangerous.” He enunciated each of the three words, biting them off as though they left a sour taste in his mouth.
“I know that,” I said, struggling not to raise my voice. “I went out there for Ruby, and for Harrison because the papers about Elizabeth’s adoption were out there. I went because I care about both of them.”
I could see from the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded. “Ruby is my friend and Harrison is like family. I went out there because I cared . . . care about them.” I was having a hard time keeping the emotion out of my voice. “But what’s between you and I”—I gestured from me to him—“is a lot . . . stronger. I was willing to take a risk so Ruby wouldn’t go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit and so Harrison could meet his daughter. You can’t ask me to do any less for you.” I felt the prickle of tears and I blinked several times so they wouldn’t fall.
“That’s when I knew,” he said, his eyes locked on my face.
“Knew what?” I said.
“That I was crazy about you.”
“Way back then? You knew then?”
He nodded. “Uh-huh. I was afraid you were . . .” He cleared his throat. “I was making all sorts of ridiculous bargains with God and when I saw you and Owen through the trees, wading through the snow almost up to your waist, I wanted to dance. I wanted to jump up and down like a kid and high-five everyone in sight.”
I felt myself tear up again and I had to swallow down the emotion or I wouldn’t be able to say the things I needed to say to him. “I’m trying to imagine you dancing in that big parka you were wearing and all that snow,” I said with a small smile.
“I came pretty close.” He swiped a hand across his mouth. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Kathleen. You understand that, right?”
I nodded. “I do. I really do. And I feel exactly the same way about you. The difference is that you’re trying to protect me from something that’s up here.” I tapped my temples with the knuckles of each hand. “From something you think might happen. The threat, the danger you’re in is real. Here. Now. And I won’t stay out of it. I can’t.”
“I know,” he said.
There really wasn’t anything else to say.
* * *
The medical examiner officially ruled Dani’s death a homicide on Monday. Marcus was put on leave—with pay—and Hope was removed from the case. The chief had decided, given Marcus’s connection to the victim, to bring in an outside investigator. A detective from Red Wing, Bryan Foster, took over the investigation.
“It could be worse,” Hope said that evening, sitting once again at my kitchen table with Hercules ensconced next to her chair. He seemed to like her and she him.
“Foz and I go way back. We went to the academy together. He won’t shut me out completely. I can keep tabs on what’s happening in the investigation under the table.”
“You trust him?” I asked, pulling up one knee and tenting my fingers on top of it.
She nodded. “I do. He won’t cut any corners and he won’t make any assumptions. He’s going to gather the evidence and follow the facts.” She shrugged. “And so am I.”
“The chief took you off the case,” I said.
“Foz is a good cop and he’ll be fair, but we both know that all the evidence so far points at just one person.”
“Marcus.”
Hope picked up her cup, took a drink and set it down again. “I can’t sit on my hands and do nothing, Kathleen.”
“Neither can I,” I said.
We looked at each other across the table. “Are you sure you’re in?” she asked. “You know what Marcus would say?”
I nodded slowly. “I know what he would say and yes I’m sure I’m in.”
“Merow,” Hercules said from his place next to Hope’s chair.
We were all in.
6
“So who could have wanted Dani dead?” Hope asked.
I tucked my hair behind one ear. “That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t know. I met her one time.”
“Is John Keller still at the library going through those dried plant samples?”
“Wait a minute. You don’t think . . . ?”
Hope waved the question away. “No. I don’t think either of Marcus’s friends killed Dani. They both have alibis. Keller was with Rebecca.” She gestured in the direction of the backyard. “And Travis Rosen was in Red Wing at a meeting with someone from the Department of Natural Resources.”
“That’s good to know,” I said. “John should be at the library tomorrow, but he’s pretty much done.”
Hope propped both forearms on the table. “Could you talk to him? See what you could find out?”
“Okay,” I said. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you can find out about her family. We know she has a brother—Dominic McAllister. I spoke to him, and a grandmother. Did they get along? Is there any other family?”
“What are you going to do?”
“See what I can find on Ernie Kingsley.”
“The majority shareholder in the development company.”
“Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”
“Lita,” I said, getting to my feet. “More coffee?”
Hope shook her head.
The basement door opened then and Owen appeared. He had the end of a red plaid scarf in his mouth. He passed through the kitchen, giving a muffled meow as he headed for the living room.
Hope watched the whole thing with an amused look on her face.
“I have no idea,” I said in answer to her unspoken question.
She laughed. It was a good sound to hear after the tension of our previous conversation. “I thought maybe you’d taught him to put the laundry away for you.”
I laughed as well. “I did very briefly wonder if it was possible to teach him how to push the buttons on the washing machine so he could do a load of towels.”
“Merow!” Hercules interjected loudly.
Hope looked down at him. “I’m sure you could do laundry, too,” she said.
After Hope left I got my laptop and went into the living room, curling up in the big chair. Hercules followed, jumped onto the footstool and looked expectantly at me.
“Yes, you can help,” I said.
Hercules and I spent the next hour researching Danielle McAllister and her family. Dani’s parents had been killed in a plane crash when she was twelve. She’d been raised after that by her brother, Dominic, almost ten years older, and her paternal grandmother. The McAllisters were very wealthy and very conservative. The family fortune began with shipbuilding, massive wooden boats that took to the sea during the age of sail.
Dominic McAllister ran McAllister Enterprises, which was made up of, by my best guess, at least half a dozen different businesses including several hotels. I found it interesting that Dani was listed in the company’s annual report as being on the board of directors but, unlike the other members, there was no mention of what she did for a living.
After a bit of digging going all the way back to her college years, I found some photos of Dani with her brother and her grandmother at several charity events sponsored by her family’s company. I noticed Dani was usually dressed down just a little—no elegant black dresses with four-inch heels for her. And the truth was she was stunningly beautiful in a flowing, gauzy skirt and flat sandals.
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