Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) (14 page)

Pete found Wayne Baronick leaning against the Vance Township Police Department’s SUV with his arms crossed.

“It’s about time,” the detective said.

“You didn’t have to wait. You could’ve gone back to Brunswick and dealt with your drug busts.”

“I know that’s what you’d prefer, but having a theft occur in your own station? Again? I’d think you’d have learned by now that trying to keep this kind of investigation internal isn’t the way to go.”

Baronick’s barb about the ten-thousand dollars in township receipts that had somehow vanished from Sylvia’s desk six years ago hit its mark. Pete refused to defend his handling of the old case to the cocky, young hotshot, but recognized he had little choice but to invite County into this one.

The detective smiled, having apparently spotted the capitulation on Pete’s face. “How about we sit in your car and you can tell me what happened.”

“As if you haven’t already heard.”

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

Pete unlocked the Ford Explorer and opened the passenger door. The last thing he wanted was Baronick’s nose in his township business. Especially now. He wanted to sort this out on his own. It wasn’t that he wanted to protect Marcy. Not exactly. He didn’t want to see her going through the hell of an investigation if she was actually innocent. On the other hand, what did he care if she went through hell? She’d put him through it after all.

Then there was Zoe. Where had she disappeared to? And why? Note to self—force Zoe to tell him what was going on with her.

“Well?” Baronick interrupted Pete’s musing. “Are you going to talk to me about the break-in or not?”

Too bad “or not” wasn’t really an option. Pete pulled out his notebook and gave Baronick the details he knew. No sign of forced entry at either front or back doors. Door to the evidence room forced. Inventory of the evidence room showed only the confiscated computer tower missing. Trace evidence had been sent to the county lab.

Pete hesitated.

“What?” Baronick pressed.

“I processed fingerprints found around and on the front door. Of those that were usable, most matched my officers, Sylvia Bassi, or local residents who had come to the station on business recently. My men are checking them out, but so far they’re all clear.”

“Most?”

Pete hesitated, knowing the next words out of his mouth would clinch County’s participation in the investigation. “I found a match to a fingerprint lifted from McBirney’s Buick.”

Baronick choked. “You what?”

Pete glared at him. He was not going to repeat himself when he knew perfectly well the detective had heard him the first time.

“Any idea who they belong to?”

“Not yet.”

“There really is a connection between the two cases. Damn. I should have kept that computer with me and logged it into the county evidence locker. Obviously, it would have been safer there.”

Pete tried to ignore that last comment.

“Any suspects or leads?” Baronick said.

Besides Marcy and Jerry McBirney? “Nothing solid.”

“But your gut’s telling you something, isn’t it?”

“My gut’s testimony isn’t admissible in a court of law.”

“Come on, Pete. Don’t be a hard ass on this. We both want the same thing. To find out who killed Bassi.”

“And when I have anything concrete, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.” Baronick studied him.

Pete held his gaze.

“All right. I guess I’ll have to settle for that. For the moment. Anything else you can give me?”

“I’ve got my men tracking down a couple of former Vance Township officers who had the alarm code to the station. I want to make sure they didn’t share the information with anyone else.”

“Those codes should have been changed after they left the department. You know that, don’t you?”

“The township supervisors didn’t feel there was a need for it. No one breaks into a police station. Out? Yeah.”

“Well,
someone
broke in, didn’t they?”

Pete resisted the urge to tell the detective to go to hell.

“I guess that’s it for now.” Baronick opened the SUV’s door. A rush of cold air flooded the vehicle’s interior as he climbed out. The detective leaned back into the car. “Let me know what your men learn. I’ll come by the station late tomorrow morning to process the crime scene. You know. In case you missed something.” He flashed a dimpled smile and slammed the door.

Pete gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles ached. He stared at the parked cars in front of him, watching a man in a dark coat scrape ice from his windshield. White flakes drifted through the night sky in silence. Minutes passed, and Pete got his breathing and his temper under control.

Baronick may have wormed his way into two of his cases. Marcy may have involved herself in a robbery and murder. But there was something else he might still have some control over.

Zoe released Jade who appeared displeased by the new room arrangement. The cat sniffed at the overturned chair and then sulked off to the living room.

Zoe righted the chair and sunk into it to study the carcass of her computer. She couldn’t very well call Pete. She already knew his first question.
Why would anyone want your computer?

Well, you see, we were obstructing justice and hiding stolen property.

Had the intruder succeeded in retrieving the hard drive? Zoe leaned over the upended computer tower and peered at the electronic chips and wires and thingamajigs inside. It might help if she knew what the hell she was looking at.

Something on the back porch thudded. Zoe flinched. Stiffened and listened.

Was she imagining things? Hearing strange sounds that weren’t there? Then the firm knock on the back door confirmed her imagination had not run amok. Maybe it was Logan. He would know if her computer had been gutted. Eager, she slipped into the dark living room.

The light on the back porch created a familiar silhouette through the translucent lace curtains.

Pete.

Crap. Any other time, she’d be thrilled to see him. Just not now.

Zoe pulled the door between the rooms shut and flipped the light switch. Both cats blinked at her from their mutual bed on the sofa.

“Don’t you check to see who’s out there before opening your door?” Pete said as she let him in.

“I could see your silhouette through the curtains.”

“Maybe you should consider something heavier. If you can see out, an intruder might be able to see in.”

Zoe’s forehead tingled with beads of sweat threatening to pop to the surface. Had Pete seen in? Did he know about the intruder? More importantly, had he found out about the computer?

“I’ll take that under consideration.” She forced a smile and struggled to keep her voice steady. “What brings you out here this evening?”

His gaze swept the room and lingered on the closed office door. He’d been in this room numerous times. Their Saturday night poker gang rotated houses for their games, and she’d hosted them—including Pete—on a regular basis. So he knew she never closed that door.

His eyes locked onto hers.

Act innocent.

Somehow, she didn’t think he was buying it.

“You left the funeral home without saying goodbye,” he said. “I got worried.”

“Sorry. It was so stuffy in there. I couldn’t take it anymore. And I figured you were going to be busy for a while.”

He held her gaze, unsmiling.

The silence roared inside her head. Zoe broke it first. “Can I get you some coffee?”

A smile finally tugged at one side of his lips. “When have you ever known me to turn down coffee?”

She contained a huge sigh of relief. “Great. I’ll make a fresh pot.” As she headed for the kitchen, her mind flashed on Pete poking around and wandering into the other room when she wasn’t looking. She paused and looked back. Sure enough, he was frowning at the closed door. Her heart thudded against the inside of her sternum so loud she expected the room to echo with it. Think fast.

“Why don’t you join me?” she called to him, hoping she sounded just a tad flirtatious. Instead, she feared she sounded as desperate as she felt.

His face softened, and he moved toward her, following her into the antiquated kitchen. He parked himself on a stool in the corner while Zoe opened the canister containing her favorite blend of ground coffee. Maybe they could enjoy a pleasant visit without police matters getting in the way.

“I don’t recall ever seeing the door to your office closed before,” he said.

Crap.

Her mind raced, and the words came out of her mouth before she had a chance to analyze them. “My heating bills have been horrible this winter. I decided to close off the office and turn down the thermostat in there.” Wow. That sounded pretty good. She sneaked a glance at Pete to see how he reacted.

He shrugged his eyebrows and gave a nod. Not that penetrating stare he used on criminals to suck the truth out of them. Good. She turned her attention back to pouring water into the Mr. Coffee.

“We need to talk.”

Uh-oh. Maybe not so good. “Sure.” She winced at the chirpiness of her voice. “What about?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, the stool leg barked against the floor as he stood up and moved to her side. A bead of sweat tickled the back of her neck. He stood next to her. The heat radiating from him made her lightheaded. His breath ruffled a wisp of her hair on her forehead.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” he said.

“Truth?” Her voice was almost an octave higher than it should have been.

“You’re keeping something from me.” A statement of fact. Not a question.

No brilliant retort about heating costs came to her lips. In fact, her brain had shut down, overwhelmed with Pete’s closeness. The musky smell of him drove all rational thought into some obscure corner she couldn’t access. A line from some otherwise forgotten movie or TV show popped into her head.

Resistance is futile.

FOURTEEN

Zoe didn’t dare tell Pete everything. Perhaps part of it. But how much? And which part?

Sentences formed on her tongue, ran through her brain, and died.
I’m helping Logan. To try to find his father’s killer
. No. Keep Logan out of it. How could she reveal any portion of what she was hiding without giving up the kid? She had to protect Logan at all costs. For Rose.

For Ted.

Zoe ventured a quick look at Pete who stood in silence, watching her squirm.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t tell you the truth.”

He scowled. “Why not?”

Zoe sighed and punched the power button on the coffee maker. “If I could tell you that, I could tell you all of it.” She turned to face him, locking onto his gaze. “Do you trust me at all?”

He looked at her askance. “Ordinarily? Yeah.”

“Then I need you to give me a little space.”

“Space? Zoe, this is a murder investigation. I can’t give you space when it interferes with me doing my job.”

She hadn’t considered the position she was putting Pete in. Maybe she should just take him into the office, show him the mess, and confess everything. Let the cops dig through the hard drive from the township computer.

Except she didn’t know if the hard drive was still in that mangled jumble of electronics. Or had her uninvited visitor taken it with him? Either way, Logan would get busted for theft or obstruction of justice or both.

She lowered her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Without warning, a rush of tears warmed her eyes, and she blinked them away. She’d sworn off crying in front of a man years ago.

Pete wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and drew her to him. “Who are you protecting?”

Once again, she risked meeting his eyes, expecting to read anger or—worse—disappointment. Instead, she saw worry. He was frightened for her.

If he only knew.

Touched by his concern, Zoe lost the battle over control of her tears. “I can’t tell you,” she whispered. “I promise I will when I can. But I can’t right now.”

Pete’s ice blue eyes bore into hers as if he could extract the information he wanted telepathically. Good thing she didn’t believe in telepathy.

Then he pulled her closer. Her body pressed against his. The heat and the smell of him made her dizzy. Her hands found their way to the small of his back. She lifted her chin as he tipped his head, and their mouths met. His warm, moist lips molded to hers. Overwhelmed with a hunger and a longing that flared from some long-hidden corner of her psyche, she forgot to breathe. She sunk into him, aching to hold onto him and this moment for as long as possible. To surrender to his sweetness and strength. His hands slid up to cup her face as if it were made of some fragile thing.

She drank him in. Her mind swam, ungrounded, floating.

And then he eased back, breaking the kiss and the spell.

The mantle clock in the next room ticked off long seconds of silence as the coffee maker gurgled.

Pete opened his mouth, but closed it again. “Be careful,” he said at last, his voice less than steady.

Zoe didn’t trust herself to speak and gave a nod.

He pressed a kiss onto her forehead and was gone. The coffee maker grew quiet, the pot full. Zoe was left to the sounds of the clock ticking and her heart pounding.

The following day, after the ordeal of Ted’s funeral and graveside services, Zoe had no intention of stopping at the VFW for Ted’s bereavement lunch. She’d had all the mourning she could stand. Not to mention the irony of the meal being served in the very location where she’d last seen Ted alive. But the fire engines, draped in black bunting, blocked her truck at the cemetery as she tried to make her escape.

Sylvia caught up to her, rapping on her window. “You’re going to eat with us, aren’t you?” she said. “There’s going to be so much food. And Rose needs you now.”

Driven by guilt rather than hunger, Zoe stood in the buffet line prepared by the Fire Department’s Ladies’ Auxiliary. A mound of rigatoni and a pair of cabbage rolls shared her Styrofoam plate with a helping of salad. Juggling the food, a plastic fork and knife wrapped in a paper napkin, and a cup of watered-down punch, she searched the crowd for Rose and spotted her surrounded by a hoard of well-wishers.

Zoe headed for an empty table, but Sylvia intercepted her and guided her by her elbow to Rose’s side. All the others seemed to melt away. Zoe set her plate down and put her arms around her friend.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this,” Rose whispered into her ear. “I don’t know how to be alone.”

“You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

Rose hugged her tight.

As soon as Zoe released her, a host of friends, family, and neighbors offering their help closed in. Zoe took her plate and fled to a quiet corner where she sat and stared at the food. She’d skipped breakfast and should be starving.

Should be. But wasn’t.

Logan slid into the empty seat next to her. His necktie encircled his forehead instead of his throat and the top his oversized shirt gapped open. “Good news.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a square paper envelope. “My man came through for me. I’ve got the software we need to open those files.”

Zoe closed her eyes, but couldn’t block out the memory of last night. “That’s great. Unfortunately, I think we may have a problem.”

He scowled. “What now?”

She told him of the break-in and the attack on the computer.

“Had to be McBirney,” Logan said, his voice low.

“That’s what I figure, too. I can’t tell for sure, but I’ll bet he got the hard drive.”