If that woman worked any harder at pushing him away, she might as well slam Trent up against the wall. “At least promise me you’ll keep a closer eye on the people around you. If somebody was lying in wait for you—”
“I promise. Okay? Just let it go.” Katie stepped around him as Max, Olivia and Jim came in, their animated conversation masking the awkward silence in the room.
“You’re killing me here, Liv,” Trent’s partner, Max, groused. “A Valentine’s Day wedding? You’re already making me shave and rent a tux.”
Olivia breezed past the burly blond detective, the oldest member of their team, taking her seat at the table. “Just because you and Rosie eloped to Vegas doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t want to share that special day with friends and family.”
Max jabbed his finger on the tabletop, defending his choice in wedding arrangements. “Hey. I wanted to make an honest woman out of Rosie. And you know how her last engagement turned out. She wasn’t interested in dragging out the process any more than I was.”
Max’s new wife had barely survived the nightmare of her first engagement to an abusive boyfriend and had become a recluse as a result. Meanwhile, Max had been fighting his own demons when the two had first met and clashed during the investigation into her ex-fiancé’s unsolved murder. Mixing like oil and water, it was a wonder the prim and proper spinster and the rugged former soldier had ever gotten together at all. But Trent had never met two misfits who were a better match for each other. Max brought Rosie out of her shell, and she’d uncovered a few civilized human qualities that Trent’s rough-around-the-edges partner had lost in the years he’d been dealing with post-traumatic stress. Max had been shot twice and Rosie nearly drowned solving that case. But the close calls had made them willing to risk everything and seize the love they’d found.
Trent might be a little envious of his older friend settling into the sort of relationship he’d once wanted with Katie Rinaldi, but he was happy for his partner. And he had been honored to fly out to Las Vegas to stand up for the couple.
“As soon as the doctor cleared me to travel, I made the reservations. There wasn’t time to send out invitations.” Max reached over to thump Trent’s shoulder as he pulled out a chair to sit beside him. “At least I took the big guy with us.”
Trent grinned, thinking he’d better join the teasing banter before anyone questioned the tension between him and Katie. “And then you put me on a plane back to KC twenty minutes after the ceremony so you two could get started on the honeymoon.”
Max grinned. “Hey, I’m ugly. Not stupid.”
Olivia was smiling suspiciously, working her cool logic on Max. “Maybe, since you cheated Rosie out of the whole white-wedding thing, she’d like to put on a fancy gown and see you all dressed up for once in your life. I’ve yet to see a man that a tuxedo couldn’t make look good.”
“I’d love to see her in a beautiful dress like that.” Was the old man on the team blushing? Who’d have thought? Still, Max grumbled, “You’re determined to make me miserable, aren’t you?”
Jim Parker grinned and pulled out the chair beside his partner. “Maybe he’s worried you’re going to make him dance with you at the reception, Liv—after Gabe, your dad and your brothers, of course.”
“And Grandpa Seamus,” Olivia added. She pointed to Max. “But you are definitely on my dance card after that.” She wiggled her finger toward Trent. “You, too, big guy. You all agreed to be our ushers, so it’s tuxes and boutonnieres for everyone.”
Max put up his hands in surrender. “There’s only so much froufrou a man can take, Liv.”
Jim propped his elbow on the arm of his chair, leaning over to back up Olivia. “I don’t know, Max. There are few things I like better than slow dancing with my wife. Natalie’s pregnant enough now that when we’re close, I can feel the baby kicking between us.”
Max scrubbed his palm over the top of his military-short hair and muttered a teasing curse. “Okay, Parker. Now you’ve gone too far, buying into all of Liv’s romantic mush.” Knowing full well he was going to eventually buy into it, too, Max turned back to the lady detective. “I thought you were a tomboy.”
Olivia smiled wistfully. “My wedding day will be the exception. I’m the only female in my family. You don’t think those boys all want to throw a big party for me? Dad insists on me wearing the veil of Irish lace that Mom wore at their wedding, and I want to. It’s a way of honoring her memory and making me feel like she’s there with us.” The mood around the entire table quieted out of respect for Olivia’s mother, who had died when she was just a child. But the detective with the short dark hair didn’t let the room get gloomy. “Besides, Gabe looks gorgeous in a tux, and I refuse to have him looking prettier than me.”
“Impossible,” Max teased. “But if you’re going all formal, then I guess I can put on a tie.”
“Thank you for your sacrifice.” Olivia smiled before turning her attention to Trent. “What about you? Will we see you dancing the night away at the reception?” She snapped her fingers as an idea struck. “You should bring Katie.”
The brown ponytail bobbed as Katie’s head popped up from her laptop screen. “Me? Like a date?”
Trent groaned inwardly at the pale cast to her cheeks. Did she have to look as if the possibility of attending a friend’s wedding together was such an out-of-left-field idea?
“If you want.” Olivia chided the low-pitched whistle and sotto voce teasing from Jim and Max before smiling at Katie. “Stop it, children. Believe me, I understand better than most about the department’s no-fraternization policy. But even though we’re part of the same team, technically, you work in two different branches—information technology and law enforcement. Besides, I was thinking practicality. Trent’s an usher and you’re still going to be one of my bridesmaids, right?”
“Of course. I was honored you asked me to be a part of the ceremony, but...” Katie’s apologetic gaze bounced off Trent and back to the bride-to-be. “I was going to bring Tyler as my date.”
Olivia seemed pleased by that answer. “Even better. I’d love to see the little man again. All three of you should come together.”
Even though they hadn’t gone out on a date together in nine years, it seemed as though everyone thought of Trent and Katie as a couple. Maybe the others even took it for granted that they were destined to be a family unit one day. The only people who knew it was never going to happen were Trent and Katie themselves.
Sinking into his chair, Trent took another long swallow of his coffee. He watched the strained expression on Katie’s face relax as the two women talked about Tyler. Her round face and blue eyes animated with excitement as they wagered whether her nine-year-old son would make as much of a fuss about dressing up for the special occasion as Max had. Katie was a different woman when she talked about her son. Her eyes sparkled and the tension around her mouth eased into a genuine smile.
No wonder she’d been so upset about losing track of Tyler last night. Tyler was her joy, her reason for being—her number-one excuse for shunning Trent and any other relationship that threatened to get in the way of taking care of her son. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Trent as a friend, but she’d given her heart to another male nine years ago.
Max’s fist knocked on Trent’s chair below the edge of the table. Trent took another drink before meeting his partner’s questioning look. “You okay, junior? You’re pretty quiet this morning.”
“You’re loud enough for the both of us.”
Max grinned at the joke as he was meant to, but his astute blue eyes indicated he wasn’t buying the smiles and smart remarks. “There’s that whole tall, dark and silent thing you do, and then there’s stewing over in the corner. You two were duking it out in here before we came in, weren’t you?” His gaze darted over to Katie and back to him. “Seriously, what’s the problem? Is it you? Katie? Is the kid okay?”
Trent swore under his breath. There was no subtlety to Max Krolikowski, no filter on his mouth. When he saw a problem, he fixed it. When he cared about something or someone, he went all in. Hell of a guy to have backing him up in a fight, but best friend or not, Trent wasn’t sure the man he’d been partnered with on the cold case squad was the guy he wanted to confide his frustration and concerns about Katie to. “She basically told me to mind my own business.”
Max dropped his voice to a low-pitched grumble. “You think something’s up?”
Even if Trent wanted to share his suspicions about blackouts and prowlers and threats in the snow, he wouldn’t get the chance to. All conversations around the table stopped as Lieutenant Ginny Rafferty-Taylor rushed into her office. “Are we all here?” The petite blonde officer set her laptop and a stack of papers at the head of the table before going back to shut the door. “Sorry I’m late.”
Trent set down his coffee and turned everyone’s focus to the police work at hand. “Ma’am. Katie said you had an emergency meeting with Chief Taylor?”
The older woman nodded. “Seth Cartwright from Vice and A.J. Rodriguez from the drug unit were there, too. I’ll get right to it since it affects investigations in each of our divisions.”
“What affects us?” Jim asked.
“Leland Asher.”
Trent’s mouth took on a bitter tang at the mention of the alleged mob boss whose name kept popping up in several of their unsolved investigations.
Olivia leaned forward at the familiar name. “What about him? Gabe’s first fiancée was writing a newspaper exposé about Asher when she was killed.” Olivia and Gabe had solved that murder, but they hadn’t been able to prove Asher had hired the man who’d shot the reporter.
Even Katie, who had never dealt with Asher directly, knew who he was. “His name shows up as a person of interest in several investigations in the KCPD database. Has he been arrested for one of those cases?”
“Not likely,” Max said. “He has a great alibi for any recent crimes. He’s currently serving a whopping two years for collusion and illegally influencing Adrian McCoy’s Senate campaign.”
“Not even that, I’m afraid.” Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor shrugged out of her navy blue jacket, hanging it over the back of her chair before sitting. Her back remained ramrod straight. “Asher’s case went to appellate court on a hardship appeal. The chief just got word that Asher is being released from prison early, on parole. That’s what good behavior and a pricey lawyer will do for you.”
A collective groan and a few choice curses filled the room.
“Any chance the judge made a mistake?” Trent asked.
Their team leader shook her head. “It’s the holidays, Trent. I think Judge Livingston was feeling generous. Chief Taylor wanted to alert us that Mr. Asher will be back on the streets, albeit wearing an ankle bracelet and submitting to regular check-ins with his parole officer, sometime tomorrow or Thursday.”
“Well, merry Christmas to us,” Max groused, folding his arms across his chest. “Just what we need, a mob boss heading home to KC for the holidays. I bet the crime rate doubles by New Year’s.”
For a moment, the petite blonde lieutenant sympathized with her senior detective, but then she opened her laptop, signaling she was ready to begin their morning meeting. “I know we believe Leland Asher is the common link to several of the department’s unsolved or ongoing cases. The chief wanted us to be fully informed so we can keep an eye on him. Without our efforts turning into harassment, of course,” the lieutenant cautioned.
“I’m willing to harass him,” Olivia volunteered with a sarcastic tone. Max pointed across the table and nodded, agreeing with the frustration-fueled plan. “What’s the point of solving these old cases if a judge is going to let the perpetrators go with little more than a slap on the wrist?”
Trent could feel the tension in the room getting thicker. Cold case work wasn’t an easy assignment. Sometimes evidence degraded or got lost. Witnesses passed away. Suspects did, too. Memories grew foggy with age. And perps who’d gotten away with murder or other crimes that hadn’t yet reached their statute of limitations grew confident or complacent enough over the years that they weren’t likely to confess. So when the team built a solid enough case to convict someone, it sure would be nice if they’d stay behind bars for a while.
“Are we moving any cases we think Asher might be a part of to our active files?” Trent asked.
The lieutenant nodded. “We should at least give them a cursory glance to see which ones to follow up on. I believe we can use this to our advantage. Katie, will you flag those files and send each of us copies for review?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Katie’s head was down and she was already typing. By the time she looked up to see Trent grinning at her geeky efficiency, she was hitting the send button. She smiled back before turning to the lieutenant. “I just ran a search for Mr. Asher’s name, and all those files should show up on your computers by the time you get back to your desks.”
Trent gave her a thumbs-up before turning back to the others. “It’d be a hell of a lot easier to prove Asher’s connections to those crimes by seeing who he interacts with on the outside.”
Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor nodded to him, probably appreciating how his suggestion cooled the jets of the others in the room, especially his perennial Scrooge of a partner, Max. Then she gestured to Katie at the opposite end of the table. “Speaking of connections, Katie, you said you’ve come up with something we need to look at in your research? Shall we get to work?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Katie shoved her bangs off her forehead and glanced around the table as everyone waited expectantly. Trent winked some encouragement when their gazes met. She smiled her thanks for his support before looking down at her laptop. She highlighted the first picture on the television screen and turned to point to the gathering of mug shots she’d posted there. “Detailed information is in the folder in front of you, but you can follow the gist of what I think might be a significant discovery up on the screen.” As Trent settled in to listen to the presentation, the rest of them did, too.
“As you all know, Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor has had me copying and downloading all of our old print files of unsolved cases into a database and cross-referencing them. There are still more boxes in the archives, but those are cases that are thirty years or older. I’m focusing on more recent crimes where the perpetrator and potential witnesses are likely to still be alive.”
Max whistled. “You’ve already been through thirty years of open and unsolved cases? Hell, you’re making the rest of us look like a bunch of goldbricks.”
“Not a chance, Max.” She laughed at the gruff man’s teasing compliment. “I’ve been doing this pretty steadily since spring. And I didn’t get shot up and have to go on sick leave, either.”
Trent nudged his partner. “Or run off to Vegas to get married before reporting back for active duty.” Katie’s dedication explained a lot of her late nights and the pale shadows under her blue eyes. But was all this unpaid overtime she’d put in the reason she had no time for a relationship? Or was it the thing she chose to do to fill up the empty hours in her life so she wouldn’t miss those relationships? “What did you find out?”
Katie curled a leg beneath her to sit up higher in her chair. “When Olivia was investigating Danielle Reese’s murder last spring, she came up with her Strangers on a Train theory, and it got me to thinking.”
Olivia nodded. “Strangers on a Train, as in the Alfred Hitchcock movie where two people meet and agree to commit murder for the other person.”
Her partner, Jim, continued, “But since they’ve never met before and don’t run in the same social circles, the one with the motive can arrange for an alibi, while the one who actually commits the crime won’t pop as a suspect on the police’s radar because he or she has no motive to kill the victim.”
“That’s why we arrested Stephen March for Dani Reese’s murder.” Olivia braced her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “The evidence says he’s good for it. But he had no motive. I still believe he was blackmailed into doing it, or—”
“He murdered her in exchange for somebody else killing Richard Bratcher,” Max finished. Trent reached over and rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder. March and Bratcher were sensitive subjects for the stocky detective because Stephen March was his wife’s younger brother, and Bratcher had been the bullying fiancé who’d abused Rosie Krolikowski. Max nodded his appreciation at the show of support. “We got Hillary Wells for Bratcher’s murder, even though she barely knew the guy.” He turned his attention back to Katie. “Are you saying that you did your brainy thing and finally found where March and Dr. Wells could have met and set up their murder bargain?”
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly are we talking about, then?” he asked.
“I designed a program to search for commonalities between cases by looking for key words or names or places. What I discovered is a pattern between several crimes that occurred over the last ten years.”
“A pattern?” the lieutenant asked.
Katie nodded. “I haven’t been able to prove that they’re all linked to one particular case, or even to just one person, but I’ve made some interesting connections between these six suspects and—” she swiped her finger across her laptop, changing the images “—these six victims.”
Trent recognized the pictures of both Dani Reese and Richard Bratcher, the victims Stephen March and Hillary Wells had killed. He also recognized the stout cheeks and receding hairline of Leland Asher. “It’s not an exact swap where Suspect A kills Victim B while Suspect B kills Victim A. It’s more as though they’re links in a chain.”
The lieutenant urged her to continue. “Do you have specific examples of those links?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Katie adjusted the display to bring the twelve images up side by side before she twirled her chair to the side and got up to touch the television screen. Her ease in front of an audience reinforced Trent’s suspicion that whatever had had her so flustered earlier had to do with the details about last night, maybe something that she still hadn’t shared with him—not a presentation to her boss and coworkers involving multiple murders. “It’s a painstaking process, but as I put in more information from the reports, I’ve come up with links from unsolved cases to people or events from murders you all have closed earlier this year. Some of these seem pretty random, but in a place the size of Kansas City, the fact that these people may have come into contact with each other at all seems compelling to me.”
Olivia tried to follow Katie’s line of reasoning. “Some of the connections are obvious. Stephen March killed Danielle Reese. Dani was investigating Leland Asher. Hillary Wells murdered Richard Bratcher, and he was the man who was abusing Stephen’s sister, Rosie March.”
Max swore under his breath. “Don’t remind me.”
She pointed to the photo of a distinguished white-haired gentleman. “This is Dr. Lloyd Endicott, Hillary Wells’s former boss and mentor. He died in a suspicious car crash that has yet to be solved. We suspect he’s the man Dr. Wells wanted to have killed, since she took over his company and the millions of dollars that went with it.”
Although Trent sometimes worried that Katie’s knowledge of all these dusty old cases bordered on the obsessive, he couldn’t deny how useful it was to have a walking, talking encyclopedia working on their team. He pointed to the image of a professional woman with short dark hair. “Does Hillary Wells or any of those other suspects or victims connect to Leland Asher?”
Katie nodded. “You might be surprised to know that before she died, she worked out at the same gym Matt Asher does.”
“Leland’s nephew?” Trent shifted his gaze to the image of a young man in a suit and tie who wore glasses and bore a striking resemblance to Leland Asher. “You think the two of them knew each other?”
She shrugged. “I can’t say for certain unless I dig into the gym’s schedule, class and personal trainer files, but the opportunity to meet was certainly there.”
“It would be easy enough to go to the gym and ask some general questions to see if anyone ever saw the two of them together,” Trent offered.
The lieutenant nodded. “Make a note to do that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t have any evidence that Hillary Wells and Leland Asher ever met.” Katie pointed to the nephew and then to Leland Asher. “But Max discovered that Matt regularly visits his uncle in prison.”
Olivia nodded. “I’m guessing he’s in the family business, although we haven’t been able to prove that he’s guilty of anything illegal. But he’s down in Jefferson City nearly every week, so you know he must be passing messages to and from his uncle. Leland could have ordered Hillary to kill Richard Bratcher.”
Jim Parker agreed. “It’d make sense for Matt Asher to keep the family business running while Uncle Leland is incarcerated. Where are his parents? Is his father involved in any of Leland’s criminal activities?”
“There’s no father in the picture. I did a little research through Social Services and found what I could on his mother. She’s Leland’s sister—never married. It’s in your folders. Isabel Asher overdosed when Matt was eleven—ten years ago.” Katie pointed to the image of a blonde woman who had probably once been a knockout before the blank, sunken eyes and sallow skin in the photograph marred her beauty. “That’s why she was in the system—she was fighting an ongoing addiction to crack cocaine, was in and out of rehab. There were several calls from teachers about neglect. After Isabel’s death, Matt Asher went to live with his uncle.”
Max tipped his chair back and said what they all suspected. “The dope was probably supplied by her brother’s import business. If not, he’d certainly have the money to buy her whatever she wanted.”
Jim concurred. “Access to her brother’s wealth would make her a prime target. Let me guess, there’s a boyfriend she used to shoot up with. Asher blamed him for his sister’s death and that guy’s in one of your dead files?”
“Well, Francisco Dona did have a couple of arrests in his packet, but he can’t be involved in any of our more recent crimes.” She highlighted the mug shot of a dark-haired lothario with long, stringy hair and a goatee. “He died in a motorcycle accident shortly after Isabel’s death.”
“Are we sure it was an accident?” Trent asked.
Katie drew a line from Francisco Dona to Lloyd Endicott. “Well, even though one rode a motorcycle and the other drove a luxury car, the sabotage to the engines was similar.”
“As if both crimes had been committed by the same person?” Max sat up straight, his gruff voice incredulous. “Wow, kiddo. You’re thorough.”
“It’s a thing I do. I like to poke around. Solve puzzles. It’s just a matter of getting access to the right database.”
Lieutenant Rafferty-Taylor threw a note of caution into the mix. “And having the legal clearance to access that database?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Katie’s lips softened with a sheepish smile. “Either I’ve got departmental clearance or it’s public access. I haven’t needed a warrant to put together any of this information, although there are places I could dig deeper if I did have one. I’ve sent out feelers to businesses, doctors, private citizens and so on to update our records. Some are eager to answer questions and help. Others don’t even respond. Of course, I could find out more if...” She twiddled her fingers in the air, indicating her hacking skills. Trent had no doubt that Katie could access almost any information they needed—but the way she’d obtain it wouldn’t stand up in court and no conviction would stick.
The lieutenant smiled. “We’ll work within legal means for now. Continue with your report. This is already good stuff we can follow up on.”
Trent read through the slim report on the dead socialite. “Says here the detectives assigned to the case suspected foul play in Isabel Asher’s death. They thought it might be a hit by a rival organization to send a message to Asher. So you think Francisco Dona made a deal with someone to kill her?”
Katie nodded. “There was no conclusive evidence in her KCPD case file, although that’s an angle the detectives in the organized crime division investigated before it was closed out as an accidental death.”
Olivia thumbed through the information in her folder. “You have been busy. These deaths all happened within a general time frame, six to ten years ago. It makes our Strangers on a Train theory plausible.”
Jim dropped his folder on the table, shaking his head. “But there are six murder victims here. And we’ve only solved two of them. And we haven’t linked either of those conclusively to Leland Asher ordering those murders. You said this guy is getting out this week. If we can’t pin something solid on him, we’ll never get him back in prison.” The blond detective looked from the lieutenant back to Katie. “Is there any place else where all of their killers could have met with Asher? Even randomly?”
“You mean like sitting together at a ball game? I haven’t found anything like that yet, but...” Katie sat back in her chair and drew lines from one picture to another on her computer screen, giving them all a visual of her extensive research. “Leland Asher was diagnosed with lung cancer two months ago. The doctors suspect he’s been suffering longer than that.”
Their team leader nodded. “That probably helped prompt his early release as well—so the state doesn’t have to pay for his medical treatments. What else?”
“Either Matt Asher or Leland’s girlfriend, Dr. Beverly Eisenbach, have been to see him every week while he’s getting radiation treatments and chemo shots.” Katie drew another line. “Matt and Stephen March both saw Dr. Eisenbach as teens for counseling. Hillary Wells ran Endicott Global after Dr. Lloyd Endicott’s death, and Dr. Endicott belonged to the same country club as Leland.” The grumbles and astonished gasps around the table grew louder as the links of this twisted chain of murder fell into place. “Isabel Asher was Leland’s sister and Matt’s mother, of course. Roberta Hays was the DFS social worker assigned to Matt’s case. And...”
Trent looked up from the notes in his folder when she hesitated. “What is it?”
She circled the image of a haggard-looking man with graying hair. “I found a connection to me in here.”
“What is it, kiddo?” Max asked, voicing the others’ surprise and concern.
“Roberta Hays’s brother is Craig Fairfax.”
Ah, hell. Trent recognized the name from Katie’s past. That was what had truly scared her. He sat forward, extending his long arm to the end of the table. He reached for Katie, his fingertips brushing the edge of the laptop where her hands rested on the keyboard. But she curled her fingers into a fist, refusing his touch. That didn’t stop him from asking the question, “You discovered Fairfax in your research last night?”
Her gaze landed on his, and she nodded before explaining the significance of that name to the others. “He’s the man who kidnapped me when I was seventeen. He tried to take Tyler from me as part of an illegal adoption ring. He and his sister Roberta—who used her position with Family Services to scout out potential candidates like me—are both serving time now.”
No wonder she’d gotten obsessed with her work and lost track of both Tyler and the late hour last night. Trent was already sending a text of his own, verifying that Craig Fairfax was still locked up in a cell in Jefferson City and not running loose on the Williams College campus.
“What’s his connection to cold case?” the lieutenant asked, gently reminding Katie of the focus of the team’s investigation. “Does he fit in with our Strangers on a Train theory? Can we tie him to Asher’s criminal organization?”
Katie nodded. “Mr. Fairfax was diagnosed with prostate cancer earlier this year.” She drew one last line on the computer screen from one sicko to another. “He’s in the same prison infirmary with Leland Asher.”