Deceived Page 27

  “Us?”

  Connor winced. Oops. Too late to backtrack. “Yeah. I have company.”

  “Let me guess . . . it wouldn’t be your client, would it?”

  “I’m following your example from a certain teen disappearance case.”

  “That wasn’t surveillance. It was investigation.”

  “You’re splitting hairs.” He turned off the ignition, mouthing a silent “sorry” to Kate as the fan on the air-conditioning died.

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think so. Any action?”

  “Not on my end. How about on yours?”

  “You can leave now.”

  “That’s my plan. At least I got a free sauna out of this gig. By the way, you might want to run the license on the car in front of Sanders’s house.”

  Connor sized up the Mercedes. “I thought you said there was no action?”

  “There hasn’t been. Just a visitor—of the female persuasion. About ten minutes ago. I was going to run the plate, but I got a call from Cal that lasted longer than I expected.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Then I’m out of here. I’d tell you to stay cool, but that’s probably not possible with a hot chick in the front seat.”

  “Good night, Dev.”

  To the sound of his partner’s laughter, he punched the end button, then logged on to the Regional Justice Information Service. How did PIs in the old days manage without instant cell access to databases like REJIS?

  “What’s going on?” Kate cracked her window.

  “You can open it more than that. Otherwise we’ll bake despite our shady spot.” He lowered his own window a couple of inches too. “I’m running the plate on the car in front of Sanders’s house. My partner says a female went in a few minutes ago.”

  Silence descended in the van while he entered his security codes and the plate number.

  As the owner’s name flashed onto the screen, Kate let out a gasp.

  “Diane Koenig!”

  “You know . . . ?” Connor’s question trailed off as he shifted his focus to her. She wasn’t reading his cell screen, as he’d expected—she was looking at the woman who’d stepped out of Sanders’s house.

  “And there’s the boy from the mall!” Kate leaned forward and gripped the edge of the dash.

  “Kate.” He touched her arm, but her attention remained riveted on the little boy. Sanders was beside him, his hand resting on the child’s shoulder. “Do you know that woman?”

  “Yes. She’s one of my new clients. I just saw her yesterday.”

  Connor grabbed his binoculars and zeroed in on the threesome at the front door. They exchanged a few words, then the woman gave the little boy a lingering hug. But when Sanders reached out to her, she pulled back, her posture stiff.

  Telling.

  After backing up a few steps, she turned away and walked quickly to her car. She waved once more before sliding behind the wheel, and as she drove off, the man and boy retreated into the house.

  As the door closed, Kate sank back into her seat, her face a mask of confusion. “What in the world was Diane doing here?”

  “I’d like an answer to that too. Tell me what you know about her.”

  She angled toward him and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “A lot of what I discuss with my clients is confidential.”

  “I understand the protocol for counseling work, but if she’s a plant by Sanders, you don’t owe her any professional consideration.”

  “She’s not a plant.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “She came to New Start on the recommendation of a friend.”

  “Her high-end Mercedes would suggest she doesn’t need a job.”

  “I don’t think she does for financial reasons. But she’s . . . fragile, and she needs the self-esteem.”

  Connor set the binoculars down and thought back to the intel he’d uncovered on New Start after Kate’s first visit to Phoenix. The organization wasn’t just a vocational guidance center—it had a reputation for catering to women who were newly divorced or coming out of abusive relationships. If that was Diane Koenig’s background, and she had the kind of money her car suggested, it made sense she’d seek career counseling from the best resource available if she was going to reenter the workforce.

  Namely, the woman sitting beside him.

  So maybe she wasn’t a plant. Her parting from Sanders would suggest things weren’t all that rosy between them.

  Angling in his seat, he rested one arm on the wheel. “We can dig up a lot about her, Kate, but you’ll save us time if you tell me some basics.”

  Kate shifted toward him. “I can tell you we had kind of a . . . different . . . conversation during our session yesterday.”

  Connor’s antenna went up. “Define different.”

  “She called early in the day and asked if I could squeeze her in. Since it sounded urgent, I did. When she arrived, she seemed distracted—and a bit uncomfortable. But as the session progressed, she began to open up and tell me about her background. I could see she was down, that the pressures of the changes in her life were starting to make her consider some inappropriate coping mechanisms.”

  “Such as?”

  “That’s not important for our purposes. But because she shared that, I did something I rarely do. I told her a little about what I’ve been through and my Valium addiction. In all my years of counseling, I’ve only revealed personal information a handful of times.”

  “Was she surprised by your story?”

  “More than surprised. Shocked might be a better word. I’d hoped it would encourage her, but she wasn’t any less stressed when she left.” Kate rubbed at the indentations above her nose. “I know the timing of her visit is odd, but I can’t believe she’s doing anything underhanded. She’s not the devious type.”

  “That could be why she seemed uncomfortable. Do you think she’s stable?”

  Kate lifted one shoulder. “As stable as anyone with her background would be. If you’re asking whether she’s vulnerable enough to get involved with another manipulator—it’s possible. We’ve never really talked about—”

  A faint ringing sound came from the floor, and she groped for her purse. “I might need to take this. One of my clients had an interview late this afternoon, and she promised to call after it was over and give me a report.”

  “Do you ever have any downtime?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Let’s see . . . it’s six-forty-five and you’re still on the job. What’s that old saying about a pot and a kettle?”

  “Not every day is like this for me.”

  “Me neither. In fact, I’m taking a four-day weekend this week.” She pulled out her phone and gave him a sheepish look. “In the interest of full disclosure, though, I had to be coerced by . . .” She froze as she scanned caller ID.

  “What is it?”

  In silence, she turned the screen toward him so he could read the name.

  D. Koenig.

  His adrenaline spiked. “Go ahead and answer it. Tell her you need to put it on speaker because you’re in the car.” He dug a small notepad and pen out of his pocket.

  She pressed the button and put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Diane. I saw your name pop up in the display. Can I put you on speaker? I’m in the car.” Silence. “Hang on a sec.” Kate pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the console between them. “I’m set. What can I do for you?”

  “I need to talk with you about—a personal matter.” The woman sounded tense, agitated. “It’s very important. I don’t want to impose, but is there any way we could get together even for a few minutes tonight? It has to do with . . . a child.”

  As Kate glanced at him, Connor debated their options. He’d prefer to run some background on the woman first, but based on her tense parting from Sanders, she was no longer in the enemy camp—if she ever had been. Plus, if they waited overnight, she could change her mind about whatever sh
e wanted to discuss.

  “Kate?” There was a frantic edge to Diane’s voice.

  “Yes, I’m here.” Kate’s tone was calm and soothing as she bought him a few more seconds to think through strategy. “I’m just surprised, since we saw each other yesterday. I’m in the middle of running an errand, but I’d like to accommodate you.”

  He jotted “9:30—your place” on the pad of paper and turned it for her to read.

  “I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important.” Diane sounded on the verge of tears now.

  “I know that. I’ll tell you what. I’ll be home by nine-thirty. If that’s not too late, you’re welcome to stop by my condo.”

  “Nine-thirty is fine.”

  “Let me give you directions.”

  As Kate talked her through the route, Connor pulled up Diane’s driver’s license on his phone and gave it a quick scan. Everything looked clean. With her date of birth in hand, he moved on to a quick search of one of his favorite proprietary databases. Too bad he didn’t have her social security number; that would speed things up. But as far as he could see based on the information he had, Diane Koenig had no black marks against her. It also appeared she’d lived in St. Louis for years, suggesting there wasn’t much chance she’d known Sanders before the man moved here.

  “I’ll see you later this evening. Call if you get lost.” As Kate rang off, puzzlement scored her features. “What do you make of this?”

  He slipped his own phone back into its holster. “I’d be concerned Sanders put her up to this, except they didn’t seem to part on the friendliest terms. You want my gut reaction? She trusts you, and she’s seen or suspects something that concerns her. She either wants clarification—or she wants to pass on a warning.”

  Kate blinked. “A warning about what?”

  The temptation to reach for her hand was strong—but he gripped the wheel instead. He’d told Cal he’d keep this professional, and he needed to honor that promise as best he could.

  “Sanders may appear to be a loving father. He may even be a loving father. But if the boy in that house is your son, violence occurred. Deadly crimes were committed. And he’s been smart enough to elude detection for a long time. He also appears to have bonded with the boy he claims he adopted. Plus, he has a new job and, given Diane’s presence, perhaps a new girlfriend. My guess is he doesn’t want to give any of that up. In light of the extremes he’s gone to in the past to accomplish his goals, I doubt he’d have any qualms about using lethal force in the future. Bottom line, we’re dealing with a very dangerous man.”

  Some of the color drained from Kate’s face. He didn’t want to scare her, but the more they learned about Sanders—and the closer they got to nailing him—the more perilous the situation became. Though he appeared to be living a normal life now, the man had apparently cracked once; there was no reason to think he wouldn’t do so again, given sufficient pressure . . . or an imminent threat.

  “I guess I assumed we were safe as long as he didn’t know we were investigating him.” Kate looked toward Sanders’s house again.

  “I doubt we’ve been totally safe since the day on the escalator. He knows you saw the boy, and he has to wonder if you’re trying to find some answers. But my guess is he doesn’t expect you to get anywhere—nor hire a crack PI firm.” He threw the last in, hoping to coax a smile from her. While the situation was beginning to get sticky, he didn’t want her freaking out.

  It worked—barely. “Phoenix is a crack firm—one PI in particular. As for delving into what I saw that day . . . when it comes to the people I love, I have the tenacity of a pit bull.”

  “I figured that out. And I have a feeling he may have too. That’s why I don’t want to put off the meeting with Diane.” He pulled his phone off his belt again.

  “How do you want me to handle the meeting?”

  He punched in Dev’s speed dial number. “First of all, I don’t want you to handle it alone. I plan to be . . . Dev?” He held up a finger to her. “I have a big favor to ask.”

  “I’m not going to deliver takeout to your van.”

  “Nothing that simple. I need you to come back and relieve me.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “No. There’s been a development Kate and I need to pursue.”

  “What kind of development?”

  “It involves the woman you saw. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

  “I’m not even home yet.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You better.” A theatrical sigh came over the line. “Can I at least pay a quick visit to the Golden Arches and grab a burger?”

  “No problem. We have a few minutes to spare.”

  “Gee, thanks. What did you have for dinner?”

  “Same thing you’re having.”

  “That makes me feel a little better. See you in twenty.”

  Connor broke the connection and turned to Kate. “Here’s what I have in mind. I want to swing by the office and get some equipment, then stop by my place so I can take a quick shower and change into more professional attire before I run you home.”

  “Why?”

  This was the part he had a feeling she wasn’t going to like.

  “I’d like to be in on your conversation with Diane, but my presence could spook her. Until we know what she wants to talk to you about, I need to stay close but out of sight. My preference is to have you wear a wire. That way, I can listen in from the street.”

  She stared at him. “You want to eavesdrop on us?”

  Why did the van suddenly feel ten degrees hotter?

  “I don’t like deception any more than you do, but if she’s aligned with Sanders, she’s deceiving you. I have no qualms about using a wire in that case. If she’s on our side, and you get a clear indication of that as you talk with her, tell her who I am and that I’d like to sit in on the rest of the conversation. If she agrees, I’ll come in. She never has to know I was listening the whole time.”

  Kate shifted in her seat and swiped at the moisture above her lip. “Is this legal?”

  “Yes. Missouri has a one-party rule for electronic listening or recording. As long as one of the people involved gives consent, it’s legal.”

  “But not necessarily moral.”

  “Neither is kidnapping—or murder.”

  She flinched . . . but he needed her to remember that bad guys had no scruples.

  “True. But if I think she’s with us, I’d like to bring you in as quickly as possible.”

  “That’s fine. I trust your judgment.” He pulled a bottle of water from the cooler behind the front seat and handed it to her. “However, don’t rush that determination. Tipping our hand to the wrong person could short-circuit the whole investigation.”

  Her fingers closed over the bottle. Brushed his. He held tight, and she sent him a questioning look.

  “Home stretch, remember?”

  Eyes troubled, she nodded.

  But as he released the bottle and she took a long swallow, exposing a long, graceful curve of throat, he wished this race was over. Because lots of things could go wrong in the home stretch.

  And victory didn’t always go to the most deserving.

  21

  As the TV continued to blare in the living room, Greg slammed the dishwasher closed and punched the start button.

  He’d blown it with Diane tonight.

  Big-time.

  But how could he have known the Marshall woman would plant seeds of doubt in her mind by revealing so much personal history? Since when were professional counselors that open with clients?

  All he’d wanted Diane to find out was how Kate happened to be in possession of a photo of Todd, not learn enough to begin making connections.

  Worst of all, the most vital question remained unanswered.

  Why did Kate have the picture?

  He blew out a breath.

  The whole reconnaissance mission had turned into a bust.

&
nbsp; Panic clawing at his throat, he stalked to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. His stash of beer stared back at him from the bottom shelf, and his fingers itched to grab another bottle. But he’d already had two—double his daily limit. Didn’t matter. He wanted more. Needed more. Just this once. Tomorrow he’d go back to his usual routine.

  Leaning forward, he reached for the closest brew, twisted off the cap, and began to pace again.

  He had to think. Had to be logical. Had to control his panic.

  Lifting the bottle, he took a long drink.

  Diane—the sweet, caring friend he’d thought might be part of his future—was pulling back from him as he’d pulled back from her. Her stiff posture, wary expression, and chilly good-bye tonight had been like a punch in the stomach after her previous warmth and caring. In a short two months, she’d offered him the kind of companionship he’d never expected to find again, given him hope he might be able to re-create the family unit that had once been the center of his world.

  Now that hope was shriveling.

  A bead of sweat rolled down the neck of the bottle. It dripped onto his finger . . . reminding him of a tear.

  He could relate.

  Fingers gripping the brew, he took another swig.

  All might not be lost with Diane, though. Surely she still cared about him. Everything they’d built over the past two months couldn’t disintegrate in a mere couple of weeks. And if she did care, she wouldn’t make waves. Not if he repaired the relationship, restored her trust.

  But how could he do that?

  Pausing by the back window, he surveyed the withered grass that had succumbed to the relentless heat. Maybe he’d send her flowers tomorrow to thank her for visiting Kate. She’d like that. And why not ask her to join them for a midweek pizza too? If he reversed course, spent more time with her, he’d be in a position not only to do damage control but perhaps even convince her to find some other career counseling service. Kate Marshall and New Start weren’t the only game in town.

  As Greg finished off his beer, the Looney Tunes song filtered in from the living room, accompanied by Todd’s giggle. Fingers tightening on the neck of the bottle, he closed his eyes. This was all he wanted. All he’d ever wanted. A joyful home shared with the people he loved.