Part 7 (1/2)

Kate's eyes widened in confusion at the sudden change in topic, but she answered quickly. ”Yes, I do. I bought her a Tos.h.i.+ba laptop a couple of years ago. I sent it to her from the UK.”

”Darryl said she was going to take it with her to Skype him from the s.h.i.+p, but for some reason, she left it behind.”

Kate paled. Riley stepped forward, alarmed. She stumbled back against the door, her hand up to her mouth, her eyes filled with horror.

”Oh, my G.o.d! Her laptop was there? She never goes anywhere without it. That computer is her life; it's her window to the world. Oh, my G.o.d! He's killed her! I told you! He's killed her! I know it! I just know it!”

Without warning, she turned and pummeled Riley's chest with her fists. He braced himself against the attack, holding his arms straight at his sides until she calmed enough that he could stop her without force.

His heart constricted at the sight of fresh tears welling up in her eyes. A s.h.i.+ny wisp of blond hair fell across her face. She sc.r.a.ped it away with impatient fingers. Finally, her tortured gaze found his.

”Why won't you believe me? How many times do I have to tell you? He's done something to her. You have to make him tell me where she is!” Her voice cracked. As if a torrent had been unleashed, she cried in heartbreaking sobs.

With fierce reluctance, his arms came up around her and he drew her in close against his chest. She cried against his s.h.i.+rt. He tried not to think how well her head fit the hollow of his shoulder.

Long moments later, she pulled away and stared up at him. Her face was red and blotchy. She sniffed and then looked away.

He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it over to her. She took it in silence, her eyes conveying her thanks. He turned away and walked back to the bed.

What the h.e.l.l was he doing? Another minute or two and he would have been crus.h.i.+ng those oh-so-kissable lips against his and to h.e.l.l with everything. He no longer doubted her mother was missing, but had she disappeared voluntarily or was there something more sinister at play? And, if so, who was responsible?

He'd formed his own opinion of Watson. The man was a right royal p.r.i.c.k, but as Riley had told Kate, it didn't make him a murderer. And why would Watson have come up with such a far-fetched story to explain her absence? A wheel-chair bound woman who couldn't swim and hated the water had gone cruising on the high seas? It was totally and utterly unbelievable. He must have known people would be doubtful. A cop of Watson's caliber and experience would know that the implausibility of his story would be the first thing the police would seize upon. Of all the ways Riley could describe the former commander, stupid wasn't one of them.

Darryl had been married to Rosemary for two decades. Why would he suddenly decide she had to be done away with? If things had really gotten that rough, divorce was a h.e.l.l of a lot less risky than murder, even for an ex-cop who knew the ropes.

And what about Kate? Beautiful, distant... He sensed she hid a lifetime of secrets. There was more to her fallout with Darryl than she was telling. Far more, if the bitterness in her eyes at every mention of his name was anything to go by.

It troubled him that her insistence on Darryl's guilt might have arisen from a different motive-something related to her volatile past-and have nothing to do with the woman who may or may not have come to a violent end.

He raised his gaze to hers and tried to ignore the vulnerability that stared back at him.

”Tell me about your mother's will.”

Kate's breath caught in her throat. Her pulse rate skyrocketed. How the h.e.l.l had he found out? No one knew about the will. No one but her and her mother and the lawyer who'd drafted it.

There was no way her mother would have told Darryl. She was the one who'd sworn Kate to secrecy-had made her swear it on her life.

She swallowed the lump of emotion that had lodged itself in her throat and steadied her gaze on Riley. She hadn't called him Riley-not to his face-but that was the way she'd begun to think of him. A strong and s.e.xy name; it was perfect for him. Too bad he was one of them.

How much did he know? Maybe he was just fis.h.i.+ng? Maybe he didn't know anything about it at all. She decided to call his bluff.

”How would I know anything about my mother's will? I've been living in the UK for the last three years. Besides, it's none of my business. I've never even discussed it with her.” The lie tasted bitter on her lips, but she held his gaze without flinching.

Which wasn't easy.

He seemed to see right through her, right into her soul, right into the place where her darkest secrets had been buried for more than ten years.

But that was impossible. He knew nothing about her. No one did. She'd told Cally about it once, but they'd both been children and her secret had been way beyond what either of them knew how to deal with. After that, she'd given up.

Well, if you called running away giving up. She called it survival.

Kate felt the heat of his gaze on her face and swallowed. His voice was soft in the tense silence.

”Why are you lying to me?”

Her gaze skittered away. Guilt burned up her neck, scorching her with its relentless heat. ”I-I'm not.”

”Bulls.h.i.+t.” The same mild tone was now laced with steel.

She gritted her teeth and thought fast. She couldn't tell him the truth. Could she?

His gaze felt as heavy as her secrets. Coolly a.s.sessing, waiting, watching, probing for a c.h.i.n.k in her armor.

He moved closer, looming over her.

”Your mother made a will right about the time you said she went missing. I only have your word that you don't know you're the sole beneficiary.” His eyes hardened. ”And right now, Blondie, your word's worth squat.”

CHAPTER 8.

Riley frowned unseeingly at the paperwork that lay on the desk in front of him and thought about last night. Kate had appeared surprised when he'd dropped his bombsh.e.l.l about her mother's will, but what did he really know about her? She could be an award-winning actress, for all he knew.

He hadn't forgotten how quickly she'd composed herself after her loss of control during their first interview. She'd told him she was an art dealer, but he hadn't even bothered to check her story. She'd told him Darryl was a murderer. She'd told him a lot of things.

If she'd known about the will beforehand, it gave her a strong motive to make her mother disappear-except that under New South Wales law, they had to find a body before she could make a claim. Maybe she didn't know that? Or, maybe she was just biding her time, waiting for the right moment? Building suspicion against her stepfather slowly but surely so that when a suitable amount of time had elapsed, she could ”discover” the body and watch Darryl hang for it.

Was she really that vindictive? That cold? That calculating?

He shook his head to stem the jumble of thoughts. Until now, he prided himself on being an astute judge of character. Had his hormones gotten his head totally confused? Was he looking past the obvious because he wanted her? Or, perversely, was that the reason he kept trying to find excuses for her guilt?

Had his self-esteem been damaged more than he wanted to admit when Iris left him for another man? He could now see he'd had a lucky escape, but at the time, he'd been devastated. Was there some kind of residual hurt he'd refused to recognize, or did he subconsciously feel the need to jeopardize his next relations.h.i.+p?

What the h.e.l.l was he talking about? A relations.h.i.+p? He and Kate weren't in a relations.h.i.+p, or anything like it, for Christ's sake.

He glanced up and caught sight of his boss strolling into the squad room. He stifled a groan.

Great. Just what he needed.

He reached across his desk and made a grab for his morning coffee. He was going to need a caffeine hit to get through this one.

”Good morning, Detective Munro. How are things?” The suit was flashy, the comb-over still wet.

Riley smiled through gritted teeth. ”Fine thanks, sir.”

”You found that cow yet?”