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“I’m not hungry.”
“You can have one of my fish. It’s good.”
“It’s deep-fried.”
“You say that like that’s a bad thing.”
“My dad is a heart surgeon, and I was premed before I joined the Army. I don’t eat anything deep-fried.”
“Your loss.” She took a bite and moaned dramatically. Heaven. So what if it took a couple of years off her life? She was going to enjoy what time she had.
23
Matt sat at the dining table of the FBI rental house reading reports. It was ten o’clock and Kara still wasn’t back yet. Ryder had returned thirty minutes ago, said she was at the Fish & Brew, then went upstairs.
Because it seemed the investigation was back at square one, Matt had wanted everyone to get a good night’s sleep.
Jim was staying on the mainland tonight since he had been at the ME’s office until late. The cause of death for the guard Garrett Washington had been determined to be blunt force trauma. The man was dead approximately three hours before the explosion, which confirmed what they knew—Washington clocked out at 3:03, passed the boathouse on his way back home five minutes later, the bomb went off at exactly 6:30.
Forensics had recovered a cinder block that they believed was the murder weapon, and Jim was working with their crime scene team to confirm. Matt didn’t expect they’d get fingerprints off the block, but they might find other trace evidence—something to tie a suspect to the murder. Clothing, DNA, a damn fingernail that broke off. A long shot, but worth pursuing.
Michael Harris wasn’t back yet. He was with ATF and their bomb dogs, going over West End and the main harbor for the second time today. Michael was in his element. His report to Matt included technical reports about the bomb and its explosive material. That would be important later when they found a suspect or bomb-making evidence. ATF still hadn’t traced the C-4, but they had contacted every contractor in the state of Washington who had C-4 on-site and asked for a full audit. These people knew to comply quickly, or their license to use C-4 could be pulled.
Kara’s report was short and to the point. Matt couldn’t find fault with it but wished she would be more detailed. Her recount of the second Madelyn Jeffries interview was snide and aimed toward Catherine, but the rest of her report was interesting—though he didn’t see how it fit into the case. Did it matter that Officer Marcy Anderson had a previous relationship with Cal McKinnon? Neither had lied about it. And even McKinnon said he wouldn’t classify Anderson asstalkinghim—though it wasn’t appropriate for a law enforcement officer to use their badge to pull someone over. He sent Kara a note that he approved of her following up on it tomorrow because he didn’t see the harm, and Kara knew how to be discreet.
Catherine came into the dining room wearing sweats and a T-shirt and holding a glass of white wine. She sat across from him.
“I should have seen it. You’re sleeping with her.”
It was a statement, not a question. Matt couldn’t deny it if he wanted to—Catherine wouldn’t believe him.
But why the hell bring it up now? Because he had agreed with Kara on the approach on one part of the investigation?
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Complicated?Yes, it’s complicated when you’re screwing your subordinate.”
Matt didn’t want this conversation, but now he was stuck. “It didn’t start out that way.”
“You must know this will not end well.”
“We’re adults, Catherine.”
“Sometimes you don’t act like it.”
That was rich, coming from her. “We’ve known each other for fifteen years. I’ve always had your back. I’ve always supported you, even when I thought you were wrong. But to state the obvious, you have treated me like shit since Beth was killed.” He pushed back from the table, working to keep his voice low. “I didn’t deserve it, but I took it because I knew you were in pain. I was in pain, too.Ifound her body,Isaw what that bastard had done to her. I carried her out of the grave and tried to save her. I loved her—like a sister. Like I love you. And you keep turning that knife because I wasn’tin lovewith her. I am not a saint. Beth and I got through it. We were friends. You couldn’t accept that. You’re a fucking shrink, and you can’t see your own issues.
“I’m sorry Beth is dead. God, am I sorry. She didn’t deserve it. ButI didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill her. And it’s time you started living in the present. Because you almost fucked your marriage with Chris. That man is a saint. After what you put him through?”
Matt ran both his hands through his hair. He hadn’t meant to say all that to Catherine, but he was at his wit’s end. About how she talked to him about Beth, what she thought of him, and yes—she was right about Kara. He was trying to deflect the conversation. He knew he should have kept things professional as soon as they started working together full-time.
He didn’t want to give her up. He didn’t know how long their relationship—such as it was—was going to last. He didn’t want to lose what they had, however unconventional, however brief, however different from every other relationship he’d been in.
And honestly, it was all on Kara. He went where she led. It frustrated him at times, but he knew from the beginning that any relationship he had with Kara was on her terms. And he would take it like that because he was drawn to her, like a fly to honey.
Catherine was right about one thing: Kara was technically his subordinate. He’d justified his relationship because she wasn’t an FBI agent, that she was on LAPD’s payroll, that she could go back to LA when and if the hit on her was ever lifted. That she would have to go back to testify against the trafficking scumbag she arrested. He convinced himself that she was on histeam, a task force, a group—not a true boss-and-subordinate situation.
Sigue mintiendo a ti mismo, Mathias.
