Slow Burn (Buchanan-Renard #5)

Slow Burn (Buchanan-Renard #5) Page 33

“You’re making a terrible mistake,” she sobbed. “I’m a victim here! I was trying to save lives when I called nine-one-one. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m a victim!” she screamed.

She had just been handcuffed by an agent who was telling her she had the right to remain silent. When he was finished reading her her rights, he asked her if she understood. She pulled herself together long enough to say yes, she understood, but then she started screaming again. Her shrieks were grating and terribly annoying.

“Really, lady, you have the right to remain silent. I strongly urge you to exercise that right.”

A detective who had loaned Kate his cell phone came back to retrieve it. Handing it to him, she was thanking him when Dylan joined her.

“Did you get hold of Isabel?” he asked.

She smiled. “Yes, and she’s just fine. I knew she would be, but I needed to hear her voice. I also called Kiera, and she’s okay, too,” she said. “When Nate came running into Smith and Wesson’s conference room and told me Reece had taken Isabel and that she’d been hurt, I panicked. I didn’t think twice about following him out the back door. The only thing I remember is getting in his car . . . and then I woke up on the library floor.”

“It’s good to know they’re okay, but what about you? Are you okay?” He put his arm around her and squeezed her.

“Yes,” she assured him. She looked up at the house and asked, “Why are they taking so long to bring Nate out?”

“They’re doing everything by the book,” he said. “And it hasn’t been long. You’re just anxious to get out of here, aren’t you?”

“Could we leave now?”

“No.”

Two paramedics hurried across the driveway to Kate. Dylan saw them coming. “They’re going to want to check you out,” he said.

“I’m fine, really.”

One of the paramedics, hearing her protest, said, “We should look you over, take your vitals and all.” He flashed a penlight in her eyes. “Not dilated.”

“Kate, go with them, make sure. I’ll wait here,” Dylan said.

Though Kate insisted none of this was necessary, she walked to the ambulance with them and let them take her blood pressure and pulse. She admitted to herself that she wasn’t feeling all that great. She was sure that her nausea wasn’t caused by the drug she’d been given. Finding out the truth about Nate Hallinger had made her sick. She didn’t mention her queasy stomach to the paramedics.

Once she’d been declared no worse for the wear, a paramedic offered his hand and was assisting her out of the ambulance when he glanced up the hill and saw several men exit the house.

“Hey, they’re bringing the suspect down the hill now. Uh-oh. It looks like the detective you were with is waiting for him, and look at his face.” He turned to his partner. “We may not be done here, after all.”

Dylan had turned away, and Kate couldn’t see his face. She ran to him, praying Dylan wouldn’t do anything crazy. No, of course he wouldn’t. His hand wasn’t on his gun. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? And his arms were folded across his chest. His stance suggested he was relaxed.

That wasn’t a good sign. She wished she could see Dylan’s expression. She’d know then.

“Dylan,” she called out.

“Stay back, Kate.”

She reached him. He didn’t look at her when he said, “I told you to stay back.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Since when have I ever done anything you’ve told me to do?”

“Kate . . .” The warning was in his voice.

The ambulance was about ten feet behind her. Dylan grabbed her hand and practically dragged her there. “Get inside.”

She stood her ground. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“No.”

She wasn’t sure she could believe him. “Don’t even talk to him.”

“He was going to kill you,” he reminded her.

Agent Kline shouted something to Dylan.

“Stay here, Kate,” Dylan said. “Please.”

“All right,” she relented.

He looked as if he didn’t believe her. “I mean it.”

Dylan turned and walked toward Nate, stopping when he was just a few feet away. Kline had a grip on Nate’s arm as he led him down the hill. He’d taken great pleasure in putting the handcuffs on the detective. Police officers and detectives were moving in, forming a circle around them as they headed toward a squad car.

Nate glared at Dylan. “This is never going to stick. You’ve got nothing.”

“We have enough,” Kline said cheerfully.

“If you have anything, it’s circumstantial.”

Dylan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You sure have had your troubles, haven’t you? And I’ll bet you thought it was all gonna be so easy. One bomb, and boom, problem solved. Kate’s dead before she ever finds out about the will.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“How long were you with Savannah PD?” Kline asked Nate.

Dylan answered for him. “Long enough to meet Vanessa and start shacking up with her. It was common knowledge that she was sleeping around. Come to find out—and I did find out—you were the one.”

“You hatched your plan and transferred to the Charleston police force,” Kline said. “You had to distance yourself from Vanessa, and you also wanted to find out everything you could about Kate.”

“I transferred because there was an opening, and I wanted a change,” Nate argued.

“What you wanted was eighty million dollars, you prick,” Dylan said. “Vanessa was behind the camera filming the old man. Compton trusted her, and he asked her to film his video. She must have been real pissed off when Compton looked into the camera and said he was giving it all to Kate. He’d already changed the will so it wouldn’t do her any good to kill him after the fact.”

“She told you all about it, didn’t she?” Kline said.

“You can’t prove—” Nate objected.

“You’re the one who checked her alibi the day the video was made. You said it was airtight. Why would I think you were lying?” Dylan said.

Nate didn’t respond, but then, Dylan didn’t expect him to. “Did you have the connections to get to the Florist, or did you go to Jackman and offer him a deal he couldn’t refuse?”

“You can’t prove a damn thing. This is all speculation.”

“It got complicated, didn’t it?” Kline said, ignoring his protests. “Kate wouldn’t cooperate. Two explosions, and she’s stayed alive. Her good luck, and your bad. Did you buy all three bombs at the same time, or did you have to keep going back for more?”

“You knew Kate would be at Carl’s party,” Dylan said. “You knew before it was in the paper. Carl was your source, even though he didn’t know it. He likes to promote Kate’s company, and he does a lot of charity events in Savannah. Compton mentioned Vanessa’s good works had helped uphold the MacKenna name. Vanessa was smart enough not to meet Carl, but she was always there, listening, wasn’t she? You knew way in advance and had time to plan it just right.”

“You just happened to be in the area when the bomb went off,” Kline added. “First on the scene and first to find Kate. Must have disappointed you to see she was still breathing.”

“This is ridiculous,” Nate shouted.

Once again Kline and Dylan ignored his outrage.

“Putting Reece Crowell’s name on the paper in Roger’s apartment was overkill, don’t you think? Were you trying to confuse us, or was it supposed to be a little clue?” Dylan said.

“You kept having to change the plan, didn’t you?” Dylan continued. “You killed Roger and planted the evidence to frame Ewan. This last bomb was meant to kill Kate and Ewan, of course, but the sucker didn’t go off. So you had to get in there and take care of it yourself.”

“Ewan’s gun and his cell phone were in your pocket,” Kline said.

“I can explain that,” Nate said.

“Can you explain telling Kate that Reece had her sister?”

“I thought he did . . . Ewan called me . . .”

Kline looked at Dylan. “Whew. He’s dancing so fast, I can hardly see his feet. Can you?”

“You’re a greedy son of a bitch, Nate,” Dylan said. “But you made a big mistake. Remember what you said to me? ‘I heard she turned it down.’ Got me thinking. How could you have known that? Vanessa left before Kate changed her mind and accepted the inheritance. You heard it from Vanessa.”

“Anderson told me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed for a while anyway. Turns out Anderson has a great memory. He hadn’t even talked to you yet. You see, Nate, my watch keeps real good time, and I know it wasn’t more than ten minutes after we left the office that I talked to you. Anderson remembers your call, all right, but he swears it took at least fifteen minutes to wrap up his business with the police when they came to confiscate Roger’s gun, and then he was summoned back to his office to accept your call. You know what? Anderson has the phone logs to prove it.”

“Nice guesswork, Dylan, but none of it will hold up.”

“I think it will,” Dylan said. “Vanessa will give you up.” He nodded in her direction. “Look at her. She’s watching you, and if looks could kill . . . Well, let’s just say she doesn’t look like she’s your biggest fan right now. When she realizes what she’s facing, she’ll deal.”

Talk about timing.

As Vanessa was being forced into the backseat of a police car, she erupted, “I didn’t do anything! It was all his idea. I’m innocent!”

Everyone heard her.

Dylan’s smile was genuine now. “There you go.”

Chapter Forty-three

Kate sat in the captain’s office. Kline was on one side of her, Dylan was on the other, and she was being questioned by everyone but the mayor.

How had she known which wire to cut? He’d told her. Who? The Florist. How had she known a bullet to the basket wouldn’t force the explosion? Simple. She’d dismantled it. She’d cut the blue wire, then carefully removed the bottom panel and placed it in the drawer of the desk. Why had she done that? He had said it needed to be taken out. She didn’t know why.

They wanted her to remember every word The Florist had said to her. First one law officer and then another asked her to start from the beginning. She repeated the phone conversation at least five times, but she still never lost her patience.

Dylan was amazed by how calm she was. She seemed to be taking it all in stride.

Had she tried to get out of the library? Of course she had, but she couldn’t get the door unlocked. She’d tried kicking it in, but the wood was solid and wouldn’t give. She thought about going out the window and getting away before the bomb detonated, but she knew she would be unable to lift Ewan up and over the windowsill. He weighed at least one hundred and eighty pounds. She couldn’t have carried him to safety, and trying to drag him would have been impossible.

Time was critical. Kate felt she had no choice. She had to take the basket apart.

They all knew she’d had a choice. She could have run, saved herself, and the fact that she didn’t consider leaving Ewan behind spoke volumes about her character.

Dylan was with her the entire time, trying to keep the questions to a minimum. Once he felt the police and the FBI had all the information they would need, he called an end to the interrogation and got her out of there.

Kate was grateful for the rescue. Her day thus far had been horrendous . . . and it wasn’t over yet.

At exactly seven o’clock, Kate and Dylan walked into the law offices of Smith and Wesson. For the next two hours, Kate politely listened to Compton’s smug and condescending advisors and accountants give their reports. Dylan sat next to her with his arms folded, remaining silent while taking it all in.

The attitude of the men, dressed in their dark suits, white shirts, and conservative ties, was puzzling. They behaved as though the money belonged to them collectively, and they were simply humoring Kate by telling her what they had done in the past and what they would be doing—with her inheritance—in the future. There were forms they wanted her to sign, giving them permission to continue their financial guardianship, but all of them assured her she would receive annual reports that would keep her apprised.

After they had finished boasting, they witnessed as she signed the papers Anderson had prepared, formally accepting the inheritance. Once the transaction was complete, the attorney announced that there were no more stipulations, and all of Compton’s wishes had been fulfilled.

The men began to gather their things in preparation to leave, but Kate motioned for them to stay seated as she rose to address them. First, she graciously thanked them for their work and their dedication, and then she told them that their services were no longer needed.

Nearly every chin in the room dropped.

Anderson maintained his composure, although he looked like he wanted to cheer.

One of the advisors jumped to his feet. “What will you do with all that money?”

Another stood and protested, “Compton doesn’t want you to squander his life’s accumulation, and I’m—rather, we—are concerned with your lack of experience in the financial arena—won’t you be doing exactly that? Squandering it?”

Anderson put his hand up when the advisors all began to talk at once. “What Miss MacKenna chooses to do with her inheritance is no longer your concern. You may send your final bills to this office, and I will review them.”

In desperation, one of the men turned to Dylan. “Surely you know what a mistake this is. Talk to her,” he demanded.

His arms still crossed, Dylan leaned back in his chair and, with an amused smile, he simply shrugged.

The angry man’s face turned the color of the red stripes on his tie. “But does she have any idea what she will do with—?”

“Yes,” Kate interrupted. “I do know.” She gathered up the papers spread out on the table as she explained. “I’m giving it away.”

“All of it?” he asked incredulously.

“But . . . but . . .” another man sputtered.

“Who are you giving it to?” a third man asked. He looked positively ill.