The Perfect Murder by Kat Martin
FIVE
The following morning, Reese arrived a few minutes later than usual. Reese had been out late last night, attending a political fundraiser for the mayor.
Mark Rydell was doing a good job, had lent his support to a number of projects Garrett Resources had undertaken, and in return, Reese was supporting the mayor’s bid for reelection.
What hadn’t worked out so well was his date for the event. Reese had been seeing Fiona Cantor off and on for the past few months. She was a beautiful, statuesque blonde, an attorney at one of the big Dallas law firms. She was pleasant company and a satisfactory bed partner who didn’t expect more than being friends with benefits.
Unfortunately, last night when he’d driven her home after the gala, things had taken an unexpected turn.
“I’ve got a nice bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge,” Fiona had said with an inviting smile. “Or if you’d prefer, a glass of that Oban single malt I bought just for you.” She leaned over and kissed him, wet and open-mouthed, ran a red polished nail down his cheek. “Or we can just go straight to bed.”
He’d looked into her big blue eyes and tried to muster some enthusiasm. When none surfaced, he shook his head. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Fi, and a long day tomorrow. I think I’ll head on home.”
Fiona frowned. “I’m tired of excuses, Reese. We haven’t had sex the last three times we’ve been together. What’s going on?”
He thought about brushing her off, telling her it was just problems at work, which was certainly true. Instead, he told her the truth. “I think it’s time we moved on. It’s been fun, but I’ve just got too much on my mind right now. I need a little space. I hope you understand.”
Her spine stiffened. “Oh, I understand, Reese. Who is she?”
He blocked the image before it had time to surface. “It’s no one, Fi. That isn’t what’s going on.” Well, not exactly.
Fiona released a slow, resigned breath. “It’s all right. We never were exclusive.” She was right. They had dated a lot of different people, always kept things casual and open. She was undemanding and he had enjoyed her company. But it wasn’t serious and both of them knew it.
“Call me if you change your mind,” Fi said, but he knew he wouldn’t. He had lost interest in Fiona sometime back. The next time he needed a date, he’d go through his contacts, find someone else to accompany him. He’d never had trouble attracting women. He was more than decent looking, and he had lots of money. That was all it really took.
Which wasn’t saying much.
Lately, it wasn’t enough.
The memory of the evening slipped away as he strode across the office, then paused next to Kenzie’s desk. “How’s Griff?”
When she rose from her chair, he tried not to notice how her skirt and simple white cotton sweater showed off her curves. She always wore business clothes but somehow still managed to look sexier than he would have liked.
“Griff’s okay. He was going crazy cooped up in the house and he seemed completely fine, so I let him go back to school today.” She smiled and he worked to ignore the heat that washed through him. “I really appreciate what you did. I’m not usually one to panic, but it’s different when it’s your child.”
He nodded. “I’m sure it is.” Having kids was one of the reasons he’d gotten married. He and Sandra were already on the brink of divorce when they’d discovered she couldn’t have children. Instead of being upset, Sandra had been relieved.
“I’ve got a few things I need to add to my schedule,” he said. “Derek Stiles called yesterday. Looks like we’re having more problems with the rig.”
“You’ll get them sorted.” She flashed him a smile. “You always do.”
But there was one thing he was having more and more trouble handling and she was standing right in front of him.
Reese clenched his jaw and went to work.
He was sitting at his desk later that day when his intercom buzzed.
“It’s Frank Milburn,” Kenzie said. “He has news about the crash.”
Milburn was in charge of the NTSB investigation. “Put him through.” Reese pressed the speaker button and settled back in his chair.
“I know you’ve been anxious to hear from us,” Frank said, a small man with close-cropped brown hair. “I wish we could have completed the investigation sooner, but these things take time.”
“I’m aware. So what have you found out?”
“The last of the reports came in. We’d been waiting for some metal structural tests. Combined with the rest of the information we’ve assembled, the reports revealed what we had recently begun to suspect but until today weren’t able to confirm.”
“Go on.”
“Sometime before the flight took off the morning of the crash, someone tampered with the engine. A piece of metal in one of the gears was filed just enough to cause it to grind itself to pieces. The flight control mechanism disconnected, rendering the helo uncontrollable. To put it in layman’s terms, the helicopter was sabotaged.”
Tension tightened Reese’s shoulders. He didn’t ask Milburn if he was sure. The NTSB team had been investigating the crash for weeks. Two men were dead. The authorities had to be extremely thorough. The question now was who had done it? And why?
“Have you found out who’s responsible?” Reese asked.
“Unfortunately, not yet. As we’ve known from the start and you were informed, pilot error contributed heavily to the event. There should have been room for the chopper to safely autorotate down, but the pilot misjudged his position. He came in too close to the building, one of the blades clipped the corner, and the helicopter was torn apart.”
“So what, exactly, do you know?”
“We know a criminal act was committed that ended up causing the deaths of two men. As of this morning, the FBI will be taking over the investigation. They’ll be actively pursuing whoever is responsible for the crime, now a double murder.”
Murder. The news sent a chill down Reese’s spine. He leaned over his desk, shut off the speaker, and picked up the phone. “Whatever you find out, I’ll expect you to keep me in the loop.”
“I’ll do my best,” Milburn said. “It’ll be more difficult once the gears of the FBI begin to turn.”
He understood how a federal agency worked. Lots of interlocking pieces and parts that inevitably slowed things down. The call ended, but Reese had no intention of leaving the matter in the hands of some governmental bureaucracy, not even the FBI. The feds would have to start over, look at the crash from an entirely different angle. It could take weeks, even months.
Two men were dead and he could have been the third. He thought of the accidents that had been plaguing the Poseidon. The helo crash hadn’t been accidental. The chopper was meant to go down.
Was it possible he had been the target?
He couldn’t wait weeks or months, not when his life could be in danger. He needed answers. Finding them sent his mind immediately to his brothers.
Chase owned Maximum Security, the best private security firm in Dallas. There wasn’t a better investigator in the city than Chase. But once his brother heard the NTSB’s findings, he’d demand Reese have round-the-clock personal protection. Brandon, their younger brother, a highly sought-after bodyguard, would be the logical choice. But Reese had too much going on to be dogged 24/7.
Not when there was no proof Reese had been anything but an unlucky passenger. Especially not when he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
In high school, he’d fallen in with a dangerous crowd, older kids who were in and out of trouble. He’d found himself on the police radar, a troublemaker, minor car thief, fringe member of a local teenage gang, and street brawler. Activities that, combined with being picked up for using an illegal firearm, had led to a yearlong stint in juvenile detention.
His mom, divorced from his far-too-lenient dad and already raising his brothers, had taken custody and moved Reese in with her and her family. His grandfather, a former Texas sheriff, along with half a dozen relatives in the military or law enforcement, had stepped in and helped him turn his life around.
One of his uncles had convinced him to use his fighting skills in the boxing ring instead of on the street. By the time he was in college, he’d added kickboxing, then taekwondo, leading to a brief interest in mixed martial arts. Though he’d left those days behind, he still trained weekly to keep in shape.
No, he didn’t need Chase or Brandon, or his half brother, Michael, a computer nerd who lived in Houston, a recent addition to the family.
What Reese needed was information. He phoned Tabitha Love. Tabby worked for The Max as a computer specialist. She was one of the smartest people he had ever known, smarter even than the experts who worked for Garrett Resources. And she would be discreet.
She answered on the second ring. “Is that Reese Garrett’s name I see on my screen?” He could hear the smile in her voice. He rarely called her, though she was always happy to help.
“No way to deny it, I’m afraid. I’m hoping you can carve out some time for me. It’s a personal matter, one I need you to handle quietly and fairly quickly.”
She must have heard something in his tone. “For you, chief, I have all the time in the world.” She said it as if he were the editor of a newspaper or the leader of a tribe, not the chief executive officer of the company. It always made him smile.
Tabby was in her late twenties, tall, with very short black hair shaved on the sides and moussed on top. Her face glittered with enough studs to drive up the price of silver on the stock market: ears, tongue, eyebrow, plus a nose ring, and who knew what else beneath her clothes.
Fortunately, not him. Tabby’s boyfriend, Lester, took up most of her free time.
“So what is it you need?” Tabby asked, suddenly all business.
“You may have heard about the drilling platform the company is purchasing. The Poseidon?”
“It’s been all over the news. Apparently not everyone’s happy about the deal.”
“Exactly. We’ve got protesters marching on the street outside our door. They’re using the sale to bring attention to the problems caused by offshore drilling.”
“I’m thinking Deepwater Horizon and the BP oil spill, right?”
“That’s the argument and there are problems, for sure, but not as many as people believe. Unfortunately, until we find a reliable energy alternative, fossil fuels are necessary to our survival.”
“I get it. So what do you need me to do?”
“I need to find out who sabotaged the helicopter I was riding in four weeks ago.”
“Wow, your accident wasn’t an accident? That’s not good news.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s not public info, but there’s no way they can keep it quiet for long. I’m planning to do some legwork. I’ll come up with a list of names—passengers and crew, anyone with access to the chopper. I’ll need background info and I’ll need you to go deep. I want to know if I was the target.”
Tabby’s voice tightened. “Get me the names. I’ll get everything you need.”
“Thanks, Tab, I’ll be in touch.” The line went dead and Reese leaned back in his chair. He’d have to find time to go to Houston to start his search. His schedule was packed, so it wouldn’t be easy.
A light knock sounded, then Kenzie opened the door. Her pale scoop-necked sweater hinted at the fullness of her breasts, something he shouldn’t have noticed, but did.
“What did Milburn have to say? Have they found the cause of the crash?”
He didn’t want to worry her, but sooner or later the information was bound to hit the news. He was going to need help with this. He needed Kenzie in the loop.
“Someone tampered with the chopper. The crash was intentional.”
“Oh, my God. Reese, you could have been killed.”
He forced the tight muscles across his shoulders to relax. “The investigation’s ongoing. The FBI is taking over. Eventually, they’ll find whoever’s responsible and arrest them.”
“Eventually? What about in the meantime? What if whoever did it does something like that again?” She began to realize the implications, as he had known she would. “You don’t...you don’t think you were the target?”
“A lot’s been happening. According to Derek Stiles, there have been an inordinate amount of accidents that involve the rig.”
She stiffened. “You need someone to protect you. You have to call your brother.”
“Which one?” he joked. “And the answer is no. I’m not calling either of my brothers. I won’t be cosseted twenty-four hours a day. I am, however, going to find the bastard who crashed the chopper and killed two good men. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
Kenzie just stood there. She handled his schedule, knew about the hours each week he set aside for his martial arts instructor. She had to know he was proficient—more than proficient—in self-defense. She didn’t know about his dark past or his skill with a weapon.
But she should know him well enough to realize he wasn’t going to change his mind.
“All right, then,” she said resignedly. “What can I do to help?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll fill you in as soon as I figure it out.”
“Fair enough.” She took a deep breath, focused back on work. “I assume that means you’ll be carrying on with your schedule for today and this evening.”
“Unless something changes, yes. Remind me...what’s on my calendar for tonight?”
“You have a charity event, the annual Dallas Youth Homes fundraiser. You bought a table for eight that includes your brothers and their wives, Kade Logan, Chase’s friend from Denver, and his date, Marla Steiner.”
“Who am I taking?”
“Andrea Wellington. You mentioned something about meeting her at an event at the governor’s mansion when you asked me to arrange for a limo.”
He remembered now. When he’d called her, he’d already been trying to distance himself from Fiona.
“Follow up. Give her the time the limo will arrive and tell her I look forward to seeing her again.” And he hoped like hell it was true. Hoped an evening with Andrea Wellington would be more appealing than the ones he’d spent with the last few women he’d dated.
“I’ll take care of it.” Kenzie turned and walked out the door and Reese’s gaze followed. Her spine-erect posture should have kept his mind on business, but the sexy sway of her hips sent a rush of heat straight to his groin.
Cursing softly, Reese jerked his thoughts back from where they’d gone and began to formulate a plan that would help him find a killer.
