Legal Heat

Chapter Eighteen


“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear.” Looking as though he would happily throttle her, Mark leaned against the door to Andrew McIntyre’s apartment building, arms folded, white shirt stretched tight over his broad chest. “You were to see Ted and then go straight home to rest before our meeting with James.”

Katy’s lips thinned. She didn’t have time for this. She wanted to make the most of her two days, and already her injuries were slowing her down. Three cups of coffee, two cans of Red Bull, a handful of painkillers and she still longed for her bed.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me? I wrote the name on a napkin so you wouldn’t see.” She took a step back, suddenly worried he would scoop her up and carry her away.

He huffed with annoyance. “You seem to have a nose for trouble. I called your cell. No answer. I called your home. No answer. I called your office. No one could tell me where you were. Right away, I knew you were up to something. So I called James and asked him to track down your fan club.” He pointed to the surveillance team in the police car across the road. “And here I am.” He puffed out his chest with arrogant pride.

“And here you will stay.” She brushed past him and pulled out the piece of paper with McIntyre’s apartment number. “You are not coming in with me.”

A guttural sound escaped Mark’s lips, primal and protective. He closed the distance between them and backed Katy up to the wall. “That’s because you aren’t going in. You’re going home.”

Her mouth went so dry she couldn’t swallow. “I’m going in.”

“Christ.” He balled his hands into fists. “You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. I knew you just couldn’t let this go. You’re supposed to be off the case.”

She frowned. Something he said niggled at her brain. Later. Right now, she had a witness to see. “I don’t want you to interfere.”

“We’re on the same side now, sugar. I want to find out what’s happening just as much as you. But more than that, I want you to be safe.”

“Are we on the same side?” Katy folded her arms. “Or are you still acting for Hi-Tech? Ted told me you didn’t make the application to withdraw as Steele’s solicitor for the case.”

Mark gave an exasperated sigh. “The documents were filed over a week ago. You know these things take time.”

“All I know is I wouldn’t have gone as far with you as I did if I had thought you were still on the case. Maybe you lied to me so you could have your bit of fun.”

A shadow of hurt crossed his face, but in a second it was gone, replaced by a mask of cold indifference. “If that’s really what you believe, then I’ll leave you alone, but not before I make sure you’re safe inside the apartment.”

Her gut clenched. He didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her anger with Ted, or her stress at having only two days to solve the mystery. But his threat to stop her from going in had unsettled her. McIntyre was her last lead. Unless she found something in Hi-Tech’s documents on Friday, she would have nothing to show for the two days Ted had given her to finish the case.

The door swung open. A pretty young woman with long, curly brown hair struggled out, her arms laden with boxes.

“Here I’ll give you a hand.” Mark took the boxes and Katy held the door while he carried them to the woman’s vehicle parked down the street. For a split second she considered running inside and leaving him to figure his own way in, but knowing Mark, it wouldn’t take long and she would have to deal with an angry…what? Boyfriend? Lover? Friend? Colleague? What was he to her? Don’t go there. Not now.

Mark returned and followed her into the foyer. “I didn’t think you’d wait,” he murmured.

Katy looked over her shoulder. “Neither did I.”

The building contained only twelve apartments and it didn’t take them long to find number two. Katy reached up to pull the old-fashioned doorknocker on the sickly pink door, but Mark stayed her hand.

“Look,” he mouthed. She followed his gaze to the partially open door.

“Come.” He grabbed her elbow and tugged her down the hallway.

Katy shook him off. “What if something is wrong? What if he’s ill or hurt?” She pushed the door and it opened with a soft creak. Fingers of light poked through small windows facing the back alley. The main room had been decorated in a Southwestern style, with a colorful Mexican rug, soft orange furniture and a shelf full of tequila bottles. A large, framed picture of a cactus hung over a flat-screen TV. They walked across the tiny living space to check the kitchen, more an alcove than a room, and then the small adjacent bedroom.

“Looks like no one’s here.”

A soft groan sent her flying into Mark’s arms. Her heart pounded frantically against her ribs. “What was that?”

Mark pushed her behind him and they followed the sound to a small bathroom decorated with black and white tiles. The edge of the door had been splintered. A man lay on the floor, clutching his stomach. Blood smears covered the tiles, the toilet and the rim of the tub.

Katy pushed past Mark and grabbed a towel. “He needs an ambulance. The police should still be outside.” Mark rushed out the door and Katy pressed the towel over the man’s wound.

“Are you Andrew?”

He nodded and licked his lips, then coughed a bubble of blood. “Someone broke in. I tried to hide, but he was after me, not my stuff.”

Katy squeezed his hand. “An ambulance will be here any minute. Just hang in there.” She pressed harder, applying pressure to his wound. The front door creaked and footsteps thudded across the floor behind her.

“Mark, I need another towel.” She looked over her shoulder and froze.

Not Mark. Black clothes. Ski mask. Gun.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She had always imagined what she would do in a life-threatening situation, and in every imaginary instance, she screamed and assaulted her attacker before running away. She had never had any doubt she would rise to the occasion if her life was ever in danger.

She didn’t rise.

She didn’t even scream.

Instead she crouched on the floor, frozen in place, eyes wide, pulse racing, as she desperately tried to staunch the bleeding from Andrew’s stomach.

She shifted her gaze away from the shiny black gun, the first real one she had ever seen, and into the eyes of a killer. No doubt about it. His cold, black eyes held no emotion. No fear. No anger. No joy.

“You always seem to get in my way.” Ordinary voice. Calm. Smooth. The gun clicked when he cocked the trigger. She drew in a ragged breath and prepared to die.

I didn’t hug Mel and Justin goodbye. I didn’t tell Mark…I believe him. I trust him.

I love him. She knew that now. Too late.

He motioned her away from Andrew with the gun. “I have a job to finish. You interrupted me.”

Stunned, she looked down at the semi-conscious man on the floor, white from shock and loss of blood.

“Please don’t do this.” She would beg for his life because he could not.

“No body, no pay.”

Her teeth chattered although the room was stifling hot. “What about me?”

“No pay, no body.”

She saw the shadow only seconds before he did. Before he could turn to meet the threat, Mark grabbed him and threw him backwards across the hallway and into the television. He landed with a heavy thud. The gun clattered to the floor.

“I can’t leave you, even for a minute.” Mark pulled her up and out of the bathroom.

A soft grunt startled her. Footsteps. The man in black pushed his way past them and disappeared into the hallway.





“First, I have to say, going into McIntyre’s house alone was beyond stupid.” James glared at the two lawyers sitting on the other side of his desk. Exhaustion lined Katy’s face. Blood seeped through her bandages, staining her shirt. He figured he had maybe twenty minutes before she collapsed. Mark should have left her in the hospital instead of letting her run around the city. If she’d been his girl, he would have handcuffed her to the hospital bed until she had fully recovered.

“Where’s my list?”

Katy pushed a piece of notepaper across the table. Within minutes James had arranged a police detail at both the Cunningham and Davidson households.

“Now.” He looked at Mark and Katy. “From the beginning. I don’t want to hear about conflicts or Law Society rules. I want the facts, all of them. Mark, why did you go to see the two witnesses?”

Mark put a protective arm around Katy. “Apparently there was a lab accident. Steele didn’t give me details and I don’t know how many people were involved. Hi-Tech kept it quiet and settled with the victims. Their in-house lawyer handled the legalities. Steele asked me to renegotiate the agreements.”

He stopped and rubbed his hand through his hair. James had never seen him so wound up, emotionally or physically. A man on the edge.

Mark cleared his throat and picked up where he had left off. “Davidson’s wife said the accident involved a spilled chemical in the lab. Neither of the witnesses could confirm anything. They’re both dying of the same rare aggressive lymphatic cancer and are beyond the point where they can speak. I found the coincidence strange in itself.”

Aggressive lymphatic cancer. Like Silver. How rare can it be?

James knew Mark well enough to see something wasn’t sitting right. “What’s bothering you?”

“I might have imagined it, but I thought Davidson shook his head when his wife told me about the accident. Also, his injuries didn’t seem consistent with a chemical spill. The men were grotesquely swollen but their skin wasn’t affected.”

Katy shook her head. “Martin said it wasn’t a chemical spill. He said it was a set up…just before he died.”

“Wait a minute.” James jumped out of his seat, his pulse racing. “Did you say both men were swollen? Like Valerie?”

“Not as bad, but yes.”

“What about these two?” James pulled the post-mortem photos of Silver and Garcia from a file on his desk and thrust them under Mark’s nose.

Katy gasped and turned away. Mark nodded. “Again, not quite as bad as this one…” he pointed to Garcia, “…but very similar to this one.” He tapped Silver’s photo.

James grabbed the phone and called Joanna. “I need you and Mike to go and interview the wives of two contract cleaners when you’re done in the lab. You’ll find their details on my desk. I want to know everything about a lab accident at Hi-Tech. I also want you to prepare a warrant application to search Hi-Tech’s head office on Broadway.”

He covered the receiver and nodded at Katy. “Would your client know anything about the accident?”

Katy shrugged. “I can call her and ask.”

“I’ll send someone to her house. I need a name and address.”

“Martha Saunders. I think she lives at—”

James cut her off. “Your client is Martha Saunders?”

Katy frowned and nodded. “Do you know her?”

With a heavy sigh, James leaned back in his chair and stared at the report Joanna had just prepared. She had just identified Jimmy Rider’s new girlfriend—a laboratory technician named Martha Saunders.