Operation Notorious. Justine Davis

       Chapter 5

      Gavin looked up from the computer he’d been working on as Quinn ended his call. His boss slipped his phone back into his pocket. It was a special piece of equipment modified by Foxworth IT expert Tyler Hewitt back home in St. Louis; he had one just like it, as did everyone at Foxworth.

      While Hayley continued to talk with Katie in the living room, they had adjourned to the den that had become an office.

      “Brett said he’ll make a call. He knows someone down in Tacoma,” Quinn said.

      “Is there anywhere your sheriff’s investigator doesn’t know someone?”

      Quinn grinned. “If there is, we haven’t found it yet. He confirmed that Steven Moore is the main suspect, judging by the bulletins that came out to all local agencies last week.”

      “That must be when they decided to let it go public,” Gavin said, leaning back in the office chair. “A knife and that kind of carnage—that screams personal. Rage.”

      Quinn nodded. “Find anything?” he asked, gesturing toward the computer’s wide monitor.

      “Nothing that jumped out in a cursory search, no contradictions. Once I eliminated the spate of reports that hit in the last twenty-four hours, he’s pretty low profile. Haven’t dug into the reporting on the actual murder yet.”

      “Ty can do that, and send us the report.”

      Gavin nodded. Ty was an expert at finding things buried deep. Gavin didn’t mention that the main reason he hadn’t gotten to that search was that he’d also searched on Katie, and found several entries on her taking over the new library and turning it into a welcoming place for all.

      Quinn glanced toward the living room. “What’s your assessment, Counselor? Is she for real?”

      Gavin remembered Katie’s response to his string of questions, coming nearly as rapid-fire as his own words had, and, he noted, in the same order and complete. There was nothing slow about Katie Moore, for all her thoughtful consideration of things, but he’d already guessed that.

      My only proof is knowing he can barely use a kitchen knife without cutting himself. He has never lied to me in my life, even when it would have been easier, and I have no reason to believe he would start now. Of course he knew Laurel; she’d been my best friend since I was nine. He liked her the most of all my friends, for my sake if nothing else. And obviously he doesn’t have a provable alibi or he wouldn’t be a suspect, would he?

      He’d probed a little further and learned her father’s story was that he’d been home, alone, watching an old movie on cable. They’d verified the movie had indeed played when he’d said, but obviously that wasn’t proof that he’d watched it. A bit more pushing and he’d learned how close she and her father were, especially since her mother had died when Katie was nine. He got the picture of a loving dad who had focused on his only child during a very difficult time, and that they had gotten through it together.

      “I think,” he began in answer to Quinn’s question, “that she believes every word she said. It’s whether it’s all really true that’s in question.”

      “Agreed.”

      Gavin raised a brow at his friend. “Are we taking this on? Not exactly our usual. A straightforward, if ugly, murder case. The police are pursuing it, even months later, so it hasn’t been forgotten.”

      “But they might be pursuing the wrong man.”

      “True.” Gavin looked at Quinn quizzically. “But that alone is still not usually enough to fire your jets. So what is?”

      Quinn returned his look. “That she’s a beautiful woman with a problem isn’t enough for you? And if you say you didn’t notice, then I’ll know you’re lying. I saw your face when you opened the door.”

      “She was soaking wet. I knew you’d feel guilty if she caught pneumonia.”

      He wasn’t sure why he was deflecting. Katie Moore was beautiful, in that quiet way that had always moved him more than the flash and glitter that had seemed to surround him back in the days when his name could get him entrée into just about anywhere. But that had nothing to do with it. He was moved by her plight, not the woman herself. The kick of his pulse when he looked at her notwithstanding.

      “Nice of you to be so concerned about her health,” Quinn said drily.

      “And you’re dodging the question.”

      Quinn sighed. Then he shrugged. “Cutter.”

      Gavin drew back slightly. “Seriously?”

      “Do you need another rundown of all the cases he’s found?”

      “No. But hearing about it is different than seeing it.”

      The image of the dog wiggling through his private door, purloined cell phone in his mouth, played back in Gavin’s head. He knows a Foxworthy case when he sees one, Liam, a fellow operative, had joked the last time he’d been here.

      Gavin had laughed, but he couldn’t deny the facts. The cases the dog had brought them, directly or indirectly, had all turned out to be their kind of case. He just didn’t see how this one was. But he had meant what he’d told Quinn; he believed that Katie Moore believed every word she’d said. She might have been lied to, but she wasn’t lying herself.

      Right. And you’re sure of this because your judgment is infallible, right?

      But in the end, the bottom line was simple. If Quinn—or apparently Cutter—said they were taking the case, they were taking the case.

      When they left the office, they could hear that Hayley and Katie were actually laughing. Cutter was at their feet, his tongue lolling happily as Hayley reached out to scratch behind his right ear.

      Both women and the dog looked up as they came into the room. Quinn didn’t waste any time. “Can you meet us at our headquarters tomorrow, and we’ll get started?”

      Katie blinked. “You’re doing this?” Her gaze flicked to Gavin. “Including you?”

      “I’m Foxworth,” he said simply. And meant it. In the Foxworth Foundation he had found both something he hadn’t been fully aware of missing, and something he hadn’t thought existed anymore—good people fighting for good people and good causes. People he was proud to work with, who had given him back a pride in his own work, in what he could do. “I don’t do criminal defense any longer, so if it comes to that, we’ll find you someone. But I can still prepare a case.”

      Cutter stood up and gave a woof that Gavin couldn’t deny sounded satisfied. Then Katie stood up, her eyes wide and full of hope.

      “I don’t know how to thank you,” she began.

      “Don’t thank us yet,” Quinn warned. “We go after the truth, and there’s always a chance you won’t like it.”

      “I know what the truth is,” she said confidently. Gavin winced inwardly; he’d heard that before, and seen it explode.

      In fact, he’d believed it before and seen it explode, nearly taking him with