Watchers of the Night, page 15
“Backup to what? Cyn, you and the others need to come up with a better idea.” Adam had worked with the captain long enough to know what the man was capable of. “Boucher’s ruthless and doesn’t give up.”
“Neither do I. Neither do you, for that matter.” She played with the laptop keys.
“This is a bad plan, Cornwall.”
“Do you have any other suggestions?” Her voice trembled, with fear or anger, he couldn’t tell. “Do you want to know why I really came over tonight? Besides showing this to you?”
He held his breath, afraid he might move and make her think twice on what she wanted to say.
“I hate my apartment.” She shoved the laptop back and reached for the teapot to pour a cup of matcha green tea. She sipped it a couple of times. “I know it sounds irrational, but I refuse to step inside it. Ever since Mrs. McCarthy invaded it, she’s ruined what sanctuary I was able to build in there.”
Damn. He wanted to touch her, caress her hair—anything. Instead, he waited to see if she’d say more.
“I’d spent months looking for a place when I decided to move closer to York Regional Police.” She laughed. “Dammit, I’m so picky.”
“Nothing wrong with that. You knew what you wanted. Having it ruined deliberately by your landlady makes it that much worse.”
“I had the most amazing view of the park and river. Looking at that kept me calm. Fixing up and arranging everything in my home calmed me. It helped to keep work where it belonged—at the office. And that woman stole it from me.” Cynthia finished her tea in one gulp. “I didn’t have any other place to go tonight.” She sighed. “I’m sorry for barging in like this.”
“Will you stop with the apologies? You’re not trespassing, and you still have a key, remember?” If there was any way to make her stay, he’d be all over that like a bee on honey.
“I know.” Her smile was small but genuine. “Thanks again.”
They cleaned the kitchen together. Adam was about to ask if she’d like dessert, and hoping that it would lead to the other type of sweetness which was her delectable body, but she cut that short. “I haven’t had time to get my facts down,” she said, and grabbed her laptop, satchel and backpack. “I’d like to do that before going to sleep.”
Well, if that wasn’t a bucket of cold water thrown all over him. “Oh, okay.” He stumbled over what to say next. “You know where the guest bedroom is.” He rubbed a hand over his hair. “And the meditation area is still in the studio room.”
Cynthia nodded. “Thanks.” Without another word, she turned and headed for the second bedroom.
Well, she had warned him they needed to slow down their attraction for each other. Guess she wasn’t kidding.
Chapter 12
Cynthia cursed herself. Last night had been the worst.
Keep it all business, Cyn. Don’t let Adam distract you, Cyn.
Who the hell was she kidding? As soon as she had shut the bedroom door behind her, she wanted to turn right around and jump his bones. But she couldn’t—no, she told him they needed to take things slow, make sure a relationship was what they really wanted. Cynthia had to follow her own advice or she’d look like a hypocrite.
It didn’t stop her from thinking what she needed—Adam’s caresses, his kisses, his tongue, his... Dammit.
She half hoped to escape the condo this morning without his knowledge. When she came out, dressed and her bags in each hand, Adam was at the breakfast table, sipping on coffee. “Good morning,” he called out.
He didn’t have to rub it in by sounding so cheerful. “Morning.” She put her things by the front door and accepted a mug of the fresh brew. A little sugar and cream, and her first sip perked her up.
“Sleep okay?”
The coffee almost spewed out of her mouth. Did he really ask her that question? “So-so. I’m worried about my talk with the captain.”
“Honestly, Cyn, don’t do it. I have a bad feeling about this.”
She glanced at him over her mug. “There’s not much we can do. The clues lead back to the captain.”
Adam sighed.
“Like I said, we’re not accusing him. We’re going to ask some questions and see what he offers.” She looked around—no hot breakfast, and a sharp pang of disappointment hit her. “I’d better get going. Timmins is an early riser.”
He stood and took the mug from her, placing it on the table. “Please be careful.”
Cynthia put on her best smile, but inside, she wished he was coming with her. “Always am.”
“I mean it.”
His concerned expression tugged at something a little too close to her heart, and she swallowed. This man...
She couldn’t help it. Cynthia grabbed his face and planted a firm kiss on those delicious lips of his, then backed off quickly before he could ensnare her in his unbreakable grip. “I gotta go.”
Cynthia checked her phones on the cab ride to work—getting on the bus was not appealing today. On her personal phone, she received an answer from the property manager, who advised of three apartments coming up for rent at the end of the month. This was good news, as she loved the building and the area it resided in.
There was a text from Mav, and she read through it carefully.
Hi, doll. Did a reconnaissance around the MC clubhouse. There are four possible targets you or a colleague can investigate to locate spent shell casings. Details of each one below.
BE CAREFUL.
She had a message from Daniel on her work phone, who apologized for not coming in yesterday, but would be there as early as possible today.
She entered the lab and sat down at her office desk to finalize her report for this morning’s meeting when Daniel walked in an hour later, yawning. “Morning.”
“Hey, good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Better than yesterday. That crime scene was intense.”
Cynthia had everything prepared. She gathered her papers and stuffed them into a large folder. “Timmins and I are having a meeting with the captain this morning.”
“About everything we’ve found so far on the Chariots of Chrome bombing investigation?”
She nodded. The one item she hadn’t told Daniel about yet was the print on the wire. “I finally got the results back on the fingerprint I found on that piece of wire.”
Daniel frowned. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”
“Trust me, none of us do. It’s the captain’s.”
“Holy crap!” he exclaimed, then immediately quieted down. “Is that wire from the bomb?”
“I—I don’t know. Timmins thinks it’s too small to belong to any of the electrical setup in the building.”
“Wait a sec. So you’re basing Captain Boucher’s involvement on a theory?”
“We also have possible evidence that Mr. Creatura gave the captain that Rolex.”
“Possible?” Daniel asked. “Cynthia, this is thin, even for you. Do you know what the fallout could be?”
“I know the consequences, Daniel, but Timmins is willing to take a chance. It’s just a few questions. We’re not accusing Boucher of anything, but we need to find out his side, if he’s willing to tell us.” Cynthia hoped the captain saw it that way too.
Daniel rubbed his face. “Good luck.”
“Yeah, we’re going to need it.”
She was about to mention the threatening letter addressed to her when Timmins walked in. “Cornwall, you ready to go?”
“No, but we have no choice.” She tucked her tablet and a manila folder under her arm and followed the detective. Cynthia needed to keep her cool, to display the look of a highly competent forensics investigator. They had no idea how Boucher would react, but they needed to be ready for anything. “Is Hawthorne coming?” she asked.
“No, but he’s up to speed on what we’re doing.” On the elevator, he looked at her. “You’re sure you’re good?”
She shrugged—what did he expect? “A little nervous but completely on point. We got this.”
“Good for you. I know sometimes, I don’t treat you as a proper colleague. I say stuff that ticks you off. But you’re A-OK in my books. An excellent forensic investigator.”
Cynthia tried to speak, but all she got out of her mouth was, “Um, thanks.”
Timmins chuckled. “Guess I caught you unawares. Sorry about that.” The door opened with a loud ping. “Here we go.”
* * *
Captain Boucher indicated the large round table near the window. “Have a seat,” he said.
Cynthia grabbed a chair and put her report and tablet neatly in front of her. Timmins sat opposite her and plunked down a thicker folder.
Boucher eased into his own seat. “All right then,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Tell me what you’ve got.”
Timmins glanced at her. “Cornwall, you want to start?”
“Sure. First, I wanted to let you know that the survivors will be at the hospital for a while.”
“Shit.” Boucher hid his face in his hands for a moment.
Eyeing him, she opened the folder and woke up her tablet. “As we mentioned in our last meeting, we found clues, but the obvious ones didn’t provide any positive hits. So we had to take a different path.
“The Rolex was our most obvious and best clue, but we didn’t discover any prints. I examined everything else with the same result, except for one thing.” She paused, watching him. “A small piece of encased wiring with traces of Tannerite on it.”
“I still don’t get how someone was able to use that in a bomb,” Boucher said. “It’s so out of place, it’s almost unbelievable.”
She glanced at Timmins.
“While waiting on Cornwall, I conducted my interview with Mr. Creatura,” the older detective continued. “He insisted that he didn’t know his watch was stolen, which we didn’t believe. We asked for security footage during a party he held. We felt that night would have been the perfect opportunity for the theft to occur.”
“This is what we found.” Time for the big reveal. Cynthia placed a picture in front of Boucher—the one with the wire and partial print. “Sir, I found one print on this wire.” She hesitated, but there was nothing to do but go for it. “It’s yours.”
“We also discovered that you were at Mr. Creatura’s party,” Timmins added. “Footage shows you in a secured room with him, filled with display cases, one of which had Rolexes in it.”
She waited for the usual levels of denial that all criminals displayed, but it remained quiet in the office. Captain Boucher hadn’t reacted at all.
“Sir, we were hoping you could explain this,” Timmins said quietly.
She and Timmins waited and watched. The ticking of the captain’s old-fashioned clock on his desk accentuated the tension in the air.
Boucher’s surprised look almost seemed genuine. “My print is on the wire.” He sat back in his chair.
Cynthia’s wariness was on high alert—he was too calm. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be damned.” Boucher’s smile was unsettling.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Captain?” Timmins asked. His hands had bunched into fists on the table.
“What, did you expect me to admit guilt?” Boucher rose and stood behind his chair, sticking his hands in his pockets. Cynthia wondered if it was a defensive maneuver.
“We were hoping for an explanation,” she replied. “Sir, your name came up with this print.”
His gaze was penetrating, and she fought against flinching.
He started to pace. “So, you found me at a party, and you found my partial print on a piece of wire. Is that it?”
She bit her lip. “Evidence doesn’t lie, sir.”
“No, it doesn’t, but I can provide an explanation for the evidence in question.”
She knew this would happen—Boucher would give them plausible reasons, then be on his guard if he was, in fact, the arsonist and killer. In response, she tapped a couple of keys on her tablet to open a document. “What’s your alibi, sir?”
He paused and glanced down at her. “I’ll start with Mr. Creatura. I was there because he wanted extra security he could trust during the party.”
“So…you were there in an official capacity?” Timmins asked, his eyes wide in surprise.
“Alberto Creatura and I go way back—college actually. I used to work security intel at his R & D facility when I was an officer.” Boucher shrugged. “He calls on me now and again to provide added muscle for his events.”
“I didn’t think a captain was allowed to do that,” she observed.
“Why not? I’m still an officer.”
“Sir, you didn’t just attend this party as a security guard. You were also allowed access to Mr. Creatura’s private treasure room.”
He started pacing again. “Creatura and I are old friends. I’ve been in his private room before to see his babies, as he calls them.”
Cynthia kept her face straight as she made a note of his comment—neither she nor Timmins mentioned the fact that Mr. Creatura gave his treasures a nickname. “I find it coincidental though, that you happen to be in this trophy room when a Rolex goes missing.”
“Are you insinuating that I stole it, Cornwall?”
“Or Mr. Creatura gave it to you.” She tapped her tablet. “As I said, the facts don’t lie.”
“Well, well.” He laughed. “If that’s all you have, you’d better get a move on before the public tears us apart.”
Timmins started to rise from the table, but she held up her hand. “Hang on, Timmins.” Cynthia grabbed another photo and set it out on the table for the captain to look at. “Timmins, Hawthorne and Daniel investigated the second explosion and drug bust on Kootenay Ridge. I assisted Daniel in cataloguing the rest of the evidence. That bomb also had traces of Tannerite in it, but that’s not what’s bothering me.” She was amazed at how she kept her cool, despite the terrified tremors coursing through her body. Her hands shook only a little, a testament to her meditation practice and the iron will to find out why the hell her own boss might be an arsonist and murderer.
She tapped the photo of the threatening note. “This was sitting on my desk yesterday morning. There are no fingerprints on it, but my God, if this is your idea of a sick joke...” Cynthia couldn’t continue. Finding out her sweet landlady was a murderer had been horrible enough, but this... Cynthia had mad respect for her boss. “I really want to believe you have nothing to do with this, Captain.”
The look on Boucher’s face gave her chills. Was it true? Could he really be responsible for the bombings and murders?
Boucher rubbed his face with both hands. “Dammit.”
“What is it, sir?” Timmins asked.
Boucher didn’t answer the question. “Was there anything else at the drug bust? Anything odd?” he demanded.
Cynthia was now sure he knew more than he was letting on. “As a matter of fact, yes.” She pulled out a picture from her folder and placed it before him. “This necklace is very distinctive, and was already in a baggie when Daniel found it. I plan on tracing it back to the designer, then hopefully narrow down my investigation to the potential owner.”
He looked at her and said, “You need to get away from here.”
“Now hold on!” Timmins stood. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Cornwall is being stalked and she needs to leave this precinct. Hell, leave the city if you can.”
“You’ve made it very obvious that you know something, sir.” Cynthia didn’t know how she kept her voice steady—her shock at the captain’s words certainly told a different story. “What the hell is going on?”
The captain smiled—she wasn’t expecting that. “I’ve got to tell you, Cornwall. You’re one hell of a forensics investigator. Continue staying on track, and I know you’ll find the answers to those bombings within a week.” He placed his hands on the table. “I’ll bet Solberg didn’t tell you everything about Mrs. McCarthy’s interview.”
“Captain, what does that have to—”
“Your former landlady mentioned that her boss knew how smart you are, that you’re getting close to finding the answers to the bombings.”
She sat still, but her heart raced like an out-of-control train. The bomber knew who she was?
He pointed at the pictures. “I’m surprised you found out as much as you have.”
That wasn’t exactly a confession, but Boucher was involved somehow. Cynthia had heard of detectives being threatened with bodily harm or families hunted down by a criminal organization when one of their perps was caught. It was part and parcel of the job, but how they handled it, she had no idea. She had never been on the receiving end of such antagonism. Even her previous job with the Emergency Response Team was almost a walk in the park compared to working with the police force.
Now she found herself in the bull’s-eye of someone higher up the criminal food chain than Boucher. If the captain feared for her safety, it was possible he was in the same tenuous position. “Sir, you have to give us something more to work with, anything,” she insisted. “If I’m as close as you say, then let’s finish it.”
“I need you to leave as soon as you can,” he told her. “Don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
“Captain, you can’t be serious!” Timmins leaned in so that he was almost face-to-face. “If you know something, then tell us. Let’s get this resolved. You won’t be in the picture if that’s what you’re worried about. You can stay in the background while Hawthorne and I face the media. Bring Solberg back in if you have to.”
Boucher looked resigned. “If I can help you, Cornwall, I will.” He said this so quietly that she had to lean in to hear him clearly. “But I need you gone. You can’t stay here. The sooner the better.”
* * *
