Unfortunately,the captain was standing at the coffee station in plain view. He was making a new pot. Megan’s previous captain had never deigned to do so, but Dennis Wald had been part of the homicide division before his promotion. Fixing a fresh pot was the sign of a team player.
Megan set her purse on her desk and caught sight of her doodles about Richard Troy, Sara Simmons, and the archaeologist. Was their link to Kayla Macintyre random? Was Richard Troy a team player or a guy looking out for Numero Uno, as Rodrigo would say? And what about William Norton, who was a control freak with a deep-seated temper? Definitely not a team player.
Believing the captain might want a recap of her findings, she approached the coffee station. “Sir, I’d like to fill you in on the Macintyre case, if?—”
He whirled around, his gaze dark. In a flash, the look vanished. Who had he expected to see? Who would’ve drawn his ire? “Time?” he asked placidly. “Sure. I’ve got time.” He switched on the coffee preparations and guided Megan into his office. He pointed to a chair opposite his file-swamped desk. “Sit.”
Megan liked that Captain Wald had no diplomas and no glad-handing pictures hanging on the walls. He didn’t have plants of any kind in his office, either. In truth, the space seemed military in its austerity. He perched on the edge of an oak chair in front of his desk and motioned for Megan to take the other.
“I’m sorry about my response out there.” He hooked his thumb at the main room. “You caught me mulling over a family issue.”
Megan would never presume to pry, but she did want his full attention. “If tomorrow would be better?—”
“My mother’s sick. With my brother gone, I’m the sole caretaker, and—” He ran his finger along the rim of his desk. “What’s up?”
She filled him in on the interviews with Norton and Simmons. She followed with the conversation she’d had with the archaeologist’s son. She finished by sharing the high points of her chat with Richard Troy.
At the mention of Troy’s name, the captain’s eyes flickered. “What turned you onto him?”
Megan sighed. Dang. A simple word,Instinct, wouldn’t cut it. She was going to be late to the ball.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Leaving Trask’s house,Kayla felt as baffled as before. Was Trask innocent? If he was guilty, wouldn’t he have tried to kill her—Ashley—to erase any footprint, if that was the right term?
She merged onto Highway 101 and groaned when she saw countless vehicles glutting the freeway in both directions. She battled her way into the center lane. In her rearview mirror she noticed a light-colored Mercedes coupe two cars back. Was it the same car that had trailed her on the Golden Gate Bridge earlier? No thanks to the glare of headlights, she couldn’t make out if the coupe was silver.
She veered into the fast lane, a contradiction if ever there was one. Cars were creeping along at less than twenty miles per hour. Like a repeat performance of the chase on the bridge, minus the speed, the Mercedes followed.
Kayla cut into the lane to her right and quickly returned to the fast lane. The Mercedes copied her maneuvers. Crud!
Near the overpass, the Mercedes drew alongside. Kayla spied William Norton at the wheel and jerked. How had he located her? Had he followed her from Sausalito to Jewels of the World Academy and then to Trask’s? Spotting her on the freeway by accident would have required sheer luck. Had he installed atracking device on her car? If only she was riding her dirt bike. She could weave between the cars and make a speedy getaway.
Norton whipped his car to the left and dinged the Acura.
Kayla cursed. Sped up. Veered in front of a Subaru. The startled driver blasted her horn and raised her fist. Kayla didn’t care.
She merged onto the James Lick freeway. At the last moment as she was approaching Van Ness, she bolted down the exit-only lane.
Norton didn’t anticipate the move. He overshot the exit and screeched to a halt on the shoulder. Within seconds, he reversed and was on her tail again.
Heart tattooing her ribcage, Kayla searched for a safe haven. She spotted a gas station a few blocks up. Norton wouldn’t dare attack her with people around. She swung into the station’s lot, parked behind a van, and dashed from the car into the mini mart. When she saw Norton’s Mercedes drive past, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Someone touched her shoulder.
Kayla spun around, ready to defend herself.
Taylor Simmons clad in a stylish three-piece suit raised his arms in surrender. “Whoa. Friend not foe.” In one hand, he held a bottle of water. “I’m sorry I surprised you. Are you okay? You look upset.”
Kayla lowered her arms. “I’m fine. I thought . . . it doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?” How had he chanced upon her? Was it luck? Was she paranoid?
“I worked out at my racquet club.” His hair was damp and he smelled clean, as if he had recently showered. “Van Ness is the most direct route home. I got thirsty. Stopped here.” He waggled the bottle of water as proof. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“Another car rammed mine on the freeway.”
He gripped her arm, concern in his gaze. “Hey, maybe you need to go to emergency.”
She wriggled free. “I’m fine. The damage is minor. No whiplash.” She rotated her head to prove it.
