Page 15 of View from Above
“Payton, what is going on?” A rise in panic hitched her voice, and she scanned the lobby. “Am I in danger?”
“Not here. Just keep moving.” The elevator signaled its arrival, and within seconds the doors closed, sealing them inside. “I’ll tell you everything when we get you off the street. Hand over your phone.”
Hesitation ripped through her.
“Mallory, I need you to trust me.” Payton stretched out one hand in expectation.
Trust him? She hardly knew him, but in the twelve hours she’d forced him to partner with her to take a second look at her father’s investigation, he’d followed through. He was a cop, and he’d trusted her to get the answers from Angie Green he’d needed. She fished her phone from the jacket still hanging from her uninjured arm and surrendered it. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.” He thumbed the back of the phone free and tore the SIM card free. Breaking the small white card in half, he discarded it into the corner of the elevator just as the doors opened. They moved as one toward his SUV and climbed inside.
Tires protested against asphalt as he rocketed out of the parking garage and onto 9th. The mass of reporters and civilians crowded around the scene perimeter had doubled in the short amount of time he’d taken her back inside. Three jumpers. Two in one day. And less than a month between incidents. “Whoever did this is escalating.”
“Dropping two bodies in one day is fast, even for spree killers I’ve investigated.” Payton wound through small neighborhoods around the precinct then accelerated onto the I-5, his gaze continually returning to the rearview mirror. To make sure they hadn’t been followed? “That short of a cooling off period is rare. It tells me Virginia Green’s death didn’t satisfy our killer as well as they’d hoped, and they needed another quick hit. There’s no pattern. No telling when they might kill again.”
“Cooling off period?” Her pulse thudded hard behind her ears. “Wait. You think this is the work of a serial killer? That this could be related to the last three cases you helped investigate?”
“I don’t know what to think yet.” Payton tightened his grip around the steering wheel and exited the freeway. The skyscrapers disappeared behind them as large green lawns, well-kept Craftsman homes, and mature trees replaced the cement and steel she preferred.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked.
“I’m taking you to my house for the night.” The slight roughness in his voice tightened the skin along her scalp and encouraged her to forget about the pain strumming along her arm. He maneuvered the front end of the SUV into a long driveway. “And look at that, we’re already here.”
Mallory took in as much of the property as she could in the dimming evening light. White siding stretched from one side of the home to the other, even along the small covered porch with its sconce alight. Black trim around the windows and rain gutters lost their sharpness as two outdoor lights illuminated a pair of trees along what looked like a flower bed. She pushed out of the vehicle, her boots touching down on a modern layout of pavers leading to the front door. Whatever she’d imagined, it hadn’t come close to this. “Did you call my mom to make sure we could have a sleepover? I don’t even have my pajamas or a toothbrush.”
His humorless laugh almost reached his eyes that time. Almost. “Someone got to Angie Green, Mallory. They walked into one of the most heavily secured buildings in Seattle, went straight to holding, convinced a uniformed officer to let her out, and then shoved her off the roof. First your father, then a woman we can prove had an affair with him, now her daughter. I’m not taking any chances.”
“That’s fair.” She climbed the front step leading into an extravagant covered porch complete with two windows looking to the back and the south of the property, a bench and coat hooks, and a door mat greeting her in cursive. “I’m not going to have to sleep on a futon, am I?”
“No.” His shoulders slid away from his ears as though his latest check in the rearview mirror satisfied his paranoia. “Despite the stereotypical portrayal of cops and detectives on TV, I have a guest room. And if you can believe it, it’s even clean.”
He punched in a six-digit code where she’d expected a deadbolt, and the lock disengaged. Leading her inside, Payton sidestepped to give her a straight shot view from the front door to the back of the house.
Soft beige couches, black marble around the fireplace, and exposed stained wood beams beckoned her to release the tension squeezing her insides. Beautiful hardwood floors guided her through the space and into the grandest kitchen she’d ever seen. The woodblock countertops installed on a ten-foot island revealed a rustic side of the detective she would’ve sworn she’d figured out the moment they’d met while the marble running the length of the main wall broadcasted sustainability. She’d never expected all this. “I get it now. Hardened homicide detective by day. Interior designer by night.”
“This place does the job.” He dropped his keys on the nearest counter, running his gaze along the beams demanding her attention overhead. He leveraged his palms against one side of the island and accentuated hills and valleys of muscle in his shoulders and arms. “You’ll be safe here. At least for tonight. It’s just a precaution for now. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Safe. The word should’ve given her a sliver of relief after what they’d gone through today, but reality had yet to set in. Mallory pressed her lower back against one countertop, taking in this place. The feel, the smell, the detail. It was as though two different lives had converged into one man. The detached detective who obsessed over his cases and failed to care for himself, and the one who’d made an effort to protect her, to get to know her. The pieces didn’t fit, but she couldn’t deny she liked the end result. “Your theory is that Angie Green was killed because she found out about Virginia Green’s affair with my father, and that I might be next. Because I know, too.”
“As much as I hate the idea an affair is enough to murder three people, it is the one thing they have in common.” Payton moved around the end of the island toward her, hands out in surrender. “Mallory, there’s something you need to consider here. Angie Green isn’t the only one who had motive to kill your father and Virginia Green for having an affair.”
Blood drained from her face as the answer to his riddle bubbled into focus. She gripped the edge of the counter and straightened, willing to die on this hill right here, right now. “You can’t be serious.”
“It would make sense. You know that.” Payton slowed his approach. “I’m not saying she’s behind this or that she knows about the affair between our victim and your father, but if she did, I’d be a shit detective if I didn’t consider the possibility. It’s like you said, maybe she’s worried about what people might think of her, about your family. That alone is a hell of a reason to want to keep something like your father’s affair quiet.”
“My mother didn’t do this, and I’m not going to let you drag her name through the mud like you dragged Angie Green’s.” The words left her mouth more forcibly than she’d intended, but she wouldn’t take them back. The pain in her arm multiplied and reminded her she’d survived being crushed in her own vehicle from a body thrown off a rooftop. With a combustible combination of adrenaline and exhaustion and sadness, she was on the verge of breaking down completely.
“Mallory, whether you like it or not, she’s involved. Same as you.” Regret softened his voice, just as it had back at the precinct after identifying Angie Green’s body. “But I can keep her name out of the investigation, if that makes you feel better. At least until we have something proving she was involved.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. An olive branch in a situation that threatened to burn the entire grove around them. She scanned the meticulously designed space he’d turned into a literal safe haven from the outside world, not really sure what to do now. She didn’t have a change of clothes, no toiletries, or an idea where to go from here. “I appreciate that.”
“It’s been a long day. Why don’t you clean up while I get us something to eat?” He motioned her toward a long hallway branching off the living room. “You can take the bigger guest room, first door on the right down the hall. There’s a bathroom straight across from it.”
“Thank you.” She turned to follow his directions, but strong hands latched onto her waist as she moved to escape his all-too-warm gaze.
“What is that?” he asked.
Calluses scraped against oversensitive skin along her hips and notched her blood pressure higher. “What is what?”