Kansas City Cowboy. Julie Miller
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Kilpatrick, KCPD. I’m a psychologist with the department and a public liaison officer.”
The other woman set her design book on the counter and reached over to shake Kate’s hand. “I’m Robin Carter. I own this shop.”
Dr. Kate’s steady voice and calm presence were quickly defusing both the florist’s fears and Boone’s own unthinking rudeness. “My colleague, Sheriff Harrison, here brings up a good point. For women, especially, it’s smart to vary your schedule from time to time when it comes to personal safety. I know it can be hard to close the shop at different times, but don’t work late every night, park in different locations, have someone meet you here from time to time, and so on.” Perhaps sensing that he had a dubious control over his emotions again, she pulled her hand away and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. “People with predictable routines make themselves easier targets for a mugger or rapist to ambush.”
The shopkeeper’s skin paled beneath the blush on her cheeks. “I never thought of that. I’ll make sure my entire staff knows. Thank you.”
Boone’s emotions might be in check, but that didn’t mean he was finished here. “Ms. Carter and I were just having a little chat.”
“Say, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Did Kate Kilpatrick just nudge her shoulder between him and the counter? Pushing him out of this conversation? Her move was subtle, putting a few more inches of protective distance between him and the woman he wanted to talk to. “Where were you last night? When was the last time you actually saw or talked to Miss Harrison? And was she alone?”
Fine. Questions he would have asked. As long as they got answered, he wouldn’t nudge back.
“I had to leave early in the afternoon for a doctor’s appointment.” Kate waited expectantly—a patient ploy that often made a witness nervous enough to keep on sharing information to fill the silence. The woman had interrogation skills, for sure. Robin Carter tucked a lock of coffee-colored hair behind her ear and continued. “I was at the Lyddon-Wells Clinic. I’ve been going through in vitro procedures, trying to get pregnant via a sperm donor. You know, single career woman—biological clock ticking and all that. Yesterday the doctor called me in for a pregnancy report. Janie knew it was important to me, so she volunteered to switch nights with me. I left at three-thirty, and except for any customers she might have had, she was alone.”
“Did you get the results you wanted?”
Robin hugged her arms in front of her and shook her head. “It didn’t take this time, either. He suggested I look at adopting.”
Boone didn’t pretend to know about how a woman might feel if her hopes for a pregnancy fell through. His ex had put off starting a family year after year until he finally realized that she’d put their marriage on hold, too.
But apparently, Kate understood. “I’m sorry about the baby. Do you know who Janie was seeing?”
Boone tipped his hat back on his head at the abrupt change of topic. Catching the witness off guard was another smart tactic. He’d learned all the same interrogation strategies, but Dr. Kate’s skills put his to shame today.
“No,” Robin answered. “But I think it was pretty serious.”
That was the first Boone had heard of a new man in his sister’s life. Screw keeping his distance. He leaned forward again, his chest butting into Kate’s shoulder. “Janie was in a serious relationship?”
The shopkeeper’s gaze shot back to his, and Boone let Dr. Kate shrug him into a less-threatening position again. “She stopped talking about her love life, er, who she was dating, these last few weeks. Wouldn’t go out for a drink with me after work anymore. Now that I think about it, she was secretive a lot lately. I’d interrupt a personal call and she’d quickly hang up. I invited her to bring a date to a staff party and she came alone. Left early, too.”
“You don’t have a name for this mysterious boyfriend?” Boone asked.
“I don’t remember her ever mentioning it. And if he came to the shop, I never knew about it. She didn’t treat anyone more special than her usual friendly self.” Robin pulled a tissue from the apron she wore and dabbed at the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss that smile. Sorry I can’t be more help.”
Kate reached across the counter to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “You’ve been a big help already, Robin.”
Kate might be signing off on this interview, but Boone needed more. “Do you have any idea where she would have met this guy?”
For the first time during the entire conversation, Kate tipped her face up to his and looked him straight in the eye. Reprimand noted. And ignored. He opened his mouth to follow up, but Kate beat him to the punch. “I understand what you mean about devoting all that time to your career.” He’d bet there was a kinder, gentler expression on her face when she turned back to the shopkeeper. “Other things get … overlooked.” And then she was stepping back, nodding toward the front door. “Shall we?”
Boone ignored the unspoken command to exit stage right and pulled out his wallet to hand Robin Carter a business card. “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to call me … or KCPD,” he added before Kate could correct him. He paused for a moment to tip the brim of his hat to Robin. “I’m sorry about earlier, ma’am. I’m a little upset today. But I appreciate your cooperation.”
The woman sniffed back her tears and summoned a smile, appeased by the apology he’d owed her. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Sheriff. Janie was a sunny, vivacious spirit—and so talented. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You two were good friends?” Robin nodded. “Then I’m sorry for your loss, too. I’ll send word about the arrangements for her services when I know them.”
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
Finally content to leave—for now—Boone turned to the door and gestured for Kate to precede him.
He’d barely closed the door behind them when Kate stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She crossed her arms and tilted her face to challenge him. “You’re going to scare away all our potential witnesses if you dive down their throats like that.”
“I’m sorry if I scared the lady, but she had answers we needed.”
“No, she had answers I needed. That the task force needed.”
The lady’s dander was up, all the way from the top of that honey-gold hair down to the soles of those ridiculously high, undeniably sexy heels. “Did Montgomery send you after me? I don’t think your lead detective likes me,” he asked.
Those mossy-green eyes held his for a moment before she turned and strolled up the street. “Where’s your truck?”
Boone grinned behind her. Nice dodge. He’d take that as a yes, that Spencer Montgomery had called in cool, calm and eye-catching Dr. Kate here to corral him away from the investigation. He moved into step beside her. “How do you know I drive a truck?”
“You’re a cowboy, aren’t you?”
The muscles around his mouth relaxed with an actual laugh after too many hours of being clenched tight to stop up the emotions roiling inside him. He pointed a few parking spaces farther ahead to the black, diesel-powered Ford he’d driven in from Grangeport. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I could tell that those boots weren’t just for show.”
Boone glanced down at the brown leather that was scuffed and broken in, and, okay, maybe tinged with a bit of the aroma that had driven his ex-wife off the ranch and out of his life. Although Boone hated to think of anyone as a stereotype, he supposed the Stetson and boots and badge stated exactly who he was, inside and out.
He wondered if the sophisticated facade and cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor said who Kate Kilpatrick was on the inside, as well.
Any curiosity about the pretty