Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

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    “Hey,” Kate said, coming up behind Sam as he hunched over his computer, clicking through Sizemore Security Consulting personnel files. She sank her thumbs into the knotted muscles of his shoulders and leaned in, trying to loosen him up. “You can’t do it all at once.”
    “I’m missing something. I have to be.”
    “Why?”
    He let out a long sigh and spun the office chair around so quickly that they bumped knees.
    “You haven’t said a word about Sizemore since we left Kennedy’s office,” Sam pointed out. “What’s wrong?”
    She looked at Sam’s haunted blue eyes and heavy beard shadow, the weapon harness worn over a wilted T-shirt, jeans tight over his strong thighs. She wondered what would happen after the case was closed, how much she would miss the man who had become such an important part of her personal landscape.
    “Why do you think I haven’t said anything?” she countered.
    “Same reason I think I’m missing something. Neither of us feels as good as we thought we would about Sizemore taking the fall.”
    Slowly, she nodded. “You know him better than I do. If he was guilty, wouldn’t he be more likely to bluster and shout?”
    “Instead of crying?”
    “Yes.”
    Sam stood and prowled the workroom barefoot. Light gleamed and slid over the weapon harness with each stride. He was like an animal pacing the walls of a cage.
    Her dark eyes followed him, wanting to help, to hold.
    “That surprised me,” he admitted finally. “I was expecting fists and boots and curses. But he looked…” Sam shook his head, not knowing how to say it.
    “Bewildered,” Kate said.
    “Yeah.” Sam swiped a hand through his short hair, leaving a wake of dark spikes. “Jesus. What if I’m wrong? I don’t want to ruin the man’s life just because he’s a prick.”
    “If we’re wrong, the jury will let him go.”
    Sam made a sound that was too harsh to be laughter. He spun around and looked at the woman who filled out her blue blouse and jeans the way a woman should. Her dark eyes were serious, her hair an unruly cloud around her intent face. The intelligence and emotion in her made him want to pull her close and hold on until everything else went away.
    But everything wouldn’t go away. It never did.
    “Do you really believe that good-guys-always-win shit?” he asked.
    “No. But I’d like to.”
    He smiled thinly. “So would I, but I can’t, so I settle for not being one of the bad guys. And that’s how I’m feeling now, like a bad guy.”
    “What have you come up with so far?” she asked, gesturing toward the computer.
    “Sizemore Security isn’t doing real well. The whole family had to take a salary hit this year.”
    “All the more reason for him to do something crooked.”
    “Yeah.” Sam frowned.
    “Drop the other shoe.”
    “I’m no forensic accountant.”
    “I’ve noticed. Yum.”
    He gave her a surprised look, saw the humor and female approval in her smile, and couldn’t help grinning at her. Then he looked back down at the computer screen.
    “Nothing I see here is out of line for Sizemore’s income from salary and retirement,” he said. “If anything, he’s pretty modest about what he spends.”
    “What about Jason?”
    “You think he’d kill his brother’s lover?” Sam asked.
    Kate closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t think anyone set out to kill Lee. I think it just, well, happened.”
    “Murder two instead of murder one?”
    “Whatever. If I’m right, then personal motives are irrelevant. Other than greed, of course, or whatever it is that drives a crook.”
    “All kinds of things do,” Sam said, “but I get your point. Motive in this case isn’t as important as means and opportunity.”
    “Right. Jase could have given the information to someone accidentally or intentionally. If it was an accident, well, that’s not much help. If it was intentional, then the money has to come to him somehow. Same for anybody else in the company.”
    “That’s just it,” Sam said. “If it came in through the company books, I can’t find it.”
    “What about their private accounts?”
    “Same old same old. Sonny, Sharon, and Sizemore all live well within their means. Sonny never went into the military. Sharon didn’t have any special-ops contacts.”
    “What if someone else had access to the company computer code so they could see ‘secure’ information?”
    “The two most likely—Jason and Ms. Tibble of accounting—aren’t in hock and don’t