Person of Interest

Natalie frowned when she looked up and found him staring at her.

He retraced his steps and held out his hands. “You’re exhausted and loaded down. How ’bout I take the diaper bag and baby. You keep the gun.”

Her brow lifted, but she didn’t object as he reached for Sofia and nestled the baby against his shoulder. With his free hand, he grabbed the diaper bag.

“I’ll meet you inside.” He hurriedly climbed the steps and entered the rustic cabin. A stacked-stone fireplace sat to the right. The kitchen and eating area were on the left. A couch and two easy chairs filled the center of the room. An open door revealed a bedroom in the rear, and a second, smaller room with a crib and changer, which was where he headed.

Everett felt a swell of gratitude for his sister, who had let him help when her two little ones were infants and her husband was away on business. He laid Sofia on the changer, and, in short order, the baby was in a dry diaper and back in his arms.

Sofia cooed with contentment. He laughed at the sounds that reminded him of his nieces, then turned to find Natalie standing in the doorway of the nursery wearing a perplexed look.

“Are you married with kids?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Yet you know how to change diapers?”

“I’ve got two nieces, two years and eight months old. My sister said I was a quick study.”

“She’s right. I’m impressed.”

Sofia jammed her tiny fist in her mouth and made sucking sounds.

“The baby’s hungry.” Everett rummaged in the tote and found a bottle of formula.

“Excuse me.” He walked past Natalie into the main room where he settled into the couch.

“I’ll feed Sofia while we have that talk you wanted.” He glanced at the rifle she still held. “Can you park the weapon by the fireplace? Conversation flows better when I’m not staring at the end of a gun.”

She hesitated.

“You can trust me, Natalie.”

She shook her head and wrinkled her brow. “No, Everett, I can’t. I can’t trust anyone. Not you, not the other special agent who was with you tonight, and certainly not Mason Yates.”

“Maybe we should skip the niceties and get right to what you want to talk about.”

“I want to talk about a woman who fell down the stairs to her death in Germany the way Tammy Yates died tonight.”

Everett tensed. “Do you have a name?”

She nodded. “Paula Conway.”

“And you think Mason Yates killed both women?”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“Do you have proof?”

Her shoulders drooped. “I don’t have anything except a gut feeling, which won’t get me very far with law enforcement.”

What had this woman been through that caused her to be so distrustful? Had Mason hurt her? If so, Everett would make sure he paid for his indiscretion or abuse.

Two women dying in the same way—if what Natalie said was true—raised more than a red flag. Everett didn’t put much stock in hunches. Every person in law enforcement knew cases were solved with evidence, not subjective reactions or feelings, but something about Natalie Frazier tugged at his heart. She was nervous and afraid and appeared ready to collapse from the stress of what had happened.

“It’s okay, Natalie.” He wanted to reassure her. “I’m here to help you.”

She nodded ever so slightly, then lowered the gun to the floor and settled into a chair across from him.

His cell rang. Natalie tensed as he pulled it from his pocket. “Don’t tell anyone where you are or that I’m with you,” she warned.

He nodded. Seeing Frank’s name, he swiped the call screen to establish a connection and then raised the cell to his ear. “This is Special Agent Kohl.”

“Thanks for the tip about the apartment in Freemont. It’s leased to Denise Lang, the nanny’s roommate.”

“You checked it out?”

Everett tried to appear nonchalant as Frank continued.

“Denise works the evening shift at a local restaurant and didn’t show up tonight. The manager was worried and called the police.”

“Okay.”

“Almost simultaneously, we contacted them with questions about the nanny.”

Everett glanced at Natalie. “And?”

“And once we arrived at the apartment, we realized we’ve got even bigger problems.”

“Oh?”

“The local police found Denise Lang. She was murdered in her apartment.”

Everett groaned. “How?”

“Cause of death was a bullet to the gut.”

Everett listened as Frank told him who they suspected of committing the crime.

Disconnecting, he raised Sofia to his shoulder and leaned forward. “Tell me about Denise Lang.”

“My roommate?”

“When did you last see her?”

“Yesterday before she went to work. She waitresses at a restaurant in Freemont.”

“What about this morning?”