The Perfect Murder--A Novel Read online

  Praise for Kat Martin

  “If you like your romance with a healthy dose of mystery and danger, then you’ll enjoy Martin’s latest. With plenty of suspense, plot twists and turns and the kind of fast-paced love story that will keep you on your toes, it’s exactly the kind of summer escape you’ve been craving.”

  —BookTrib on The Ultimate Betrayal

  “Martin revs the power from page one of this fast-paced romantic thriller... Fans of romantic suspense won’t be able to put this book down until the final page is turned, and Martin is likely to recruit thriller readers as well.”

  —Publishers Weekly on The Deception

  “An un-put-down-able page-turner that’s sure to satisfy fans of romance and thrillers alike.”

  —Kirkus Reviews on The Deception

  “Martin keeps the twists and turns coming in the sensuous and spirited first Maximum Security romantic thriller.... Readers will find it hard to wait for the next book in this tantalizing series.”

  —Publishers Weekly on The Conspiracy

  “Kat Martin is a fast gun when it comes to storytelling, and I love her books.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller

  “[Kat] Martin is a terrific storyteller.”

  —Booklist

  “It doesn’t matter what Martin’s characters are up against—she dishes up romantic suspense, sizzling sex and international intrigue.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Suspenseful, emotion-packed page-turner... This nonstop, high-stakes adventure stands on its own.”

  —Library Journal, starred review, on Against the Edge

  Also available from Kat Martin

  Maximum Security

  The Ultimate Betrayal

  The Deception

  The Conspiracy

  Maximum Security novellas

  Come Midnight

  Before Nightfall

  Shadows at Dawn

  Wait Until Dark

  The Raines of Wind Canyon

  Against the Mark

  Against the Edge

  Against the Odds

  Against the Sun

  Against the Night

  Against the Storm

  Against the Law

  Against the Fire

  Against the Wind

  Season of Strangers

  Scent of Roses

  The Summit

  For a complete list of books by Kat Martin,

  visit her website, www.katmartin.com.

  KAT MARTIN

  THE PERFECT MURDER

  Kat Martin is the New York Times bestselling author of more than sixty romantic suspense, historical romance and contemporary romance novels. To date she has over seventeen million copies of her books in print in twenty countries, including Germany, Sweden, France, Russia, Spain, Japan, Argentina, Poland and Greece. Kat and her husband, author L. J. Martin, live on their small ranch outside Missoula, Montana, and spend winters at their beach house in California.

  www.KatMartin.com

  To my husband, Larry, for his years of love and friendship.

  Here’s to sharing many more.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Epilogue

  ONE

  Galveston, Texas

  The last day of July

  Seconds after the chopper lifted off the pad, Reese felt the odd vibration. Along with the pilot and copilot and five members of the crew, the Eurocopter EC135 was headed for the Poseidon offshore drilling platform.

  For a moment, the ride leveled out and Reese relaxed against his seat. As CEO of Garrett Resources, the billion-dollar oil and gas company he owned with his brothers, he was always searching for the right investment to expand company holdings, the reason he was flying out to the platform.

  For months he’d been working with Sea Titan Drilling, the owner of the offshore rig, to complete the five-hundred-million-dollar purchase—an extremely good value when the average price of a similar rig was around six-fifty.

  The vibration returned and with it came a grinding noise that put Reese on alert. The men in the cabin began to glance back and forth and shift nervously in their seats. A sharp jolt, then the chopper seemed to fall out of the sky. It climbed again, began to dip and sway, dropped then climbed as the pilot fought for control.

  The pilot’s deep voice rumbled through the headset. “We’ve got a problem. I don’t want you to panic, but we need to find a place to set down.”

  There was definitely a problem, Reese realized, as the vibration continued to worsen. The chopper was out of control and the whole cabin was shaking as if it would break apart at any minute. His pulse was hammering, his adrenaline pumping.

  Along with the men in the crew who rode to and from the rig every few weeks, he stared out the window toward the ground. They were no longer above the heliport. Clearly the pilot was looking for an open space big enough to handle the thirty-six-foot blade span. All Reese could see were the rooftops of nearby warehouses and metal commercial buildings.

  The chopper kept shaking. The crew was grim-faced but resigned. The pilot did something to take the pitch out of the rotors, and the chopper started falling.

  “No need to worry,” the pilot reassured them. “We’ll autorotate down. I’ve done it a dozen times.”

  Autorotate down. Reese knew the concept, the technique helicopter pilots used to land when the engine failed. The trick was to find a safe place to hit the ground.

  Both engines went silent. The blades were flat now, the wind whistling through them, tying his stomach into a knot.

  “Brace for impact,” the pilot said. Below them, Reese spotted an open flat slab of asphalt in the yard of a small trucking firm—the only possible landing site anywhere around. Trouble was it didn’t look wide enough to handle the blades.

  At the last second, the pilot flared the helicopter’s engine in an effort to slow the descent, then the ground rushed up and the chopper hit with a jolt that racked Reese’s whole body.

  For an instant, he thought they were going to make it. Then one of the spinning rotor blades clipped the corner of a buil
ding and tore free. The Plexiglas bubble of the cockpit shattered as the long metal blades exploded into a hundred deadly pieces, careening like knives through the air, slicing into buildings and the cabin of the helicopter.

  Reese didn’t feel the impact. One moment he was conscious, then the world suddenly went black.

  Seconds later, he awoke to urgent cries in the cabin, which was filled with smoke and the orange-and-red flicker of flames. The guy seated across from him had a piece of iron sticking out of the middle of his forehead, lines of blood running down his face. Blank eyes stared at nothing.

  Cursing, his head throbbing, Reese popped his seat belt and tried to get up, but his body refused to cooperate. His vison blurred, his mind went blank, and again darkness descended.

  * * *

  Something stirred in his consciousness.

  When Reese opened his eyes, monitors beeped next to his bedside and he realized he was lying in a hospital room. He had no idea how much time had passed since the crash, but by the end of the day, he knew the pilot and one of the Poseidon crewmen had died. He remembered the man’s blank stare and thought how it could have been him.

  What had happened? No one seemed to know. Reese wanted answers. The National Transportation Safety Board would be in charge of the investigation. He would leave it to them, he thought. For now.

  Reese closed his eyes and let the pain meds suck him under.

  TWO

  Four weeks later

  Dallas, Texas

  For McKenzie Haines, her day as executive assistant to Reese Garrett started as usual. After a few minutes spent with her own assistant, Louise Dennison, an older woman with short, iron gray hair, Kenzie began her early-morning briefing with Reese to go over his daily schedule and discuss what he needed from her.

  Seated across the desk from the CEO of Garrett Resources in his spacious office, she waited as he finished an unexpected phone call. With his wavy jet-black hair and amazing blue eyes, Reese was one of the best-looking men Kenzie had ever seen. Keenly intelligent and highly successful, he was a combination of virile masculinity and brooding reserve that attracted women of every age, shape, and size.

  She could still see the faint scar on the side of his head near his temple from the helicopter crash that had killed two men and put Reese in the hospital.

  At the time of the accident, Kenzie had worked for the company only five months, but in that time, she had come to admire and respect her employer. She could still recall the sharp stab of fear when his brother Chase had phoned to inform her of the accident.

  Three days later, Reese was back at his desk, running the company with the iron control he was known for. Unfortunately, even now, four weeks after the incident, NTSB investigators remained unable to pinpoint the cause of the crash.

  Reese’s phone call ended and his dark head came up, his intense blue eyes locking on her face. No matter how she worked to ignore it, Kenzie always felt the impact.

  “Where were we?” he asked.

  “You wanted me to reschedule your visit to the offshore platform.”

  “Yes. I’ve put it off too long already.”

  “I probably shouldn’t say this, but after what happened, I don’t blame you.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Maybe not, but I want this deal done. We’ve been working on it for months. We need to finish our due diligence and make it end.”

  “Yes, sir. Would you like me to go with you?” Traveling with Reese when he needed her assistance was part of her job, though he hadn’t asked her to go with him the day of the crash, thank God.

  One of his rare smiles appeared. “You want to hold my hand in case I get scared in the chopper?”

  Kenzie laughed, a little embarrassed he had hit so close to the truth. She liked him, admired him. He could have died that day. “I just thought you might need me.”

  Reese shook his head. “Not this time. I won’t be discussing business while I’m out there. I just want to get a feel for the way things operate out on the rig.”

  She nodded, not surprised since he had said something similar before. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  As she looked down at his calendar on her iPad, thinking of what she would need to rearrange, a soft knock sounded at the door. The knob turned and Louise stood in the opening.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the police are on the phone. They’re looking for Kenzie. Apparently it’s some kind of an emergency.”

  Kenzie shot up from the chair in front of Reese’s polished dark walnut desk.

  “Put the call through on my line, Louise,” Reese said before she had taken a step. “She can talk to them in here.”

  “Yes, sir.” As the older woman backed out of the room, Kenzie’s pulse began to pound. The police were calling. What could have happened? She prayed it wasn’t Griff, her nine-year-old son. Or, dear God, maybe it was Gran.

  Her long dark hair swung forward as she leaned over to pick up the phone. “Hello...this is McKenzie Haines?”

  “Ms. Haines, this is Sergeant Bothwell, Dallas Police Department. I’m afraid there’s been an accident involving your son.”

  Kenzie’s fingers tightened around the receiver. “Is he... Is Griff all right?”

  “He’s been taken to Baylor Medical at Uptown, ma’am. That’s all I know.”

  Kenzie swallowed. “Baylor. Thank...thank you for calling.” Desperate to get to the hospital, she started to hang up, but Reese grabbed the phone out of her hand.

  “This is Reese Garrett. I work with Ms. Haines. Can you tell us what happened to the boy?”

  She couldn’t hear what Sergeant Bothwell said but Reese’s expression looked grim. She was trembling by the time he set the phone back down in the cradle.

  “What did he say?”

  “Griff was riding his bicycle in front of the house. He swerved to dodge a car, fell off, and hit his head. The babysitter called an ambulance.”

  Suddenly light-headed, she swayed on her feet, gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself. “What was he doing in the street? He’s not supposed to be riding out front by himself. Tammy Stevens was watching him while my grandmother went to her doctor’s appointment. Oh, God.”

  “Take it easy. You’ll know more when you get to the hospital. Come on, I’ll drive you.” Before she could object, he called down to the garage to have his car brought up.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can drive myself.”

  “You’re in no shape to drive. Get your purse and let’s go.”

  Since he was right, she didn’t argue, though she was surprised he had offered. Reese was her employer, CEO of the company. They didn’t really know each other on a personal level.

  Somehow she managed to walk out of his office on legs that felt weak and unsteady. Louise’s desk sat in the open area out front, Kenzie’s desk and credenza in a spacious, more private location closer to Reese’s impressive executive office.

  He paused at Louise’s desk. “Kenzie’s son was in an accident. He’s been taken to the emergency room at Baylor. I’m driving her to the hospital. If you need me, call my cell.”

  “Yes, sir.” She turned to Kenzie. “Let me know what you find out about Griff, okay? I’ll worry till I know he’s all right.”

  Kenzie nodded, her stomach clenched tight with nerves. “I will, Louise, I promise.” Hurrying over to her desk, she grabbed her handbag then continued with Reese to the private wood-paneled elevator that serviced the executive offices on the fourteenth floor of the building in the nineteen-hundred block of North Akard.

  The elevator descended, then the doors opened in the underground parking garage behind the valet stand. A shiny black Jaguar idled in front, the air conditioner running, the September temperatures still uncomfortably high.

  Reese walked her around to the passenger side of the car and open
ed the door, waited while she settled herself in the sporty, red-trimmed, black leather seats. Tugging down the navy blue pencil skirt she was wearing with a matching jacket and heels, she pushed her dark hair out of her face.

  “Put your belt on,” Reese commanded as he slid behind the wheel and put the car in gear. He was the kind of man who was always in charge, always in control, yet somehow he seemed more efficient than overbearing. Working with him had been exhilarating, challenging, and exhausting. It was a job she truly loved.

  Her heart was still racing as he drove the Jag out of the parking garage. The brakes slammed the instant they pulled into the street, and Reese softly cursed.

  Dozens of people carrying signs and banners rushed up to surround the car. SOS, Save Our Shores. Stop Deep Sea Oil. No Drill No Spill.

  “Son of a bitch.” Reese eased the car out into the street, nudging protesters aside, the vehicle crawling along when it was clear he would rather have hit the gas and charged forward. There weren’t more than a couple of dozen, most of them young, in their twenties or early thirties, wearing everything from purple hair and nose rings to Bozo the Clown masks.

  “I’m sorry, Kenzie,” Reese said. “I knew there’d been some trouble at the Houston office, but this is the first time we’ve had protests here.”

  She’d known about the recent protests to halt more drilling in the Gulf. She hadn’t realized they had expanded as far as Dallas. The odd thing was, the deal to buy the platform had been in progress for months and the rig had been producing oil for years.

  She looked at the jeering crowd blocking their way and fear for her son intensified. Griff needed her. She had to reach him.

  “Don’t worry, they aren’t going to stop us from getting there,” Reese said, reading her mind.

  He increased his speed, the Jag’s powerful engine purring, the vehicle forcing the crowd to separate and really pissing them off. Though the windows were up and the air conditioner was running, she could hear the foul things they were saying about Garrett Resources, some specifically aimed at Reese as head of the company.