by Lisa Jackson
That faint smile again. Hale examined her smooth cheeks, blue eyes, the auburn hair pulled upward into a messy bun of sorts that looked, well, sexy. A woman in a uniform, so to speak. Who knew?
“What?” she asked, noticing his expression, which he realized had grown a bit wistful.
“I was just thinking about Kristina.” Wishing, once again, that she was more certain of herself, more in control, he thought.
“You’re going to make great parents,” she said, and he wondered if the words sounded as hollow to her ears as they did to his. With that she flipped open the small notepad, which he hadn’t noticed she was carrying, and detached the pen she’d clipped on to it.
She started asking him the same questions as another member of the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department had asked him months earlier, at the time of the murders. Then, he’d been so stunned by the Donatellas’ deaths that he couldn’t recall his answers as soon as they were uttered; he didn’t know what he’d said. He’d felt like a blathering idiot.
But he sure recognized the same questions now: Where were you at the time of their deaths? What was the tenor of your working relationship? Were you aware of any enemies they might have had?
He answered that he’d been home the night the murders took place. The lawsuits had been at full boil at the time, and there were people mad at both the Bancrofts and the Donatellas, but he did not believe they were mad enough to actually execute Marcus and Chandra. Personally, he and Kristina had been good friends with them.
“When was the last time you saw them?” Savvy asked.
“I saw Marcus that day . . . the day they were killed,” he said soberly. “Chandra the Saturday before. The four of us had gotten together for dinner at our house to bond, I guess you could say. Not just because of the lawsuits, but seeing all those properties condemned . . . We were going through hell. Our engineer, Owen DeWitt, was practically drinking himself to death, and Marcus and I were trying to figure out what to do next. Kristina didn’t even want to talk about it. She was sick about the Donatellas’ house in particular. She loved it.”
“I remember her mentioning it,” Savvy said.
“Chandra felt the same. We were all . . . glum.”
“On that last day, the next Friday, when you saw Marcus?” she prompted.
“We all met at their house. It wasn’t in immediate danger of structural problems. It still isn’t, actually. But the owners had abandoned the surrounding houses, which we hadn’t purchased from them yet, so it was a ghost town.”
“Who’s ‘we?’ ”
“Declan and I met with Marcus. We tried to come up with a plan, but nothing concrete was decided upon. When Declan and I left, Marcus was still at the house.”
Hale wasn’t telling Savannah anything new, but she was writing notes to herself, and he supposed it always helped to have a fresh look.
“He didn’t mention anything about meeting his wife there later that night?”
“No.” He gazed at her directly. “I understand you rousted a vagrant out of one of the homes yesterday.”
She seemed surprised by his information. “Did Detective Clausen call you?”
“Stone. He wanted to know if we had any information on what happened to Marcus’s office girl, Hillary, and he told me that you and Clausen got some guy out of the Pemberton house before he could start a fire.”
“Do the Pembertons still own the house?”
“It reverted to Bancroft Development. The Pembertons sold it to us, and they stayed out of the lawsuit. The dune’s been temporarily stabilized, and we’re looking for a long-term solution for the houses that remain.” He lifted his shoulders. “We’ll see.”
“You think that’s a serious possibility?”
“Maybe. Hopefully.” He hesitated, then admitted, “It’s a long shot.”
“Do you have an updated list of home owners that are suing you?” She moved around in her seat a bit and said, “Braxton Hicks contractions,” to Hale’s questioning look. “They’re going away now.”
He turned to the filing cabinets that lined the east wall. “There’s a ton of paperwork here. You want a copy of something, Ella will get it for you. What did you say to her that shook her up, by the way?”
“I asked her about Hillary Enders after Detective Stone already had. She and Hillary are apparently friends, and Detective Stone is following up on that angle, but when I saw the name Blessert on her desk nameplate, I mentioned Hillary and said I wanted to talk to her after our meeting. I think she feels double-teamed.”
“Maybe it’ll give her something else to think about and get her to stop overcaring,” he said dryly. He told her the story of the lavender umbrella, and Savvy, who’d seemed awfully tense, relaxed a bit. “Shouldn’t you be giving this up soon?” he asked, nodding toward her protruding belly.
“That’s the song everyone’s singing,” she said, expelling a breath.
“Don’t like being the alien?”
“I just want to make some progress on this investigation before I go on maternity leave.”
She was being so formal with him. So official. A far cry from the Savvy of last night, even. “What’s going to happen after the baby’s here?” he asked her. “Have you and Kristina talked about it? Because I haven’t got a clue. Are you . . . just turning the baby over at the hospital? Or are you . . . breast-feeding?” he asked, feeling uncomfortable even asking, but hell, Kristina wasn’t telling him anything and he had a right to know.
“We haven’t talked about it,” she admitted, dropping eye contact. “I’m not sure what Kristina wants.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not sure about that, either.” She looked up briefly, then back down at her notes. “What do you want?”
“I guess none of us have a clue.”
A long silence passed; neither of them seemed to know what to say. Eventually, Savvy drew a breath and said, “I think I’ll look through those files now. . . .”
Hale showed her which drawers held the files that pertained to Bancroft Bluff, and then he left the office, feeling slightly disturbed. He was going to have to pin Kristina down and soon. She clearly wasn’t going to come to him, so he was going to have to go to her.
He returned a few moments later with two bottles of water. Savvy had several files spread out on the small conference table in the corner and was examining the newest papers on the lawsuit. Technically, without a court order, the company didn’t have to show her anything more than what they’d already given, but Bancroft Development had nothing to hide, and Hale wanted to find Marcus and Chandra’s killer as much as anyone, and, well, Savvy was his sister-in-law and was pregnant with his baby.
“Thanks,” she said when he handed her the water.
“Think any of this is going to really help?” he asked, gesturing to the spread-out papers.
“I hope so.”
“You want those photocopies?”
“That would be great, actually.”
He walked to the door and called, “Sylvie?”
“She’s on a break,” Ella said.
“I actually wanted you, anyway. Can you start on some photocopies for me?”
“Sure, Mr. St. Cloud.”
“Hale.” He gestured for her to enter the office, and when she spied Savannah, she stopped in the doorway. “It’s the Bancroft Bluff files.”
“All of them?” She looked taken aback.
“Just these last few months’ worth,” Savvy told her.
“Okay . . . ,” Ella replied.
“I understand you talked to Detective Stone today,” Savvy added.
“He wanted information on Hillary, too,” Ella said quickly. “I gave him her address.” Ella grabbed up the files that Savannah handed to her and scurried out.
“I am really scary,” Savannah said.
“You are,” Hale agreed lazily.
She suddenly smiled at him. Really smiled. His breath caught for a moment, and then there was a rap on
his door. Hale opened it to find his grandfather standing just outside, leaning on an ebony-handled cane.
“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping into the office. His white hair had lifted in tufts, and he looked surprisingly disheveled, not his usual immaculate self.
“Savannah’s here, working the Donatella murders. I told you.”
Declan’s bushy gray eyebrows slammed together. “You’re about to have my great-grandson, miss. What in God’s name are you doing investigating Hale?”
“I’m not really investigating Hale—” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“You should be making plans to have this baby. That’s what you should be doing.” Declan shuffled around and looked out the door, asking querulously, “Where’s Sylvie?” Then, “Oh ho!”
Hale took two steps to the door. He peered out to see what had captured his grandfather’s attention just as his wife’s voice demanded, “Where is everybody?”
Kristina was just cresting the top step and was in the process of folding up an umbrella and shrugging out of her coat. She added them to the clothes tree by the reception area and gazed expectantly at Hale.
“Ella’s in the copy room, and Sylvie’s on break. Savvy’s here,” Hale said.
Kristina was marching toward his door, but his words caused her to stop short. “Here?”
“I told her she should quit this nonsense,” Declan declared. “Time to start thinking about the baby.”
Kristina headed forward again. As she entered the office and moved past Declan, who stood just inside the door, she demanded, “What nonsense?”
“My job,” Savannah said.
Hale waited until everyone was inside before closing the door. Declan worked his way to one of the visitor’s chairs, and Kristina moved to the table where Savannah was closing the files that Ella hadn’t taken to the copy room.
Hale was wondering what in the hell had brought his wife to Bancroft Development. Once upon a time Kristina might have been interested in what he did for a living, but those days were long gone. Now he had no idea what she did with her time, and he almost didn’t want to ask.
Do you believe in sorcery?
“Your job?” Kristina repeated.
“Working the Donatella homicides,” Savvy said. “Getting some background.”
“Didn’t you already do that? Has something happened?” Kristina quizzed.
“We’ve been through this already.” Declan waved a dismissive hand.
“And yet the killer hasn’t been found,” Hale said mildly. “We want to do everything we can to help the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department catch them,” he said for his grandfather’s benefit.
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Kristina said with a shudder. “We’re having a baby. That’s what we should concentrate on.”
“You are right, honey,” Declan agreed. “That’s what’s important. My great-grandson and my grandsons. That’s what matters. That’s what counts.”
“Grandson,” Hale reminded. “I’m your only one.”
“What did I say?” Declan asked.
“Leave him alone, Hale,” Kristina admonished, turning to Savannah, who was heading toward the door. “Are you finished?”
“When Ella brings me the photocopies,” Savvy responded.
Hale beat Savannah to the door and pulled it open again. Ella was just returning from the copy room, and Sylvie, back from her break, had reached the top step.
“Here you go,” Ella said as she handed Savvy the files with a challenging lift of her chin, clearly feeling Savvy’s investigation was a heinous and traitorous act.
“Wha’d I miss?” Sylvie asked.
“A Bancroft family reunion,” Hale said dryly.
“Your mother isn’t here,” Declan said.
“Janet lives in Philadelphia and probably wouldn’t show, anyway,” Kristina answered for him.
Hale didn’t feel like talking about his mother, who had divorced his father when Hale was eighteen, and had moved away. Preston St. Cloud’s health had failed following the divorce, and he’d slowly declined until his death. End of story.
At the mezzanine Savannah suddenly stiffened and leaned forward a bit, dropping a hand to her belly.
“What is it?” Hale demanded.
“More Braxton Hicks. I’ve been having them on and off for weeks,” she said.
“False labor,” Kristina called from inside the office.
“Yes . . .” After a moment, Savannah collected herself and said, “I’m heading to Portland next to check with your office there. I understand some of your employees used to work here in Seaside.”
“A number of them,” Hale agreed.
“You can’t go to Portland,” Kristina declared, coming to stand in the office doorway. “You’re . . .”
“Pregnant. I know.” Savannah nodded. “It’ll just be a day trip. Can you give me a list of the people who were working in Seaside at the time of the homicides?”
“Sure.” Hale didn’t like the idea of Savannah heading to Portland, either, though there was no real reason to feel that way. Yes, the weather wasn’t great, but a lot of storms swept through the mountains in the winter, and everyone who lived at the coast and had business in the valley learned to deal with it. “Clark Russo is the manager of the Portland office. Everything got kind of shaken up when the lawsuits started, and he moved over. Then, after the Donatellas were killed, we all kind of . . . made changes.”
Sylvie said, “I suggested Clark for Portland.”
“It was a good choice,” Hale added. “We needed someone who could really take the reins, and that was Clark. Besides, he wanted to go.”
“He got spooked,” Declan said, his tone disparaging.
“Anyone else?” Savannah asked.
Hale nodded. “The project manager. Neil Vledich. Russo’s in the office, while Vledich is our on-site manager.” He thought about things and said, “Our bookkeeper quit and moved to Portland, Nadine Gretz. Ella took over her job here. Nadine’s no longer with us, but she was integral to the company.”
Ella piped up. “We have some construction guys who move back and forth. They’re like temporary employees.”
“I’d like their names, too,” Savvy said.
“And there’s Sean Ingles. He’s our architect,” Sylvie said. “He works out of his home, and he’s not exclusive to Bancroft Development, but he designed most of the houses at the bluff.”
“Can you alert Mr. Russo that I’m coming tomorrow?” Savannah asked.
Kristina sighed. “Can’t you put it off? Or let someone else go?”
Savvy met Hale’s eyes, and though she was careful not to reveal her thoughts, he was pretty sure she was silently thinking, See what I mean?
“You might as well talk to DeWitt, too,” Declan said with a snort. “He’s the nincompoop who okayed building on the bluff in the first place. Cost us a fortune! Should be criminal charges against him.”
“DeWitt lives in the Portland area,” Hale allowed. “As I said, he was the project engineer. We let him go after the problems with Bancroft Bluff surfaced.”
“Fired his ass,” Declan said. Then his neck turned red with embarrassment. Hale knew his grandfather was old school enough not to want to swear in front of the women. Which just went to show you how deep-down furious he was with DeWitt. Not that Hale was happy with the man, but it was all water under the bridge now.
“Are we good here, then?” Hale asked Savannah, who nodded and thanked him again. Sylvie returned to her office, and Ella to her desk, and Declan, after a moment, said he was going to get his things from his office before heading toward the elevator.
When Savannah had gathered her jacket and was saying good-bye to Kristina, Hale retraced his steps to his office, lost in thought, and it was only when Kristina suddenly appeared in his office doorway again that he thought to ask her why she’d come.
“Can’t I stop by and just visit my husband?” she asked, moving inside.
“You never have before.”
“Well, maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. We need to be together more now, Hale. You know?”
She gazed at him somewhat anxiously, and Hale shook his head. “Because of the baby?”
“Well, of course, because of the baby. And for us, too.” She actually came around his desk and sat herself on his lap. It was so unusual that Hale just stared at her in disbelief. “Don’t look at me that way. Don’t you want to get closer?”
“Can we talk about this at home?” He glanced at the pile of papers on his desk, though his mind was still on the meeting with Savannah.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
“Kristina . . .”
“You just don’t know how to be romantic!” she declared, jumping up from his lap and stalking across the room. “I want you to sweep me off my feet. Make my knees go weak. Just undo me.”
He lifted his hands, palms up, at a complete loss. “Since when?”
“Fuck you, Hale,” she snapped, and to his shock, there were tears standing in her eyes. “I need help. We need help, and all you do is stand there and stare at me like I’m completely mad!”
“This isn’t who we are, Kristina.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“If you want something different in our relationship, I’ll sure as hell give it the old college try, but I can’t go from zero to sixty that fast.”
She shot across the room, back to him, leaning over his desk urgently. “I can. I can get hot so fast, it’s like . . . record-breaking.”
“Since when?” he wanted to ask, but said instead, “Okay . . .”
“Could you try to meet me halfway? Just try?”
“Well, tonight I’ve got a meeting with—”
“Break it. Come home. Make love to me, and let’s put some heat back in this marriage.”
Hale slowly nodded. It was the last thing he wanted, he realized, and that made him feel guilty as hell.
“I need to have sex with my husband,” she said as if she could read his thoughts.
The elevator bell dinged, and Hale heard the doors whisper open. A moment later Declan stood in the office doorway, looking a bit confused. “Can’t find my damn keys.”
