by Joanne Rock
A chill raced up Vaughn’s spine.
The thought of Abby being mixed up with guys like that scared the hell out of him. And made him more determined than ever to stick close to her until they figured out where Rich and Jason had disappeared.
“Tonight Abigail will be at the hospital gala with me, unveiling her new statue for the children’s ward.” He wanted to suggest another day to interview her since Vaughn wanted tonight to be special for her. She deserved the time to enjoy having the spotlight on her work.
“Cole already knows and plans to be there. I’m only calling to give you a heads-up since I got the impression the two of you are close.”
Hell. He was more transparent than he knew when it came to Abigail.
“I appreciate that.” Vaughn grabbed his keys, in a new hurry to get to the gala. He didn’t want Abigail to face another round of questions alone. “Cole is a good guy but he can be...intimidating to those who don’t know him.”
Will gave a dry laugh. “Let’s hope so. I need him to cut through the red tape and figure out where that bastard Rich went. I feel certain that Jason isn’t to blame for any of this, but then again, who knows.” He sounded frustrated. Angry. “We need to locate him.”
“Thanks for the call, Will.”
“I figured you’d want to be with her,” he said simply before disconnecting.
As Vaughn slid into the driver’s seat of the Mercedes coup he liked to use for work, he wondered how Will Sanders had deduced the truth that he had battled for over a week to deny.
He might have every reason in the world not to pursue this relationship with Abigail. But the plain truth of the matter was, he wanted to be with her. And he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
* * *
Scanning Royal Memorial’s rooftop garden for any sign of Vaughn, Abigail declined a second offer of champagne from a passing waiter. Since the summer gala was a fund-raiser in addition to an unveiling for her statue, the event planner had spared no expense to make it elegant. Abigail had nearly fallen over when she heard what the tickets to the event cost, but then, the function raised money for much-needed hospital equipment and programs.
White lights had been strung from the trees, creating a fairy canopy overhead. Chamber musicians played for the cocktail hour, which was currently in progress, but she’d heard a popular country band would take the stage afterward to kick off the dancing. Tall sunflowers swayed in the breeze from discreetly placed fans to keep the place cool while the sun set. Even the sky had cooperated for the gala, turning the clouds bright pink and purple.
She longed for her sketchbook and a place to draw, needing to capture this beautiful night in her memory. The unveiling of the statue was a moment that belonged to Alannah as much as Abigail, since she’d dedicated the project to her sister’s love of nature. Alannah would love the “Secret Garden” theme of the party, with white tapers flickering in the breeze on a display table of cut flowers that labeled all the blooms taken from the surrounding garden. The floral arrangements ranged from natural wildflower bouquets to more exotic and artful groupings.
The scent of jasmine hung heavy in the air, the profuse blooms lining the railings around the rooftop. The greeters at the door downstairs had given all the women gardenia blooms to wear as wrist corsages, another fragrant note so rich and decadent Abigail wanted to fill her studio with them. Although, not as much as she wanted to see Vaughn tonight.
She plucked a glass of sparkling water with lemon from a tray near the bar, grateful for the nonalcoholic drink options in easy reach. Sipping from the commemorative glass with an etched rose, she scanned the sea of tuxedos while discreetly tugging at her dress hem. She hadn’t expected the addition of a baby bump to make finding clothing so awkward. The burgundy-colored dress she’d borrowed from an online rental store was appropriately elegant and a designer she’d never be able to afford outright. But the swell of baby made the dress ride up her hips, where it was snug. Thankfully, a layer of tulle over the sleek satin sheathe still kept her figure a mystery. The dress made the most of her legs and the more curvy breasts that came with pregnancy.
“Abigail Stewart?” One of the tuxedo-wearing guests stepped out of the line at the bar to stalk toward her.
Unfortunately, he was not the handsome doctor she sought.
This man had dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes, his strong shoulders and athletic build the kind of physique she’d seen on local ranchers. There was something about their gait, perhaps. The way they carried themselves.
“Yes?” She set aside her water glass to introduce herself, thinking the stranger might be someone interested in the statue. She’d already fielded a few questions about her work. “I’m Abigail.”
“Cole Sullivan.” He thrust his hand toward her, his blue eyes fixing on her. “I’m a private investigator retained by Will Sanders.”
She stiffened at the name, even as she told herself the real Will Sanders was a perfectly nice man. A man who’d been cruelly impersonated and swindled by a former friend.
“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, wondering how she could have misread a private eye for a rancher.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions if you have a minute?”
She hesitated, not wanting to ruin her big night with a bout of nerves.
“I’ll be sure you don’t miss your entrance for the statue unveiling,” Cole assured her.
Anxiety fluttered through her. She really needed to help him. To protect her child’s future, she was invested in finding Rich Lowell and holding him accountable for everything he’d done. But she regretted the timing for this interview during an important night for her career.
Before she could respond, Vaughn separated himself from the crowd, reaching her side with three long strides. A bolt of relief—and the ever-present desire—shot through her to see him. He looked incredible in his perfectly fitted tuxedo and—more surprisingly—a clean-shaven face that revealed a slight scar along the bottom of his chin that gave his handsome face character. And made her want to kiss him right there.
“You look beautiful, Abigail,” he murmured, sliding a possessive arm around her waist and drawing her against his side. Then he turned his attention to the private investigator. “Cole Sullivan, it’s been a long time.” He shook the man’s hand and the two men exchanged pleasantries.
Cole was a member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, apparently, and a local rancher who worked part-time for the Walsh Group. The former Texas Ranger handled the security firm’s most challenging cases.
All of which she gleaned in the rapid back-and-forth between the men before Cole repeated his original request.
“I’d like to speak to Ms. Stewart for a few minutes, Vaughn.” The PI’s gaze returned to her. “I believe she was just about to agree to that.”
Anxiety spiked again. No doubt about it, Cole Sullivan made her nervous. Or maybe it was simply the thought of revisiting that night at the Ace in the Hole and the fight she’d seen there. Knowing how close she might have come to real danger was scary.
“May I join you?” Vaughn turned toward her, the question directed toward her and not Cole.
Vaughn’s green eyes searched hers, warming her insides and soothing some of the jitters she’d been feeling.
“I would appreciate that.” She’d like his company, his touch, his presence in her life a whole lot more than he would ever know.
But for right now, she was just grateful she wouldn’t be facing more questioning alone.
“Fair enough.” Cole nodded his satisfaction with the plan. “Where can we speak privately? This isn’t a conversation I want anyone else to overhear.”
Ten
Vaughn glanced back at Abigail as they left the rooftop garden with Cole, descending the stairs that led toward his office, where they could speak privately.
She looked inc
redible. The mass of dark hair was gathered at the nape of her neck, the glossy curls spilling down the center of her back. Her scarlet-colored cocktail gown had a floaty fabric around it that gave her the look of an ethereal creature, like one of the winged fairies he’d seen her carve in hidden nooks in the sculpture she’d made.
More than that, she glowed. He’d heard that about pregnant women, but had never noticed it with his own eyes the way he could see it in Abigail. Her skin had the dewy appearance that women tried to recreate with makeup, her cheeks pink with good health. When Vaughn had first seen her at the party he’d done a double take. Not that she was more beautiful in extravagant clothing, because he thought she was perfect in the tennis shoes and T-shirts she favored for work. But seeing her tonight was like discovering a new side of her, another fascinating facet to a woman who intrigued him at every turn.
“Thank you for joining us.” She said the words softly as he led her and Cole Sullivan out of the stairwell and into the corridor that led to his office. “I feel better having you here with me.”
With Cole a few steps behind her, checking messages on his phone, she probably thought their conversation was private enough. Although Vaughn would lay money Cole didn’t miss much.
“I’m hoping to wrangle a dance out of you in return.” He wanted to spend every minute of this evening with her, in fact, although some of his evening would need to be devoted to mingling.
Securing donations.
Because while the cost of admission covered the expense of the party as well as some money toward necessary hospital improvements, Royal Memorial counted on this well-heeled segment of the community for more than that. Vaughn was reasonably good at securing those kinds of donations, too. He had sacrificed the easy path in life—taking over his father’s business—to make a difference in the world. He walked the walk. So he didn’t mind urging people with deep pockets to make a difference by writing a check.
“I’ll definitely be ready for a dance afterward.” Her eyes glowed with warmth. With awareness.
Vaughn was glad to have distracted her from the questioning for a minute at least. The stress of those worries wasn’t good for her...or the baby. He opened the door to his office with a key card that tracked hours and time of use for the space. The medical arts building was attached to Royal Memorial, but occupied its own wing.
“Come on in.” Vaughn flipped on the lights, then held the door for both of them before letting it fall shut behind them. Inside, there was a consultation area with a couch and two chairs, so he wasn’t stuck sitting behind a desk when speaking to patients. The dynamic put people more at ease.
He took a seat beside Abigail on the low gray sofa, leaving Cole to take the chair opposite them. Abigail’s eyes wandered around the space briefly before Cole asked her to recount the night she’d gone to Ace in the Hole. While she shared the story Vaughn already knew, he wondered what she’d seen when she looked around the office.
He’d always viewed it as functional. But seeing the couple of generic canvases that had come with the room, he wondered what she thought of his complete lack of personal investment in his surroundings. He’d never really thought it before, always fully focused on his work when he walked through the door.
“Did you hear anything specific in the exchange?” Cole asked Abigail now. “Any snippets of conversation or shouted words?”
“There was name-calling and swearing.” She shook her head. “I remember some of the more colorful expletives, but I couldn’t tell you which voice said what. They were gasping for air, rolling around the floor. It distorted both their voices.”
Cole looked up from the notes he was tapping into his phone. He’d asked permission to record the conversation, and he was doing so, but he’d been making notes the whole time, too.
“Could there have been a third voice in that room? Someone else in there that you didn’t see?”
“Sure. Maybe.” She shrugged, hesitating in a way that revealed her nervousness. “I couldn’t see the whole room from where I peered in through a crack in the open door. But I didn’t hear any extra set of feet scuffling or anything. And it seems like I would have heard a third person moving around to at least escape the mayhem of Jason and Rich throwing punches.”
“Right. Maybe.” Cole’s forehead scrunched in concentration as he reviewed his screen. “And you’re sure of the time and date?”
“Positive.” Abigail chewed her lip for a moment. “I kept looking at the calendar that week, trying to tell myself I had plenty of time to tell him about the baby—”
Cole interrupted, “Rich Lowell is the father of your child?”
Vaughn wrapped an arm around her waist, wanting her to feel his presence. To take whatever comfort she could from him being by her side. He understood it couldn’t be easy for her to focus on the joy of becoming a mother when the child’s father could return to Royal at any time.
The thought sparked a sudden wish that Vaughn could claim her baby as his. Hell, he wished he could claim her, too.
Foolish, fanciful notions.
But she would be safer if both those things were true, damn it.
Abigail’s hand shifted protectively to her baby bump. “If Rich Lowell was the man impersonating Will Sanders, then yes.” Her voice shook and she drew a deep breath. “Rich Lowell is the father of this child.”
“Rich was absolutely the imposter.” Cole sat back in his chair, setting aside his phone. “I’ve stopped recording, by the way. And I appreciate you answering my questions.”
A little of the tension in Abigail’s body eased. Vaughn could feel it as she relaxed slightly.
“I’m glad I could help. Or rather, I hope I’ve helped.”
Cole nodded. “You’re the last person to see Jason besides Rich.”
“Can you tell us your next move? What you’re doing to push through this stalemate the law enforcement agencies seem to have reached in the investigation?” Vaughn hated not knowing where Rich was. The sooner the imposter was behind bars, the better.
“For starters, I’m going back to the urn that Jason Phillips sent to his sister along with the note she received about Will’s death.” Cole threaded his fingers together behind his head as he leaned back. “I need to get the contents of the urn retested in case there is DNA present in bone fragments.”
“But you know it’s not Rich, right?” Abigail asked, her fingers toying with the hem of her dress where it fell over her knee.
“Correct. What I’d like to do next is see if it matches anyone else.”
“Jason.” Vaughn supplied the obvious answer.
Abigail’s hand sought his before she spoke.
“You don’t think he killed Jason?” she asked, worry evident in her voice.
With good reason.
“He left Will for dead off Cabo San Lucas.” Cole’s voice was grim. “And he’s spent more of Will’s money than he could ever repay. So I’d call Rich Lowell a desperate man.”
Vaughn shifted his hold on Abigail, moving his hand to her back to rub soothing circles along her shoulders. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this right now.
“Jason might have found out that Will was a fake and called him on it.” Vaughn tried to envision what could have precipitated the brawl Abigail had witnessed.
“Or he could have uncovered missing money and alerted Will,” Cole added. “But I’m also having the note that arrived with the urn reviewed by a handwriting expert to see if it’s a match with Jason’s writing.”
Vaughn’s finger rubbed along Abigail’s back, strands of her hair clinging to his wrist. “Smart thinking.”
“Will is committed to getting to the bottom of this mess. He’s even flying in some tech genius from Silicon Valley who thinks he’s got a software answer for all of this. Luke Weston from West-Tech.” Cole shrugged. “And while that may or may not work, I can assure
you we’re putting every available resource on this.”
“Good.” Abigail seemed to have regained her composure. She straightened in her seat. “We’ll rest easier once we know what happened.”
“We’ll find out.” Cole’s smile was predatory. Certain. “We’ll locate Rich Lowell, too.”
Vaughn noticed the investigator didn’t promise the same for Will’s right-hand man, Jason Phillips.
Still, the investigation was moving in the right direction. Progress being made. But that didn’t mean Abigail and her child were safe. And until they were, Vaughn couldn’t walk away.
He couldn’t deny feeling relieved that he didn’t have to yet. Guilt bit him hard, since he knew that him sticking around could lead to their feelings growing. Deepening.
Frustrated, he bolted out of his office once the interview was over. He would see Abigail at the party, of course. But first, he would throw himself into fund-raising and give them both a breather.
* * *
Half an hour later, Abigail followed Belinda McDowell, the Royal Memorial development officer, who’d led the meeting the day she was hired. The woman was in charge of the statue’s unveiling. An announcement had been made at the rooftop party, inviting guests to join them for a brief ceremony in the children’s ward since the sculpture was too huge to transport upstairs.
The whole party didn’t relocate, of course, but Abigail was flattered to see how many of Royal’s most prominent citizens had turned out to support the hospital and see her artwork. Her career had taken an exciting turn already with this commission and, with any luck, more gallery sales and special projects would follow. She’d told Vaughn that she’d been fortunate to do what she loved for work. But with a baby on the way, she might not always have that luxury. If she couldn’t support herself and her child with her creativity, she would end up doing temp jobs again.
When they reached the children’s ward lounge, Abigail could see temporary wall partitions had been rolled into place to protect the privacy of the ward and the patients from the unveiling ceremony. An arbor of flowers stood in front of the tree sculpture, which had been partially hidden with a gauzy black curtain. Of course, the statue was so huge the branches spilled out of the top, crawling along the high ceilings where Brandon had helped to secure them. Abigail had carved for hours to add the details she wanted on those high limbs, but she knew she would add more bark and hidden creatures to the hard-to-reach places throughout the coming year when she developed her idea for an interactive forest.
