A Man of Secrets

by Amanda Stevens

  “No one’s going down,” Anthony said hastily, running his fingers through his hair. “This is some kind of mistake.”

  “Damn right, it’s a mistake. Your mistake, buddy, and you better, by God, fix it. You’ve got twenty-four hours before my boys come calling.”

  Anthony closed his eyes briefly as an image of Russo’s thugs sprang to mind. “Trust me,” he said. “Haven’t I always taken care of you? Didn’t I get the murder charges thrown out for lack of evidence?”

  “Yeah, but if those sparklers turn up in the wrong hands—”

  “They won’t,” Anthony assured him. The diamonds had to be still in Natalie’s store. Somehow the wrong music box must have been sent. Whether deliberately or by mistake, Anthony had no idea, but he was damned well going to find out. “I’ll go over to my ex-wife’s shop tonight after she closes. I’ll search every inch of that damned store until I find those diamonds.”

  “You better hope to hell she didn’t rat you out,” Russo said ominously. “It’ll be your hide I come looking for.”

  Anthony got the message loud and clear. He stared at the silent phone for a moment, then hung up the receiver with trembling hands.

  Outside his office, a soft rustling sound startled him. Silently, he got up and strode across the carpeted floor to his door. He pulled it open and gazed around his secretary’s office.

  No one was about. The desk was tidied for the night, the computer turned off, the files all locked away. But the door that led into the hallway was slightly ajar, and from outside the office came the unmistakable hum of the elevator, as someone made an exit.

  * * *

  “DAMN, DAMN, DOUBLE DAMN,” Natalie muttered as she gazed at the glowing red light on her security system in Silver Bells. She’d been in such a hurry to close up shop and get home, that she must have forgotten to turn on the alarm.

  She sighed wearily. It was after eleven and she was exhausted. Normally she closed the shop at six, but during the Christmas season, she stayed open until nine. Tonight she hadn’t gotten rid of the last customer until almost ten, and then she’d had to close out the register and tidy the shop before locking up.

  She’d made it almost all the way home before remembering that she hadn’t put her bank bag in the safe before leaving. She’d tried to convince herself that the bag would be perfectly safe in her desk drawer until morning. She’d never had a break-in, and the Riverwalk was well patrolled, especially this time of year. But a little voice in the back of her mind kept warning: There’s always a first time for everything.

  Natalie had known that niggling little voice wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace until she drove back to the shop and locked the bank bag in her safe. And now, as she gazed at the mocking red light, she decided it was a good thing she had.

  The overhead lights were off, but the Christmas lights were still on, illuminating the interior of Silver Bells with a soft, sterling glow. Natalie stopped, her breath catching slightly at the beauty, at the magic of the moment.

  She had done this, she thought, gazing around in wonder. She had done this all on her own. She’d made a success of her shop, made her dream come true, and although she didn’t expect to ever be rich, at least she and Kyle would be comfortable.

  That was important to her; being able to provide for her son without any help from the Bishops. Because if Natalie had learned anything during her short marriage to Anthony, it was that the Bishops never gave anything without demanding something in return.

  Without turning on the overhead lights, Natalie made her way around the counter and headed for the workroom when suddenly she came to a full stop. The door to the workroom was open, and Natalie always kept it closed. Something—a subtle sound, a current of displaced air, a scent?—warned her that she wasn’t alone. Someone was inside the darkened workroom, listening to the silence just as she was.

  How had the intruder gotten in? The front door had been locked. There was no sign of a forced entry, but the alarm had been turned off. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten to turn it on after all. Maybe the intruder had managed to pick the lock neatly and disarm her security system, which meant she was dealing with a professional. Someone as dangerous as he was experienced.

  Natalie’s heart hammered in her chest. What should she do? Turn and make a run for it? Find a weapon? What? What?

  For a split second, fear paralyzed her and she stood rooted to the spot, listening to the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears. Then, before she had time to regain her senses, the intruder stepped out of the workroom to confront her in the cool glow of Christmas lights.

  “Where are they?” he demanded.

  Natalie stared at Anthony in shock. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed to gasp. “How did you get in?”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly into the workroom. For the first time in her life, Natalie was actually frightened of her ex-husband. She’d never seen him look so dangerous. So out of control.

  She gazed around at the wreckage that was her workroom. Drawers were pulled out of her desk, the contents dumped on the floor. The shelves against the wall had been ruthlessly cleared, and even the garbage can had been overturned.

  Anger warred with fear. Natalie jerked her arm from his grasp and whirled to face him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  His green gaze, usually so cool, flashed with fire. “Where are they, Natalie?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m calling the police. Even you can’t get away with this, Anthony.” She started toward the phone on her desk, but he reached it first, grabbed it, and ripped it from the jack.

  “You found them, didn’t you?” He threw the phone against the wall, shattering the plastic housing. “You thought you could pull a fast one on me, didn’t you? You’ve always been just a little too clever for your own good, Natalie. But not this time. Now hand them over before I do something we might both regret—”

  The door to the shop was behind Natalie, and Anthony’s gaze moved over her right shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing he—”

  Before Natalie could turn, something hit her on the back of the head, sending sharp, shooting pains through her skull. Stunned, she felt her knees buckle and she collapsed to the floor.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Anthony Bishop had been dead for hours, and his brother still found it hard to believe. As Spence stared at the police report, the words blurred before his eyes. It didn’t matter. He’d read it so many times since Anthony’s body had been found that he knew the words by heart, anyway.

  Anthony had been stabbed in the back with a long, serrated knife that Natalie Silver kept in her workroom to open shipping cartons. When the police had answered a disturbance call at her shop just after midnight last night, they’d found Natalie kneeling over Anthony, clutching the bloody weapon in her hand.

  But perhaps the most compelling evidence of all was Anthony’s own words, spoken just seconds before he died. “Natalie…not you…”

  It had been nearly twelve hours since Spence had learned of his brother’s murder. He’d only left police headquarters once, very briefly, to break the news to his mother and sister, who hadn’t even known Spence was in town.

  His return to San Antonio had been masked in secrecy, cloaked in subterfuge, and now it had all blown up in his face.

  He rubbed his eyes, wondering how the hell it had come to this. His assignment had been to bring down Jack Russo by finding the diamonds that would tie the mobster to a brutal murder in Dallas three years ago—before Russo had been sent to prison on racketeering charges.

  Spence had known all along that in bringing down Russo there was a good chance Anthony would be implicated; that his brother might have to face criminal charges if the FBI’s suspicions about him proved true.

  But that fact hadn’t deterred Spence. He’d been willing to do whatever it took to get Jack Russo—even sacrifice his own brother—because he’d convinced himself
over the years that the end justified the means.

  Now Anthony was dead and Natalie Silver was accused of his murder. Spence wished he could appreciate the irony of the situation, but he couldn’t. He felt empty inside. Hollow in the place where his grief should have been. No matter what Anthony had done, he hadn’t deserved this.

  And Natalie?

  Did she deserve the hell she was being put through?

  Spence closed his eyes, telling himself that if she had done this to his brother, he wouldn’t lift one finger to help her.

  But he would.

  He knew he would, because his gut instinct told him that she was as much a part of his assignment as Anthony had been. She held the key, and if he wanted to win, if he wanted to crack this case, Spence would have to keep his eye—a close eye—on Natalie Silver.

  Jack Russo was a cold-blooded murderer, and Spence knew he would do whatever it took to bring him to justice. Even if it meant helping a woman who had once betrayed him.

  Or bringing her down.

  * * *

  THIS WAS A NIGHTMARE, Natalie thought, as she gazed at the stony-eyed detectives intent on interrogating her again. She’d answered so many questions, told her story so many times since last night, she felt numb with exhaustion. She could almost understand how a suspect could be coerced into a confession. Just say yes, and maybe they would leave you alone; give you a moment’s peace.

  But Natalie had a feeling that for her, peace would be a long time in coming.

  The worst part was she hadn’t been able to see Kyle. She hadn’t been the one to tell him Anthony was dead. Instead, after her desperate phone call from police headquarters last night, Natalie’s parents had rushed over to her house, relieved the baby-sitter—who had been frantic with worry by that time—and when Kyle had awakened this morning, they’d told him what had happened as gently as possible, leaving out the gruesome aspects of Anthony’s death and the fact that Natalie had been arrested for his murder.

  Oh, God, if only she could remember, Natalie thought desperately. If only she could recall what had happened before she’d blacked out. Someone had come in, hit her on the head, then killed Anthony while she was still unconscious. But who? Who would do such a terrible thing and leave her to take the blame?

  “If you didn’t stab him, why were you holding the murder weapon when the officers arrived on the scene?” one of the detectives, a Sergeant Phillips, asked her.

  Natalie stared at him, bleary-eyed. “I told you. I didn’t even realize I was holding it. I don’t even know how the knife got in my hand. When I regained consciousness, I saw Anthony on the floor. There was so much blood…I knelt over him to see if he was still alive, and that’s when the police came storming in.”

  “How do you explain that cut on your right hand?” the other detective asked.

  “I…I can’t explain it,” Natalie said, moistening her dry lips. She hadn’t even realized she was cut until the officers who arrived on the scene wrapped a bandage around it to stop the bleeding.

  Sergeant Phillips propped one foot on a chair and folded his arms across his bent knee. “Your divorce from Anthony Bishop was pretty nasty, wasn’t it? Accusations all around. Rumors and innuendos flying. You didn’t get a settlement from that divorce, did you?”

  “No.”

  “You must have thought you were entitled to one.”

  “I didn’t want one. I didn’t want anything from Anthony except my freedom. And my son.”

  Sergeant Phillips arched an eyebrow at that. He and the other detective exchanged glances. Then Phillips said, “Anthony Bishop married his current wife just three weeks after his divorce from you became final, isn’t that so?”

  Natalie nodded.

  “Her name was Seagrass before she became a Bishop. Melinda Seagrass. The two of you were once close. You went to school together. In fact, she was your best friend, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “Married her just three weeks after he divorced you.” Sergeant Phillips stared at her. “It’s a pretty safe bet the two of them were seeing each other before the divorce. Wouldn’t you say so?”

  Natalie sighed. “I know what you’re getting at. But I didn’t carry a grudge against Anthony because of his affair with Melinda. That happened years ago. I didn’t kill him for revenge, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Then why did you kill him?”

  “I didn’t!” Dear God, she had to make them believe her. Why wouldn’t they listen to her? She pushed back her hair with both hands. “I told you, I walked in on Anthony at the shop last night. I have no idea what he was doing there, but evidently he was looking for something. He thought I had something of his. But before he could tell me what it was, someone else came in and hit me from behind. I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I saw Anthony lying on the floor…covered in blood…” She closed her eyes, trying to maintain her composure. “I swear that’s all I know,” she said through trembling lips.

  “If he was already inside the shop when you got there, how did he get in? There was no sign of a forced entry, and the security system had been turned off. How do you explain that?”

  “I…don’t know. I might have forgotten to turn the alarm on when I left earlier.”

  “Did you also forget to lock the front door?”

  “No…”

  Sergeant Phillips got up from the chair and walked around the table to sit directly across from Natalie. His dark eyes bored into hers so intently that she even began to feel guilty. She clasped her hands in her lap to try and control the shaking. “Did you know that your ex-husband was about to haul you into court and sue you for sole custody of your son?”

  Natalie gasped. “No—”

  “The papers were already drawn up. Are you telling me you had no idea of his intentions? Not even an inkling?”

  Natalie hesitated, remembering her conversation yesterday with Blanche. They’d talked about the possibility then, and Natalie had said something like— Dear God—she’d said if Anthony were to try to take away her son, she would do whatever it took to stop him. But she hadn’t meant it! She hadn’t meant she would kill him!

  “You did know, didn’t you?”

  Natalie shook her head. “No. I mean…I wondered why he’d suddenly come back into our lives, why he wanted to start seeing Kyle again. But I didn’t know he planned to sue for custody. He never said anything.”

  “He never threatened you?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t call him down to your shop last night to confront him with your suspicions?”

  “No.”

  “He didn’t taunt you with how easy it would be for a high-powered attorney like him, a Bishop, to win in court? To take your son away from you?”

  “No.”

  “The two of you didn’t fight? He didn’t get physical? Shove you around? You didn’t take that knife out of your desk, catch him off guard, and stab him in the back?”

  “No! No!” Natalie screamed, jumping to her feet. “I was knocked unconscious, just like I’ve told you a million times. I have a bump on my head to prove it.”

  “Sit down,” Sergeant Phillips instructed calmly. When she complied, he said, “You could have gotten that during the struggle.”

  “I didn’t,” Natalie cried. “And I didn’t kill Anthony!” She dropped her head in her hands. “Oh, God, why won’t you believe me?”

  “I’m not unsympathetic to your predicament,” Sergeant Phillips said in a deceptively soft voice. Natalie looked up, wanting to believe that note of kindness, that hint of empathy in his dark eyes. “You love your son very much, don’t you?”

  Natalie swallowed and nodded.

  “A boy needs his mother.”

  Tears flooded Natalie’s eyes as she thought about Kyle. How had he taken the news of Anthony’s death? Was he sad, grieving? Until a few weeks ago, Kyle hadn’t seen Anthony since he was a baby. He didn’t know him. But still, Natalie knew her son had thought about him over the
years, wondered about him. Kyle must be so upset, so confused. And she wasn’t there for him.

  “You would do anything to protect him, wouldn’t you?”

  Natalie looked up through teary eyes but she said nothing.

  “He needs you now more than ever. And you need to be with him. Cooperate with me, Natalie, and I’ll see that you and your son are together again very soon.”

  “What do I have to do?” she asked weakly.

  “Just tell me the truth.” Sergeant Phillips leaned forward, gazing earnestly into her eyes. “You see, I think you killed Anthony Bishop in self-defense. I think what we have here is a case of justifiable homicide. Just admit it, and the chances are, you’ll walk out of here a free woman.”

  * * *

  SILENCE FELL LIKE A heavy cloak over the interrogation room. Everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath for Natalie’s answer. She sat stone still, gazing at the sergeant with the most haunted-looking eyes Spence had ever seen.

  He found himself leaning toward the two-way mirror, his gaze searching her face for the truth. But he hadn’t seen Natalie Silver in seven years. He wasn’t sure he would recognize the truth in her eyes if he saw it.

  Seven years, he thought. Seven years since he had returned to San Antonio following his first big undercover assignment, only to find that she had married his brother while he’d been gone. She’d wasted no time in discovering who had the money in his family. Who had the power.

  Natalie Silver had fooled him once with her sweet smile and innocent eyes, but Spence didn’t think she was capable of doing so again. He wasn’t a rookie anymore. During the years he’d been an agent, he’d dealt with plenty of liars. And murderers.

  He studied her features now, looking for the telltale clues that would give her away, surprised to find that his memories of her were amazingly accurate. Her light brown hair was longer now, shoulder length and cut in layers that fell softly around her face. She wore a dark red sweater and a short plaid skirt that made her seem very young, almost schoolgirlish. And vulnerable. Still vulnerable.