Wiping the sweat off his upper lip, Carter felt terror. “Yes, yes, I know you do.”
“Carter, this just doesn’t make sense. I was hoping you could shed some light on it. That number belongs to a Frank Benson. I did the background check and, darling, he’s got a criminal background a mile long.”
Hearing the confusion and concern in her voice, he forced a laugh. “Oh, come now, Clarissa. How would garbage like him be a donor?”
“Well…I don’t know. Do you know him, Carter?”
“Of course not! Don’t be stupid, Clarissa. Why would I ever have any kind of a connection with someone like that?” Carter prayed his over-the-top reaction would stop her from any further conjecture. Clarissa always took care of his donor list. She was circumspect about who got on it. For once, her pit-bull research was rebounding against him. Sweat popped out on his brow. He sat up, his breathing harsh. “That cell phone could belong to the maid,” he muttered. “I don’t have throwaway cells, Clarissa.”
“I already asked our housemaid and the chef, Carter. They said it didn’t belong to them, either.”
He heard more hesitancy in her tone. Above all, Carter didn’t want her believing he knew the sniper. Or that he had a contract out to kill Matt Sinclaire, his daughter and that woman, Casey Cantrell. Wiping his brow, he rasped, “Well, where is this mysterious phone? Do you have it?”
“Why…no… I don’t know where it is. The last I saw it, Carter, it was on your desk. I completely forgot about it until recently when I was updating your donor list.”
He savagely wondered why his damn wife would have taken that number off the cell and automatically put it on his new donor list. Carter knew that many people who supported his candidacy for a second term as senator called constantly. And sometimes, his cell phone would be on his desk and he would ask Clarissa to take the numbers and names of the latest callers to put on that growing list. He tried to calm himself. His wife suspected nothing. Clearing his throat, he said, “Maybe it was just a prank by someone. It wasn’t my cell, Clarissa.”
“This doesn’t make sense, Carter. If it wasn’t yours or our employees, how did it get on your desk, then? Did someone break into our home?”
He heard concealed worry in her voice. “I don’t know. We have that place under Fort Knox security. I just think it’s a fluke. Just forget about it. And get that man off my donor list. I certainly want nothing to do with a criminal.”
“Of course, Carter. I just thought you should know. This man is a murderer. He spent fifteen years in prison for taking money to kill a woman in Idaho. He just got out three years ago.”
Groaning inwardly, Carter pulled the linen handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his sweaty brow. “Clarissa, just forget about it! Take his name off the donor list and let it go.”
“If you want, Carter…”
Again, he heard a question in his wife’s voice. He knew she wouldn’t connect him and Benson together. “Yes, that’s what I want.”
“How are things in D.C.?”
Feeling a rivulet of relief as Clarissa’s voice changed and became lighter and happier, Carter said, “Missing you. I’m looking forward to seeing you come back here.”
Laughing lightly, Clarissa said, “Well, I’ll be there, but I’ve still got some responsibilities to the wildlife museum and I’m going to delay returning for another two weeks.”
Frowning, Carter knew that within that two weeks, Benson was to kill his targets. He didn’t want his wife in Jackson Hole when that happened. She might remember Benson or just the fact that he had gone to jail for being hired to murder a person. “Can’t it wait?” he demanded testily. “I need you here, Clarissa. Now. We’ve already got several dinner invitations and I need you at my side. Can’t that stuff be handled long-distance?”
“I guess it could. Are the invitations that important? You know how I like to tie up loose ends for the fall here at our summer home, Carter.”
Holding on to his disintegrating patience, Carter knew this would be a balancing act with his intelligent wife. Clarissa wasn’t stupid, and he was afraid she’d put Benson and the upcoming deaths together. It would be a stretch, but he never underestimated her. Besides, Carter told himself, Benson wasn’t sure he could murder them within that two-week window. It depended upon so many things out of his control. Above all, Carter needed to have these three taken out in such a way that no foul play was suspected. He couldn’t just have them shot in the head as Bev Sinclaire had been. The police would be crawling over everything if that occurred. No, this time Benson had to make it look natural and that meant he was dealing with a lot of unknowns. Lowering his voice, Carter said, “Clarissa, darling, if you really need that two weeks, then take it.”
“Are you sure, Carter?”
“I’m sure,” he said soothingly. She seemed relieved that he wasn’t pushing her to leave early. With a little luck, those murders would go down after she left. Benson was watching—waiting and timing were all-important. He wanted them dead in the next two weeks, but who really knew? Peyton knew the sniper wanted the other half of his money for this gig and that made him want it done and over with. Looking out the dark, tinted window, Carter said, “Go ahead and stay there, Clarissa. It would be one thing if we got an invitation to the White House for dinner, but these aren’t that important.”
Laughing a little, Clarissa said, “We’d kill for a White House invite.”
He managed a twisted smile. The limo was slowing down for a red light ahead, the traffic at quitting time always went at a snail’s pace. “Perhaps not kill,” he said, trying to sound as though he was joking a little. “I’m a Republican senator, so I don’t think with the present occupants in the White House, we’ll see a dinner invitation very soon.”
Laughing at his teasing, Clarissa said, “Oh, you never know, Carter. I’m not willing to sit back and be left out. When I arrive there in two weeks, my first priority is to get the First Lady involved in obese children’s issues. I believe exercise is part of the key. I want to meet with her because I have some good ideas. Just call it across-the-aisle goodwill.”
“You never cease to amaze me,” Carter said, meaning it. The limo pulled into the driveway of the hotel where the dinner was to be. “I have to go now, darling. I’ll call you tonight before I go to bed. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Carter. Bye…”
Snapping his cell closed and sliding it inside his dark brown pin-striped suit coat, Carter smiled a little. His wife was in the dark, right where he wanted her. God, that was a close call! He prayed that she would completely forget about his mistake. How stupid of him! Carter prided himself on being careful. Recalling that day, he remembered he’d been running late. And he’d screwed up. Damn.
MATT SAT WITH CASEY AT Mo’s Café. The late-August sun shone through the windows. He was grateful that she could meet him for lunch. Although she was on duty today, she had gotten an hour and a half off for lunch. She was in her forest service uniform but nothing could hide her femininity from him. Remembering their kiss of two days ago, he said, “How’s your finger doing?”
Casey smiled a little. She held up the bandaged finger. “It’s fine.” The waitress brought over two huge hamburgers with coleslaw. Casey moved her coffee cup to one side, took the platter and thanked the young waitress. Her heart beat a little harder because she hadn’t spoken to Matt since their heated, unexpected kiss in his master bathroom. She felt nervous and saw that he was very serious-looking. More than usual. And it had been Matt who had called her here to Mo’s for an impromptu lunch. She knew something was up. But what?
Matt put ketchup on his half-pound hamburger and placed the grilled, warm bun over it. “We need to talk,” he said quietly. The music from the jukebox was in the background and Mo’s was packed with tourists hungry at lunchtime. The booth where they sat was U-shaped and in a corner.
Nodding, Casey felt her heart pulse a little over his whispered words. She’d lost her appetite so she picked up he
r fork and pushed the spicy coleslaw around in the white bowl. “It’s about our kiss?” she guessed.
Nodding, Matt saw uncertainty in Casey’s gaze. He could barely keep his eyes away from that soft mouth that had singed his soul and made him burn. “I like what’s happening between us,” he admitted. “But I want to make sure you’re feeling the same as I am. I learned a long time ago in my marriage that if I didn’t talk, things could get tangled in a hurry between two people.” He took a bite of his burger and set it down on the oval plate. Wiping his mouth with the paper napkin, he added, “I need to know how you feel, Casey. Is this one-way? Or not?”
Casey barely tasted the coleslaw—it had a hint of curry in it. “I like it, too, Matt. I admit, I’m changing. Before this, I avoided men because of what happened in my past. Now, being on a medication that is forcing my cortisol levels to become normal, I’m starting to feel like my old self again.” She managed a slice of a smile as she held his intent gaze. “I was scared of men. I know in my head that’s stupid, but as Dr. Lawson told me early on, we’re all controlled by our hormones, whether we like it or not. And as long as my cortisol was high, Matt, I was on guard.”
“That makes sense, Casey. And I can see the changes in you, too. You’re a lot more relaxed. You used to be tense and alert. Now, you’re just sitting here with me and I can see you’re happy.”
Nodding, Casey reached over and touched his hand briefly. “Matt, I am happy. And no one is more thrilled with the changes in me than my family. I was talking to my mom last night and she cried. They’ve all been worried about me since the attack.”
“Dr. Lawton is incredible. I’m glad she moved here and I’m glad you’ve gone to her,” he said, meaning it. How badly Matt wanted to make love with Casey.
“What about you?” she asked, picking up her burger.
Shrugging, Matt gave her a boyish smile and said, “I guess my grieving over Bev is pretty much worked through. Everyone told me that one day I would be looking forward, not living in the past. I didn’t believe them, but now, it’s really happening.”
“That’s good to know,” she murmured. “In a way, Matt, we’ve both been anchored in the past by bad things that happened to us. And it seems we’re slowly being freed of them.”
“It’s a good way to put it,” he agreed.
“I worry about Megan, though.”
“In what way?”
Casey grimaced. “I know Megan and I are close. I love her dearly, but I worry what she’ll think if she sees us kissing one another. Or holding hands. Where is she with the grief over losing her mother?”
“I’ve asked myself those same questions,” he slowly admitted. He took a sip of the chocolate milk shake he’d ordered. “So far, Megan has seen us together, but we’ve not been intimate.”
“Right. And I worry what might happen if she sees us holding hands, or if you put your arms around me. Or…if we kiss…”
“I don’t know,” Matt said, frowning. “I don’t know where Megan is with her own grief and healing process, Casey. She isn’t talking. I can’t read her mind.” Matt sighed out his frustration. “All the child psychiatrists say that when her grieving is over, she’ll probably start talking again. That’s the only ruler I have with which to judge what’s going on inside Megan.”
Feeling deeply for Matt, Casey said, “This is a terrible, torturous place to be with your child, Matt. I feel she’s happy. Does she seem happy to you?”
“Yes, when you come to our home, the lights just sparkle in her eyes, Casey. I really believe she loves you.”
Warmth cascaded through Casey’s heart. “There’s nothing not to love about Megan. She’s bright, alert and caring. She loves you, too.”
“But when you come to our home, or we all meet up, Megan is super-excited. She looks forward to seeing you, Casey.”
“I know she does.”
“Are you okay with that? Because from where I stand, Megan is bonding deeply with you.” He was worried about that, too, but said nothing further. What if he and Casey had a falling-out? What if they split up? Not that they were together, but Matt knew that Megan saw Casey at least once a week, and that was enough for his daughter to bond with her.
“If I had a daughter,” Casey told him, her voice filled with sudden emotion, “I’d want one just like her.”
Relief shot through Matt. His mouth softened and he clung to her tender gaze. “Thanks. It’s good to hear because I know Meggie is falling hard for you.” So was he, but Matt knew it was too soon to admit it to Casey. “I guess…I guess I don’t want Meggie hurt—again. She lost her mother. I feel she sees you as a mother of sorts to her. Not that I can get inside her head, but everything points to that. I’m sure it has caught your attention, too.”
“I agree with you,” Casey said. “In some ways, I worry about that, Matt. Megan has suffered so much already.” Hesitating she added in a low tone, “What if we separate? Oh, I know we’re not going together, but I’m over at your home often enough that Megan could get the idea that…well, we’re a couple.”
Nodding, Matt respected her ability to talk about the complex issues that stood between them. “Right. My very thoughts, too.”
“Megan so much wants a mother, Matt. That’s my intuition talking. Not that I’ve had the experience of being a mother, but the way she reacts to me tells me that.”
“Yes, you’re right.” He rested his hands on either side of his plate and stared at her. “Everything’s so tentative, Casey. For me. For you. And I’m finding myself feeling trapped by a lot of circumstances out of my control. I know Megan needs a mother. But I couldn’t push myself just to marry someone so that she’d have a mother again.”
“No, how could you?” Casey asked, watching the strain in his eyes, the anxiety for his daughter.
“I thought about it,” Matt gruffly admitted. “One child psychiatrist said marrying quickly might bring Meggie out of her muteness.”
Grimacing, Casey said, “That’s not very logical. Megan would know the difference, don’t you think?”
“That’s what I came to realize,” Matt said. “I walked away from that shrink’s session doing a lot of serious thinking about what he said. In the long run, I just couldn’t force myself to ask any woman to be my wife so that Megan could have a replacement mother in her life.”
“There are so many issues here,” Casey agreed gently. “And I know you wrestle with them every day.”
“I do.” Matt smiled a little. “But just getting to talk it out with you helps.” Matt wanted to tell her how important she was to him, to helping him. Did Casey realize she was sunlight in his dark, wintered soul?
Biting into her hamburger, Casey ate for a moment before speaking. “I feel we’re all doing the best we can, Matt. The three of us are deeply wounded by different things. My mom is a very wise person. She told me after I came out of the coma that I’d heal slowly from this wound within me. She said it wouldn’t be straightforward, but more like the twists and turns of a snake. My mom was right. Healing just takes time. I think what we have to do is realize that and give ourselves the space and patience to just continue what we’re already doing.”
“Good advice,” he agreed. “Your mother is a very wise woman.”
“She had a lot of wounds that my father gave her when they first flew together. There was a lot of forgiveness she had to give him and he also had to respect her as an equal. They both grew up and then love took over.”
Sitting back in the booth, Matt gazed at Casey. She was young and yet, because of her traumatic past, she was much more mature than other women her own age. The way her hair curled around her face and framed it made him want to kiss her again. “I like what we have. I want to just keep muddling along with you, Casey, at a speed that’s comfortable for both of us.”
Nodding, she smiled gently. “We have nowhere to go but up, Matt. And somehow, Megan will grow with us. Don’t worry so much about her. She’s more resilient that you give her credit for.
”
“How about a last picnic of the year with us, then?” he challenged. “Megan and I have, for the last two years, gone out to a special meadow above Moose Creek Road just about every week in the summer. Around now, she helps me make the food for our picnic and we hike up there to see the last of the wildflowers before the serious snowing starts. Would you like to go with us?”
“I’d love to,” Casey murmured. Drowning in his heated look, she found she wanted to be with him more than ever. Grateful that her PTSD symptoms were truly dissolving, Casey felt a freedom from the past that made her nearly euphoric. Matt was partly responsible for it whether he knew it or not.
“Great. I’ll tell Megan. We’ll plan a special meal for all of us. She’ll jump up and down for joy.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FRANK BENSON REMAINED patient as his three targets entered a familiar but little-used trail near Moose Creek Road. This road was a back door from Jackson Hole to the entrance of Grand Teton National Park. Benson had planned carefully for weeks and had watched and waited. Now that Senator Peyton had named the three of them as targets, he’d gotten busy with support activities.
Wanting a cigarette but knowing the smell could alert them, Benson sat hidden up on the brush-clad slope, undetected, looking out across the colorful valley filled with the changing leaves of fall. The mid-September sun was high in the sky. It was another perfect autumn day. There were tourists hiking everywhere, but this particular trail was rarely used because it was so steep. At the end of it there was a flower-strewn meadow, but few knew that, except for locals like Sinclaire, who visited this meadow every Friday without fail. It was a challenging trail up to the plateau above.
There was an abandoned log cabin, much of it in shambles, hidden deep in the woods just above that meadow. No one lived there, and it was a perfect spot for Benson to set up his base camp. Locals would never look into the cabin—it had been cordoned off by the county as unsafe and dangerous.
Mentally rubbing his hands, Benson sat in camouflage gear, a large knapsack with everything he’d need on his back. The senator wanted all three of them dead. And he couldn’t just try to shoot them because it would create problems. Three people found, each with a single shot to the head would raise the brows of every law-enforcement goon in the state. And Peyton didn’t want that kind of public focus on this assassination. And he didn’t want anyone to link Bev Sinclaire’s murder with this newest attempt.
Deadly Silence Page 21
