On A Cold Winter's Night

by Leanne Burroughs

  "I've wondered why anyone would name their daughter Noah.” Arch had pondered that question ever since he'd learned her real name.

  Jacob kept his eyes on the road and turned slightly to respond. “You made reference to their names being biblical. Hers is, too. And not just the Noah of flood fame. In the Old Testament there's a guy who had five daughters and no sons. One of those gals was named Noah. As to why the Adams family named her that, I've no clue."

  Arch laughed. “Remind me to pick you for my team when we play Bible Trivia."

  "Hey, I remember her. She paved the way for women to own land,” Calli added.

  "Yep. She sure did.” Jacob patted her shoulder.

  She snorted. “Excuse me, husband dear. That sounded slightly patronizing."

  Jacob laughed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry,” he offered.

  "You're forgiven."

  Road noise was the only sound in the car for the next ten minutes. On many occasions Arch had witnessed the camaraderie and easy-flowing connection between his cousin and Calli. Even when they seemingly disagreed, they weren't disagreeable. He wanted that with a woman.

  Arch broke the silence. “I'll be honest with you both. I haven't been able to get Noah off my mind for much more than an hour at a time."

  He didn't miss the I-told-you-so looks husband and wife shared.

  * * * *

  "Have we heard back from Mr. Webster yet?” Noah asked from her office doorway as Elaina removed her coat after returning from lunch.

  Elaina hurried to her desk and clicked through the incoming calls since she'd been gone. “Negative. Don't see anything.” She looked up. “Do you want me to try his number again?"

  "No. Maybe later.” Noah returned to her office, and grabbed her coat from the tree. Slipping it on, she snagged her purse and headed out the door. “Make sure and give me a buzz if you hear from him before I return. I've got Christmas shopping I must do."

  With the bad weather, it had taken the dealership almost a week to get her car repaired. They'd had to order a part. Oddly, they'd asked if she'd hit any bad potholes since the plug to her auto's computer was severed. It wouldn't have been difficult on the roads the state seemed to be dragging their heels in repairing, but she didn't think so. Thankfully she had her vehicle back and didn't have to bum rides from Elaina or Chris. Arriving at her car, she was pleasantly surprised. Someone had scraped the windshield clear of ice and snow. The engine's rapid response caused her to breathe easier. Ever since the day it had died on her, she'd held her breath each time she'd turned the key in the ignition.

  Once at the mall she made a beeline for Macy's, knowing exactly what she wanted. Never one to dilly-dally about shopping, she was a woman on a mission. In the Men's Department she bought her dad two shirts—a long-sleeved brown cotton Henley and a black cotton pullover. Since he'd retired, she hadn't seen him in a dress shirt and tie except for weddings and funerals. She also planned on taking him out to dinner at his favorite restaurant—Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in Pittsburgh. “The best steaks in the entire East,” he claimed.

  For Chris she purchased a brown leather bomber jacket. He had one, but he'd caught the sleeve on a nail and although he'd had it repaired, it was still noticeable. And that one was black, so now he'd have two, but different colors.

  The store wasn't busy when she checked out and the woman offered to gift wrap the items there rather than sending her to customer service. While waiting, she wandered to the men's sweaters. A sky blue cashmere pullover caught her attention, and she ran her hand over the soft wool. This would match the blue in Arch's eyes. She jerked her hand back. Why on earth was she having such ideas? She was not, repeat, not interested in any relationship with anyone. She was perfectly happy with her life just as it was. Thank you very much.

  "Miss, your packages are ready,” the checkout lady called.

  Noah returned to the counter and picked up the shopping bags. “Thanks. I certainly appreciate the wonderful service.” She gave the woman a big smile. “Merry Christmas."

  "Merry Christmas to you, too,” the salesclerk returned.

  How gratifying most people were backing away from the last decade of political correctness about the holidays. She strolled happily out the door. Now for Elaina. She would have the present she'd picked out for her office manager delivered, since it was too heavy for her to carry. Elaina had moved into a new townhouse at the end of summer and wanted a set of Calphalon cookware.

  Shopping completed, Nora headed with her packages back to the car. Just as she reached it and pressed the button to unlock the trunk, her cell phone chirped its tune. She needed to change that aggravating ringtone.

  She set the packages on the cleared concrete behind her car and grabbed the buzzing annoyance from her purse. As far as she was concerned, she'd prefer not to carry one, but that wasn't an option. For many reasons.

  "Hello."

  No reply. Then she realized she had a text message. Would she ever get this gizmo figured out? She finished putting the packages in the trunk, then climbed into the driver's seat. She locked the doors. Cranking the engine, and turning on the heat, she looked at her phone. The number didn't ring a bell. She clicked on it. What! A text message from Suzanne Newman. How bizarre.

  She didn't know if it was the air in the car or the fact she had her coat on, but things suddenly got hot and she turned the heater off. Then she hit the number to call Ms. Newman. What on earth could she want?

  "Hello,” a male voice answered on the other end.

  "Uh . . . yes. Is this the correct number for Suzanne Newman?"

  "Yes, it is, but she's not in right now. Could I take a message?” The man sounded very cheerful.

  "No, I'll call her later."

  "That'll be fine, you have a nice day."

  "Wait!” she said, hastily. Had he disconnected?

  "Yes,” his voice came back.

  "Suzanne Newman text messaged me about an hour ago. My name is Noah Adams. Would you know what she wanted?” She didn't want to let the call go without finding out all she could, but chances were this man wouldn't have any answers for her.

  "Oh, yes, Ms. Adams. She wanted to talk to you about representing her. I'm her husband."

  Her husband? Had the woman married recently and info on her hadn't been updated? Technically she hadn't taken Archer's case, and she sure wasn't going to take Ms. Newman's having read her priors, or at least she wasn't inclined to do so, but her curiosity was certainly piqued.

  "Actually, Suzanne is due to return any minute. Is it possible you could come to see her?"

  "When?"

  "I'd say she'll probably return within the next fifteen minutes or so. You could come anytime at your convenience."

  So they lived here? She pulled a pen and pad out of the console. “What's your address?” Now she had a telephone number and was about to get an address. If nothing else, she'd hand the info over to the police.

  "For the time being we're staying at the Huntington. You know it?"

  Know it! Only the swankiest hotel in Allenvale. “Sure.” She put down the pen. “I'll be there in about twenty minutes, if that's okay."

  "Oh, that will make Suzanne very happy. Several people told her you're the best defense lawyer in town."

  "Well, thank you, Mr. Newman.” Of course, she knew that wasn't his name, but hoped he would correct her and she'd get the woman's new surname.

  "You're very welcome. I'll see you in twenty, then. Suite 811."

  He hadn't taken the bait, or maybe just overlooked it. Oh well. “Yes, see you then.” She pressed End and stuck the phone back in her handbag. Then retrieved it. “Hello, Elaina. It's me."

  "I know it's you, Noah.” Elaina chuckled.

  "Yeah, right. Anyway, I just got a call . . .” She filled her in. “I'm going over to the Huntington now in case you need me. They're in Room 811."

  "'Kay. I'll be here. You want me to do anything?"

  "I can't think of anything, but I'll call you if I do.” R
ather than replacing her phone in her purse, she stuck it in her coat pocket, then put the car in gear and left the parking lot.

  * * * *

  Archer pressed the button in the elevator, counting off the dings as it traveled upward. Excitement ran through him now that he'd made the decision to see Noah. At the seventh floor he stepped out and over to her office. Inside, a woman at the front desk looked up.

  "Can I help you?” she asked.

  "You must be Elaina?” At her nod, he said, “I'm Archer Webster and I was hoping to see Noah if she's here."

  Chris walked out from an office that must have belonged to him. When he'd met with the man a few weeks ago, it had been in what Arch now assumed was Noah's office. “Hi, Chris. I'm here to see Noah."

  "I'm really sorry about everything that's transpired, Mr. Webster. But I had no choice. When my employer asks me to do something, I don't hesitate to do it. I owe her a lot."

  "Apology accepted, Chris. Is she in?"

  Chris looked at Elaina, who shook her head.

  "Is there anything I can do for you?” Chris asked.

  The door opened and Abel Adams strode through. “Hi, gang,” his cheerful voice boomed. “Everyone ready for Christmas?"

  When Mr. Adams turned and saw Archer, he said, “Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you were here, Mr. Webster."

  "Quite all right, sir. I really need to see Noah.” Great! That sounded desperate. And with her father present. He calmed his voice, then addressed Chris. “When do you expect her to return?"

  Chris looked to Elaina, who shrugged, then said, “Chris, Noah needs you to look at something in her office.” She stood. “Will you excuse us just for a moment, Mr. Webster, Mr. Adams?"

  Before they could reach Noah's office, Abel Adams intervened. “Chris, mind if I borrow your office? I want to talk to Mr. Webster."

  "Oh, absolutely, sir. No problem.” He motioned toward the door and he and Elaina disappeared into Noah's office.

  "Mr. Webster, if you'd follow me, please."

  Once inside, Abel Adams closed the door. He gently clasped Archer's shoulder, “I'd like to explain something to you. I'm not exactly sure what's going on currently, but Noah had her reasons at the outset for having Chris meet you."

  He pointed to a sitting area in the far corner of the room. “Let's sit and chat until she gets back to the office."

  Archer complied, hoping Noah would get back soon. He couldn't imagine what her father wanted to talk to him about.

  * * * *

  Noah pulled into the Huntington Hotel parking lot. Exiting her car she hurried inside, holding the top of her coat together against the onslaught of cold wind. Thankfully, the lot and walkway had been cleared of ice and snow. She crossed the hotel entry to the elevators, tugging her black leather gloves off as she walked. On the ride over she contemplated what she'd tell Ms. Newman. This was certainly going to be an interesting encounter.

  At the eighth floor she exited and headed down one corridor, turning left to get to Suite 811. On this floor the rooms were set far apart from one another due to the size of the suites. Where the other floors had regular hotel rooms, the eighth through tenth floors had suites. She recalled attending the hotel Open House prior to its initial acceptance of guests, and touring the rooms. Very upscale appointments. The suites could be rented at a much cheaper rate by signing leases, anywhere from one to twelve months.

  Arriving at Suite 811, she stuck her gloves in her purse and pressed on the bell. It didn't take long for someone to open the door. An attractive woman, somewhere in her mid twenties stepped forward and stood in the open frame.

  "Hello, Ms. Adams. Won't you come in, please?” She moved aside.

  "Thank you.” Noah stepped inside.

  The woman said, “Excuse me for a minute,” and hurried off into what Noah assumed was a kitchen area. She heard her say, “Thanks,” and returned, quickly shrugging into a coat and stuffing an envelope into her handbag.

  "Wait. What're you doing? Where're you going?” Sensing someone step up close behind her, she turned.

  "You!"

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Five

  * * * *

  Archer listened to the story Abel Adams told. The more he talked, the stronger the pull to Noah grew. But he now knew it wasn't love. No. Love took time. Time to become familiar with someone, time to share your innermost thoughts and fears, time to talk, time for love to grow. Lord, he sounded like he was reading from Ecclesiastes.

  How many couples had he counseled? Countless numbers. Let's be real here. Attraction was at first sight—lust certainly could be—but although attracted to Noah, those didn't really apply. Yes, of course he found her attractive. After all, she was an extremely beautiful woman. And caring—recalling how she'd tended to him when he'd walked into the door. And she had a sense of humor, not to mention intelligence.

  The longer Abel Adams shared with Archer what had happened to his Noah those many years ago, what he felt was protectiveness. That's it. He wanted to protect her. But what man, hearing these things that had happened to the woman he cherished, wouldn't feel this way? Cherished? His Noah? He straightened in the chair. What was he thinking?

  A quiet knock on the door and Chris opened it, sticking his head in. When Abel Adams stood, checking his watch, so did Arch. “I've got a meeting soon, so I've got to shove off. Chris, thanks for letting me use your office. Tell Noah I stopped by to say hello,” the older man said. “And it was good talking to you, son,” he said to Arch.

  "You're welcome, sir. Anytime. And thank you for telling me about Noah.” Mr. Adams shook hands with Chris, then Archer.

  "Good to see you again, young man.” Then he was gone.

  Chris strode over and motioned for Arch to sit again. “I have something I'd like to explain. Why I told you awhile ago that there isn't much I wouldn't do for Noah. I alluded to it when we were at lunch. I felt you had misgivings about me being too young, although I'm not all that much younger than yourself. But, I told you my father was an attorney. That's actually the truth. My father's a New York defense lawyer. And he's had some pretty big cases. Perhaps I should say notorious. Do you remember the John Gotuchi case about four years ago?"

  "Of course, big mobster who Carlo Bartonelli got off."

  "Exactly. Bartonelli's my father."

  "Say what?” Arch examined Chris more closely. “And you changed your name?"

  Chris nodded. “Right. And I have my mother's looks. She's third-generation Irish. To make a long story short, when I graduated I had a difficult time finding a job. Oh, Dad wanted me to work with him, that's for sure. But there was no way I was going into that kind of situation. I was turned down time and again until I came here to see Noah. She gave me the chance no one else was willing to take. She also convinced me to change my name legally if I was so intent on distancing myself from my family.” He shrugged, as though it had hurt him to do so. “It's just that I didn't want to be tainted by my father's business, having seen what it had done to my mother."

  "I see. So that's why you feel beholden to Noah?"

  "Correct."

  An urgent, loud knock at the door and Elaina burst into the room.

  Chris jumped up. “What's the matter?"

  "I'm not sure,” Elaina said hurriedly. “A call just came in from Noah's cell, but she wasn't on the line. I-I heard her yell, ‘What are you doing here?’ Then there were scuffling sounds."

  Archer saw the woman was visibly shaken.

  "Then I heard a man's voice yell, ‘Shut up.’ After that everything was muffled."

  Archer looked at Chris, who was nodding. “Come on. She's at the Huntington Hotel.” All three hightailed it out the door. Elaina paused to lock it behind them.

  On the five-minute drive to the hotel, Chris called the police and told them to get to Suite 811 at the Huntington. Then he filled Arch in on why Elaina had called him into Noah'
s office when he'd first arrived—to tell him about Noah's call after she left the mall and where she was going.

  "I didn't think anything about it. Just curious about why Ms. Newman would want to see her. But maybe things are starting to add up now."

  "How so?” Archer asked.

  * * * *

  Noah sat on the couch, her hands and ankles wrapped with duct tape, a cloth stuck in her mouth. Studs Radley paced the floor in front of her. What was his game now? Clearly he was loonier than she'd given him credit for.

  Anger, then fear, shot through her when she'd turned and seen him. She'd tried to say more than the stupid, “You,” she'd eked out, but words had failed her. At least she'd had the presence of mind as she'd reached up to remove the hand he'd clamped over her mouth to stick her other hand in her pocket and press what she hoped was the send button.

  Then she'd said, “What are you doing here?” Duh! Why hadn't she screamed his name? Now, thinking beyond her fear, she wondered if the call had gone through and, if so, had Elaina been at her desk to take it. Thank God, she'd informed her she was heading to the Huntington.

  Perched on the edge of the sofa, she watched him cross from one side of the room to the other, and back again. He certainly didn't look like he had much of a plan. “Ooommpph,” she struggled through the rag stuck in her mouth, hoping she wouldn't gag on it.

  He looked at her. “What?” he jeered.

  She continued to make noises with her mouth, hoping he'd get the message that she wanted him to get this thing out before she choked.

  "If I take it out and you scream, I'll duct tape you shut. Believe me, that will hurt more than this does. Especially when I rip it off."

  After nodding her understanding, he sauntered over. A look of pure hatred flared in his cold eyes. Those eyes had always been a warning to her. What she was going to say, she wasn't sure, but in her gut she wanted to keep him talking. That seemed a better strategy than waiting as he tried to figure out what he was going to do next.

  When he pulled the rag, her tongue stuck to it. All she could do was try to work up enough saliva to spit it out. Then he yanked and it came free. Probably removing all her taste buds with it.