“Yes, I have to follow him.”
“I’m all for that,” Lindsay said. “But I’m not keen on you going out alone.”
“Me, either. Unfortunately I have a meeting at ten that I can’t get out of,” Nathan said regretfully.
“I’m busy, too. You’ll have to tail him next week, Nadine.”
“And meanwhile another innocent victim is cheated out of his or her hard-earned money?”
In the end Lindsay and Nathan agreed that she could perform the surveillance as long as she promised not to approach the man under any circumstances and to abort the mission if her cover got blown.
Nadine changed into the gym pants and jacket she’d brought along from home. Then she tied her hair into a ponytail and slid on a cap and a pair of sunglasses.
“Wear a warm sweater under that jacket,” Nathan said, offering last-minute advice. “It’s supposed to snow.”
“Oh, yuck.”
“Snow is actually a good thing,” he told her. “You can disguise yourself with a big scarf and hat without looking conspicuous.”
As Nadine packed binoculars and a video camera into a backpack, she could feel the smile on her face growing wider and wider.
Her dream was finally coming true and she couldn’t believe how great it felt. She truly was a private detective. She was going to get this guy and protect innocent senior citizens. Talk about job satisfaction.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PATRICK WAS BOOKING PLANE tickets to Calgary when his editor called. He hit the confirmation button to conclude his transaction, then swiveled his chair so he could face the view.
It was four weeks before Christmas and winter had arrived with a vengeance. The tops of the tallest buildings were hidden from view, as the great city was muffled by a major dump of snow. Six inches they were forecasting.
Then sunshine tomorrow.
He hoped they were right. He wanted clear skies by Friday, since he was desperate to get back to the Rocky Mountains and see the real Stephen. To get snowed in at the airport would be the ultimate frustration.
“Hey, Oliver. Sorry for that delay. I was just in the process of finalizing some travel arrangements. Have you looked at the revised manuscript?”
“I have and I love it. The Alaska book is ready for the copy editor, which brings me to the next matter of business. Your press tour for the New Zealand book.”
“How many cities?” Public appearances and book signings were the least favorite part of his job, but he tried not to complain. Every year his sales figures were climbing, and if he wanted to keep writing for a living, that was an important trend to maintain.
Oliver went over the details of the trip, which was scheduled for five weeks, with a three-day break over the holidays. “Then in the new year it’ll be time to start another book. Have you picked a subject?”
“I’m thinking extreme mountain sports in the Canadian Rockies. How does that sound?”
“Hmm. Could be good. Especially if you can squeeze in a dramatic encounter with a grizzly.”
“I’d rather not. I love a good adrenaline rush, but I’m not stupid.”
“You jump out of airplanes, Patrick, so that point is somewhat debatable.”
“I jump out of airplanes, wearing a parachute. That’s an important distinction. And one of these days, you’re coming with me.” Patrick smiled, trying to imagine the academic Oliver leaping out into midair at thirteen thousand feet.
“Like hell, I will. But back to business. When you get the time, send me a proposal for the Rocky Mountain book. Meanwhile, I’ll get working on the contract with your agent.”
“Sounds good, Oliver.” Patrick disconnected the call. Five years ago, he would have been exuberant about a new book contract. Now he signed up for the next project casually, as a matter of course.
The same went for his traveling. He remembered when just the prospect of visiting a new part of the world had filled him with joy. He had lived from adrenaline rush to adrenaline rush, carefully managing risk in exchange for maximum highs.
Not having a wife or children had been a conscious choice on his part. He figured it wouldn’t be fair to them, given his lifestyle. And he had never minded coming home to an empty apartment at the end of his exploits. Not as long as he knew that another adventure beckoned in the near future.
That was how his life had worked for many years now. But this time he felt different. His apartment had a hollow quality he’d never noticed before. Rather than dreaming of ideas for his next book, he found himself thinking about June and Stephen and trying to imagine what their lives had been like without him.
And he thought about Nadine, much as he didn’t want to.
He pictured her in the various rooms of his home. Sitting on the kitchen counter talking to him while he cooked. Curled up on the leather sofa beside him watching the news. Naked in his bed….
Patrick groaned. Damn it, she was too complicated for him, but somehow she’d bewitched him. And he didn’t know what in the hell he was going to do about it.
AT FOUR O’CLOCK ON THURSDAY afternoon, Nadine was counting out money at her desk when she became aware that she was being watched. She looked up.
Nathan was standing by the door, holding a pile of papers and wearing his reading glasses. Lindsay thought they made him look sexy. Nadine’s vote was for cute.
Sexy was a term that applied to only one man, in her opinion.
Patrick had looked so hot when she’d stopped by his place. He’d come to the door in a dark T-shirt that hugged his great physique and jeans that rode low on his hips. His hair had been tousled in a way that had nothing to do with fashion, and he’d had a one-day growth that suited his rugged features.
He had looked so damn good.
But it wasn’t just his looks that attracted her. It was something deeper, the raw, masculine side of him that pulled at her. Even when he was angry or distant, she could still feel the embers of desire, waiting for the slightest waft of oxygen to roar into flame.
“Nadine? What are you doing?”
She stopped daydreaming and looked down at her hands. “I’m putting hundred-dollar bills into an envelope.”
Nathan laughed. “Yeah. But why? I’ve got to tell you, it doesn’t look good.”
She put the last of the money inside, sealed the envelope, then set it aside. “I spent the day tracking down the Flower Con Man, Nathan. With all the snow, it wasn’t fun, but I’ve got statements from two of his victims, now—Mrs. Waldgrave and another elderly woman named Daisy Proctor. I also have pictures of the con man taking money from Daisy and a written statement from the owners of Flouting Flowers proving that he had delivered flowers to both Mrs. Waldgrave and Mrs. Proctor several months prior to conning them out of money.”
“That’s amazing.”
Nadine picked up a second envelope, thicker than the first. “All the evidence is in here. I have an appointment at five-thirty with the officer who took Mrs. Waldgrave’s original statement. Hopefully this will be enough to allow the police to make an arrest.”
“Very impressive. But you still haven’t explained about the money.”
Her smile faded. “I spent about an hour talking to Mrs. Proctor. She isn’t in the same situation as Mrs. Waldgrave. She was conned out of five thousand dollars that she simply can’t afford to lose. You should see her apartment, Nathan. It’s tiny and bare-bones. But she has a dog, a little Yorkie named Goliath.”
“Cute.”
“I swear, that Yorkie weighs more than Mrs. Proctor. I think she scrimps on meals for herself so she can afford his food and vet bills.”
Nadine tucked the two envelopes into her briefcase. “I’d better get going. The police precinct where we’re meeting is on the Upper East Side.”
“Wait a minute. You still haven’t explained. That money. Who does it belong to? Did you somehow get it from the Flower Con guy?”
“No. It’s my money.”
“But—” He removed his glasses and st
ared at her. “Are you planning to give that to Mrs. Proctor?”
“I’ll just slide the envelope under the door. She’ll never know where it came from.”
He shook his head. “Nadine. You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“In this job you’re going to run across a lot of people who are down on their luck. We can’t help all of them. It just isn’t possible.”
She understood what he was saying and why. But in this case he was wrong.
“I’ve told you about my family, so you won’t be surprised to find out that I have a trust fund. It’s more money than I’ll need in my lifetime…so what better use for it than to help people like Mrs. Proctor?”
“There are charitable foundations—”
“Sure. And my family makes donations to lots of them. And we attend galas and go to silent auctions and sit on committees. But this is different. It’s important to me to do this, to help this one individual woman who has fallen through the cracks.”
“Jeez, Nadine. You are something else. I had something to talk to you about, but it can wait until tomorrow. You’ve got more important things to do right now.”
NADINE WAS CHILLED FROM the tips of her toes to the hair follicles on her head, when she arrived home a little past nine in the evening. She shook the remaining snow from her boots and hung up her cashmere coat. The message light on her phone was flashing and she made a mental note to call her mother after she’d unwound with a glass of wine and a soak in her tub.
But she’d no sooner settled into the warm water, than her phone started ringing and she realized she’d made a tactical error.
If she’d called her mother first there wouldn’t have been any interruptions to her nice bath.
She pressed the speaker button on the intercom system her parents had had installed for her when she’d first moved in. It was a phone and security system all wrapped up in one nifty bit of technological wizardry. “Hi, Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner but it’s been a crazy day.”
There was a pause. Then a familiar, deep voice replied, “Tell me all about it, sweetheart.”
Nadine cringed. “Sorry about that. I thought you were my mom. Obviously.”
“I may not be who you thought I was. I’m still willing to listen.”
The low timbre of his voice brought back hot, sweet memories of their night together. She slid lower into the tub until all that was exposed was her head from the chin up. “I’m sure you didn’t call to hear about my day.”
“What’s that sound in the background?”
She went very still.
“Are you in the bath?”
She couldn’t say yes. She couldn’t talk to him, knowing he was picturing her naked. She tried to stand up silently, but it was impossible. The water sloshed—he’d be sure to hear.
“Hang on a second.” She shoved the phone into a plush towel to muffle the noise, then stepped out to the bath mat and grabbed her robe.
Even with the fabric wrapped tightly around her body, she still felt exposed as she picked up the phone again.
“Okay. I’m back.”
“Why did you get out of the tub? I don’t have special powers. I couldn’t see you.” He paused. “Though I wish I could.”
Her body tingled, as if he were here in this room with her. Watching her. Reaching out for her.
She left the bathroom, walking along polished hardwood, to the bedroom. As soon as she saw her plush duvet, she pictured Patrick lying there, waiting for her.
She closed her eyes.
“I solved a case today,” she said. “I stopped a man who was conning elderly women out of thousands of dollars.”
“Congratulations.”
He really sounded impressed and she could feel herself smiling. “How was your day?”
“My editor offered me a new book contract.”
“Wow. That’s exciting. You must be thrilled.”
“Once upon a time I would have been. Now I find it just, I don’t know. Satisfying, I suppose.”
He sounded tired, she thought. “Maybe you’re preoccupied by Stephen.”
“That’s true enough. And you’ve reminded me why I called. I wanted to let you know I booked our travel arrangements. Are you okay to leave Saturday morning at eight?”
“Sure. That gives me one more day to clear things up at the office.”
“Good. I figured we fly into Calgary, rent a car and drive straight to Kicking Horse. I’ve booked us two rooms for the night.”
“Okay.” Nadine swallowed. It was hard not to think about another mountain resort, the one at Emerald Lake. She and Patrick had ended up there by accident, thanks to that avalanche. What had happened between them that night had probably been an accident, too.
Something she had to put behind her. Something she would put behind her.
This trip would not be like the last one. There would be no long conversations, no stolen romantic evenings. Only work.
“I was thinking about that kid who pretended to be Stephen,” Patrick said. “I realized I gave him June’s letter.”
Her stomach tightened. “That’s right. You did. I hope he passed it along to Stephen.”
“What if he didn’t? If he’s the kind of guy to extort money, then he might not care too much about passing on a letter. Damn, I really should have listened to you about that DNA testing.”
“Don’t worry about it now,” she advised. “Wait until we actually meet with Stephen. For all we know, he already has the letter from his mom.”
THE WEATHER FORECAST PROVED accurate and the snowstorm was long gone by the weekend. Patrick had insisted that he pick up Nadine on the way to the airport this time and he wasn’t surprised when the cab stopped in front of an aristocratic-looking apartment building. A uniformed doorman emerged first, with a suitcase that Patrick recognized as Nadine’s.
She followed right behind the doorman with her briefcase strapped over her shoulder, wearing the same stylish ski jacket, fur-lined boots and hat as on the previous trip.
With hindsight he wondered how he hadn’t guessed she came from money from the beginning. Her tony address was just the tip of the iceberg. A regular P.I. couldn’t afford to dress the way she did. And those excellent manners, even her graceful way of walking…all were the product of a certain, privileged kind of background.
He felt a draft of cold air as the driver opened the back door for her and the scent of her perfume greeted him before her words. “Good morning.”
He grunted in reply. He almost wished she’d kept him waiting so he’d have an excuse for his bad temper. All night long he’d tortured himself with the image of her soaking in her bathtub. He’d pictured her stepping out of the tub, her body glistening with moisture.
He’d wanted to be there, to lick away every drop that was lucky enough to cling to her skin.
Good God. He was going to drive himself insane if he continued to think this way.
Condensation had formed on the side windows, and as they drove away, he swiped it clean so he could look at passing scenery that held no interest for him.
“It’s a big day, isn’t it? Just think…in about ten hours we should be at the Kicking Horse Resort.”
His stomach tightened around an emotion he was used to feeling before he did something physically challenging, or potentially dangerous, like jumping off a cliff with a hang glider.
Tonight, if all went well, he’d meet Stephen. The real Stephen.
What would it be like, seeing his son, in person, for the first time? Would it be anticlimactic and awkward like that staged meeting with the imposter in Lake Louise? Or would he feel something real?
He felt even more nervous about meeting Stephen than he had the first time. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because now he knew Stephen wanted nothing to do with him.
He shifted positions and Nadine glanced at him sympathetically. For some reason he resented the fact that she seemed to understand what he was going through. He turned away a
gain and didn’t say another word until they were at the airport.
“I have our boarding passes on my BlackBerry,” he told her as they stepped out to the sidewalk and grabbed their bags.
“Did you check if the flight is on time?”
About a dozen times. “It is.”
He set a fast pace, but she managed to keep up with him as they made their way past the line ups for tickets, boarding passes and luggage drop-off. After they’d cleared airport security, Nadine stopped at a newsstand, while he paced in front of their gate, keeping an eye on the departure time.
LaGuardia was famous for having a high percentage of delayed flights, but fortunately, today, theirs wasn’t one of them.
The trip to Toronto passed quickly enough with him and Nadine silently passing back and forth the various sections of the Times.
The next leg of the trip was more problematic. The flight to Calgary was almost four hours long. As he watched Nadine pull a couple of magazines from her briefcase, he realized he hadn’t thought to bring along any reading material. Last time he’d passed the time working on his manuscript.
But he hadn’t even brought his laptop on this trip. And the damned seats seemed even more uncomfortable than usual. He couldn’t decide whether it was better to keep his chair reclined or upright.
About an hour into the trip Nadine glanced at him and sighed. She handed him her copy of The New Yorker.
He flipped through it, but only a couple of the articles interested him. The short story was strange and he didn’t like the ending.
Half an hour later, he must have been fidgeting again, because Nadine gave him an exasperated look. “I’ve always liked the Proust Questionnaire…want to give it a whirl?”
“I suppose you need an Ivy League education to know what a Proust Questionnaire is.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a bunch of questions—an old parlor game, really. It’s published at the back of every Vanity Fair.” She turned to the last page of the magazine in her hands. “Here’s the first question—What is your idea of perfect happiness?”
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