Unraveled

by Allie Hawkins

  Any more than you can force Tony’s computer to reveal his secrets.

  “Unauthorized User” appeared on the monitor yet again, and Quinn gave up. She pushed away from the desk. Break time. Think about something else for a few minutes. Strange she couldn’t find a web site for the jeweler. Granted there wasn’t a web address on the receipt, but there wasn’t a street address either. Ritzy or shady?

  A tap on the outer door sent her heart pounding. Then George called her name. Lord, would she ever stop being on edge? Exhaling, she got up and opened the door.

  The older man’s smile was so normal she smiled back—like a normal person with nothing more pressing than a party for forty-two—make that forty-three—guests for the moment.

  “The caterers are unloading in the garage,” George said, his smile deepening. “They’re early. Worried about the weather, I guess. Mr. Jordan cleared them on his way out.”

  She thanked George, adding, “I’ll come down in half an hour or so.”

  Pierce should be back by then, and she wanted to see Brittany’s reaction to the earrings.

  “What time are you coming to the party?” she asked George.

  “My turn this year to come at seven. See the lights go on.” He talked on for a few more minutes, reiterating as he did every year, how much he looked forward to The Bash since his wife’s death. “Makes me forget for a while I don’t have family.”

  Melancholy overrode Quinn’s embarrassment at the old man’s situation. Afraid the tears choking her would spill out, she let him talk. When he finally left, she reached for the phone. She’d waited long enough to hear from her baby brother. In years past, they’d have chatted at least three times before The Bash started. This year she’d talk one minute. She’d express her good wishes fast and forget the induced-labor conference with Rex. Rex wasn’t Michael’s family.

  “Gobble, gobble, Quinn.” Traffic muffled Michael’s greeting.

  She blurted, “Don’t tell me you’re in the car?”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  Silence. Pointed. Hostile. Quinn felt as if he’d called her names.

  “How else do you think I bring home the turkey? Luce sure didn’t feel like cooking. So, it’s off to Kroger’s I go. Tra la la la, tra la la la, tra la la LAAAAAH.”

  Quinn flinched. “I’m sorry. I assumed you’d spend the day with Luce’s parents.”

  “The doctor ordered a very, very, very quiet day for the parents-to-be.”

  “How is Luce?”

  “Exhausted. Scared. Miserable.”

  “How about you?” Static crackled on the line.

  “Exhausted. Scared. Miserable. Not the PC-admission of a first-time daddy, right?”

  “I know it’s been tough.” Careful with the brilliant insights, Quinn.

  “You don’t know the half of it, Big Sis. But let’s change the subject.”

  Against her better judgment, she followed his lead. She couldn’t ruin the day by mentioning the note. She wouldn’t let it ruin her day—or his.

  “Thanks, by the way, for asking Rex. I know what it means to him.”

  “Things may...be looking up for him.”

  “My big sister, miracle worker.”

  She flinched at the ugly little slur of sarcasm edging the words. She touched her stinging cheek, saying hurriedly, “I can’t give you details yet.”

  “No problemo. I understand ethics, Big Sis.”

  “I’m worried about you,” she said, cutting him a break because he didn’t push her on the details of Rex’s job and because he’d gloat over Tony’s fall from grace and because he must be whacked.

  “Should I come to St. Louis tomorrow?” Let Pierce deal with Tony’s ruin?

  “In this weather? It’s snowing here again. Another reason I’m headed to the supermarket. They’re predicting three to four feet tonight.”

  “What if Luce goes into labor?”

  “Russians drive Mercedes. We’ll make it. Gotta go. Don’t call me, I’ll call you later, okay? For some reason, Luce gets upset every time the phone rings. Say hi to Rex.”

  Quinn listened to the dial tone for two inhales and exhales, then hung up, telling herself the hollow feeling in her stomach was hunger.

  ****

  Roses bloomed in Brittany’s milky cheeks, but the line between her perfectly plucked brows was almost as deep as the parallel tracks between Pierce’s eyes. Quinn scanned his stone face for a clue, came up with nothing.

  Brittany glanced around the office. “Nothing’s changed, I see.”

  “Everything’s changed.” Pierce glanced at Quinn as if she’d confirm the complete redecoration he made a day after Brittany disappeared from his life.

  Brittany’s tiny shoulders moved. “What about your office, Quinn?”

  None of your business, beeeyach. Quinn’s smile flickered, disappeared. “My office manager’s a natural at interior design.”

  “Nothing from Tony.” Pierce moved to Quinn’s side and bussed her behind the ear, muttering, “Something’s up.”

  “I’m sure he’ll show up at the hotel, surprise me,” Brittany said in a tinny, upbeat voice that jarred Quinn.

  “Did he hint at a surprise?” Quinn pitched her voice low, fake friendly.

  Brittany supported her chin on her right thumb and middle finger. Her index finger tapped below her cheek and she pursed her lips. A woman thinking before speaking. Her index finger traveled to her bottom lip, tapped twice.

  She said, “Well, he did say he had something for me. Said he’d give it to me at dinner.”

  Pierce glared. “Any idea what that something is?”

  Brittany took a step backwards. “You ask more questions than a lawyer.”

  “This is important, Brittany.” Quinn filled the void of Pierce’s speechlessness. “No more questions if you’ll tell us everything you think might help find Tony.”

  “I’ve already told you.” Tears threatened, but she recapped Tony’s sudden invitation a week ago to visit Kansas City for Thanksgiving, all arrangements made, all expenses paid. They’d talked every day since—three, four, five times a day. “Tony’s such a sweetie. He knows how hard Thanksgiving is for me. Being alone, no family.”

  “Did you think he was going to ask you to marry him?” Quinn spoke as gently as she could, avoiding eye contact with Pierce.

  The tip of Brittany’s tongue flicked her top lip, disappeared. She swallowed, nodding once, hard, fast, and whispered, “He said he loved me.”

  A sound escaped from Pierce—disbelief, sorrow, maybe.

  Quinn slipped between him and Brittany, patted the other woman’s shoulder, put a hand in the middle of her back. “Let’s go into Pierce’s office. You can sit down. Take off your coat.”

  “What about what you found? It’s something of Tony’s, isn’t it? Is it for me?”

  A little pressure by Quinn between Brittany’s shoulder blades guided the other woman into the office. Feet shuffling, Pierce followed like an old man. He let Quinn open his top drawer, remove the exquisite box, hand it to Brittany, sitting on the edge of the wing chair, her coat unbuttoned, her oversized purse on her knees.

  “Oh, my—” Brittany sat back in the chair and splayed her fingers over her heart. After a deep breath, she turned the box to the right, the left, back to center before lifting the top.

  She slipped one pendant earring off its velvet bed, held it between thumb and index finger and raised it to the light. Removing the back of the earring, she cocked her head. Her dark hair fell to one side in a cascade of waves. Eyes closed, she slid the post into her earlobe and slipped the back into place.

  As if alone, she repeated the steps with the second earring, puffing her hair up away from her ears, turning her head from side to side so Pierce and Quinn could see.

  “This was with them.” Quinn presented the small, unsealed envelope. Brittany opened it, glanced at the card, then stuffed it back in the envelope.

  “Have you ever...seen such dazzling...earring
s? I’m never taking them off.”

  “Diamond and jeans?” Pierce muttered, his face grim.

  “Tony obviously knows your taste.” Quinn silenced Pierce with a frown.

  “Diamonds and jeans are all the rage.” Brittany tossed her head at Pierce, but spoke to Quinn. “I saw a pair on the Internet I loved. They don’t compare to these—don’t come close. These surpass those!”

  Several turns of her head gave Quinn her cue. She bit back saying, They’re decadent and said, “They’re exquisite.”

  “Not long ago I was having a bad day...I never got squat in the divorce. I sent the earring link to Tony. He called me. Pumped me up. Said when he made his first million . . .”

  Standing, she let the sentence trail off and crossed the room, purse over her shoulder. “I need a mirror. Your executive bathroom still here?”

  Without waiting for a reply, she pranced to the washroom, entered and closed the door.

  “Vanity, vanity,” Pierce whispered too loudly.

  “Shhhh.” Quinn motioned him to stay put and tiptoed across the thick Aubusson rug.

  Heart thudding, she pressed an ear against the door and held her breath. Pierce was so quiet she heard atoms bumping into each other. Deeper silence. Silence that muffled the thud of her heart. Silence that lasted a lifetime.

  So quiet, but...she’d swear she detected the faint snap of a cell cover closing.

  Pierce touched her shoulder. Adrenaline pumped into Quinn. She jumped away from the door and stared at him. He held his wrist up, tapping his watch.

  When Brittany emerged a second later, smiling like an alligator spying two sitting ducks, Quinn was bending over his shoulder studying the receipt.

  “I should go back,” Brittany announced. “I’m certain I’ll hear from Tony soon.”

  “Have you checked your cell phone?” Quinn asked. How the hell could she get her hands on that phone?

  A headshake put Quinn in imminent danger of going blind.

  “It hasn’t rung since I left the hotel.” She glanced at Pierce. “I’m ready to go back. I want to take a long bubble bath. Do my nails. Put my hair up. I want Tony to see these earrings the minute I open the door.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard.” Pierce moved away from the desk with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man walking to the electric chair. “You coming, Quinn?”

  “I should check with the caterers. Do a few other things.” Like wonder why Brittany showed zero curiosity about where they’d found the earrings. Strange she’d forgotten Brittany had the brain power of a twenty-watt bulb.

  Ten minutes after they left, Quinn called Pierce. “Your mission, should you accept it...get a look at her cell phone.”

  ****

  Pierce tooled into his office at 2:03 grinning with such self-confidence and power Quinn’s skin crackled with excitement.

  “Not only did I accept your mission,” he announced, pulling her from behind the desk and waltzing her around chairs and a coffee table, “I left no trace of my mind-boggling deviousness.”

  “Help me, Fairy Godmother.” Quinn bit her bottom lip. She and Pierce did not have a good dance history. They both wanted to lead.

  Without warning, he tilted her backwards until her head nearly touched the floor. Gravity pulled blood into her brain. She exhaled. “Don’t drop me.”

  “Drop you? A master sleuth who ran into a snowbank, tended his passenger, knocked her purse on the floor, swiped her cell—”

  “Whaaaat?” Quinn’s neck whiplashed as he swung her upright.

  Pierce laughed, made an exaggerated, theatrical bow, and planted a loud kiss on her gaping mouth. “And yes, I checked her Messages Sent.”

  A cocked eyebrow accompanied his drawn-out pause.

  “Don’t think I won’t hurt you.” She punched his arm. “Who’d she text?”

  “Not Tony. At least it’s not a number I’ve used with him.”

  “Let me see.”

  He took the phone from his pocket and held it by one corner over their heads. “About that undeserved and inappropriate physical retaliation—”

  The phone on his desk rang and Pierce’s laugh was positively evil. “Want to guess who that is?”

  He handed the cell phone to Quinn, took his time walking to his desk, checked the LED and flashed another snarky grin before picking up. “How’re you feeling, Britt—”

  Anyone who didn’t know him might think his soothing, composed tone reflected concern, Quinn realized.

  “No, I don’t have your cell phone,” he said, telling the truth since Quinn had it and was puzzling over Brittany’s last text.

  Perfect plan. Love the gift. Can’t wait to show you. Yours, B.

  “Sure, I can go check the SUV. I’m sure it’s not there...Yes, I understand how important...Yes, I’ll go down right now. In the meantime, go through your— Okay, okay. I understand you dumped everything on the bed...Give me ten minutes. I’ll call you back.” He disconnected, laid the receiver in the cradle and patted his left shoulder. “Should I take up a career as an actor?”

  “I think you should. After you look at these other texts.”

  They spent ten minutes reviewing a dozen texts to the same phone number. They agreed the messages didn’t help them a damned bit. Most were as cryptic as the one she’d made from Pierce’s bathroom. Attempts at accessing voice mail without a password failed. They tried the phone number she’d called ten times in the last two days and groaned when it was out of service.

  Pierce’s cell phone interrupted their groanfest. He motioned Quinn to stand next to him before speaking.

  “Bad news. Your phone’s not in the SUV. I guarantee it.”

  “You’re right,” Brittany said, her voice breathy. “I feel so dumb. I found it. When I dumped everything on the bed, the phone must’ve fallen underneath. I got on my hands and knees...”

  Quinn rolled her eyes at the same time Pierce rolled his. Like most liars Brittany peppered her story with too many details.

  After she finally ran down, he asked, “No word from Tony?”

  “Not yet. But it’s still early.” She let that comment hang, then said, “Is the invitation to Quinn’s party still open?”

  “It is.”

  “Okay. I may or may not see you later.”

  “Let me know if you hear from Tony.”

  “You, too,” she said and hung up without agreeing to call Pierce.

  “Pinch me,” Quinn said. “I don’t know if I’m asleep or awake.”

  His dark eyes flashed, then he grabbed her, crushing her to him, taking her mouth, anchoring her head in his strong, magical hands. Desire swelled and she pressed against his crotch, taking delight in his erection, repressing worries about commitment and love.

  He slid his mouth off hers, feathered kisses in the hollow of her throat, placed and held her hand on his zipper. “Are you dreaming?”

  “I’d say no—off the top of my head.” Legs shaky, she held onto his elbows, inhaled and took a step backwards. “Romantic that I am, I suggest you sit behind your desk. I’ll go back to checking Tony’s computer.”

  He stood still, letting her hands slip off his arms. “With my mission accomplished, I do expect a reward.”

  “Which will be that much sweeter—later.” Quinn danced away from him, stopping in the door to the outer office. “Asleep or awake, I can’t figure out why Brittany lied to us. It’s so damned blatant.”

  Pierce shrugged. “Makes me wonder what else she’s lying about.”

  “Despite Tony’s confession, I can’t wrap my head around them as a couple.”

  Pierce snorted. “Not even if they were the lone survivors of Armageddon.”

  “Will you ask him about her tonight?” Quinn hugged her waist.

  “Hell, I don’t know what I’m going to ask him. Why for starters. And if he tells me he stole the money to give Brittany baubles...” Pierce shook his head. “If he tells me that, I’ll probably need that brain transplant before I can call the cops
.”

  Her heart felt suddenly electrified. “You’ll call the police?”

  “Unless he convinces me he stole money to save someone’s life.”

  “His mother sounded fine. In good physical health. I thought the Franklins were bummed Tony was missing Thanksgiving with them. But I’d bet they aren’t taking anti-depressants. Pioneer blood runs in their veins.” Quinn rubbed the sudden rash of goose bumps on her arms. “There’s always his cousin. What if she’s ill? Or was hurt in an accident? Or needs experimental medical treatment.”

  “Whoa.” Pierce held up both hands. “If any of those scenarios are true, no cops. You and I paid to keep this quiet, so I vote for keeping it quiet. But I still want to know why. And I want to know how Brittany figures into this clusterfuck.”

  Love’s as strong as blood, Quinn realized. At least Pierce’s feelings for Tony were as strong as if they shared a blood tie.

  Wanting to avoid thoughts about Pierce’s betrayal with Brittany, she said, “I got nowhere with his computer, but I could hack Molly MacIntyre’s medical records pretty fast. If they’re negative, I’ll check the Endicott newspaper for accidents.”

  Pierce gaped at her. “You’re wading into deep legal water.”

  “No. Not wading.” She shook her head and wallowed for a minute in the gentle rebuke in his voice. “I’m swimming in deep legal water. With luck, no one will ever know.”

  Pierce grimaced. “Think that’s what Tony said?”

  The question, purely rhetorical, hovered between them. Quietly, she asked, “Does he know you footed the bill for Rex?”

  “Yes. It was his suggestion, believe it or not.”

  ****

  Working alone in his office did zip for Pierce’s concentration. Quinn was a narcotic, and he needed his fix. Maybe Tony felt the same way about Brittany. Acid spewed into Pierce’s gut. And maybe cows and pigs and horses flew. Brittany knew how to stoke a guy’s libido, but loving him, giving of herself, helping him become a better person? Elephants would fly first.

  The truth about his own shallowness slapped Pierce between the eyes. Brittany never set a trap for him. She’d seen him for what he was—unlike Quinn who’d seen him for what he could be.

  He cringed, remembering commitment becoming a dirty word—despite his parents’ forty-five years of marriage. They’d made life together look too easy. They’d loved him, let him skate too often, bailed him out more than once. Cute and charming and selfish, he’d developed the maturity of a spoiled brat. He’d betrayed Quinn because he never grew up.