by Janet Dailey
“People do.” Hoebel was angling for another look at the screen. His first move in the mind game was only meant to rattle the old man, in preparation for a careful shakedown when his servants and nurses and whatnot were busy elsewhere. Maybe not tonight, but he had to start somewhere.
Hoebel was startled to see a screen shot of Erin Randall at the original Montgomery mansion appear.
Montgomery gave him a crooked smile. “Not her bones you found. No. She isn’t gone. The eyes. The eyes are the same,” the old man said.
“Sir?” Hoebel wondered if Monty was about to blow another valve in his brain. He thought fast. A second stroke would really screw things up, if that was what was about to happen.
He looked closely at the old man. Hell, he was no doctor, but Montgomery looked pretty damn shaky. If he went back to the hospital, Hoebel would need to regroup, make a contact inside the new bank, give him or her a healthy cut so he could take the money and run—
At that moment, a woman in a scrub top and jeans walked in. “Time’s up,” she said briskly to Hoebel. “You must be the chief. I’m Vernette Adams.”
Montgomery looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled tiredly. “There you are.”
“How are you doing?” she asked him brightly.
“Still trying.”
“Did you remember those passwords?” she asked him.
“Some. Not all.”
“Well, that’s a good sign. The rest will come back to you. You’ve got to take it easy, though.”
“No. I’m running out of time. I can feel it.”
“Are you up for another argument about your meds?” Her light tone made the old man smile again. But his answer made her frown.
“Vernette. No pills. I know Caro’s been hounding you. I can hear her in my sleep.”
The nurse cleared her throat and shot Hoebel a meaningful look over her patient’s head. “I understand, Mr. Montgomery.” She gestured toward the door for his visitor’s benefit. “Chief Hoebel, nice to have met you,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve got a million things to do. Thanks for stopping by.”
There was nothing for it. The chief got up and expressed his obviously fake concern. Neither the nurse nor the old man seemed interested. He let himself out, not waiting for the housekeeper to do the honors.
Later that night, so much later that the rest of the household had to be asleep, Montgomery wandered back into his study. Vernette had won. He’d swallowed the first four or five in his prescribed regimen with a glass of water while she’d watched. He felt somewhat better. Not well. But more alert. He could remember things.
He found his laptop where he’d left it on the sofa, undisturbed but automatically shut down. In another minute he had the same image of Erin in front of him. He reached for the telephone on the side table and dialed a number he knew by heart. Not Erin’s. Her mother’s.
Several rooms away, Caroline picked up the receiver in her room and listened in. So quaint. No one else she knew had phones that were connected to actual wires in walls, let alone to other phones. The sound was excellent. Not a bit of static. There were a few advantages to living with a man who hadn’t changed his ways since the year one. He’d kept the same damn number for the last thirty years.
Like his dead daughter was going to call him from the grave or something.
Whoever he was calling wasn’t picking up. Tapping her foot impatiently, Caro listened to the rings.
His daughter. Hah. She’d had enough of that morbid charade. The past couple of months had been pure hell. That gung-ho detective had come out of nowhere and got his handsome face on TV to say he was reopening the case of darling little Ann, and Montgomery hadn’t stopped obsessing for a second. So much for Caroline’s marry-me campaign. Montgomery had made it all too clear before his stroke that he didn’t want a replacement wife and baby. And now—well, she could just imagine the snickering if she cooed over his silver sideburns and talked about how sexy a mature man could be. She’d actually done that once upon a time. No more. His strength was gone and he couldn’t even walk straight.
Let him lean on the nurse he liked so much. Caroline had a lot of things to do before she made her exit. Sneaking around with flash drives and whatnot had gotten her exactly nowhere. But she’d finally verified that the last substantial sum of money was tucked into that reward trust. Safer than a cookie jar. But not safe from Caroline.
A few days ago she’d done something so old-fashioned it was worthy of Monty: Hired a private investigator and paid him in cash. To do it, she’d had to return several designer dresses with no tags, demanding a full refund to her debit card and getting it after throwing a spectacular tantrum.
The PI knew his stuff and he specialized in financial chicanery, which was the reason why he’d demanded cash up front. He’d suggested she do some of her own digging to cut costs and had given her a few tips on how to do it. For his part, he’d unearthed a violent ex-con named Cutt, and quickly drawn a line from him to the police chief to Monty. And there were other lines. Montgomery Holdings was going belly-up. Not even Take All’s potential stud fees were enough to make investors park their money in the Thoroughbred fund. And to think she’d helped him design the prospectus.
She had to protect herself. If she couldn’t charm or bully Monty into giving her a reasonable settlement, there was always good old blackmail. His social standing and family name were precious to him. Hugh Montgomery would cling to both when all else was gone.
Damn it. The phone line clicked and the ringing stopped. Whoever it was didn’t answer or hadn’t wanted to talk to Monty. Caroline replaced the receiver quietly and went to the window, looking out at the dark trees against a night sky with no stars. Their high branches swayed in the wind. Bad weather was coming.
She picked up the receiver once more, just to check. Apparently he’d called again. Caroline was surprised to hear a woman’s voice. Older. Low and sweet. She gritted her teeth, listening to the small talk between Monty and whomever he was talking to. Nothing of consequence.
Unthinkingly, she gave an angry sigh. Monty must have heard her.
“I’ll have to call you later,” he said to the woman.
Caroline hung up. He was nearly as sharp as ever. But why he’d used a house phone, knowing she might listen in—she didn’t understand that. Unless the call was perfectly ordinary. Maybe the woman was a relative she didn’t know about. No. The unfamiliar fondness in his tone didn’t fit that theory.
She didn’t know why he’d done it, but she was going to find out.
Bannon turned to greet Erin, who was coming in from the supermarket. Heavy bags were slung by their plastic handles over both her slender wrists. She lifted them so he could slide them off.
“Eggs and milk and OJ and bread,” she said. “Everything we need for breakfast. Oh, and sausage.” Charlie looked on approvingly as Bannon took the bags to the kitchen and set out the groceries on the counter. She watched him absently.
“I would’ve gone, you know,” he said. Feeling thirsty, he didn’t put the orange juice in the refrigerator, setting it aside and opening the tab top.
She gave him a slight smile. “I needed something to do.”
He glanced outside the kitchen toward the boxes that Doris had brought. They were in exactly the same position atop the others. Bannon was sure Erin hadn’t looked into them.
She hadn’t touched any of the boxes last night either. He wasn’t going to ask her why not; nor had he asked about her meeting with Montgomery. If and when she wanted to talk about that, it would happen. So far she’d said nothing.
“How was your run?” she asked him.
“Great,” he said. “It’s been a while since I had a chance to get out two days in a row. Feels good.”
She nodded, turning her head to look at the rain suddenly spattering against the window.
“Here it comes,” he said. “I saw the clouds piling up on the home stretch. Good thing neither of us got caught in it.”
; She came close enough for him to sense her warmth—damn. He was overheated as it was. “You looking for a hug?” he teased her. “I’d be happy to oblige but I’m all sweaty.”
Erin touched her soft lips to his cheek. “Not there, you’re not.”
It didn’t quite count as a kiss, but it was a start. “Hey,” he said, startled. “I haven’t shaved either.”
“I don’t care.”
He wasn’t going to argue. It was almost worth another night of frustration on the sofa to get a sweet surprise like that from her today. His brother had been right about his having to sleep with the cat, and good old Babaloo liked the arrangement just fine. But Bannon wasn’t sure how long he could restrain himself.
He had to, though. The undercurrents of feeling between them—and the sensual attraction—weren’t that important right now, not compared to what she had to be going through. And there was more to come. Who knew what revelations lay ahead? Bannon dismissed the idea of handing the photo to Erin without comment when the time seemed right. She had to decide what she wanted to do and when.
To see herself in Luanne Montgomery’s young face was bound to be a shock. One thing at a time, he thought. One revelation too many might be more than Erin could handle.
She opened a cabinet door and reached up for a couple of juice glasses, a move that lifted her T-shirt just enough to show an inch of bare, velvety-looking skin above the top of her jeans.
Oh yeah.
He’d been about to ask if he could give her a real kiss in return, but when he saw her like that, the question was where. If the hem had gone a little higher, he could have started with her belly button.
He snapped out of it when Erin pulled her T-shirt back into place, not seeming to notice his interest. “Want me to make breakfast?”
“You shopped. I’ll cook.”
“Okay. That’s fair.” She poured herself some orange juice, then headed out to the sofa. Bannon really didn’t want to stop looking at her just yet. He poked his head out of the kitchen in time to see her settle into the cushions, picking up on her sideways glance at the boxes as she drank.
So she was thinking about what was in them. Later for that, he suddenly hoped. He wasn’t in the mood for life-changing conversations right now.
“Let’s eat here.” He indicated the table, then glanced at the stack of boxes. “You know, these are in the way.”
Erin finished her juice, getting up to go into the kitchen when he came out. He heard her set the glass in the sink. “I agree,” she called over her shoulder. “I was going to ask if they could go into a closet.”
She was putting off the inevitable as long as possible. Bannon couldn’t blame her. “No problem.”
Erin came out of the kitchen. “If you want to know why, and I know you do, it’s because I don’t want to go through them, even though I have a feeling that was your intention.”
“Sort of. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to some of that stuff.”
Erin leaned against the door frame, her arms folded over her chest. “It’s all documents and old photographs, right?”
“Pretty much. There are police reports too.”
There was a flicker of something in her eyes. Fear?
“What do they say?” she asked in a calm enough voice.
“Nothing much. There wasn’t any evidence to speak of. From the night of the abduction, I mean,” he amended. “And as far as what Kelly sent from the station, I haven’t looked at any of it.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” She pressed her lips together for a second or two. “I’m just not ready.”
“Then I’ll put it all away for now.” He made quick work of getting the boxes into the hall closet, taking his winter wear off hangers and bundling it onto the top shelf.
“Fine with me.” She hesitated. “I assume you and Doris organized the material.”
Was she asking if there was anything worth looking at? Hard to tell, especially when he was busy restacking the boxes and couldn’t see her expression. “Uh, yeah. Everything’s tagged and sorted out.” He straightened, dusting off his hands and then closing the closet door. “Anyway, it can wait. I’m starving,” he said cheerfully. “How about you?”
“More like moderately famished.” She picked up the remote and cruised through the morning shows, keeping the sound way down low. He ripped open the sausage box and let the precooked links roll out into a frying pan, then got eggs started in another pan. Bread slotted into the toaster, pats of butter flipped on the plates. He opened the jam jar and stuck a spoon in it. A help-yourself breakfast was on the way.
“Do you think we could go out to my house?”
That stopped him cold. “What do you need?” His mind was still on the evidence. Maybe there was another scrapbook tucked away out there that held a definitive clue, one that really would wrap things up and make perfect sense. Just like TV, he thought, where it took thirty minutes to solve everything and get the girl.
“My easel,” Erin said.
“That thing’s huge. Linc and I didn’t have room for it,” he mumbled.
“I’m not blaming you, Bannon. Anyway, besides that, I need about a million other things. You wouldn’t know what they are or where to find them.”
Bannon turned the sausage with a spatula and flipped the eggs. “Hmm. You know, it might be a good idea if we—”
“What?”
Playing short-order cook wasn’t going to get him out of answering. He really couldn’t just tell her no. She had an assignment to complete, it would do her good to focus on that, and she needed her materials.
“Ah, I can’t remember what I was going to say,” he lied. “How do you like your eggs?”
Erin came into the kitchen. “Over easy. Those look fine.” She gave him a curious look. “Let’s go this afternoon.”
“All right,” he said. “Works for me.” He turned off the browned sausages, slid her eggs onto a plate, and added the popped-up toast on the downbeat. “And thanks for not going alone.”
“I wouldn’t go without you, Bannon.”
She took the full plate from his hand and set it on the counter. Bannon backed up, feeling as if the kitchen got a whole lot narrower as she came closer. He didn’t bother to get a plate for himself. He couldn’t. Her soft arms were around his neck and she was looking up at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Not that I mind.”
“Just thought I’d kiss the cook. For real. Thank you for letting me take my time, Bannon. And thanks for taking me in.”
How about that. Every cop in the world knew the rescue-me fantasy was a potent one for a whole lot of women. But the good guys didn’t take advantage of it.
Then her lips touched his. Once. Twice.
His hands slid down around her waist and somehow slipped underneath the warm, light material of her T-shirt, caressing the skin he’d glimpsed, but not going any farther than that.
Her mouth tasted of sweet juice and Bannon was damned if he was going to deny himself such an unexpected pleasure.
The embrace and the kiss itself were hungry and deeply satisfying at the same time, as if they’d waited a little too long for both. The tender pressure of her lips triggered a stronger, searching response from his. Her body moved against him, as if she craved being held and held hard.
It felt good. So good, he had to stop it. Bannon got her by the waist and moved her away from him with gentle force.
“Wow. Sorry. But you and I both know where this is going to end up.”
“Tell me,” she said, looking a little dazed.
“In bed. And you’re not ready for that.”
Erin stiffened and took a step back. Her blue eyes flashed with unexpected fire. “Are you going to protect me from everything?” she demanded. “Even what I want?”
He didn’t dare reassure her with a caress. She looked like she was about to slap him. Instead, she stormed off into the bedroom and slammed the door. Bannon sighed. He wasn’t going in there.
They were still in the car but stopped, looking at the house from a rise at Bannon’s request. It seemed the same.
They weren’t. Not after that kiss. She’d come out of the bedroom eventually, acting as if it had never happened.
The afternoon light hit the windows in a way that let them look inside. The place seemed empty.
He was still going in first, and he’d brought his gun. He turned to glance at her, realizing that she hadn’t answered. “You okay?”
There was a wistful look in her beautiful blue eyes. Home had to be a big deal to her. Now more than ever.
“Yes to both questions,” she finally said. “And Jenny was great about it. She understood. All she wanted was for us to put timers on the lights. I told her we’d left my car here, and she said that was fine.”
“Okay. Good. I can do that.”
She collected herself. “Sorry. I should have told you before we got here. Just wasn’t thinking, I guess.”
“I understand.”
They drove the last stretch of road in silence. He pulled up next to her parked car, not seeing one single thing different about it close up, except for the dust on the windshield. He’d take care of that and make sure the engine started. Then he’d move it to a different position.
They still had not contacted the local police. Bannon had argued against it and she hadn’t offered any resistance. Not having backup went against all his training. Coming out here with her was asking for trouble, even if it hadn’t showed up. Hoebel knew that Bannon was on to him, and that went double for Cutt, who was violating his parole. Just because he’d tossed the GPS gizmo at Hoebel didn’t mean they hadn’t been followed. His instincts told him that. Maddeningly, his other five senses weren’t picking up a damn thing.
But here they were. If she needed stuff, she needed it.
“Ready?” he asked her with a sigh.
“Aren’t you going to go in first?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I am. You really are getting to know me.”
Erin settled into her jacket. “Go ahead. I don’t mind. I like looking at the house from here.”
