In consequence, Julie sewed and stuffed and whittled and trimmed as she never had before in her life.
“You’ll be there tomorrow night, won’t you, Julie?” Tara asked anxiously as Julie let her and Linda Wheeler, her handler, out the front door, which, to pacify Mac, she’d kept locked at the cost of great inconvenience to clients and staff alike all day.
“I’ll be there for the duration. Don’t worry, you’re going to do great.” She hugged Tara, and Linda, then watched them walk out into the still-bright evening.
“Like hell you will,” Mac said, appearing in the doorway between the showroom and the office, where he had spent most of the day alternately talking on the phone and using her computer, just as she walked past it. He was wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt that he’d had his assistant, Rawanda, bring him early that morning, and he looked so handsome that the girls had fluttered at the sight of him. Several had asked her covertly who he was when he had disappeared back into her office again after the cursory visual check he subjected all arrivals and departures to. Julie had told them that he was a visiting dress designer who went by the name of Debbie, and had taken perverse satisfaction in watching their faces fall.
“What?” Julie stopped and glared at him. She was getting tired of this master-of-the-universe thing he’d had going on all day.
“I said, you’re not going to that beauty pageant.” Mac returned her glare with stony-eyed determination. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were lines she’d never noticed before around them and his mouth. In addition, his disposition had been deteriorating steadily all day. “Everybody and his mother expects you to be there. Let’s try to at least make the guy who’s trying to kill you work hard to earn his money, okay?”
Julie simmered. “I’ve got a news flash for you, bubba: You don’t tell me what to do. Anyway, I’ve been thinking: Exactly why is Sid supposed to want to kill me? It can’t be over money: I signed a prenup. It can’t be because I made the colossal mistake of sleeping with you: He didn’t know about that until just a couple of minutes before that car hit Carlene. Are you suggesting he wants to kill me just so he won’t have to endure the trauma of divorce? Sorry, I don’t buy it. So what’s your rationale here?”
Mac’s lips compressed. “I don’t know exactly yet.”
Julie made a derisive sound. “That’s what I thought.”
“Julie, what time do you want me in the morning?” Meredith emerged from the dressing room where she’d been tidying up. She couldn’t have heard their conversation—it had been conducted in little more than hissed whispers—but she must have sensed the atmosphere between them, because she stopped in the doorway and looked self-consciously from Julie to Mac and back. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Julie said with a sigh, pointedly turning her back on Mac to smile at Meredith. Her head ached from doing so much close work with her needle—those bugle beads were tiny, and the design Tara had wanted had required hundreds—and she massaged the area just above her nose with a forefinger. “There are no appointments tomorrow, so why don’t you just plan to meet me in the auditorium tomorrow night? Be a little early, in case any of the girls’ gowns need work.”
Meredith smiled. “I’m so excited. I’ve never been to the governor’s mansion before.”
“It should be fun.”
Mac still stood in the doorway, silently smoldering, and Julie glared at him while Meredith went to retrieve her purse.
“I’m going now,” Meredith said, returning with her purse tucked under her arm. Julie wasn’t sure how much Meredith actually knew about what was going on, but obviously she knew that Amber was no longer there—Julie had left a message on Amber’s answering machine firing her when she didn’t come in again that morning—and something major was up. If nothing else, Sid had called twice and both times Julie had refused to take his calls, which she never did; and Mac’s largely silent but impossible to overlook presence all day was a dead giveaway. But she hadn’t asked any questions, and Julie appreciated that.
Now Meredith glanced from Julie to Mac and back, then seemed to hesitate. “Uh, Julie—do you need me to stay? Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. You go on,” Julie said, while Mac, obviously knowing when he was being insulted, however subtly, leaned one shoulder against the jamb, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked sardonic.
“See you tomorrow night, then,” Meredith said.
“Thanks for all your hard work today.” Julie walked her to the door and smiled at her as she left. She was glad to see that Meredith was looking slightly reassured as she set off down the sidewalk.
“You will not,” Mac said, scowling, as Julie locked the door and turned back into the room, “see her tomorrow night.”
“Want to bet?” Julie smiled sweetly as she walked toward him.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Excuse me.” The words were pointed, because he still blocked the doorway to her office as she reached it. He didn’t move, and she had perforce to stop, glaring at him. He met her gaze with a meditative expression.
“Know what I’ve been doing today?”
“Besides being a total jackass and guzzling enough coffee to float the ark?” Julie asked. “No clue.”
“I’ve been checking payroll records for Rand Corporation.”
“What? How?”
Mac held up his hand. His key ring dangled from a finger.
“With this.” He touched a black spark-plug-looking thing that hung on the ring with the keys. “I used it to download files off your computer yesterday. Sid’s business records make interesting reading.”
“Aren’t you the sneaky one!” Julie marveled, punching him none-too-gently in the stomach and then, as he stepped back with an ooph and rubbed his belly in reaction, shoving past him into her office. “But I must say that it’s a nice change to hear you actually admitting that you used me to get information on Sid.”
“I am not admitting . . .”
Julie interrupted ruthlessly. “Know what? I don’t care.”
Silenced, Mac eyed her in exasperation as she retrieved her purse from under the desk. Josephine, who was stretched out beside Julie’s purse, looked up and wagged her tail inquiringly. The poodle was once again wearing her sparkly pink collar, and looked adorable. Like Mac, she had been a big hit with the girls.
“Time to go home,” Julie said to her, straightening, purse in hand.
“Your father received a steady paycheck from the Rand Corporation until fifteen years ago. Then it stopped. The same month as Kelly Carlson disappeared. The same month as . . .”
“Will you stop?” Julie headed for the door. “Enough with the conspiracy theories already. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’ve got a headache. For your information, I believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe that Princess Diana’s car crash was an accident. And I believe that you’ve gone totally out of your mind.”
She jerked open the door and looked pointedly at him. “And now, would you please walk out this door so I can lock up?”
Mac gave her a narrow-eyed look, then snapped his fingers for Josephine. The poodle appeared, stretching and yawning luxuriously, and Mac scooped her up.
“Too bad you’re not more like your dog,” Julie said as Mac walked past her into the soft bright warmth of the summer evening. “She’s a sweetheart. You’re a sweetheart, Josephine.”
Josephine wagged her tail.
“So what do you want for dinner?” Mac asked as she finished locking the door and turned to find him waiting.
“Are you suggesting that you and I might be going to have a mutual dinner? Not a chance.” After taking a careful look around—not that she really, truly believed Mac’s nonsense, mind you, but it had raised just enough doubt in her mind to make her slightly paranoid and, anyway, she couldn’t get Carlene’s awful fate out of her mind—Julie headed toward her car.
Mac and Josephine f
ell in beside her. “If you don’t feel like eating, fine. You can watch me.”
“I’m having dinner with my mother. She’s cooking. She’s still very upset because I’m getting a divorce. She needs to vent.” Just the thought made Julie feel gloomy. She was going to hear about the folly of divorcing Sid for approximately the next hundred years.
“Call her and tell her you have other plans.”
Mac obviously had never dealt with her mother.
“No.” But the idea was tempting. Oh, so tempting. She was so not in the mood to be harangued.
Julie reached the protection of the Infiniti’s back end and stopped between it and the Blazer. If there did happen to be more to Mac’s hit-man theory than hot air, at least she wasn’t going to get run over if she could help it.
The image of Carlene somersaulting over the roof of the car that killed her had replayed itself in her mind every time she had closed her eyes. As a result, she’d been awake most of the night. If Mac was right, that should have been her. The thought made her shiver. Maybe she should go to the police. Only Mac had said they wouldn’t be able to keep her safe. . . .
“Okay, here’s the . . .” deal, she started to say, but broke off as Mac handed her Josephine then dropped to his hands and knees on the pavement. While she watched, astonished, he peered underneath the Blazer.
“What are you doing?”
He took his sweet time looking, then rose lithely to his feet, dusting off his hands and knees and retrieving Josephine from her. “Checking for bombs.”
“Oh, my God.” Julie rolled her eyes.
That was it. This was getting bizarre. And scary. She hated to admit it, but it was also getting very scary. She didn’t know which part was scarier, though: the idea that Mac was insane, or the idea that he wasn’t. In any case, she was going to the police—right after she had dinner with her mother.
“If you’re planning to follow me out to my mother’s again tonight, you can just forget it.” Her voice was tart. She scowled at him.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not.”
He opened the Blazer’s back door and deposited Josephine inside. Closing that door, he opened the front passenger door and did something to the inner panel. Then he looked at her.
“Get in.”
“What? No.”
Julie turned to the Infiniti. Before she could punch the button that unlocked the door, he gave an unamused sounding laugh and scooped her up from behind.
“What are you doing? Put me down!”
She kicked wildly. She would have punched him, but her arms were trapped by his.
Without replying, he stuffed her into the front seat of the Blazer with practiced efficiency and shut the door on her. As he walked around to the other side, Julie immediately tried to get out. The door wouldn’t open. She realized with a burst of fury that he had depressed the tiny button on the inner panel of the door that activated the childproof locks.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Snarling, she turned on him with clenched fists as he slid inside. “You let me out!”
“Put your seat belt on,” he said, and started the car, backing up in a smooth arc.
“I am not going anywhere with you! Nowhere, do you hear? I knew it all along: you’re a dangerous lunatic! This is kidnapping, you no-good, lying . . .” Left groping for words bad enough to describe him, she grabbed for the keys, which were dangling from the ignition, instead.
“Oh no you don’t.” He caught her hand, slamming on the brake at the same time. The Blazer screeched to a halt in the middle of the parking lot. Removing her hand from the keys but keeping his hold on it, Mac turned on her. His expression was grim.
“Just so there’s no mistake,” he said in a lethal drawl that left her in no doubt that he teetered on the brink of losing his temper, too, “I think you should know that I’m having a bad day here. I didn’t get any sleep last night. I got Maced this morning. I got soaked with a hose. I’m starving. I may be suffering from an overdose of caffeine. This damned case is a riddle, and I’ve got a pounding headache from trying to solve it. I think I’m catching a cold, thanks to your air-conditioning. I’ve spent the entire day in a dress shop listening to a gaggle of women think up ways to fool us poor men about the size of every female body part under the sun. And I’ve had to put up with your piss-poor attitude throughout. Tonight I have a ton of work I have to do, and I also need food and sleep. None of these things can happen while I’m chasing around the countryside after you. Which means that you’re coming with me. And I don’t want to hear another word about it. Am I making myself clear here?”
“If I don’t show up for supper, my mother will call the police,” Julie said, snatching her hand from his.
“Told her about Sid’s take on till death do us part, did you?”
He took his foot off the brake. The Blazer was moving once more.
“If by that you mean, did I tell her about your ridiculous idea that Sid’s hired a hit man to kill me, no, I did not. I didn’t want to worry her.”
They were on the street now, moving toward the expressway. Glowering at Mac, Julie pulled on her seat belt. It would be stupid to die in an accident just to prove she could.
“Did you ever think that you might be endangering your family by being with them? Whoever our hit man is, he’s obviously not all that careful about who he kills. If they’re with you when he comes for you, he might get your mother or sister too—or instead.”
The thought was so appalling that Julie was left with nothing to say.
“Give me your phone.” Her voice was sulky.
He passed it to her. She shot him a look chock-full of loathing. Then she punched in the number.
“Mama? It’s Julie. I’m not going to make it home for supper. I’ll talk to you later. Love you. Bye.” She punched the disconnect button and puffed out her cheeks in a relieved sigh. “I got the answering machine, thank goodness.”
“Does your mother scare you that much?” Mac sounded amused.
“She’ll scare you too,” Julie said with relish. “She blames you for ruining my marriage, and nothing I say can convince her otherwise. She wants to meet you.”
“She sounds about as amenable to reason as you.”
Josephine chose that moment to climb into Julie’s lap. Distracted, Julie scratched behind her ears, then stroked her coat as she settled down with obvious contentment. Thank God for Josephine. Josephine was better for the nerves than Valium.
“So, what do you want for dinner?” Mac asked with a half-smile after a moment.
Julie scowled at him. “My mother’s tuna casserole.”
“Great. I feel like pizza, too. That way I can eat while I work.”
He picked up his cell phone and punched in some numbers.
“McQuarry and Hinkle.” Julie had heard that voice before. She realized that it belonged to Rawanda, Mac’s assistant.
“Order pizza. One with everything, and one with—” Mac glanced at Julie inquiringly.
“Vegetarian,” she said, only because she was really hungry and feared what she would be forced to eat if she didn’t. Pizza was way too fattening to be one of her diet staples. Pizza was also right up there with chocolate as one of her true loves.
“Veggies only,” he repeated into the phone, and hung up.
They were on the expressway now, heading toward Charleston. Traffic was moderate. In the distance, a mountain of purple clouds rolling in over the bay promised rain later. Rain was a good thing, because it would usually cool things off for a few hours. It was also a bad thing, because after the initial relief the humidity would only get worse.
Julie said nothing for the duration of the drive, and Mac, after a glance at her face, didn’t say anything either. When he finally parked, it was in an alley that ran through the middle of a block of small, not especially prosperous-looking office buildings.
“Now be nice,” he said. “These people are putting themselves at risk to help keep you saf
e.”
Julie glared at him. “I’m always nice. Unless I’m lied to. Or lied to and used. I have to admit, that tends to take away from my nice.”
Mac laughed, and got out of the car.
When he came around to her side, Julie, holding Josephine, got out too. She didn’t seem to have much choice.
“Let her down for a minute,” he said, scrounging in the back and coming up with Josephine’s leash, which he clipped to her collar. “It seemed like she had to go every five minutes last night, and I’d just as soon not have a repeat.”
Julie obediently put Josephine on the ground. She held on to the leash and Mac held on to her with a hand wrapped around her wrist as if he was afraid she might take off running.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“To my office. I’ve had people working on this since yesterday. I need to check in, see what they’ve found out.”
Mac steered her back to the street, around a corner, and across a parking lot toward the third in a row of four nondescript buildings.
“Why didn’t you just park in the lot?” Her high-heeled slides weren’t meant for lengthy hikes.
“I thought you might feel like getting some exercise.” He grinned at the look on her face. “Actually, I parked back there so that no one could tell we’re inside from just driving by. Rest easy, though: By the time we’re ready to leave, there will be a vehicle waiting for us right out front. Mother’s dropping us off some new wheels. The Blazer’s history for the duration.”
“How convenient to know a car thief.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Mac’s office was on the second floor, behind a wooden door with a frosted-glass insert on which was painted in bold black script MCQUARRY AND HINKLE, PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS. The door opened as they reached it, and, glancing inside, Julie realized that its windows overlooked the parking lot and they must have been seen arriving.
“Did you time that right or what? Pizza just got here.” Rawanda, looking plumply pretty in tight orange jeans and a purple T-shirt, greeted them at the door. “Whoa, boss, you lookin’ rough. What you been doin’ to him, honey?”
To Trust a Stranger Page 30
