by Marta Perry
Clint was silent. She heard him take a step, and thought he was leaving until he put his hands on her shoulders. “Sorry. Usually I have just a little more tact. Try to get some rest while I’m gone. And if I forget anything, I’ll go buy you a replacement. Okay?”
Composing her face, she turned back to him. His hands dropped instantly from her shoulders. “I’ll make do. You don’t have to buy me a lollipop to get me to be good.”
“No, I guess I don’t.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry. I don’t usually have this much trouble staying civil. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He left quickly, and Rachel moved to throw the bolt on the door, locking herself in.
* * *
CLINT STOPPED BACK at the office after dropping Rachel off. He didn’t have long, but Logan wanted to hear about his conversation with Michael Leonard, the college contact he’d dug up. As soon as they were finished, he had to run over to Rachel’s house to get the things she needed, so he was keeping track of the time.
“Stop looking at your watch.” Logan didn’t normally sound so irritated. This business was getting to him, too. “So you’re saying Leonard didn’t give you a thing that helps.”
“I didn’t say that.” He leaned back in his desk chair, wishing he had time to put his feet up and just think this whole thing through.
“What then?” Logan grimaced. “Sorry. I’ve got the wind up about this whole business. Ms. Hartline could have been killed, and we’re still no closer to a solution.”
“Leonard didn’t say anything that would help there, but it was still worth seeing him.” Clint went through that interview in his mind. “From the look of things, Leonard has been plenty successful on his own. Nice car, wife, kids, a mini-mansion in an upscale suburb.”
“I’m glad he’s doing well.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” Clint retorted. “The point is, apparently at one time the four musketeers were actually five. Leonard was part of their little group. An important part, to hear him tell it.”
“He might be biased,” Logan pointed out.
“True. But from everything you unearthed about him, I don’t think so. He apparently rivaled James Attwood for top honors in their department at the university. Despite that, they teamed up.”
“You mean they planned to go into business together? What happened? Did Attwood ditch him?”
“Not exactly. At least, not from his perspective. He claims he found Attwood a little too willing to cheat to get his way. Or one of the others was willing to do it for him. There was sabotage to a project he was working on. When it came time to draw up a partnership agreement, Leonard decided he wouldn’t trust his future to someone he thought played fast and loose with ethics.”
Logan frowned, flipping a pen in his hand, usually characteristic of deep thought. “In other words, James Attwood isn’t the sterling character he’s been painted. And sabotage sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
Clint shrugged. “It’s a possibility Attwood is playing some game. It’s also a possibility that Leonard was wrong, or that someone else acted without Attwood’s knowledge.”
“The company has a clean reputation, from everything I’ve been able to find out.”
“I’m sure. And before you say it, I don’t see how it can play into this business, anyway. On the surface, it looks like Attwood is the one person who’d have no interest in taking the file. He already had complete control of them.”
“That’s what I’d say, all right,” Logan said. “I was hoping the guy would give us a lead on why someone might want to betray him, but this doesn’t help.”
“I guess not.” But something was swimming around in the back of Clint’s mind. Unfortunately, it refused to come out and show itself.
He shoved himself to his feet. “Well, it’s something to toss into the mix. I’d better get those things for Rachel.”
“You seem to be getting pretty protective where she’s concerned.” Logan’s comment stopped him before he reached the door.
“We can’t afford to have a witness wiped out, can we?”
“You sure that’s all there is to it?”
He had to admit his partner had a right to ask. What he did reflected on both of them. But since he didn’t know himself what was driving him where Rachel was concerned, he couldn’t very well come up with an answer.
He was taking too long. He had to say something. “Whatever I might or might not feel when it comes to Rachel Hartline, I know where to draw the line.”
Logan studied his face. “I hope so. And not just for the sake of the firm. I don’t want to have to pick up the pieces if you come to grief.”
“Don’t worry.” He made an effort to sound convincing. “I’m a big boy now. I’ll deal with it.”
He took off before Logan could say anything else.
* * *
HE HAD TO get a grip, Clint told himself for the fiftieth time as they walked into the offices of Attwood’s company. He and Logan had met difficult challenges before, and good solid investigating had brought them to a resolution. It was no different this time.
Right. He kept Rachel between him and Logan as they entered. Nothing could happen to her here. There was no reason to be spooked, but he was.
Claire Gibson swung around at their entrance, her startled look at the sight of Rachel quickly hidden. Instead of greeting them, she reached for the door into Attwood’s office. “I’ll just tell Mr. Attwood that you’re here.”
Clint was sufficiently intrigued to move swiftly, so that they entered the office on her heels. If she wanted to alert Attwood that Rachel was here, he’d like to know why.
The Gibson woman was already announcing them when Rachel appeared behind him. For just an instant, some emotion Clint couldn’t identify froze Attwood in place at the window. Then he was moving behind his desk, his expression cool and businesslike.
“Thank you for coming in. I didn’t realize you were bringing Ms. Hartline.”
“We thought it might be helpful to pool any information we have, and Ms. Hartline has been most cooperative.”
“I see.” He nodded to her. “Rachel.”
Clint could sense Rachel’s uneasiness as she stood next to him, but it couldn’t have been detected in the calm way she greeted Attwood. Claire Gibson fussed about, arranging seating and incidentally buying time, if any was needed.
“I expected a report from you by now.” Attwood seized control. “Have you found my file?”
“Not yet.” Logan was crisp and unapologetic. “We have a few additional questions. From what we’ve been told, it seems Paul Hartline knew very little about the technical side of the business. How do you suppose he was able to access that particular file so easily?”
“I’ve no idea. That’s your job. I expected you to have located it by this time.”
The attack didn’t rattle Logan. “We can’t operate if we’re kept in the dark. What exactly is this new project of yours?”
“Knowing that won’t help you. Find Paul, and you’ll probably find the information he stole.”
Clint stirred. “You can help us do our job by answering our questions. Was this particular file protected in any way? Did Hartline know of its existence? Had he worked with it in the past?”
Attwood’s gaze shifted from him to Rachel and back again. “I suppose this is necessary. Yes, all my files are password protected.”
“We haven’t considered protecting them from each other,” Claire Gibson pointed out. “The four of us have been working together for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if Paul could guess your password.”
“That could be,” Attwood said grudgingly.
“Had Hartline worked with this particular file?” Logan took up the questioning again.
Attwood hesitated, and the woman answered for him. “I don’t think he had, had he,
James? But he knew of its existence. We all did.”
Attwood’s gaze rested on her for a moment, completely expressionless. Then he seemed to make an effort to change the tenor of the meeting.
“Claire’s right. We had all been excited about the possibilities of the new program. Unfortunately, I’ve been working over my figures again, and I’m afraid that there may be a flaw in the project.” He paused for a moment, and Clint thought he was struggling with the admission. “If so, Paul may have tried to sell it and failed.”
“Then what happened to him?” Rachel’s tone was impatient, as if she’d sat silent as long as she could. Obviously she still cared about her ex. But then, he’d already figured that out, hadn’t he?
“He ran away, I suppose. It doesn’t matter.”
Claire Gibson intervened quickly. “Naturally we’re worried about him. We’ve known Paul a very long time. What James means is that it doesn’t matter about the project.”
“Yes.” Attwood’s tone was crisp. “I doubt we’ll be doing anything more with it in any event. So if you haven’t found it by the end of the week, you can turn in your final report.”
He and Logan exchanged glances. That was all they were going to get, apparently. Short and not so sweet.
His jaw tightened. Attwood might be ready to dismiss the whole thing, but he wasn’t. Not when they hadn’t learned the truth. And not when Rachel remained a target.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALMOST BEFORE SHE knew what was happening, Rachel found herself ushered out of Attwood’s office. She turned to Clint to protest, but before she could say anything, Claire Gibson surprised her by putting her arm around her.
More than surprised. She and Claire had been cordial, she supposed, but never on hugging terms. Or was this pity, rather than friendship?
“I’m sorry about the way James handled that. It’s not for lack of caring, I promise you.” Claire’s words seemed aimed at all of them. “We’re used to the fact that James comes across as unfeeling, but I know how it affects other people.” She turned back to Rachel. “He really does regret the fact that you’ve been hurt by all of this. And he’s actually cut up by Paul’s actions. All of us are.”
Rachel caught at the vanishing threads of her composure. “I know you’ve been friends for a long time.”
“I gather that’s one of your roles in the company,” Logan said. “Interpreting Mr. Attwood to other people.”
Claire gave a graceful shrug, spreading manicured hands. “Someone has to. We’re all aware that he can’t be turned loose on an unsuspecting client if we’re to keep the account. That’s where Paul was so good. I don’t know how we’ll get along without him.”
“In your opinion, could Hartline have known enough about this new idea not only to be able to access it, but to find a buyer?” Clint returned doggedly to the question, and Rachel realized he still wasn’t satisfied that Paul had been alone in his actions.
“He must have been able to,” Claire said. “That’s what he did, isn’t it?”
They weren’t going to get anywhere with her. Rachel had never seen that cool, sophisticated exterior ruffled, and she didn’t think Clint’s questions were going to do it. Besides, Claire would never have joined Paul in such a crazy scheme. She certainly didn’t need money, if her clothes were anything to judge by. And Rachel couldn’t imagine her acting on an impulse. If she were involved, there would have been no glitches.
Rachel caught an exchange of glances between Clint and Logan. She imagined them telling each other there was nothing here. The motive was obvious. Paul needed money—he always did. Further digging wouldn’t lead to anything else.
That was true. She’d known that already, going right back to the day she’d tried to use the debit card in the grocery store only to have it declined. Paul’s excuses had made sense for a time, but maybe she’d been a slow learner. Her conviction that he wouldn’t betray these people seemed ridiculous in the face of all she knew about him.
She turned, more than ready to leave a place in which she’d never had a part. This had been Paul’s world, not hers.
But before she could start toward the door, it opened and Ian Robinson came in. He stopped abruptly at the sight of her. Odd, that he hadn’t been around for this meeting, as well. Or hadn’t Attwood wanted him there?
“Rachel. I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been calling, and I stopped by the house but you weren’t there. We were getting worried.” He came forward and clasped her hands in his, projecting worry and sympathy.
“I decided to get away for a few days.” That had seemed the best answer to any casual questions. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls.”
Ian glanced up at the interested gazes of Clint and Logan and dropped her hands. “That’s all right. I can understand your wanting to get away from the house after having a break-in there. That’s enough to shake anyone. Look, why don’t you come and stay with us for a few days? Julie would love to have you, I know. I’ll just call her.”
Rachel could almost feel the silent pressure of Clint’s strong will. Any of them could be involved.
“That’s so kind of you, Ian, but I’m already settled at the moment. Please give Julie my love. Maybe we can get together when things calm down.”
“Well, all right.” He gave in readily, and she suspected he’d made the offer before thinking of the ramifications. “But you know you’re always welcome.” Ian nodded to the others before turning into his own office.
Rachel held her breath until he’d disappeared from sight, half-afraid Clint was going to stop him with questions. Not that she objected to Clint questioning anyone. He had to do his job, but not when she was there. Hearing them tackle Attwood was one thing, but she’d been friends with Ian and Julie.
Apparently Clint had caught her feelings. Or else he’d decided questioning Ian would go better without her. He led the way out and down the narrow stairs to the ground floor.
As soon as the three of them were outside, she turned to Clint. “Don’t ask me to do anything like that again. It was so uncomfortable.”
It was Logan who smiled. “No use saying that. I’ve tried. Clint will just tell you that you have to go outside your comfort zone to find out what you need to know.”
Clint nudged him with his elbow, as if to suggest he stay out of it. “Difficult interviews come with the territory. I wanted to see how they’d react to having you there.”
“I hope you got something from it, because I certainly didn’t.” They’d reached the car, and she yanked the door open before Clint could grab it.
He waited until she’d slid in, then closed her door gently and went around to the other side. Making a statement about her bad temper, maybe. Apparently he was taking her back to the hotel, because Logan headed for his own car without waiting.
“Is Attwood always that uncooperative?” Clint started the car and pulled out of the lot, his attention seeming to be on the passing traffic rather than her.
“Uncooperative?” She pushed her feeling aside and considered it. “He doesn’t have any social skills, I suppose. The others were always used to his ways and just seemed to accept them. I don’t know that he was less cooperative than normal. He’s always been impatient with everyone else’s responsibilities, from what Paul used to say.”
A noncommittal grunt was Clint’s only response, and he didn’t say anything else until they were out of the maze of small streets around the building.
“Did you sense anything off-key about how they responded to you?” He returned to the attack once they were back on the main road.
Rachel struggled to sound cooperative. “I’ve never really talked to James Attwood that much, so I can’t say. As for Claire... Well, she was friendlier than I’d have expected. I suppose she felt some regret for the circumstances. As for her interpreting Attwood to other people—that’s true enough. I’v
e heard her do it in the past.”
“I’m glad you had enough sense to turn down Robinson’s invitation.”
“I’m not that foolish, whatever you might think.” She couldn’t help the tartness in her voice. “Give me a little credit.”
“Sorry.” He glanced at her with a trace of a smile. “Maybe I need someone to translate for me. Just for a minute, when he asked you, I was afraid you’d give in. It’s natural to want to be with friends at a time like this.”
“If I were going to do that, I’d be calling Lyn, not Ian.”
“Funny. I got the impression you and Ian were pretty close.” He concentrated on the turn ahead of them. “From the way he acted the time he walked in on us, that is.”
That startled her. “You mean after the house had been searched? He was reacting like anyone would at something like that happening to a friend. Well, anyone who wasn’t a police officer, I suppose.”
“Meaning I got used to such things? Maybe so, but I don’t take them lightly. And at that point I didn’t know what side you were on.”
“I guess I can’t blame you for that,” she admitted, hoping it didn’t sound as grudging as it felt. Her feelings seemed to be bouncing all over the map. “As for Ian and his wife, yes, we were friends, but it was really because Ian and Paul were so close. I hadn’t seen either of them much since the divorce.” She shrugged. “Friends of the divorcing couple have to choose, I guess.”
“Regrets?” He glanced at her, something questioning in the depths of his dark eyes.
She didn’t answer for a moment. There were too many regrets, and she’d be foolish to confide them in someone she’d never see again after his job was finished. If they’d met under other circumstances...
“Don’t we all have regrets?” she said lightly. “I’m not immune to that, but I try not to dwell on them.”
The car slid down the ramp to the garage under the hotel. “If you succeed, you’re better at it than I am.” Something real and painful seemed to thread through his words, leaving her breathless and at a loss.
