by Marta Perry
“Okay, will do.” Logan gave him that raised eyebrow look. “So why might she be connecting you with Rachel?”
“Don’t start. I’ve already heard your opinions.”
Logan grinned. “Play it your way, then. I’m just surprised you left Rachel alone.”
“She’s not alone,” he said, too fast. “Her friend is with her.” He frowned, considering. “She ought to tell her family what happened so they can support her, but I don’t suppose she will. Too determined to handle things on her own.”
“Maybe a good friend could let them know what’s going on.”
The suggestion hung there in the air for a moment while Clint speculated on the probable outcome. Rachel would be annoyed with him, no doubt. It just might be worth it.
He pulled out his phone. “I’ll probably have to leave a message and wait for a call back. Their phone isn’t in the house.” He could see the question in Logan’s face at that, but now wasn’t the time for a lesson on Amish tradition.
He’d just left his name and number on the answering machine when someone picked up.
“Clint? Is that you?” It was Timothy’s voice. “I was chust walking past the phone shanty when I heard the machine. Is Rachel all right?”
“She’s okay, but something bad has happened.” He paused, wondering if he should ask for Rachel’s grandfather, but maybe it was better to use Timothy as a go-between. “Her ex-husband has been killed.”
“Killed? An accident?” Timothy sounded surprised, but not shocked. “Was Rachel with him? Was she injured?”
He was assuming a car accident, Clint realized. It was probably the worst thing he could imagine.
“Rachel wasn’t with him. But it wasn’t an accident.” He hesitated, but they had to be told, and better it came from him. “He was attacked and killed. Unfortunately, it was Rachel who found him afterward, so she’s pretty shaken.”
“Wait, wait, hold on.” Timothy obviously turned away from the phone, shouting for Sadie. In a moment, it seemed, there was an excited gabble of voices in Pennsylvania Dutch, all speaking at once.
Finally a voice came through clearly, and it was Rachel’s grandfather’s. “You’re sure Rachel is safe?”
That would be his first concern always, Clint knew. “She’s safe, and she has her friend Lyn staying with her for tonight, at least. But she’s pretty shaken by what happened.”
“Our poor child. Timothy said that she found him?”
“That’s right. She’d received a message from him asking her to meet him at his apartment. He was dead when she arrived.”
“By herself?”
The question made him feel guilty. “I got there a few minutes later, so I was able to help her deal with the police and their questions.”
“They must see that she couldn’t have done this terrible thing.” His tone was sharp with anxiety.
“I don’t believe they suspect her, but she still has to answer questions and make a statement. And there will be a lot of business to take care of.”
“Yah, I see. Wait a moment.”
Again Clint heard the jumble of voices, the grandmother’s soft and tear-filled, Sadie’s rapid and anxious, Timothy’s slow and steady.
“Clinton, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Don’t worry. We won’t leave her alone.”
“We are thinking that Sadie should komm and stay with her. We can hire a driver to bring her.” He paused. “Her grandmother and I would be there, too, but Sadie says that might be too much. What do you think?”
He thought that Rachel would be ready to strangle him if he brought her whole family down there. She’d be as determined to protect them as they were to protect her.
“I’d say you should talk to Rachel first, before you decide what to do. Right now I think just talking with you would help her more than anything else.” He was beginning to think he’d unleashed more than he’d bargained for with this call.
“She should have called us herself. We’re her family.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. Family was family, no matter what it looked like from the outside. “She’s just been too overwhelmed with everything to think of it.”
He wasn’t sure the older man believed that, but he seemed to accept it.
“It was gut you called us. Denke, Clint. We won’t forget your kindness.”
“I left my phone number on your answering machine. Don’t hesitate to call me. For anything.”
“Da Herr sie mit du,” he said gravely.
Clint translated the words with his barely remembered high school German. The Lord be with you.
“Take care. I’ll call if anything else happens that you should know about.” He ended the call.
Logan was studying him thoughtfully. “Nice people?”
“Very nice.” He blew out a breath. “Rachel will think I was interfering, but it’ll be good for her to talk to them.”
“When are you going to talk to her?” That eyebrow lifted again. “Honestly, I mean. Tell her what you feel.”
“Not now. Not when she’s trying to get used to the fact that her former husband is dead. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Far as I know, a woman never objects to hearing that a man cares about her, no matter what else is going on. And assuming she feels the same, of course.”
He turned his back on Logan, but he couldn’t keep the words out of his head. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Whether or not she felt the same.
This wasn’t the right time. He felt sure of it. And he didn’t know if it ever would be.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“THAT WASN’T SO BAD, was it?” Clint asked her the question once they were safely away from the police station where she’d been signing her statement the next day.
Rachel managed a halfhearted smile. “I guess not if you’re used to police stations and people standing over you while you’re signing a statement.”
“This wasn’t bad. You should see Phillips when he wants to be intimidating.”
“No, thanks, I’ll pass.” She glanced at Clint as he stopped the car at a traffic light. “Thanks for going with me. I admit that made it easier, having you there.”
“All part of the service.”
The light changed, and he stepped on the gas. Rachel realized she was watching his strong, tanned hands on the wheel and focused her eyes on the road instead.
“So, was calling my family part of the service, as well?”
Clint gave her a wary look. “I wondered when that was going to come up. Are you mad at me?”
“I should be. But it was so good to hear their voices...” Her heart swelled at the memory. How could she ever think that she didn’t have a home when she had them?
“I thought it might be.” He sounded a bit smug.
“Yes, well, don’t get too self-satisfied. I would have told them about it, but...”
“But you didn’t want to alarm them, or make them worry or feel responsible,” he finished for her.
“That’s about it,” she admitted.
“Isn’t that what families are all about? Worrying, scolding, taking responsibility? Loving?”
She hated to admit just how right he was. “They were going to let Sadie come down here to stay with me. Can you imagine her leaving her kids just to keep me company?”
“She’d know that her children would be well taken care of while she was here.” He grinned. “I could hear them arguing, each of them wanting to be the one who came. I might not understand Pennsylvania Dutch, but they sounded just like my family when they get going. I think Sadie won by having the loudest argument.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at that.” Her cousin was still one of her best friends, it seemed.
“Is she coming?”
“I managed to talk them out o
f it for the moment. I told them that Lyn is staying nights with me for now, and I hope to go back to teaching on Monday.”
“Really?” Clint looked so pleased anyone would have thought it was his good news instead of hers.
“If nothing else happens,” she added quickly. “It seems the substitute hasn’t been working out too well, and Lyn was pretty persuasive. I just hope she’s right.”
Clint pulled into the driveway and stopped. “Mind if I come in? There’s something else I’d like to talk about.”
For some reason, Lyn’s words about Clint popped to the forefront of her mind, and she felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. Turning her face away as she unbuckled her seat belt, she nodded.
“Sure, come in. There’s probably some leftover pizza if you want it for your lunch.”
“I’ll pass on the pizza, but I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.”
“I think I can manage that.” Together they went into the house.
Rachel headed straight for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, grateful for something to occupy her. Clint followed her, propping his long body against the counter and watching her.
“You said you had something else you needed to talk to me about,” she reminded him.
“Yeah.” He frowned. “Logan and I had a long talk after Attwood shut us down. We’re not satisfied.”
She nodded, trying to look intelligently interested, and she didn’t know whether to be sorry or relieved that what he had to say wasn’t personal.
“I’m not either, but I don’t see what you can do about it. I mean, if James won’t pay you to continue...”
“Some things are more important than money. There are too many loose ends flapping in the breeze to suit me. And Logan,” he added quickly.
“He won’t give you access to any of the firm’s records, will he?” Knowing Attwood’s passion for secrecy, she was surprised they’d had any access to begin with.
“No, but he can’t keep us from probing around. Somebody wanted to buy that flash drive from Paul, and something has happened to it. From what we understand, there would be a limited number of firms interested enough and cutthroat enough to do a deal with him. And to pursue him, and you, when he backed off, assuming that’s what he did.”
“I see. I’d like to believe that Paul reconsidered betraying his friends, but I don’t know anymore. Maybe I never did know him. But you... Do you always go above and beyond what the client wants?”
He grinned. “Part of the service, remember?”
“Even if Attwood doesn’t want that service?” She poured coffee into two mugs and handed one to him.
“Right at the moment I’m more concerned about your safety than his happiness.” He sat at the kitchen table, and she slid into the chair at a right angle to him.
“I’m grateful. But things have been quiet. Maybe, whoever it is, he got what he wanted from Paul when he attacked him.”
“Could be,” he agreed. “Or he could have given up, thinking that the secret to where it is died with Paul.”
“That’s probably how it is,” she said. She didn’t like the idea of never knowing the truth about all of this heartache, but she might have to learn to live with it.
He shrugged. “I agree that’s most likely, but I don’t want to make any assumptions where your safety is concerned.” He hesitated. “And there’s another thing. That text, the one asking you to meet him.”
It took a moment for his meaning to drop into place in her mind. “You think it may not have been from Paul?”
“I think it’s a pretty close-run thing as to timing, and so does Phillips. Someone could easily have picked up Paul’s phone and sent that text, ensuring you’d be the one to find him.”
A shiver went through her. “Just out of meanness? Or was it intended to incriminate me?”
“Could be either way.” His brown eyes darkened. “I don’t like it.”
“No. I don’t, either.” She rubbed her arms, chilled. “That’s not a welcome addition to all the rest of the things I have to worry me.”
“You’re not stressing about the property, are you? That’s the lawyer’s job. Let him get on with it.”
“Her,” she corrected. “And actually, I’ve already talked to her this morning.” She couldn’t help brightening a little. “She has all the information together already from the divorce. And I’d forgotten, until she mentioned it, that if either one of us passed away before the house was disposed of, the other inherited their share.”
“So the house is yours, free and clear? Smart attorney, getting that included.”
“I think it’s usual, from what she said.” She hesitated. “But I suppose that’s another reason for the police to suspect me.”
“Not a very strong one, in my opinion. And with the timing working out the way it did, they’d never bring a case on that motive alone.”
“I hope that’s how they see it. But there’s another piece of news. Paul had agreed to keep me the beneficiary of his life insurance for a period of time after the divorce. Just as a safeguard so I couldn’t lose the house. So I wouldn’t have to sell unless I wanted to.”
“I see.” He spoke slowly, and his mask was back in place, making her wonder what he was thinking. “It sounds as if your divorce was fairly friendly.”
She winced a little at the words. “No divorce is really friendly, but I have to give Paul credit for what he did do. He was more thoughtful than I expected.”
“He should have been, after what he’d put you through.” He sounded impatient, or maybe annoyed.
“That’s not really fair.” Her temper flared. “You never even knew him. Besides, he’s gone now, so...”
“So what?” Clint shoved his chair back and shot to his feet, setting the coffee mugs rocking. “So now he’s an angel, just because he’s dead? That doesn’t change the fact that he made you a target.”
She stood, as well, stiffening herself against the sudden attack. What was the matter with him? She’d thought he was understanding and fair, but he seemed to relish the idea of attacking Paul’s character. It hurt, more than it should, and she knew why... Because she’d begun to trust him, maybe to love him. Was she just plunging in over her head again, making the same mistake of caring about someone without really knowing him?
She choked back her pain and disappointment. “I’m the one who’s affected, not you.”
“That’s the way you want it, isn’t it? You have to shut me out because you can’t really trust anyone.”
“That’s not true. And you have no right to say it.” Anger was the only thing that kept her from dissolving in a puddle of grief.
He just stared at her, his jaw clenched as if to stop him from saying anything else. Then he spun and walked out, leaving her trying to figure out what had just happened.
Rachel stood frozen for a few minutes, staring at the door that had closed behind Clint. She pressed her fingers against her temples, moving them in small circles in an effort to calm herself.
She hadn’t meant that Paul was an angel. Far from it. She was just beginning to grope her way toward forgiving him for what he’d done. She had to do that, for her own sake as much as for his. Clint didn’t understand that... Why should he? She hadn’t explained.
Had she been making excuses for Paul again? She didn’t think so. She’d fallen into that trap too many times during their marriage.
Clint had taken what she’d said the wrong way. She managed to bring back that flame of anger at him. He didn’t understand—no one could possibly understand unless they’d walked through this particular desert. Being married to an addict, no matter what the addiction, wasn’t like anything else.
So many times she’d longed to see again the sweet, charming man she’d married. Sometimes she’d caught glimpses of the old him, when life was going well.
Be hon
est, she told herself. Those moments had come when he was winning. They hadn’t lasted, because his streak of good fortune had never lasted.
Trying to shake off the feelings, she carried the coffee mugs to the sink and emptied them. Maybe she’d just been maudlin, and Clint had been justifiably impatient.
She could talk it over with Lyn when she returned this afternoon. Until then she wouldn’t let herself think about it. She’d start a decent supper for the two of them. No more take-out food. There ought to be the ingredients for her favorite chicken and broccoli dish.
She bent to pull out the freezer door and something stuck between the refrigerator and trash bin caught her eye. Reaching in, her fingertips closed on the corner of a paper that must have missed the trash bin.
Someone rapped at the back door, startling her. The paper slipped from her fingers.
She went cautiously to the door. Mrs. Barton stood on the minuscule back porch, holding a covered plate. The woman smiled and waved one hand.
Taking a steadying breath, Rachel opened the door. “Mrs. Barton. How nice of you to come over.”
Her neighbor stepped inside, pressing the plate she carried into Rachel’s hands. “It’s just some pumpkin muffins. We thought you might like to have something.” Her blue eyes filled with ready tears. “We’re so sorry about what happened to Paul.”
So the news was out already. She’d have been naïve to think otherwise. “Yes, it was terrible.”
“We were just so shocked.” Mrs. Barton pressed her hand. “I know you weren’t together any longer, but it’s still just so sad.”
Rachel nodded. It was sad. She’d been so battered by the rest of the circumstances that she hadn’t come to grips with the simple sadness of a life cut short.
“Now, we don’t want to intrude. You have friends and others who are helping you, I know. But if you need anything, anything at all, remember we’re right next door.”
After all that had happened, it was this small thing that brought her nearly to tears. “Thank you,” she managed. “You’re so kind.”
