by Darcia Helle
He watched her but said nothing. She met his eyes and, without preamble, told him everything, beginning with the phone call she’d received from Sam and ending with his offer. Ian’s jaw had gone slack, yet his posture remained rigid. He didn’t respond right away, just gazed at her through now glassy eyes. Finally he raked his hand through his hair and said, “You think he’s on the level?”
Lucianna slowly nodded. “I have no doubt that he knows something about what happened to your mother.”
Ian’s gaze remained locked on Lucianna. He sat for a moment, stunned into silence. Finally, he said, “Do you think he did something to her? That he caused this?”
“No, I don’t,” Lucianna replied. “I could be wrong. But my impression is that he truly likes your mother. His motivation for talking is most likely a combination of fear and guilt for his own involvement, whatever that is.”
“Ten thousand dollars,” Ian muttered. “I can come up with five. But ten? Shit. My mother’s medical only pays part of Endicott’s bill. She was seeing him twice a week. I had to cut it down to once a week because…” His voice trailed off. He sighed, turned his palms up to the sky. “Hell, I’ll work it out. I’d beat the information out of the son of a bitch if I thought it’d work. But I guess paying him is my only option.”
“I might be able to work him down to five thousand,” Lucianna said.
“Okay. That would sure help.”
“Though the ten grand isn’t necessarily a problem.”
Ian’s eyebrows lifted. “It isn’t?”
Lucianna glanced down at her hands, folded in her lap, knuckles white as she nervously clenched her fingers together. “I want to help.”
“Help? You are helping. I’d probably be in a padded cell right next to my mother if it wasn’t for you.”
“No, that’s doing my job. What I want is to help.”
Ian leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”
The last thing she wanted to do was offend him. She hoped he would take this in the spirit in which she was offering. Only one way to find out. She took a deep breath and said, “I want to give Sam the payoff. From me, I mean.”
Ian was already shaking his head. “No way. I can’t let you -”
“Hear me out. Please, Ian.”
He shook his head again. “How could I ask you to -”
“You didn’t ask me to do anything,” Lucianna said. “Look, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. The short version is that I have a ton of money. Money I’ve never been comfortable having. This would be like a way to redeem it.”
Ian blinked, looked away, then met her eyes again. He seemed to be beyond arguing. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Lucianna stretched her arms across the desk, held her palms out to him. He reached out, took her hands in his. And she began explaining her life, her mother’s murder at her father’s hands, his subsequent suicide. The insurance money, the investments, and how it all simply sat there because using it had always made her feel like she’d be benefiting from her mother’s death. Something she knew was irrational, yet she couldn’t help feeling.
“This is different,” she said. “You’re going to think I’m crazy but I feel like my mother brought us together. I was supposed to meet you. And I need to help your mother. The money has never felt like it belonged to me. Now it does. It’s as if it has a purpose. As if it gives my mother’s death an odd sort of vindication.”
She felt the tears well up and immediately looked away. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. She was no fragile, emotional female. Or so she told herself. Right now she was certainly feeling like one.
Ian squeezed her hands. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I can’t… It’s just horrible. Your uncle Vinnie, he took you in?”
Lucianna nodded. “He and my Aunt Mary. She died about eleven years ago. She was amazing. Both of them. They put my life back together. Put me back together.”
Ian came around the desk, knelt beside Lucianna and wrapped her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathed in his scent. She loved him. No lingering doubts. She belonged here in his arms.
His hand slid into her hair. His cheek pressed against hers. She turned her head, brushed her lips against his cheek. Then their lips met. The kiss was gentle at first. Then gradually bolder, more eager. His tongue slipped into her mouth and mingled with hers.
She could feel his heart pounding. The tenderness in his touch made her shiver. She’d forgotten the power a simple kiss held. Or maybe she had never really known.
After a moment he pulled away, ran his fingers lightly over her cheek. His eyes held a glint of mischief. “Wow.”
She grinned back at him. “Yeah.”
He caught her hands in his. “I am crazy about you,” he said.
“That’s a mutual feeling.”
“And you have no idea how much I appreciate what you’re doing. But I can’t take money from you.”
“You’re not taking it from me. I’ll be giving it to Sam.”
“For me,” Ian said.
“No, for information.”
“You’re arguing semantics here.”
“I’m arguing feelings,” Lucianna said. “And a bit selfishly, at that. I want to do this, Ian. For me, as much as for you and your mom.”
After a few more minutes of debate, Ian reluctantly agreed to let Lucianna pay Sam the extra $5,000 but only with the condition that he would pay her back. Since she did not want or need the money returned, he offered to build her new office furniture. Her desk, he said, did not fit her personality. And she clearly needed a second work station to hold her computer, as her current desk was so crowded that she was lucky if she had a four inch square of empty space.
Lucianna loved that idea and they struck a deal, sealing it with a kiss that melted her.
***
Ian skirted the edge of the city, avoiding the traffic as he drove to work. The quiet back streets allowed him time to think. Not that he was able to hold any one thought long enough to make sense of it. Thoughts and images floated through his head like a quick-moving slide show. As soon as he tried to grasp one, a new one moved in and shoved the other out of reach.
He turned the radio up on the off chance that he could simply stop thinking. That amounted to a lot of jumbled thoughts with a noisy background. He switched the radio off, raked his hand through his hair, and blew out a long breath.
Sam knew something about his mother. Lucianna had a ton of money. Why did Sam need to disappear if he told them what he knew? Ten thousand dollars, maybe five.
He’d given Lucianna a check for the five. Then he’d stopped at the bank and transferred funds in order to cover it. Now he had to wait.
Lucianna’s father had killed her mother. Why? And what did that kind of thing do to a kid?
What type of wood did he want to use to make Lucianna’s desk? The design had to be original, a little funky. Like Lucianna.
Ian’s temples throbbed. His brain was overloaded, probably short-circuiting and throwing sparks around his head. All these thoughts. Avoiding the one thought that truly scared him. Emotions he wasn’t ready to face. He flipped his mind back to Sam. What did he know?
The light up ahead turned red and Ian slowed to a stop. He checked his watch. 9:42. Sam was supposed to call Lucianna at noon. He’d wanted to stay, to wait with her so he could hear firsthand. But Lucianna had said he was too emotionally charged to be closely involved. A valid point. Plus she’d been afraid that his presence would spook Sam. She’d probably been right about that as well. Still, he wished he was there with her. For many reasons.
The light changed to green. He pressed down on the gas, listened to the parade of thoughts in his head. He could still smell her perfume, taste her on his lips.
An odd sense of guilt crept up on him. Being wildly turned on probably wasn’t the best reaction when his mother’s sanity, her entire future, hung in the balance of some biker’s conscience. He frowned at that thought a
s he swung his truck into the driveway of the old house. The tailgate on Rob’s truck was down and tools were already scattered on the ground. Ian shoved the guilt back in place with the rest of his thoughts and climbed out of his truck. Maybe work would distract him.
Chapter 36
Abandoned paperwork covered the surface of her desk so that not even a trace of wood could be seen. Lucianna paced from her office, into the reception area, then back again. She scowled at the phone when it rang. The answering machine clicked on and she walked away, ignoring the message from a perspective client.
Sam would be calling on her cell phone, just in case she wasn’t able to be in her office. And the call wouldn’t come for another hour or more. But she eyed the cell phone each time she passed her desk, laying there idly on top of a stack of files. She’d never been so anxious over any aspect of a case she’d worked. Certainly not over a phone call. Then again, she’d never been in love with a client before. Hell of a time she’d picked to let her guard down and get all sappy and emotional. Next she’d want two-point-five kids and a picket fence. Maybe even an SUV.
No, definitely not an SUV.
She was pacing past her desk for the hundredth time when the outer door eased open. She had no appointments scheduled and was in no mood to play nice. She realized that neither was an issue when he stepped inside.
Lucianna strode across her office, not bothering to hide her irritation. She said, “What are you doing here, Patrick?”
Patrick instantly adopted the hurt puppy look. His brown eyes could have been taken from a Basset Hound, all sad and droopy. But his dark brown hair remained perfect, the part so exact you’d think he used a level and a ruler each morning rather than a comb. His black suit came from an expensive tailor in the city and his too-shiny loafers with those funny tassels cost more than she spent on groceries in an entire month.
She put her hands on her hips and promptly decided that she had been possessed by some sort of demented yuppie spirit during the time that she had dated him. Really, what had she been thinking?
Patrick closed the gap between them. His voice was soft and seductive when he said, “I’ve missed you.”
He smelled of P.S. cologne and mint TicTacs. She’d always liked P.S. cologne. Now he’d spoiled it for her. She stepped back, breaking eye contact. “Look, I’ve tried to be nice,” she said. “But this is ridiculous. You need to leave and you need to stay gone.”
His eyes held the hurt, while his lips betrayed him by twitching at the corners. One of those few giveaway signs he couldn’t control when he was angry. He reached out to touch her as he said, “Luci, please -”
Lucianna grabbed his wrist and, in one swift, smooth motion, twisted his arm hard behind his back. Patrick let out a shriek at the same time that the door opened and Vinnie strolled in. Vinnie stopped, stared at them both a moment, and smirked. To Patrick he said, “I warned you to stay away.”
Lucianna winked at Vinnie, then shoved Patrick hard toward the door. Vinnie sidestepped out of the way and they both watched as Patrick crashed into the wall. He spun around as if to retaliate, his face contorted in rage. Lucianna slipped her hands in the pockets of her jeans. He wasn’t stupid enough to raise a hand to her.
“I’m sorry, Patrick,” she said. “But this has really gone too far. I don’t want you coming here anymore.”
Patrick glared at her. His tie was askew, his suit jacket hung loose off one shoulder, and his hair fell across his forehead. His gaze flickered to Vinnie, who stood watching with raised eyebrows and amusement dancing in his eyes. Fortunately for Patrick, he knew Vinnie well enough not to be fooled by the nonchalance. So he straightened his tie and jacket, pushed his hair off his forehead, and cast one last contemptuous glare at Lucianna before storming out the door.
“Don’t say it,” Lucianna said.
Vinnie batted his eyes innocently. “Don’t say what?”
“Whatever is on your mind. Just don’t say it.”
“My mind is a blank slate.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Vinnie hung his coat on the rack. “You don’t want to talk about it?” he said.
“No.”
“You want to talk about your relationship with Ian McCormick?”
Lucianna saw the teasing smile in his eyes and, despite herself, couldn’t help but smile back. “No, I don’t want to talk about that, either.”
“Well then.” Vinnie sank into the chair behind his desk and stretched his arms over his head. “You want to talk about Peter Graham?” he said. “He’s a good topic. Wouldn’t be hard to rip him apart.”
Lucianna propped her hip against the side of Vinnie’s desk. “Do you know something about Graham?”
“Poor Pete is not very well liked by his peers,” Vinnie said. “And a secretive fellow these days. You met with him?”
“Yes.” Lucianna rolled her eyes. “The man’s brains must have been tossed out to make room for his ego.”
“Did he help you at all?”
“Of course not.”
Vinnie nodded. “No surprise. Have you spoken to his partner?”
“No,” Lucianna said. “Graham was alone when I spoke to him. And I didn’t know who his partner was.” She tucked a wild strand of curls behind her ear and added, “But you’re about to tell me this partner’s name, right?”
“I am indeed,” Vinnie replied. “However, I cannot guarantee that this detective will be any more forthcoming than Graham. I can only say that he has a much more pleasant personality.”
“That’s a start.”
“They’ve been partners for three years. His name is Sterling. Ben Sterling.”
Lucianna straightened, suddenly serious. “Ben?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know.” Lucianna went back to pacing as she spoke. “Corinne had a connection to a guy named Ben. She was supposed to have had a date with him that last Saturday night before whatever it was that happened to make her crazy.”
“What do you know about him?” Vinnie asked.
“Nothing. That’s the problem.” Lucianna told him about her meeting with Corinne’s coworker, about how Corinne had possibly met this guy at the grocery store, and all the coworker knew was his first name was Ben. Then she said, “Maybe it’s just coincidence.”
“True coincidences are rare.” Vinnie stood up. “I’ll check into Sterling’s background. See what I can come up with. And I’m still working on Cameron McCormick. So far nothing recent. The man does not wish to be found.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“You’re meeting Evans today?”
“He’s supposed to call at noon. I’m hoping to meet later today.”
“Call me with details,” Vinnie said. “You’re not meeting this guy alone.”
Lucianna kissed Vinnie on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He winked at her, then grabbed his coat and left her alone to pace.
***
Sam finished changing over the hot water tank at 11:17 that morning. He climbed the basement steps and found the homeowner in her kitchen. While he wrote the invoice, he made small talk about her old farmhouse and half listened to her ramble on about the eight kids she’d raised there.
He thought about giving birth to eight kids and decided that was quite insane. No wonder her boobs sagged down to her bellybutton. He dragged his attention back to her stories, hoping he didn’t appear as distracted as he felt. But what the hell difference did it make? He’d never see her again, anyway. Maybe never see anyone again.
He tore off the sheets and handed her the yellow copy. She reached out to take it. Her hands were smooth with manicured nails. Corinne’s nails had once been manicured like that. One of the girls at the salon had done them for her. The other night when he’d visited, he’d noticed the nails on one hand were painted red, the other pink. And some of the nails were broken down, or maybe chewed. The memory made him sad. All memories seemed to make him sad thes
e days.
The woman was now too happily thanking him for getting the job done so quickly. He nodded and let her think that he really cared. Finally he stepped out into the chill of the day. It was 11:42. A brisk wind blew. And he began to sweat.
Back in the truck, he switched on the engine and let it idle. He glanced at his cell phone. The thing belonged to his boss. Maybe anyone could listen. How would he know? He checked his rearview mirror, glanced again at the phone. His hands shook as he gripped the steering wheel and pulled away from the curb.
A few blocks away he turned into the parking lot of a rundown pub. He’d been there once, maybe three months ago, after a job in the area. The drinks were watered down and the burgers were too greasy. But all that mattered was that the place had what he needed.
He grabbed his toolbox and climbed out of the truck. Sweat trickled down his back. He strode into the pub. Without hesitation he nodded at the waitress and turned down the little corridor leading to the bathrooms. A few feet past the doors he found a payphone. He set his toolbox on the floor, fished some change from his pocket, and dropped it into the slot.
Sam turned his body slightly so that he could see if anyone came down the hallway. The place was filled with the low-life lunch crowd. The loud din of voices and clatter of dishes would keep his voice from being heard. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and dialed.
Her voice broke in before the end of the first ring. “Lucianna Martel.”
“It’s me,” Sam said. “Do we have a deal?”
“My client is absolutely interested,” Lucianna replied. “But what you’re asking is a bit steep. He’s willing to go for five.”
Sam watched a spaced out teenage girl stumble out of the bathroom. He waited for her to make her way out to the tables. “Not enough,” he said. “I’m risking my life here.”
