MADIGAN'S WIFE

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “When you go to Mobile, I hope you’ll at least be careful,” she said, her eyes on the scar on his thigh. “I hate the thought of you…” her voice almost cracked, so she stopped.

  If Ray asked her, right this minute, to go to Mobile with him, she’d say yes. That would be a mistake. A big one. She wasn’t sure she could take the uncertainty now any more than she’d been able to take it six years ago. She loved him, she needed him, but she wouldn’t try to make this work and then leave him again. Hurt him again. This time he would have to be the one to do the leaving. That was the way it had to be.

  Maybe since this time leaving would be his move, his call, it would take away some of the sting of the last parting. He wouldn’t be the one deserted, this time.

  He took her chin in his hand and pulled her to him for a kiss. They would make love again, she knew, and there would be no more talk of Mobile or scars or the tempting dip of mattresses. This was all they could have, and she’d greedily take it.

  *

  He’d made love to Grace again, slow and easy with the light shining on her face and her body. A short time later she’d fallen asleep with her head on his chest and her hand over the scar on his shoulder. She slept like she didn’t have a care in the world; Ray wondered if he’d ever sleep again.

  He’d always thought that Grace left because she didn’t love him enough, that the nonsense about the job being too harsh was just that. Nonsense. An excuse. He’d told himself that was true again and again, building on the anger he hid so well. The anger that had kept him from literally falling apart without her.

  But tonight … he’d seen the pain in her eyes as she’d touched his scars, heard the desperation in her voice as she asked him, so hesitantly, to be careful when he went to Mobile. She didn’t ask him not to go, didn’t tell him he was crazy for needing to do this. She didn’t threaten to hate him if he left or to leave if he didn’t change his ways. She just asked him to be careful.

  It would have been easier if she’d issued demands, if she’d given him an ultimatum. He knew how to deal with demands and ultimatums. He wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with this.

  Grace hadn’t left him, six long years ago, because she didn’t love him anymore. She’d left because she loved him too much. He’d seen the truth in her eyes, as she’d hesitantly laid her hands over his battle scars and asked him to be careful. That realization shouldn’t make any difference, not after all this time, but it did. Dammit, it did.

  *

  With a gloved hand, Freddie knocked soundly on the door. It was bright and early on Saturday, and he didn’t have a moment to waste. He’d promised a half asleep Jenny he’d be right back with breakfast.

  When his client answered, the man’s eyes widened and he backed up, stumbling over his own feet. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out of town by now?” He looked up and down the deserted street. “Did anyone see you?”

  The man looked ridiculous in his silk pajamas. “No one saw me, and I would be far from here by now if everything hadn’t gotten so messed up,” Freddie said sensibly as he forced his way inside and closed the door behind him. “There’s still the witness to take care of. The woman who saw me.”

  “Then take care of her,” the man seethed. “Why are you here? Do you want more money? Forget it. You mucked this up, you handle it on your own.”

  Freddie looked around the nice, boring house. The furniture was unimpressive, the walls bare. It was a soulless house. No one would miss this man, not really. He was a coward who paid others to do his dirty work. A weasel of a man, in Freddie’s estimation. If the cops ever got onto him he’d squeal in a heartbeat.

  He had no respect for his client. In truth, he had no respect for any of his clientele, except the occasional woman in need. Like Martha, whose name was tattooed on his bicep, he thought with a fleeting touch of a tender memory. Any self-respecting man took care of his own business.

  “I always clean up my own messes,” Freddie said softly. “It doesn’t pay to leave loose ends.”

  The man never knew what hit him. Freddie took care of his problem and left the house, taking off his gloves only after he was behind the wheel of Jenny’s car.

  He had a powerful hankering for a couple of sausage biscuits.

  *

  Grace came awake to an unexpected sound; Ray was singing in the shower. She smiled as she lifted her head from the pillow. This particular song was not familiar, but it was funny and offbeat and definitely Lyle Lovett.

  Ray had said he didn’t sing in the shower anymore, that it was a quirk he’d outgrown. She wondered if that was true, or if, maybe, he only sang for her. The idea warmed her to her soul. He sang just for her, for them, and he probably didn’t even know it.

  Did she make him happy? Did she free something in his soul?

  Grace slipped from the bed and made her way to the bathroom, standing silently in the steamy room and listening. She would remember this moment forever. A man singing off-key shouldn’t make her feel so damn good, but it did. She smiled as she listened to the words, then finally laughed out loud as she opened the shower door.

  “That’s a new one,” she said as Ray turned, surprised, to face her. He looked so good, warm and muscled and slick with soap. Water ran down his face, down his hard body. Heavens, she knew every inch of that body, didn’t she? Every scar, every sensitive spot.

  He tempted her with a smile, with the undeniable passion in his eyes. For today he was hers. Tomorrow could wait a while longer.

  “‘Skinny Legs’ is not a new song,” he said with a grin. “You just haven’t been keeping up properly.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t think twice before stepping into the shower to join Ray under the fine spray. The stall was large, but she stood so close her body brushed his. A mist of warm water fell over her face and dampened her hair. She gave him a sweet good morning kiss amidst the spray that turned deep and searing. Touching him, just being this close to him, aroused her all over again. After last night she shouldn’t have anything else to give, but she did.

  So did Ray, apparently.

  He wrapped his wet arms around her, rubbed his hands up and down her spine. “Are you here to scrub my back?”

  She shook her head and planted a dainty kiss on his wet chest.

  “My front?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrows as she rose up on her toes and draped her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his.

  She gave Ray a heartfelt and wicked smile all her own. “Maybe.”

  *

  Chapter 15

  «^»

  “Maybe we got it all wrong,” Grace said dreamily, leaning back on the couch where he’d made love to her last night. She wore one of his Tshirts, shorts that showed off her fine legs, and a pair of white socks to keep her feet warm. And she looked as good right now as she had dancing in her fancy red gown.

  “What did we get wrong?” He leaned against the bar, sipping at a cup of terrible coffee and trying to look casual, feeling totally uncasual. His nerves were too close to the surface, the air crackled with electricity. Something had changed last night. Grace came to him as if the past six years had never happened. As if she still loved him. Skin deep, my ass.

  “I don’t think Louise is involved at all.” Grace tapped her chin thoughtfully with her finger. “She said their marriage had been over for years, and yet neither of them made any move to get a divorce. Why? I mean, if Louise wanted out she wouldn’t have hesitated. Maybe she isn’t as tough as I originally thought she was, but she is a strong woman. I can’t see her taking a lot of grief from Carter without doing something about it.” She stretched her arms over her head.

  Watching her, Ray smiled. Skin deep or not, Grace touched him in ways no other woman ever had. Or ever would. “Maybe they didn’t divorce because they liked things the way they were.”

  “Exactly,” she sat up straight and looked squarely at him. “Let’s face it, there was plenty of money to go around.”

  “Som
e people never get enough,” he said with a shake of his head. “They can’t stand to part with a dime…”

  “But a divorce would’ve left Louise and Carter both fairly well off, and if they were truly miserable…” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe they weren’t completely miserable. Maybe they were … comfortable.”

  Ray shrugged his shoulders and set the bad coffee aside. “Carter had his affairs and Louise had hers. They were fairly discreet, so they fooled around when the mood struck them but still had the prestige and the money and the big house and the society crap that comes with it all.”

  Grace nodded. “And if a paramour got too close, maybe thinking about getting their hands on some of that money, the marriage was a quick way to put an end to things. Sorry, honey, you’re fun in bed but I have this wife at home…”

  “Or this husband,” he interjected.

  “Or this husband.”

  Ray began to pace. Maybe she had a point. “So everything was hunky-dory until Heather came along. She threatened to throw a monkey wrench into the works. The affair got too serious. Carter was going to leave Louise for her.”

  Pacing still, he laid his eyes on a contemplating Grace. Talking with her about someone else’s marriage and divorce made his mind turn, unwillingly, to their own. Maybe their marriage hadn’t worked, maybe they’d screwed everything up royally. But he never would’ve cheated on her, and he knew without a doubt that she never would’ve cheated on him. If they were right about the Lanfords’ situation … hell, that wasn’t a marriage at all.

  “Was he really going to leave Louise?” Grace asked softly, thinking aloud. “All we have is Heather’s, word on that. No one else has mentioned anything about a possible divorce.”

  “True,” Ray agreed. “Besides, if the object of the hit was to put an end to a relationship that got too serious, Heather is the obvious target. Her death, if arranged properly, raises much less fuss than Lanford’s and ends the threat just as permanently.”

  “So it wasn’t Louise,” Grace said with finality. She looked almost relieved.

  Ray wandered about the room until he ended up before the couch where Grace lounged. He stopped pacing and stared down at her. “What about Reed?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. His affair with Louise was over long ago. Heather said they were on again off again, but I think they were definitely off for good. Reed might’ve felt a little put out about the way the relationship ended, but murder? It doesn’t make sense. Even if he did away with Carter, that didn’t mean Louise would come back to him. What did it really accomplish for him?”

  Reaching out casually, she laid a soft hand against the side of his leg. The touch wasn’t sexual or demanding, it was just an unconscious search for attachment. A casual, intimate contact. He liked it. He liked it too much.

  “Besides,” she said, “assistant D.A.s don’t make that much money. The family wealth is there, but I have a feeling Elliott has to explain away every dime he gets from his mother. Do hit men give receipts?”

  Ray grinned. She was getting into this. “Okay, Sherlock. What about McCann?”

  She shook her head and trailed her hand down his thigh to his knee. “I can definitely see Ben killing for love. He has that kind of fiery passion in his eyes.”

  “Fiery passion?” Ray repeated. He didn’t much like the fact that Grace so obviously liked McCann.

  She ignored him. “But he’s not the type to hire it out. If he wanted Carter dead, he would’ve done it himself.”

  “That leaves Heather,” Ray said. “Maybe things went south with her and Carter and no one knew about it but the two of them. A woman scorned, and all that.”

  Grace shook her head again. “Nope. I don’t think so. But even if it is, she loses too much by getting rid of Carter. She would’ve been better off blackmailing him. Louise probably knew all along what was going on, but if Heather went public with the affair it would be damaging to them both.”

  She made sense, and he trusted her instincts. She knew people. Always had. She’d seen right through him, hadn’t she? “So who?” He sat beside her and draped his arm over her shoulder.

  Snuggling against him, she continued her line of reasoning. “Unless there’s some other ingredient here we don’t have, like a mob connection or a dirty business deal…”

  Grace closed her eyes and made herself more comfortable, wriggling against his side so warm and soft he was ready to forget Carter Lanford completely. He was ready and willing to forget everything. Damnation.

  “I think Heather is the key,” Grace said. “She didn’t do it herself, but maybe someone who cares about her, someone who loves her and hated to see her used, would despise Carter enough to do away with him.”

  Ray leaned back and decided to simply enjoy the way Grace felt right this minute. Her softness. Her presence. And still his mind worked.

  “And then this person would be there to comfort Heather when her sugar daddy’s gone,” he said.

  “Maybe.”

  Ray knew without doubt that he would kill for Grace, if he had to. She was his in too many ways to count, and he would do anything to protect her. Like it or not. So, who loved Heather that way?

  Only one name came to mind. “Hatch,” he said softly. “Christopher Hatcher. He follows Heather around like a puppy dog, her moony-eyed, adoring slave. At the office, last night at the ball…” Unfortunately the scenario didn’t quite work. “But he wouldn’t have the money to hire a pro like Potts.”

  “Are you sure?”

  There were too many unknowns here. Heather might have a dozen secret admirers, an old boyfriend with a screw loose, a skeleton in her closet. “I can mention the possibility to Luther and have him check it out. I just don’t see the money trail. Hatch’s job at Lanford Systems is definitely low level. He’s a techie, not a corporate guy. The money didn’t come from there.”

  Grace sighed, a long despairing sigh that came awfully close to a moan. “Luther will take forever, if he bothers to check at all.” After a moment a smile bloomed on her beautiful face.

  Ray placed his face close to hers. Nose to nose. Not quite mouth to mouth. “What are you thinking?”

  “Do you have your laptop with you?”

  She started with a search on Hatcher’s name, and a quick e-mail to a couple of talented cyberfriends. She’d never met Badger or Crash, didn’t know their real names and never would, but when it came time to do the impossible with a computer, they were good friends to have. They had taught her that with the right software and enough talent and patience, you could find out just about anything with a laptop and a phone line.

  What came next was a little more complicated than browsing through old newspaper articles, and it took a while longer. She couldn’t ask Badger or Crash to do this particular chore for her.

  She had to get in and get out as quickly as possible, before someone on the other end tried to trace her. Going through Christopher Hatcher’s computer system at work, she was able to access the personal information he had stored there. For a computer geek, he was incredibly lax. Then again, maybe he didn’t think anyone was as smart as he was, and wouldn’t know how to hack into his system.

  The longer she was connected the more likely she was to get caught. As it was, she was leaving a trail a mile wide. Just as she was about to sign off and tell Ray what she’d found, she got an e-mail from Badger that confirmed what she’d found.

  She’d been sitting here with the computer in her lap for more than an hour, probably closer to two, and Ray had hardly moved. He stood nearby, he paced restlessly, but he didn’t let her out of his sight.

  “Okay,” she said, glancing up at Ray. “Hatch’s father died last year and he got a big inheritance and a pretty decent insurance check.” She leaned toward the computer screen. “It all went in the bank, where it sat untouched until … two months ago. He made a large withdrawal, and last week he made an identical withdrawal.”

  “What kind of money are we talking about?�
� Ray asked.

  “He definitely didn’t have to stay on as Lanford’s number one techie, that’s for sure,” Grace said as she logged off.

  “Unless he wanted to stay close to Heather,” Ray added.

  “Which would be kinda sweet if he hadn’t hired Freddie Potts to kill off the competition,” Grace said as she closed the laptop and set it aside.

  “How did you get all this?”

  Grace smiled, glad she could impress him. “Lanford Systems has a T1.”

  He raised his eyebrows in silent question.

  “Which means they have a set IP and are basically on and vulnerable all the time. I got into Hatch’s system at work, where he foolishly kept a lot of personal information.” She shrugged her shoulders. “My online friend Badger got some of the info on the insurance and the bank balance.”

  “Badger,” Ray deadpanned. He crossed his arms and stared down at her, temptingly impressive as always. “I could’ve used you a thousand times in the past year. If you ever want a job as a P.I., give me a call.”

  Her heart hitched a little. Had she ever really thought that she didn’t love him anymore? That she could look at him and convince herself that what they had was over and done? She looked at him and saw the man who protected her; who loved her, whether he liked it or not.

  Working with Ray sounded great, like a dream come true, but he was going to Mobile as soon as this threat was over. Wasn’t he?

  “What do we do now?” she asked, ignoring his suggestion.

  “Call Luther.”

  This time her heart leapt unpleasantly. “You can’t tell Luther that I hacked into Hatcher’s computer,” she said, horrified. “He’d love to arrest me and hand me over to the FBI. And you absolutely can’t tell him about Badger.”

  Ray looked supremely unconcerned. “I’ll tell him I have a hunch and let him follow it from here and see where it lands.”

  “He won’t follow through, you know he won’t. Luther never believed in anyone’s hunches but his own,” she argued. Besides, she didn’t want to bring the cops and the FBI in now. There were too many other explanations for the information she’d found.