Twisted Shadows

by Patricia Potter

  “Shouldn’t you have someone, too?” Sam asked Nick.

  “They aimed at you, Samantha. Not me.”

  “Sam,” she insisted. “My friends and family call me Sam.” He was both now.

  He grimaced. “Pop never will.”

  It was time to go. He needed rest, and he was still in an area heavily staffed. He would be safe.

  “Good-bye,” she said. “I’ll be by in the morning.”

  “Hopefully, I’ll be gone.”

  She hesitated. “I’ll call first.” She wanted to go over and hug him. But she didn’t think he was ready for that.

  And maybe she wasn’t, either. He was her brother. He had saved her life. But there were still too many questions lurking in her mind.

  Nick knew Kelley, who had worked for him before, was competent and honest. He was, in fact, an ex-cop. Samantha should be safe with him, but how in the hell was he going to get her to leave Boston?

  He didn’t want her here. She would simply get in his way, and he couldn’t afford that. He had plans that couldn’t be sidetracked.

  He reached for the phone despite the pain in his shoulder. He knew he wasn’t going to spend another day here, no matter what the doctors said.

  He looked at the clock. Four in the morning. He dialed.

  “Hey, Pop…”

  The private detective—or whatever he was—had his car with him, and Sam wearily allowed him to open the door for her. It was all beginning to hit her now. Someone had actually tried to kill her.

  Someone had shot her twin brother.

  And she had no idea why.

  She’d been invited here. Although she’d known in the back of her mind that it might not be the wisest thing to come, she’d not for one moment envisioned that someone would try to do her harm. She’d meant to meet her brother, find out why her father had wanted to see her and return home.

  Nothing had prepared her for her father, the car being forced off the road, or the gunman.

  And she certainly hadn’t been prepared for McLean.

  She glanced around the street. At this hour of the morning, traffic was light, but she still saw a few pedestrians as they traveled down a commercial strip. Steamboat Springs would be sleeping.

  She suddenly longed for her home, her town. For the peace she always felt there. Until two men had wandered into her shop.

  She turned and looked behind them.

  “No one’s following us,” Dan Kelley said. “I’ve been watching.”

  Of course he had. That was what he did for a living. But it wasn’t what she did for a living, and she wondered if she could ever accept someone doing it for her. Even after last night.

  She wondered whether she would feel the same when she returned to Steamboat Springs. Could she ever get her old life back?

  Paul Merritta had found her. Despite her words, she had no idea how long he’d known where his former wife and daughter lived. She might never know. But he—or his henchmen—had obviously known Patsy Carroll would be out of town last week. Someone had been watching both of them for days. Possibly months.

  Years?

  A now familiar chill returned.

  Kelley drove the car to the front of the hotel and asked for valet service. Sam knew how much that cost. Almost as much as her room.

  The doorman opened the door and she stepped out just as Dan walked around the car. He tipped the doorman, then took her arm. “Don’t do that again,” he said.

  She looked up at him. “Do what?”

  “Get out like that. Wait for me to come around to the door.”

  The simple warning was a stark reminder.

  She walked with him through the doors of the hotel. The lobby was empty except for two lone people at the desk. She waited while Kelley talked to them and got a room key, then he led the way into an elevator and pushed the button for her floor.

  Exhaustion hit her. Too much had happened in too short a time. She leaned against the side of the elevator, closed her eyes and tried not to think as the elevator started its upward journey.

  She opened them when it stopped. No other stops this time, not at this hour.

  Kelley looked at her with sympathy. “Where’re you from?”

  “Colorado.”

  All of a sudden, she remembered his conversation with Nick. Nothing had been said about her being Nick’s sister. Kelley must think…

  She knew she shouldn’t care but for some reason she did. “Nick’s my brother,” she explained.

  “I know,” he said simply.

  “I just… found out about him.” She was babbling family secrets to a stranger, and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  She felt his hand on her arm, steadying her. “It’s all right.”

  “No,” she said. “It isn’t. I don’t usually…”

  “You’re entitled,” he said. “You’re doing a hell of a lot better than most people who have just seen a shooting, much less been shot at.”

  “Where are you going to stay?”

  “A room next to yours has been arranged,” he said. “There’s a connecting door.”

  She wondered how that had happened so quickly. But she knew by now how efficient her brother was.

  Her brother. It was beginning to sound natural. A brother who hated the man who had just kissed her in a way no other man ever had before. “And if they hadn’t had one?”

  “Mr. Merritt doesn’t leave things to chance,” the man said.

  “You’ve worked for him before, then?”

  “Yep.”

  Doing what?

  She wasn’t sure she wanted the answers. She was numb now. Too much had happened in too short of a time. She was unspeakably lonely. She didn’t feel that she could call her mother, who would immediately know something was wrong and worry more than she probably already was doing. Terri would be in bed. There was no one else.

  Just as Kelley used her key to open the door, a bellman suddenly appeared and unlocked the door between the two rooms. Kelley tipped him, then double locked the doors in each room that led to the corridor.

  “I’ll leave the door between us open a slit,” he said. “Call me if there’s anything out of the ordinary.”

  She almost laughed at the statement. Everything was out of the ordinary. In fact, she wondered whether anything would be ordinary again.

  She took her blood-stained blouse and slacks off, dumping them on a chair. She slipped into the overlarge nightshirt she always wore and crawled inside the bedcovers, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Too many questions pounded at her. Who? Why? And might they try again?

  She found the remote and turned on the television, though it was nearly five in the morning. But she didn’t really hear or see anything. She just needed the noise. She needed to feel not quite so alone.

  So out of control.

  Secrets and shadows. They were drowning her.

  fifteen

  Sam awakened to see light filtering into the room. She glanced at the clock. Nine. Four hours’ sleep. She was surprised she had slept even that long.

  She heard nothing from the other room. Was Kelley asleep?

  She lay there for a moment. She’d had difficulty sleeping. Every time she turned, another part of her body hurt, ached or stung. Her ribs still felt the impact of the airbag, and the cuts were raw. All of them brought back the horror of last night.

  She finally rolled over to the edge of the bed, rose, and went to the window. People scurried down below, going to work or shopping or doing ordinary things. She still didn’t know exactly what had happened last night with Paul Merritta. She had no more idea now why he wanted to see her than she had yesterday morning.

  She only knew she didn’t want to stay any longer. If Paul Merritta had wanted to tell her something, he could have done it last night. Since leaving him, the car she’d been in had been run off the road, she’d been shot at and her brother had taken the bullet meant for her.

  If she returned home, perhaps she wo
uld no longer be considered a problem to someone.

  Problem? That was one way of putting it, she supposed.

  Perhaps her mother might have answers she hadn’t divulged before. Sam suspected she wouldn’t get them over the phone.

  She walked to the door that separated the two rooms and peered inside. Kelley was sitting in a chair, reading a newspaper. He looked up.

  “You haven’t slept?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “But I often go without sleep for a day or two.”

  She sat down on his bed, running her hand through her hair, aware for the first time that she was wearing only an overlarge shirt and panties, and hadn’t given a thought to her hair.

  “I’m going to make plane reservations,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Have you been a private detective long?”

  “Eight years. Before that, I was in the Boston P.D.”

  “Then Merritta is not a name unknown to you?”

  His eyes met hers. “No.”

  “Does that bother you, that I’m Paul Merritta’s daughter?”

  “No. I never believed in damnation by association.”

  “What do you know about Nick Merritt?’ she asked.

  “Only that he’s paying the bill,” Kelley said.

  A diplomatic answer, but she looked at his face and knew she would not get a better one. He apparently had a certain set of ethics, even if it did include working for a family connected to crime.

  “Do you think someone will try again?”

  “No,” he said. “Not immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “They had surprise on their side last night. Now they don’t. Now they know Mr. Merritt will be expecting something and be prepared.”

  “Now?” she said. “What about next week or next month?”

  His expression told her she was right, that she might well be in danger beyond “now.” Her head hurt from the possibilities.

  “How long are you going to stay with me?” she asked.

  “Until you leave Boston. Mr. Merritt might want someone to meet you on the other end.”

  “I can’t go through life with a bodyguard.”

  Once more, his expression said clearly what he didn’t put into words. She might not have a life without one.

  She returned to her room and went into the bathroom. Unfortunately, she glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were shadowed, her usually tanned face drawn and pale, and her hair limp and straggly.

  She put her fingers to her lips. She could still feel McLean’s kiss. The way it had ignited feelings that were so explosive.

  She’d been tired and frightened, she told herself. That was why she’d reacted that way. Still, she couldn’t forget his image nor the passion in his eyes as he’d kissed her, or the way her body had reacted.

  After a quick—and painful—shower, she brushed her hair dry, annoyed that her hand trembled slightly. She thought she had conquered her fear last night, but now she knew it lingered deep inside. Someone had actually tried to kill her. She also kept remembering Nick’s warning about her mother yesterday, that she could lead to her mother’s destruction.

  Why?

  She willed her hand to still. She had to contact her mother, but how? She’d lost her cell phone and her purse in the explosion. She could buy a new one, but then she would have to charge the batteries. She couldn’t call her mother from here. The call could be too easily tracked.

  Kelley might have a cell phone. But he worked for her brother. He might well be able to retrieve the number and her mother’s location at the cabin.

  She had to get to a pay phone, and she wanted to do it without Kelley. Otherwise, he or someone else might get access to her mother’s number.

  She had closed the connecting door but had not locked it. She couldn’t do that now without alerting Kelley.

  Instead she dressed quickly, took her credit card and money from the room safe and stuffed them in her pocket. Then she turned on the shower again. She took one look at the connecting door, then left the room, closing the hall door quietly behind her.

  She avoided the elevator and took the exit steps downstairs, going out the back entrance.

  Sam walked several blocks and finally found a pay phone in a coffee shop. Then she dialed her mother’s cell phone.

  Her mother answered on the first ring. “Samantha? Thank God. I’ve been worried about you. I tried to reach you but the phone was out of service. You said you would keep it on.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” she said, trying to decide how much to say without panicking her mother. “There was an accident last night and I lost the phone. I’m not hurt,” she added quickly. “Not a mark,” she lied. Not serious ones, anyway.

  “What happened?” Apprehension laced the words.

  “Nick was driving me home. Another car came too close and bumped his. He went off the road. Really, it was nothing. I’m untouched.”

  “And Nicholas?” Fear was evident in her mother’s voice.

  “A few minor wounds. Nothing serious. He’ll be home today.”

  “Minor?”

  “His arm.”

  She heard the rush of an indrawn breath. “What about his arm?”

  Sam hated lying, or even being misleading, but she knew her mother’s response if she explained exactly what had happened. She would probably be on the next plane. “He’s fine, Mother, really he is. So am I.”

  A brief silence. “Has… he changed his mind about seeing me?”

  “Not yet. He has to get used to the idea first. He thought you and I were dead. That we had died in an automobile accident.”

  “I didn’t know that.” And she hadn’t. Sam knew that from the stunned tone of her voice. Sam wanted to ask about a divorce, or lack of one, but that was something that had to wait.

  “How did you think he would explain your—our— disappearance?” Sam asked.

  “I didn’t—” Her mother’s voice dropped off.

  “Didn’t think about it?” Sam asked.

  Her mother didn’t answer. Instead she asked a question of her own. “What does he want?”

  Sam didn’t have to ask who he was. “I still don’t know. He said something about unfinished business. But he really is sick. I don’t think he has long to live. I said I would see him today, but first I want to see Nick again.”

  “Has Nicholas asked anything yet… about me?” She’d asked the same question yesterday.

  “No,” Sam said as gently as she could.

  “I… wanted—” Her mother’s voice trailed off. “I could never go near him. Paul told me…”

  “He told you what?”

  “He warned me,” her mother corrected. “When are you coming home?”

  “Soon,” Sam said. “Probably tomorrow.”

  “Maybe I’ll return home. The gallery—”

  “The gallery is fine, Mother. Terri and Helen can handle things just fine. You should stay where you are.”

  “Is there any reason—?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said honestly. “I just think you’re safer where you are right now until I get back. Promise me you’re staying put.”

  Sam could feel her mother’s reluctance over the phone.

  “For another day,” her mother finally said. “I won’t promise more.”

  “I’ll call you tonight,” Sam said, eager to get off the line before her mother changed her mind.

  “Nick,” her mother said again. “Tell him… I would like to see him. Try to explain…” The pain in her mother’s voice was excruciating.

  “I will,” Sam promised. She remembered what her mother had said in Steamboat Springs. It was too late for Nick. She evidently hadn’t believed that herself, had only wanted to keep Sam from going.

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m always careful,” Sam replied.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Then I’m not foolish,” Sam said, wondering whether that was an honest statement. Maybe comi
ng here had been foolish. But how could she have not?

  She hung up, then called Terri. She needed a friend. She needed sanity.

  Terri answered immediately, almost as if she had been waiting next to the phone. The thought wanned Sam.

  “Terri?”

  “Sam. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, but I’m worried about my mother. She’s promised to stay away. I think she will, but if she doesn’t, please stay with her. I don’t want her alone.”

  “I will,” Terri promised. “Has anything happened?”

  “Just a minor accident,” Sam said, not wanting to explain everything now. “But I would like you to look after things.”

  “I will. When will you be back?”

  “No later than tomorrow night.”

  “Can I reach you if necessary?”

  “I lost my phone,” Sam said. “I’ll call you.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “Not really. I’m just moving around a lot.”

  “Everything’s fine here.”

  “Good. And thanks.”

  She hung up, went into the shop and bought two cups of coffee and some donuts, then returned to the hotel. Her gaze kept darting along the street, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  When she arrived back at her room, he was pacing the floor. “Where in the hell…?“

  She held out the bag.

  “There’s room service, you know,” he said grumpily.

  “I know. I had cabin fever.”

  He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she’d been doing. “I’m not sure you understand that someone tried to kill you.”

  The simple, stark statement hit her broadside. Her knees buckled, dropped her onto the bed behind her. She’d been running on automatic pilot. Somehow hearing it said flat out made it more real.

  “Let me ask you something,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Just before I came here, my house was burglarized. I was attacked when I apparently interrupted whoever it was, but they didn’t really hurt me. Just knocked me unconscious.”

  “Mr. Merritt knows about this?”

  “Yes. But why would they just hit me then, and try to kill me now?”