by Rita Herron
“Relax, dear, they won’t bite,” Eli whispered in her ear.
Veronica laughed softly. Even in Eli’s letters, he’d had a sense of humor. “I’m really not much of a party person.” Veronica spotted a woman watching her from across the room. She recognized Eli’s wife, Barbara, from pictures she’d seen in the paper. Barbara wore a long black velvet dress that flattered her figure. Veronica smiled as Barbara approached, but the smile Barbara returned lacked warmth. “I hope your family didn’t mind me coming.”
Eli shook his head, his thinning dark hair lacquered in place. “Nonsense, of course not. This is a party for my son. I’ve wanted you to meet my family for a long time.”
“Veronica, it’s nice to meet you,” Barbara said in a formal tone.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Veronica said, curious at Barbara’s coldness. “This is a lovely party.”
“And you look lovely yourself.” Barbara raked her gaze over Veronica. Her gray eyes reminded Veronica of a stray cat’s, beady and glittering as if she were preparing for an attack.
Veronica suddenly felt self-conscious. She’d dressed in a short black evening dress she’d worn to dozens of other business functions. It was modest but well fitting, slightly curved off the shoulders but certainly not revealing. But Barbara seemed to disapprove. Or maybe it wasn’t the dress, maybe it was just her.
“Hi there, Eli. Things are going well.” A small, white-haired lady wearing spectacles ambled up and slipped her arm around Eli’s waist. A sleeping, white long-haired cat nestled under her arm, and she seemed oblivious to the fact that her turquoise silk dress was covered in feline hairs. Eli grinned and patted her back. A pudgy older man, mostly bald, strolled up beside her.
“Mom, this is Veronica Miller. You remember my goddaughter.” Eli swept a hand toward Veronica. “Veronica, this is my mother, Alma. And this is Daryl Scroggins. He used to be the police chief around here years ago.”
The old woman’s pale coloring turned a pasty white. “Yes, I remember something about her,” the woman said in a low voice, peering at her over her glasses. “Nice to see you, Miss Miller. Amazing how much you look like your mother.”
“Yes, it is,” Barbara said in a clipped tone.
Eli’s mother hurried away, making Veronica wonder if she’d somehow caused the woman to be uncomfortable. Daryl Scroggins gave her an assessing look, his right eye twitching nervously. “So you’re the little Miller girl all grown-up?”
Veronica’s fingernails bit into the palms of her hands. She didn’t think a reply was necessary.
“Bad thing about your folks.” Scroggins shook his head. “Wish I could have done more back then.”
“Thank you.” The quiet that descended on the room made Veronica’s chest ache. She heard several people whispering about the murder-suicide. She’d never believed the story, but neither could she remember the truth about what had happened. If she had, she could have convinced the police to investigate further. Her grandmother had repeatedly complained that the police hadn’t done everything they could have to solve her parents’ case. On the other hand, she had discouraged Veronica from returning to Oakland.
Eli stroked her arm. “Come on, Veronica. I want to introduce you to some friends.”
Veronica tried to relax, but she felt like an unwelcome outsider. When Eli briefly introduced her to his guests, she sensed tension in their tight smiles and nods. They knew who she was, knew of her past. Some of the people had probably known her parents.
Coming back to her hometown had been a huge mistake. She’d wanted to remember, but could she really deal with all the gossip and curious stares directed her way?
She gazed into the crowd as Eli chatted with an old friend. A familiar face wedged its way into the sea of people. Detective Dawson. What was he doing here?
“You know that man?” Veronica asked.
Eli nodded. “Of course. I know almost everyone in town.”
Veronica couldn’t take her eyes off the detective. He turned and spotted her from across the room. Their gazes locked. She could feel his heated look burn into her skin. Where he’d looked handsome in casual clothes, he looked absolutely devastating in a tux and tie. The black color and fit of his jacket made his shoulders look even broader, and the dim lights gave his bronze tones a tint that radiated sex appeal. She smiled shyly. He smiled, but his jaw tightened and he gave her a short nod. Still, as she walked away, she felt his gaze searing into her.
“How’s your practice?” Eli asked.
“Growing,” Veronica said, trying to tear her gaze from the detective. “My calendar’s almost booked. Being this close to Atlanta really helps.”
Eli’s face reddened and he broke into a coughing spell.
“Are you all right, Eli?”
He nodded, wiping his mouth with the corner of his napkin. “Fine.”
Veronica sighed in relief. She hadn’t been around Eli much while she was growing up, but he’d always sent birthday cards and called regularly. And he was her last link to her parents. Eli had been their best friend. She’d had the foolish notion that if she lived close by, his family might welcome her. But so far, his mother and wife hadn’t exactly been warm.
“I guess you’ve been working so hard you haven’t had time to get married?”
Veronica took a glass of club soda from a waiter, surprised at the question. “No. I’m not sure marriage is for me.”
“Why do you say that, dear?” Eli asked. Veronica noticed the age spots on his hands and realized he was getting older. If her father were still alive, they’d be almost the same age. Although he’d been dead twenty years, she still missed him.
“I guess I’m just a loner,” Veronica said. “But I don’t mind. I’m independent, have my own business, friends.” She squirmed, hating herself for lying to Eli.
“You’ve already made friends here? Anybody I might know?”
Veronica assumed Detective Dawson didn’t count. Or her secretary. “Well, not yet. I’ve only been here a short while.”
“Well, I’d like to be the lady’s friend.”
Veronica jumped at the sound of the deep voice behind her.
“Gerald!” Eli turned and grinned broadly as a tall, medium-built, dark-haired man slapped him on the back.
“The party’s great, Dad,” Gerald said with enthusiasm. “And who’s this beautiful woman on your arm?” Gerald’s wide grin showed off a set of perfectly straight polished teeth. A politician’s smile, if she’d ever seen one.
“This is Veronica Miller,” Eli said, grinning.
Gerald’s smile widened. “It is a pleasure, Ms. Miller. Welcome to our home.”
Veronica smiled, a shiver slithering up her back as Gerald took her hand and kissed it. When she glanced up, she saw Detective Dawson watching her, his face impassive.
“My pleasure, too.” Veronica studied Gerald. He was handsome in a polished sort of way—smooth, soft-looking skin; neat clipped nails; small, stylish, round glasses; not a hair out of place. Still, she felt uneasy with him.
“Father says you’re new to Oakland. A tax attorney?”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “I was working in Fort Lauderdale but I decided to branch out on my own.”
“Atlanta certainly can use you.” Gerald grinned flirtatiously. “Perhaps I can show you the city sometime and we can have dinner?”
“Perhaps,” Veronica said. She noticed the detective easing near her.
Eli frowned. “I thought you didn’t have time for a social life.”
Veronica shifted and squeezed her hands around her glass at Eli’s disapproving tone. “I haven’t. But maybe sometime I will.”
“Excuse us for a minute,” Eli said, deftly guiding Gerald away.
“I’ll definitely see you later, Veronica,” Gerald said, giving her a wink.
Veronica felt a presence behind her.
“Hi,” Detective Dawson said softly. “I didn’t realize you knew the former senator.”
Veronica faced
him and sipped her drink. “He’s my godfather. He was a friend of my parents.”
Dawson leveled her with a probing gaze. “So, you’re friendly with the family?”
Veronica laughed nervously. “Hardly. Eli’s kept in touch with letters and cards. I just met Gerald.” Besides, I don’t remember the others, she added silently.
“I see.” Dawson downed a swig of his champagne. “Gerald has his eyes out for you. You looking for a new boyfriend?”
“What are you talking about?” Veronica asked, her nerves on edge.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Ron?” Nathan asked.
Veronica glanced at her hands. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Listen, Veronica. I’m trying to help. But how can I investigate your story if you don’t tell me the truth?” Nathan asked. “A lover—”
“Nathan.” A woman called, flitting toward them.
Nathan frowned. “We’ll finish this discussion later.” He motioned to a woman a few years older than Veronica with dark red hair swept up in a fashionable chignon and glittery combs on both sides. “You know Tessa?”
Veronica shook her head. She knew Tessa was Eli’s daughter from a previous marriage, but they’d never met. At least not that she remembered. Tessa must be close to forty. She was wearing blue spiked heels and a royal blue dress that hugged her curves and dipped to expose her ample cleavage. She sauntered toward them, confidence radiating from her every pore. “Nice looking,” Veronica said, wondering if in spite of the age difference, the detective had dated her.
“Yes,” Dawson said in a low voice, “she is.”
Their gazes locked again. Once again the tension radiating between them was palpable.
Tessa maneuvered her way between Veronica and Nathan. “Hi, Nathan. Good to see you again.”
“You, too,” Nathan said. Veronica tensed and watched Tessa give Nathan an appreciative look.
“Hi, Tessa.” Veronica extended her hand. “I’m Veronica Miller. Your dad and I—”
“I know who you are,” Tessa said in a sweet voice. But oddly, her blue eyes reminded Veronica of cold, crystal ice chips. “My father told us you were coming. Maybe we can go shopping together some time,” Tessa suggested.
“Sure,” Veronica said, confused about the mixed signals emanating from Tessa.
Daryl Scroggins, the former police chief, joined them, introducing her to his wife. “Welcome to Oakland, Miss Miller,” the middle-aged woman said. “Eli talks about you all the time. Did you really set up your office in the converted house where your father worked?”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “It’s a lovely office and a great location.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but you’re not living in that…that other house, are you?” the woman asked, fingering a gold broach pinned to the lapel of her organdy suit.
Veronica stiffened. “You mean my parents’ house?”
“Yes,” the woman said.
Tessa’s long, red fingernails tapped up and down Detective Dawson’s sleeve. “That would be so spooky.”
“No,” Veronica said. “I’m not staying there. I have an apartment.”
“You know they never sold the place,” Scroggins commented, taking a long draw of beer.
Another elderly woman joined them. “I’ve been selling real estate around here for years. Tried for a while to sell the house, but no one would buy it.”
“’Fraid it might be haunted,” Scroggins said. “You haven’t been out there have you, Miss Miller?”
Veronica shook her head. “Not yet.”
A sudden hush fell over the crowd at her statement. It was as if a cold wind had blown into the room, absorbing all the warmth. Nathan’s expression was unreadable.
“Well…” Scroggins said. “Let me know if you decide to go. House has been sitting there empty for years. Might not be safe. We’ve had some vandalism from time to time, but old Mr. Parker who lives near there keeps an eye on the place.”
“Thank you.” Veronica shivered as images of empty, cold, dark rooms, rotten boards covered in cobwebs and scampering, hungry mice came to mind.
“I wouldn’t go out there for anything in the world,” the nosy old real estate lady said. “Spooky the way it happened. Your dad was a good attorney. Then one day—”
“Vera, let’s get another drink,” her husband said, and steered his wife away.
“Come have some finger food with me,” Tessa purred into Nathan’s ear.
“Why don’t you get us a plate?” Nathan suggested, capturing Veronica’s gaze.
Veronica swallowed, trying to block out the old woman’s words and keep her emotions at bay.
Tessa’s ruby red lips formed a perfect pout. “Okay. I’ll bring you some champagne, too,” she said. Eli’s daughter sauntered away, flirting with every man in sight. Before Veronica had a chance to speak, Eli approached with a younger version of himself. It had to be his youngest son, Sonny. He was only two years older than Veronica. Staggering slightly, he steadied himself and flashed her a grin. Veronica cringed. He appeared to be drunk. Drunk and leering.
“This is Sonny,” Eli said. “Sonny—”
“I know who this is,” Sonny said with a slight slur. “I’ve been dying to meet her all night.”
Detective Dawson’s posture straightened. The older police chief, Scroggins, engaged Eli in a conversation.
Veronica offered her hand to Sonny. He grabbed it and planted a sloppy kiss on the top. “Pleased to meet you, V.”
“It’s Veronica,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Dad said you used to live around here when you were little.”
Veronica nodded. An older couple approached, staring at her as if they’d seen a ghost. “That’s right.”
“How about you and me painting the town?” Sonny grabbed another glass of champagne from a waiter who whizzed by.
“I don’t think so,” Veronica said. “I’m busy with my new practice.”
Tessa sauntered up and handed the detective a tray of goodies. She stared at Veronica, then Sonny.
“Why not? Got to have fun sometime,” Sonny said, leaning so close Veronica could smell his strong cologne. The odor mixed with his breath and seeped into her nostrils, almost making her ill.
“I don’t have time,” Veronica said, backing away.
Sonny reached for her arm, his mouth turning down. “I’m a lot of fun.”
Veronica felt the detective watching her. He was going to interfere. She didn’t want to make a scene. “I’m really tired. I think I’m going home.” Veronica pried Sonny’s fingers away and made a hasty retreat toward Eli to say good-night, ignoring the angry look Sonny shot her. Two more couples stopped her to welcome her to town, one a potential client, the other old friends of Eli’s who remembered her parents.
“We sure were sorry to hear about them,” the thin man said sympathetically. “Mighty fine people. Your dad was a good lawyer.”
Veronica nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
“We’re glad you came back,” the woman added, patting a hand over her gray curls. “You were so little. I know you missed growing up without your folks.”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “But I had my grandmother.” And Eli’s letters, she added silently. Their conversation ended when a man walked up onto a platform and silenced the crowd. He introduced himself as Gerald’s campaign manager, then broke into a speech about Gerald. Veronica rubbed at her temple where a headache was starting to form, and headed to the door. She couldn’t get her parents out of her mind.
As she neared the door to the hallway, she was surprised to see her secretary chatting quietly in a corner with Gerald. She hadn’t realized Louise knew him. She started toward them, but changed her mind and decided she really was ready to leave.
She caught Eli and he walked her to the door. “I hope it wasn’t a strain for you to come here tonight,” Eli said.
Veronica kissed him on the cheek. “Of course not. Thanks f
or having me, Eli.” Then she hurried to the car, trying desperately to put her parents’ deaths out of her mind. But as she drove down the long driveway and pulled onto the highway, she thought she saw a car pull out behind her. Was someone following her?
AFTER VERONICA LEFT, Nathan quickly extricated himself from Tessa’s clutches, bade good-night to Eli and hurried to his car. He was going to find out the truth. Knowing Veronica had lied about her boyfriend had eaten at him all day. If he didn’t talk to her about it tonight, he’d never get any sleep. He’d looked over her client list, and a few names had drawn his eye as possible troublemakers. And what the hell had been going on at that party? The tension had been as thick as a desert dust storm.
He parked in front of Veronica’s apartment, surprised to see he’d beaten her home. He flipped off his lights and waited. Maybe she’d gone to a friend’s, or was driving around for a while. Seconds later her black Acura streaked by. She practically jumped from her car and tore up the path to her apartment, glancing over her shoulder as if she was looking for someone. Either something had upset her, or she was in a huge hurry.
He slammed his car door and rushed after her, determined to find out the truth if he had to drag it out of her. He caught her just as she made it to the stoop.
“Ms. Miller,” he said, grabbing her arm. She shrieked and spun around, her eyes wide with fright, her skin glowing alabaster in the harsh glow of the streetlight.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She winced and rubbed her bandaged arm.
“I’m sorry,” Nathan said. “I forgot about your injury. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her jaw clenched and shadows darkened her eyes. He instinctively knew something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume. She smelled faintly like roses.
Veronica shook her head, her keys jangling in her trembling hands. He took the keys and opened the door, and they walked into her apartment in silence. He reached for the light switch, but she flipped it on, dropped her purse and darted to her bedroom.
“Veronica, can we talk?” he called.
“In a minute.” She closed the door, effectively shutting him out.
