by Rita Herron
“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
He arched an eyebrow, wondering how she’d come so close to reading his thoughts.
She lowered her gaze and shuffled through her papers again, stacking them in neat, organized piles. “I have work to do.”
His chest squeezed tightly at the hurt in her voice. The image of her as a child, her parents murdered in front of her eyes flashed before him. The loneliness and desolation in her expression as she’d stood over her parents’ graves holding those daisies. Damn. He wished he’d never seen that picture.
“Don’t you have to go back to work, too?” Veronica asked in a clipped tone.
He finally found his voice. “I am working. You said you’d gotten some strange messages? When did they start?”
“Right after I moved here.”
“I’d like to put a tracer on your home and office phones.”
“Fine.”
“Okay, good.”
Veronica angled her pen above her paperwork. “Then that’s that.”
“Look, Veronica—” A knock at the door halted his words. A good thing, he thought, before he made a fool out of himself.
Louise poked her head in. “A gentleman’s here to see you, Ms. Miller.” She grinned and escorted Gerald Jones in. “It’s our next senator—maybe our future president.”
Nathan clenched his jaw at the smile the politician gave Veronica. And when she returned it with a warm one of her own, he strode out the door without saying goodbye.
VERONICA TRIED to shove thoughts of the irritating detective from her mind while Gerald surveyed her office. It shouldn’t matter if Nathan believed her, as long as he found the person harassing her, but it did matter. For some odd reason she cared what he thought more than she’d cared about anyone in a long time. Disgusted with herself, she tried to resurrect the walls she’d built around herself. Hadn’t she learned from experience that caring could destroy a person?
“This is pretty nice, Ms. Miller. Simple, but nice.” Gerald ran his finger along the wooden statue of a seagull she’d purchased at an art show in Florida.
“Thanks,” Veronica said, unsure whether his comment was really a compliment or just his way of flirting.
Gerald leaned casually against the cherry bookcase beside the door, his hands in his designer trouser pockets, his smile a showcase of polished manners. “I was in the area and dropped by, hoping to take you to lunch.”
Veronica folded her hands across the top of her desk. “I really have a lot of work to do.”
Gerald grinned and sauntered toward her, then offered his hand. “Well, you have to eat. It might as well be with me.”
Veronica smiled. “Shouldn’t you be someplace shaking hands or kissing babies?”
Gerald’s rich laughter filled the room. “I don’t think it’ll hurt my image to be seen with a beautiful woman, especially one of Atlanta’s finest attorneys.”
“I see.” Veronica smiled in spite of his remark. “So you wanted to talk business?”
“No, I want to relax and enjoy myself, get to know you better.” Gerald led her toward the door. “After all, you’re Dad’s goddaughter. That must make us…godsiblings or something.”
Veronica had always wondered how Eli’s children would feel about her. He’d kept her abreast of their education and careers, but she’d worried they wouldn’t welcome her into their family. Maybe she was wrong.
The thought of refusing Gerald’s invitation struck Veronica as a good idea, but she’d promised herself she would associate with the people from her past. Perhaps Gerald had heard Eli talk about her parents, and she could learn something that would trigger a memory.
“I’ll be back in about an hour,” Veronica told Louise as Gerald walked her to the door.
“Take your time,” Louise said, waving her off.
“Very impressive,” she said as she climbed into Gerald’s sleek black Cadillac and sank into the plush leather seats.
“Father bought it for me as a kick-off campaign present. Thought it would make a better image than my Porsche.”
Veronica laughed. “He’s got a point. Impressions are important.”
“Yes, they are,” Gerald said, some of the zip leaving his smile. “As Dad always reminds me.” He quickly maneuvered the car onto the road, and a few minutes later they were settled at a table in a small Italian restaurant.
“This is great,” Veronica said, admiring the lacy curtains and antique paintings. Soft piano music provided a perfect accent to the dimly lit atmosphere. “I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been here.”
“They have great pasta, and the bread is just like in Italy.” Gerald raised his wineglass. “A toast to us getting to know each other better.”
Veronica raised her water glass and clinked it with his. “Why don’t you start by telling me about yourself?”
Gerald grinned. “My life’s an open book—I’m sure you’ve read the papers.”
Veronica nodded. “Yes, but tell me about growing up. Are you and Eli close?”
Gerald’s smile faded slightly. “As close as a father and son can be. There’s always that parent-child thing.”
Veronica studied his face, wishing she understood the parent-child thing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Gerald looked contrite. “That was insensitive of me. Father said you don’t remember your childhood.”
A wave of apprehension rippled through Veronica. “That’s right. At least not the first seven years.”
Gerald pushed his stylish glasses up on his nose. “Is that why you came back here? Hoping to remember?”
Veronica picked at her food, hedging. “That’s part of it. I hoped moving here would bring back memories, but so far it hasn’t.”
“Well, perhaps it still might. Dad said you’re using your father’s old office space.”
“That’s right. The real estate agent said the house has changed a lot, though. It was an insurance office for a while.”
Gerald smiled at her over his glass. “And after that, an architectural designer rented the space.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Veronica said. “I know my father’s files were lost in a fire, but I wondered if he might have made backup copies. Could the police have confiscated them before they were burned? It would be interesting to look over some of his old work.”
Gerald arched an eyebrow. “I assumed they all burned.” Gerald’s comment seemed innocent enough, but his tone indicated he was more curious than he let on.
Of course, he could just be curious like some of the other people she’d met before—wanting to find out for themselves if she really did have amnesia. Another self-appointed shrink.
“I have some old boxes of memorabilia,” Veronica said. “Maybe I’ll look in those.” Or perhaps the police had the files, she thought. She would ask Nathan.
“Hmm.” Gerald chewed the thick bread. “Do you think it’s a good idea for you to pursue all this? I mean, what possible reason would you have to look into your father’s old files—the cases would all be outdated by now.”
Veronica sipped her water and decided she’d said enough. “I suppose. Anyway, maybe I’ll talk to Eli about it. He might know.”
A muscle tightened in Gerald’s jaw. “I doubt Father would remember. He’s getting up there in age now, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Veronica said, thinking of her own father and the years they’d missed together.
“And Father is rather busy,” Gerald said. “Between Mother, handling his finances and overseeing my campaign, I’m not sure he has time for anything else right now.”
Gerald’s barrage of excuses made Veronica uncomfortable. She got the distinct impression he didn’t want her bothering Eli. Maybe she wasn’t welcome into the family after all.
“Tell you what, if I get a chance, I’ll mention it to him and let you know,” Gerald said, patting her hand in a patronizing gesture.
She stu
died his easy smile, and her nerves jangled with the strange feeling Gerald was putting her off. She checked her watch. “I need to get back to the office. I have an appointment at two.”
Gerald paid the check, and Veronica stiffened when he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the car. When he dropped her at her office, she watched him drive away and wondered about their luncheon. Once the politician, always the politician. Had she really gotten to know Gerald better or had she seen only the side he wanted her to see?
NATHAN DROVE down the winding driveway to Barrett Pharmaceuticals. Although Veronica had insisted she had no enemies, after studying her client list, he’d noted a couple of possibilities. Wayne Barrett topped the list. The other one, a man named Paul Merino, had suffered a stroke and lay immobile in a nursing home.
He parked his Honda in the circular drive, noting the landscape crew working on the property by the lake. Barrett had a fortune.
But he’d lost a small fortune when Veronica had filed his taxes.
More than likely, he hadn’t been very happy about that. Barrett was a shrewd, cutthroat businessman. He had stock in several other companies and a lawsuit for insider trading. And he’d recently filed for divorce. Had his financial loss triggered the divorce? Even if it hadn’t, it had certainly complicated matters for Barrett. Another motivation for him to harass Veronica.
Nathan entered the modern building, scanning the various security cameras as he walked to the front desk.
“I’d like to see Mr. Barrett, please,” Nathan said.
A young secretary wearing a short skirt looked up at him and smiled. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Nathan flashed his badge, almost laughing at the surprised expression on the young girl’s face. “Now, can you get me in?”
“It’s still not possible.” The woman straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Barrett isn’t here.”
Nathan fought the frustration building in his chest. “Do you know where he went or when he’ll be back?”
Soft blond curls bounced around her face as she shook her head. “He’s taken an extended leave of absence.”
A tall man wearing an impeccably fashionable suit stepped up behind the woman. “Is there a problem, Charlene?”
The girl smiled. “This man is a detective. He’s looking for Mr. Barrett.”
“Good.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Dwain Rogers, vice president of the company. I’m glad you’re already on the case.”
“What do you mean?” Nathan asked.
“I called the police as soon as I discovered the discrepancy in accounting. This weekend Barrett left with a sizable portion of the company’s money.”
“Do you know how I can reach him?” Nathan asked. “Or do you have any idea where he might go?”
“Not a clue,” Rogers said, frowning. “But when you find him, I want to have a word with him myself.”
“I’ll send a team out to search the building and interview all the employees,” Nathan said. “I’d like to take a look at his office.”
“Fine.” Rogers led the way down a plush rose carpeted hallway and into an office the size of a hotel suite. “Let me know if you need assistance.” Rogers disappeared across the hall.
Nathan glanced around the office. It was furnished with expensive cherry wood furniture and dark green sofas. A fully stocked wet bar stood in the corner. He examined the man’s desk, skimmed the papers on top, searched through his files, then rummaged through the top drawer. Finally he pulled out a date book and studied the dates. Barrett had had several appointments with Veronica, one the day she had been attacked in her apartment, another the following day. Then he turned the page and noted red stars punctuating certain dates. What did they mean? As he closed the book, a piece of paper slipped to the floor—a familiar newsclipping about Veronica’s past. Her home address was scribbled in red ink across the top.
He stuffed the date book in his pocket, muttered a silent curse and hurried to the car. Within seconds, he’d ordered an APB on Barrett.
Then he decided to see if Veronica knew anything about Barrett’s disappearance. Maybe he’d been wrong to suspect she had done these things to herself. Both her prior boyfriend and Barrett had possible motives to harm her.
And if they succeeded, he’d never forgive himself.
AFTER VERONICA FINISHED with her last client, she released her hair from the brass clip and ran her fingers through it.
“I’m leaving now,” Louise called out.
“Fine, see you tomorrow.” Veronica pulled her drawer open and fished out the small photo book she kept with her at the office. She stared at the pictures of her parents, of herself as a baby in their arms, and later as a toddler. Her grandmother had made the scrapbook for her, and she’d always valued it.
Then her gaze rested on a photo of her and her parents. She was six, wearing a ruffly church dress, standing in between her parents. Her mother wore a red dress with the pelican pin stuck high on the right side of her big white collar, and her father wore a dark suit and tie. His black hair had started to recede slightly, but he looked handsome and happy to be with her.
Her parents had loved her. Her grandmother had told her repeatedly how much they’d cared for her, how her mother used to sing her to sleep at night and her father used to bring her treats. Why couldn’t she remember them?
She massaged her temple, feeling the slight beginnings of a headache as she often did when she attempted to force her memory.
“Veronica?”
She recognized the deep husky resonance of Nathan’s voice immediately. It sounded so different from Ron’s wimpy voice, and much sexier and more masculine than Gerald’s polished speech. She closed her eyes, trying to tamp her emotions.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Veronica glanced at him in his jeans and worn shirt and knew she would never ask Ron to come for a visit. After meeting a virile man like Nathan, how could she ever consider being with a dud like Ron? Shaking off the impossible thought of a relationship with Nathan, she closed her photo book and secured it back in her desk drawer.
His boots pounded against the hardwood floor. “I went to see Wayne Barrett today.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Apparently he skipped town. His employees don’t know where he is.”
Veronica massaged her forehead. “He didn’t leave an address?”
“Nope. I don’t think he wants to be found.”
“Why not?”
“He stole some money from the company.”
Veronica blew out a breath, then rose and glanced out the window. The sunlight was quickly fading, and dusk was beginning to settle above the willow trees outside. How could the sky be so beautiful and the world so ugly?
“I talked to the vice president, then to my lieutenant. We put out an APB on him.” Nathan pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket. “And I found this in his desk.”
Veronica took the note and saw her name and home address. She stared at Nathan in confusion. Then he handed her the article, and she clutched her stomach as it roiled.
“He knew about my past.”
“That’s right. About your parents…and your amnesia.”
“You think he’s the one who’s been taunting me?”
Nathan shrugged. “It’s possible. I definitely want to talk to him.”
“When you do, ask him about my jacket. I couldn’t find it this morning, then it turned up at the office.” Veronica sighed. “And…”
“And what, Veronica?”
“I thought I saw someone around my apartment this morning. But then…he disappeared.”
“Can you give me a description?”
She shook her head. “No. He was wearing a raincoat. He had his head covered.” She hesitated, struggling to recall more details. The telephone rang, interrupting the strained silence.
“Veronica Miller speaking.” She heard deep breathing, then a fuzzy, hard voice she didn’t recognize.
Nathan must have read the distress on her face, because he punched the speakerphone button.
“Leave the past alone,” the husky voice said.
“Who is this?” Veronica asked. Her hands trembled as she stared at the phone, then at Nathan.
“Someone who knows all about you. Someone who wants you out of town.”
The phone clicked into silence. Veronica gritted her teeth. Nathan had to believe her now—he’d heard the man’s voice.
“We’ll find out who the caller was,” Nathan said, pressing the button to show the caller’s number.
As the phone number blinked before her, Veronica covered her mouth and gasped.
“Veronica, do you recognize this number?”
Veronica swallowed, her voice a choked whisper. “It’s…it’s mine.”
Chapter Six
She raised her fear stricken face to his. “Someone’s at my apartment.”
Nathan cupped his hands around her arms. “Let’s go.”
They rushed from her office. “I can drive,” Veronica said. “I don’t want to leave my car.”
“You’re shaking too much to drive. We’ll get your car later,” Nathan said, ushering her into his Honda. He cranked the engine and raced out of the parking lot, then radioed for backup. He covered Veronica’s hand with his. “We’ll catch this bastard, don’t worry.”
She gave him a strange look, and he realized she hadn’t expected him to believe her. She’d gone through her whole life distrusting, expecting the worst from people. As a cop he was always skeptical, but Veronica wasn’t a cop. She was a soft, beautiful, sexy woman who deserved someone to trust. He wanted the same. When he’d been flat on his back after the accident, he’d realized he didn’t want to be alone.
But could he be that special someone to Veronica and still do his job? If he got too involved with her, would he become sloppy?
His thoughts were so jumbled he ran through a red light. Horns blasted at him. Veronica’s raspy breath broke the silence and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. He considered using the siren, but if someone was still at her place, he didn’t want to warn them of his arrival. He wanted to catch the creep and make him pay for frightening Veronica.
