by Meryl Sawyer
Miranda took a chair while Adam and Whitney sat side by side on the sofa. Whitney let the silence lengthen.
Finally, Miranda spoke. “I didn’t want to lie to you, but…I needed to protect you.”
From what? Whitney wanted to scream, but Adam squeezed her hand to remind her to let Miranda talk.
“You see, I never expected you to appear on my doorstep, needing a place to stay. My plans were already in motion. I had to get out of town.” She waved her hand, gesturing to her surroundings. “We’d planned to come here. Everything was all set. I was just taking care of the final details when you surfaced out of nowhere.”
An uneasy hush followed her breathless explanation. Through the open doors that led outside, Whitney heard the soft purling of the surf on the sand.
“We?” prompted Adam.
Miranda studied Adam for a moment before saying, “Your uncle and I had been together for over two years. We planned to move here after—” she hesitated “—Cal stopped judging dog shows.”
Whitney waited, expecting Miranda to say more, but the only sound in the room was the waves on the shore, bringing a trace of salt into the cinnamon-scented room. Out of the corner of her eye, Whitney glanced at Adam and saw he was studying Miranda.
Finally, Whitney couldn’t stand the tension any longer. “Why would someone want you dead so badly that they would firebomb your house and nearly kill me?”
The thick lashes shadowing Miranda’s cheeks flew up. “What? Someone…”
“You heard me. Someone firebombed the cottage. By the grace of God, I wasn’t home at the time.”
Miranda stared at Whitney, her face stricken with horror. “What? I can’t imagine—” She jumped to her feet and rushed to the open doors that led out to the patio. Miranda faced the sea for a moment, then slowly returned to her chair. “I—I’m sorry—so sorry. I never thought it would come to this.” She frowned. “So soon. I didn’t expect anything to happen so soon.”
“Why don’t you explain it to us?” Adam asked, his voice sympathetic.
He must be playing the good cop, Whitney decided. He almost seemed like a stranger with no stake in these events. She was ready to scream at her cousin for not warning her about impending trouble.
“I-it’s a long story. I don’t know where to begin.”
“We have all night.” Adam glanced at Whitney. “Whitney nearly died. She’s lost everything she has—”
“Was Lexi killed?”
Whitney shook her head. “No. The dogs were with me, but the pipe bomb thrown into the cottage caused a fire. I lost everything but what I was wearing.”
“Oh my God.” Miranda closed her eyes for a moment, then directed her response to Adam. “I’d been living in the cottage awhile before I really got to know your uncle. He was away judging dog shows overseas most of the time. Then we started seeing more and more of each other. We fell in love.”
Whitney tried to imagine Miranda in love. Her cousin always had guys trailing after her, but she’d seemed older and more sophisticated than they were. Miranda had never been serious about any of them. Whitney could understand why an older, more worldly man would appeal to her cousin.
“Cal didn’t want me to work so hard. He began giving me money.”
“We know you were stripping at Saffron Blue,” Adam told her.
Miranda’s eyes flew in Whitney’s direction. A hint of crimson seemed to flower beneath her tan. “I did some stripping,” she replied apologetically.
“My uncle didn’t like that. Did he?”
A flicker of a smile brightened Miranda’s face. “No. Cal was old-fashioned in many ways. He insisted I quit.”
“He gave you three thousand dollars in cash at the beginning of every month, right?”
How did Adam know this? Whitney wondered, an uneasy feeling creeping through her.
Miranda nodded. “Yes. It wasn’t as much as I was making at Saffron Blue, but I didn’t need more.”
“What did you do with the insurance money you received from your parents’ death?” Whitney asked.
“I invested most of it in the stock market. Tech stocks were hot back then and I thought I would make a killing. At first, I did—on paper. Then I lost every penny. Luckily I’d kept some to live on, so I was able to help your mother when she needed it. That was the last of my money.”
A twinge of guilt passed through Whitney. She hadn’t known Miranda at all. She’d never considered her cousin to be the type who would risk money in the market, but she was wrong. It touched her that Miranda had used what little she’d had left to help Whitney’s mother.
“Last year Cal brought me down here,” continued Miranda. “I thought it was just a trip so he could fish.” She gazed wistfully out toward the ocean for a moment. “He adored fishing. He could spend hours bobbing up and down in a fishing boat waiting for a bite. I never saw the attraction. But what did it matter? I hung out on the beach, worked on my tan and read a book until sunset when the fishing boats came in.”
“Your passport doesn’t show any record of a visit here,” Adam said.
“Cal leased a jet. We took off from a private airport and landed on a private strip constructed especially for this development. I had my passport with me, but no one bothered to stamp it.”
Adam replied, “Private airfields are notoriously lax.”
“Turns out Cal wasn’t just interested in the fishing at Corona del Mar. He wanted to buy a place. He picked out this villa because of the view. He loved looking out at the ocean. You can see it from here, the kitchen and the master bedroom.” She drew in a slow, deliberate breath and tears welled up in her eyes. “Too bad he didn’t live to enjoy it.”
Adam stared at Miranda, his gaze intense. “How did my uncle die?”
“Early in the evening, Cal complained of chest pain. He’d never had heartburn, but he claimed that’s what it was.” Miranda flung out her hands in simple despair. “If only I’d taken him to the hospital, but I believed him. Later, we were in the office, checking the computer for the Cancún weather report, and he gasped.” She cast a pleading look at Adam, a lone tear dribbling down her cheek. “A loud gasp like nothing I’ve ever heard. It seemed as if Cal wanted to scream but couldn’t, then he slumped over in his chair. I tried to get a pulse. Nothing. I immediately dialed 911.”
“Why did you leave?” asked Adam. “No one was around when the paramedics arrived.”
“Cal always insisted we be very careful. He didn’t want anyone to know we were involved.” Her eyes darkened with fear. “In the days before he died, Cal said his life was in danger. I was afraid I might be killed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Whitney cried.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WHITNEY WAITED FOR Miranda to respond. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she repeated.
Her cousin brushed the moisture off her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Whitney, I swear, I never thought you were in the least bit of danger.”
“Why not? We look enough alike to be mistaken for each other.”
Miranda huddled in her chair. “Our eyes maybe, but I don’t think anyone would…” She turned to Adam. “Do you think we look alike?”
“Not to me. But then, I’m sitting very close to you. At a distance, you’re both slim blondes with green eyes—”
“I’m two inches taller,” interjected Miranda. “My face is longer.”
“In the dark—all bets are off,” said Adam. “Someone who didn’t know you well could—”
“Why didn’t you just warn me?” Frustration echoed in every syllable Whitney spoke.
“I didn’t think it was necessary. They aren’t due back until next week.”
“Stop.” Adam held up his hand. “Go back. Explain everything. Who are ‘they’?”
Miranda was silent for a moment as if deciding just where to begin. “Cal and I fell in love. He said he wished he’d met me years ago. You see, Cal always wanted a son. Someone like you.”
If this
touched Adam, he didn’t show it. His face remained attentive, yet strangely impassive. It reminded Whitney of the way he’d acted when they’d first met.
“Even though Cal was almost twenty years older, he wanted children. I can’t tell you how excited he was when I told him I was pregnant.”
“Ohmygod,” cried Whitney. “You’re pregnant.”
Miranda lightly patted her tummy. “A little over three months along.”
Whitney’s eyes cut over to Adam. His detached expression hadn’t changed. Was he made of stone? she wondered. The baby would be his cousin.
“If you’re carrying his child, why didn’t my uncle change his will?”
“He wanted you to inherit his real estate. The bulk of his money was in offshore accounts. He arranged it so all of his money would go to our child should anything happen to him.”
“Something did happen to my uncle.”
Unexpectedly there was a flare of biting sarcasm in Adam’s voice. Miranda flinched as if he’d physically slapped her. What was Adam implying? That Miranda had something to do with his uncle’s death? It was a simple heart attack, wasn’t it?
“Your father…Cal’s fa-father—” Miranda’s voice faltered. “Both died at relatively young ages of heart problems. I tried to persuade him to eat better and exercise more but—”
“Did he take any medicine the night he died?”
“No. Why?”
Instead of answering, Adam asked, “Where did you eat?”
“We barbecued at home. Swordfish. It was the only fish he liked.” Miranda forced a laugh. “He loved to fish but didn’t like to eat it. Oh, he would prepare fish like a gourmet, but he just picked at what he’d cooked.” Miranda hesitated a moment, looking out toward the cove where darkness had fallen. “I get it now. You think I killed him.”
“Did you?” he shot back.
“Of course not! I loved him.” Miranda gazed at Whitney. “I guess Cal reminded me of my father, but it was more than that. He was so smart, so well traveled. He was a man—nothing like those boys I used to date.” She turned her attention to Adam again. “I didn’t kill him. Who would want to go into hiding all alone?”
“Why are you hiding?” asked Whitney.
Miranda didn’t respond. Whitney gazed at Adam. His stoic expression hadn’t changed but she suddenly had the feeling he knew the answer. If not, he knew a lot more than he had told her. A slow burn began to creep through her.
“We came down here last December,” replied Miranda. “I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a test of sorts. Cal wanted to see if I liked it well enough to live here full-time.
“On New Year’s Day, Cal told me he was going away—for good. You see, I’d gotten used to him disappearing overseas for weeks at a time for dog shows, but he explained this would be different. He wouldn’t be returning for several years, and he wouldn’t be able to contact me. In short, I might never see him again.”
“Several years?”
“That’s what I asked,” Miranda replied in response to Whitney’s question. “Cal said it might be two, three even five years before he returned. He wanted me to come with him, but he said I needed to think it over very carefully. Would I be comfortable not coming back for such an extended period? Would I be able to exist without contacting anyone?”
Adam asked, “Didn’t his request seem strange?”
“Of course. I demanded to know why, but your uncle said he’d explain the details only if I decided to go with him.”
“How could you agree? Your life, everything is in San Diego,” Whitney insisted.
“Really? What life? Babysitting dogs? I went to junior college, but I’m not like you. I hated it. I never found anything I really wanted to do…except be a mother.”
Whitney understood. Miranda’s family had been cruelly taken from her. She’d never gotten over it. Whitney decided she might have reacted the same way.
Miranda said to Whitney, “I knew you were back in town, but we never saw each other. I didn’t have anyone or anything to keep me here. All I had was Cal. I truly loved him. I was willing to go anywhere with him.”
Whitney couldn’t help feeling ashamed of herself. She should have made more of an effort to see Miranda.
“I slept on it, but first thing the following morning, I told Cal I would come with him.” She was silent for a moment, gazing out at the water as if recalling every detail of that conversation. “Cal explained a little bit about his business. He told me he’d been brokering arms and weapons.”
“Using the dog shows as a front,” interjected Adam.
Wow, thought Whitney. What a scheme. She’d been correct. Adam certainly did know a whole lot more than he had told her. Poor little Jasper had merely been a cover, a reason for traveling overseas.
“Exactly. I was shocked, of course. He’d always e-mailed me pictures of Jasper’s shows. Other events he merely judged, but he always sent me messages, telling me about the places he’d stayed or eaten. Looking back, I guess I should have been suspicious because he never once asked me to come with him.”
Whitney tried to imagine waiting at home for weeks on end. She couldn’t, then she suddenly realized it wouldn’t have been much different from her life during Ryan’s two residencies. He’d been at the hospital six days a week. When he came home, he just wanted to eat, then sleep. He might as well have been on another planet.
“Cal’s clients had been in Africa or South America for the most part, but he brokered the deals in Europe. He always made certain his travel was related to shows. You see, he made arrangements for arms transactions but didn’t actually handle anything.”
“Was it illegal?” Whitney asked.
“Depends upon what he was selling,” responded Adam. “Most weapons the United States allows to be sold are highly restricted. Our government doesn’t like encouraging rebels or supplying guerilla armies.”
Miranda shrugged. “Cal claimed if he didn’t broker the deals, someone else would. He told me the trouble began when he discovered that a shipment of armaments he’d sold to a group in the Sudan ended up in the Middle East.”
“He should have seen it coming,” Adam commented. “Bin Laden was in East Africa before relocating to Afghanistan.”
“Maybe Cal did realize what was happening,” Miranda said in a tone bordering on wistful. “Maybe he didn’t want to tarnish the image I had of him. Anyway, I agreed to go with him.”
“You accepted this without asking more?” Whitney couldn’t help being astonished. A second later it occurred to her that she had often taken Ryan’s word for things—without checking or asking questions. The revelation that Ryan had a severe gambling problem should have been something she’d sensed, but she hadn’t. She’d been blissfully clueless.
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more. Cal was leaving the business. We were going to be starting over.” She hesitated for a beat. “He explained that the men he’d been dealing with would never allow him to just quit.”
“Without giving them his contacts and access to his routing,” Adam said.
The tension building inside Whitney kicked up another notch. She could tell none of this surprised Adam. He’d known all along, but never gave Whitney a hint. Why not? Miranda was her cousin. Didn’t Whitney have a right to know?
“Exactly,” Miranda said. “Cal didn’t want Americans hurt with weapons he’d arranged to be sold. Adam, when you were almost killed, Cal felt responsible. Alarming amounts of weapons were surfacing in terrorists’ hands.
“Not only did he want out, Cal wanted to shut down the pipeline. He told me it would be just a matter of time before the terrorists made a dirty bomb or even a nuclear weapon. He didn’t want anything to do with it.”
It sounded very self-serving to Whitney, but she didn’t voice her opinion. She knew only too well how women in love overlooked serious flaws in their men.
“Cal went about shifting his funds around so no one could find them, and he created new identities for bo
th of us. I didn’t actually take it seriously.” She threw up her hands. “I mean, I did and I didn’t. I believed everything Cal had told me, but I didn’t realize how serious the threat was until one night about a week before Cal died.”
Miranda stopped speaking, jumped up and rushed toward the kitchen. She returned a few seconds later with a tissue in her hand. She plopped down in her chair again, saying, “I’d bought this sinfully sexy red nightie. I put it on and hid in his office closet. I wanted him to be working hard—he always blacked out everything around him when he was on the computer—then I planned to jump out and we would have sex right there on his desk.”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Whitney would have giggled. She recalled the number of times she’d tried to entice Ryan with sexy lingerie. It had worked—temporarily—or so she’d thought.
“Cal came into the office with two men. I was stunned. He was supposed to be alone. They were talking business. I tried to be quiet, but I was hunched over, squeezed under a hanging shelf. A charley horse hit my calf. When I bent my leg a little to relieve the cramp, my foot hit something that made a scraping sound. Next thing I knew, this strange man threw open the door.”
Whitney tried to imagine this but couldn’t.
“I’ve never seen anyone look so positively evil. I thought they might shoot me on the spot. But Cal put his arm around me and explained we were about to be married—which was true. We were going to be married once we moved here. Cal told them I helped him with every deal. He insisted I had always been his silent partner.”
Adam asked, “They bought it?”
“Yes. It took some convincing, but they finally accepted it. I was at his side when he arranged to give them what he called the support information.”
“The routes he used. The ways he arranged for weapons to be shipped from the manufacturer to points overseas. People who helped,” Adam said without hesitation. “Armaments must be carefully concealed, and you need a variety of routes. Too big a shipment is a risk because it attracts attention. If it’s lost or confiscated, alternate routes become vital or the deal falls through.”
