by Cindi Myers
“I know she hasn’t sent me a check and she hasn’t bothered to show up for work.”
“What do you think happened to her?”
He shrugged. “Like I told you. She’s nuts. She probably decided to run off to Baja or join a commune or something. No telling.”
“But you haven’t heard anything from her?”
“I told you, no!”
Rand leaned across the table and fixed Starling with a cold gaze. “We have a witness who says she saw you and Lauren together at a hotel here in Montrose.”
Phil flinched, a reaction so brief anyone who wasn’t watching him closely might have missed it. “What—you think we were still sleeping together? Fat chance of that.”
“I didn’t mention sex,” Rand said. “This witness says you were talking. What were you talking about?”
He looked away and said nothing.
“The hotel has security cameras,” Rand said. “I’m sure we can find photographs to prove you were there, in addition to the eyewitness.” He was sure of no such thing, but he wanted Starling to worry.
“I went by there to talk to her about the support payments,” he said, the words coming out in a rush.
“What about the payments?” Rand asked.
“I needed more money.” He twisted his hands together on the table in front of him. “She had it good—cushy job with that news station in Denver. Prime-time news anchor, everybody’s sweetheart. I got work coming—a big, important role. But everything in Hollywood takes time, so it’s gonna be a while before the money comes in. So I figured, she could pay me a little more now, and when the money starts rolling in for me, I’ll cancel the payments altogether. If that’s not generous, I don’t know what is.”
“Did Lauren tell you her job at the news station was in jeopardy? That she might be laid off soon?”
“As if that was ever going to happen. That was just an excuse. The station wouldn’t dare get rid of her. I mean, she has a disability, right? They fire her, she could sue. Of course, that might not be so bad. Maybe she’d get even more money. Either way, she could afford to share some of the wealth with me.”
“But she refused to pay you.”
“She did. I even threatened to take her back to court, but she didn’t care. She told me she couldn’t help and showed me the door.”
“How did you feel about that? Especially after you came all this way to plead with her.”
“How do you think I felt? I was plenty irate. I told her that wouldn’t be the last she heard from me on the issue.”
“So the two of you argued. Maybe things got out of hand?” Rand leaned closer, his voice low, confiding. “What happened? Did you hit her? Did she fall and hit her head? Maybe you got scared and decided the best thing to do was to hide the body, drive her car out to the park and make it look like she’d committed suicide?”
Starling stared at Rand, his jaw gone slack, eyes wild with terror. “What are you talking about? I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t lay a finger on her. I left—told her I’d come back the next day, after she’d had more time to think about my offer. Only when I came back, she wasn’t there. I figured she was avoiding me. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Yet you stayed in town. Why is that?”
“Maybe I like it here.”
“And maybe you have people in Denver who are after you to pay money you owe them?”
“Yeah, maybe some of that, too. But I’ve just been hanging out. I haven’t seen a hair of Lauren’s since that one day I talked to her.”
“What about Lauren’s sister, Sophie?” Rand asked.
His eyes narrowed. “What about her?”
“She says you threatened her when you saw her in town yesterday.”
“That little mouse? You’ve met her, right? Can you even believe she’s Lauren’s sister? The two are nothing alike.”
“Why did you tell her to go home and mind her own business?”
“Because she was giving me the stink eye.” He drew himself up, indignant. “She never did like me, always treated me like I was something the cat dragged in. The police arrested her for harassing me, remember. I didn’t do anything.”
“What did she say to you?” Rand asked.
“She accused me of following her. As if I’d waste my time on a nothing like her.”
Rand had to fight not to defend Sophie from Starling’s disparagement. She was worth far more that all the beautiful, sparkling, empty-headed women he’d ever met. But better to change the subject. “So you didn’t know that Lauren knew Alan Milbanks?” he said.
“Lauren and Alan?” He laughed. “He wasn’t exactly her type, you know?”
“What do you mean?” Rand asked.
“Lauren might be whacko, but she was hot. She never had trouble attracting good-looking guys. That’s why she married me, you know?”
Behind them, Marco coughed. Starling scowled at him but was smart enough not to comment. “So Lauren didn’t introduce you to Alan Milbanks?”
“No. I wanted some fish and people told me he had the best fish in town.”
Substitute crack or meth for fish and Starling might be telling the truth, Rand thought.
“Do you always carry a gun when you shop for fish, Mr. Starling?” he asked.
“I told you I’d heard rumors about the other business they did at that place. I wasn’t taking any chances.” He rubbed his hand across his chin, the beard stubble making a rasping noise. “So, what happened—did you finally catch him in the act? Is that why the place was closed?”
“Mr. Milbanks is dead,” Rand said.
Starling froze. “Dead? What happened? Did he have a heart attack or something?”
“He was murdered. Do you know anything about that?”
Starling gaped, openmouthed. He certainly appeared shocked by the news, but after all, he was an actor. Rand didn’t trust the reactions of someone who was trained to portray emotions. “Do you know anything about the murder of Alan Milbanks?” he asked again.
“No! What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“A guy who carries a gun to buy fish,” Rand said drily.
“I never even fired that gun!” Starling protested. “I bought it off a kid in Denver, for self-protection. I’m not a murderer!”
Fortunately for Starling, tests on the weapon backed up this assertion. The little revolver hadn’t been fired in a long time, judging by its condition. And the caliber didn’t match the bullet that had killed Alan Milbanks. “Do you know anybody who would want Alan Milbanks dead?” Rand asked.
“How the hell should I know? Somebody he sold bad fish to? I hardly knew the guy. He probably had lots of enemies.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Who doesn’t have enemies, right?”
“Did Lauren have enemies?”
“Lauren?” The hardness around his eyes softened a little. “Nah. Everybody liked Lauren. Even at her wackiest, she was never mean. Even when she drove you nuts, you couldn’t stay mad at her.”
“But you could stay mad at her,” Rand said. “You were angry enough to come all the way to Montrose to confront her.”
“I told you, that was about the money.” He leaned forward, hands clasped, expression earnest. “Listen, I know I was no angel in our marriage. I cheated on her, but you got to understand what it was like being married to her. The big TV star. The beauty queen. Everywhere we went, people fawned on her. If she came to one of my performances, everybody paid attention to her, not me.”
“A little hard on the ego,” Rand said.
“Exactly. It gets to a guy, you know? And then, I never knew what she was going to be like from day to day. One day she was this dynamo, racing around from one project to another, all happy and energetic, little Miss Positive. The next d
ay she wouldn’t even talk to me. She was like this little dark cloud huddled in the apartment. I couldn’t depend on her. It drove me crazy. And it drove me into another woman’s arms.” He shrugged. “So sue me. I’m human. But even after all that, part of me still loves her. I just couldn’t live with her.”
“The last time you saw Lauren, what was she like?”
“She was fine. As normal as she ever got, anyway.”
“Did she seem depressed? Upset about anything?”
“No. Believe me, you couldn’t miss one of her black moods. When she and I talked at the motel, she was all business, but not negative.”
“Did she say why she was in Montrose?”
“She mentioned something about work—some story she was reporting on—but she didn’t go into detail. To tell you the truth, I didn’t care. All I wanted was to come to some agreement on the money and leave. She’s not really a part of my life anymore, and I always believed in making a clean break, you know?”
“And you never spoke to her again? No phone calls or texts or any other communication?”
“Nope. I called the hotel the next day and they told me she’d checked out. I drove by a couple of times to make sure and her car wasn’t in the lot. She didn’t answer my texts or calls to her cell. I figured she was on assignment somewhere else and was avoiding me.”
“Did that upset you?”
“Do I look like an idiot? Of course it upset me. But I just figured there was no reasoning with the woman. It was time to get out the big guns. I called my lawyer and told him to petition the court for an increase in support. She could afford it, and since I didn’t have any income at the moment, I figured I’d get it. She had plenty to spare.”
“And did you petition the court?” Rand asked the attorney.
The man started, as if out of a stupor. “Excuse me?”
“Not this guy,” Starling said. “My divorce attorney. I just picked this guy out of the phone book. It’s not like I’ve been in trouble with the law before. Well, maybe a DWAI once, but that was years ago.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt this lovely chat,” the lawyer said, glaring at his client. “But unless you’re going to charge my client with something more than this minor weapons violation, I suggest you let him go.”
“A weapons violation isn’t a minor charge,” Rand said. “Your client can go back to his cell and wait until the judge either sets or denies bail at his arraignment tomorrow.”
Starling opened his mouth to say something, but a quelling look from the lawyer silenced him. Rand pushed back his chair and stood. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us about your wife or Alan Milbanks, Mr. Starling?” he asked.
“I hope Lauren’s okay,” he said. “Really, I do. She has her problems, but she isn’t so bad, really. She doesn’t deserve any more hard luck in her life. And if you see her, you can tell her I said so.”
Rand left the room as a bailiff came to escort Starling back to his cell. Marco followed him out. “What do you think?” Rand asked.
“I don’t think he’s telling the truth about his relationship to Milbanks,” Marco said. “Ten dollars says one of the reasons he’s in such financial straits is that he’s keeping up a drug habit. I’m guessing one of the reasons he’s stayed in Montrose is that Milbanks was a good source.”
“Maybe he’s hiding out from the dealers he owes in Denver.”
“Probably. As for Lauren Starling—I don’t know. I can see things getting out of hand with her, especially if she had a history of erratic behavior that pushed his buttons. Things went too far and he killed her. Maybe accidental, but then he covered things up.”
“Except that doesn’t explain the note on Sophie’s car.”
“Maybe he learned she was in town and decided this was a chance to elaborate on the fiction that she’d run away. He was married to Lauren, so he knew her handwriting, the things she would say. He’s got a big ego, so he’s convinced he can pull this off, divert attention from anyone looking for a body.”
“Maybe.” Marco pulled his keys from his pockets. “Back to headquarters?”
“I’ll meet you there later. I think I’m going to nose around the hotels in town a little more to see if I can find out more about what Starling—and Lauren—might have been up to.”
* * *
A DAY SPENT alternately watching bad TV and flipping through outdated magazines scavenged from the lobby, while waiting for the phone to ring with word about Lauren, left Sophie on edge. She paced the floor and gnawed at a thumbnail, picking up the phone half a dozen times to call Rand and ask if he had any news, then setting it aside. If he knew anything, he’d call her, wouldn’t he?
Frustrated with her own impotence, she sat down at the one small table by the window and opened her notebook. Maybe if she made a list of things she could do to help find Lauren, she’d feel better. She uncapped the pen and wrote 1 Then stared for a long moment, her mind blank.
A knock on the door startled her. She checked the peephole, and her heart gave a lurch when she recognized Rand. He wasn’t in uniform this evening, instead dressed in tight, dark jeans, boots and a pin-striped Western shirt that reminded her again of an old-west cowboy—only this one had cleaned up to come to town.
She undid the chain on the door and pulled it open. “Hello, Rand,” she said.
“I thought I’d see if I could cash in that rain check on dinner.”
“Oh, uh, well...” Having dinner with him didn’t feel like the safest way to spend the evening, either. Being near him distracted her from her purpose more than she wanted. Still, she couldn’t think of a way to refuse without being rude, and the thought of sitting alone in her room until she was exhausted enough to sleep depressed her.
“I should change,” she said, looking down at her rumpled jeans and blouse.
“You look fine,” he said. “Great.”
She wasn’t used to such flattery, but maybe he was just trying to reassure her. “Just give me a minute,” she said, and retreated to the bathroom.
She returned a few moments later, wearing a fresh blouse, with her hair combed and lips glossed. “Even better,” he said, and opened the door.
As she approached the FJ Cruiser, the dog, Lotte, poked her nose out of the window and gave a low bark. Sophie stumbled back, but Rand caught her, his hands on her shoulders steadying her. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “She’s just saying hello.”
“How do you know? Maybe she doesn’t like me.”
“Dogs are like people. If you know what to look for, you can read their emotions.” He gave her a gentle push. “Go on, get in the car. You two need to get used to each other.”
“Why do we need to get used to each other?” she asked, but she made her way to the passenger side of the vehicle, keeping her gaze fixed on the dog. But Lotte ignored her, her attention focused on Rand.
“Lotte and I are a team.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “She’s with me most of the day, and she goes home with me at night.”
“She lives with you?” Sophie had thought the dog would stay in a kennel at headquarters when she wasn’t working.
“Of course. She’s my partner and I have to take care of her. Did you know that she outranks me?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s a sergeant. I’m only a corporal.” He showed her the badge clipped to the dog’s harness. “They do that on purpose, so the handler is sure to respect the dog. Not that I wouldn’t respect Lotte.” He scratched the dog behind the ears. She gazed up at him adoringly, mouth open to reveal a lot of gleaming, sharp teeth. Sophie took a step back, her heart racing.
“You sure you don’t want to pet her?” Rand asked. “It might help you to see her as a friend.”
Sophie shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
He shrugg
ed, and closed the gate that blocked the dog from the front seat. Only then did Sophie get into the vehicle. “I know you think I’m silly,” she said. “Fearing something you love so much.”
“Fear isn’t always rational,” he said. “I get that. But I’d like to help you get over your fear, if I could.”
“It might be easier if I started with a smaller dog,” she said. “They look less frightening.”
“Smaller dogs are more unpredictable than a trained working dog like Lotte.”
“Yes, but if a toy poodle bites something, it’s less likely to do damage.”
“I guess there is that. What do you feel like eating?”
“Anything.” She hadn’t had much of an appetite since Lauren had disappeared.
They ended up at a Mexican food place not far from her hotel; Lotte settled down in the vehicle to wait while Rand and Sophie went inside. They ordered chips and salsa and enchiladas. She drank a margarita, while he stuck to iced tea. She tried not to be obvious as she studied him across the table.
“Do I pass inspection?” he asked.
She flushed. “You pass.” He wasn’t movie-star handsome—he needed a haircut and his nose had been broken once, probably a long time ago. She guessed he was a few years older than her—old enough to have the beginnings of fine lines around his eyes. He had the lean, muscular build of an athlete, and an air of competence that probably put most people at ease. She tried to come up with an adjective she would use to describe him to Lauren, but the word that filled her head was sexy.
Oh yeah, he was sexy, all right. Forget the badge and the gun and his position of authority. The real reason Rand made her nervous was that he made her feel more like a woman than she had felt in a long time. She wasn’t merely a sister or an employee or a neighbor. She was a desirable female who’d been alone too long. Being with Rand made her lose her focus on her mission to find her sister. She forced her mind away from such dangerous thoughts and searched for some safe subject of conversation. “Emma told me you play lacrosse,” she said.
“Yeah, I got into it in high school.”
