Chapter Twelve
Hunter knew he should make an appearance downstairs for lunch. His nephew Parrish would be home from play school and he hadn’t seen the rascal in over a week. But it would mean encountering Juliana in front of an audience.
Keeping up the image of a newly wedded couple in front of his family and his staff wasn’t making it any easier to keep their relationship strictly platonic in private. It was all too easy to lower the barriers he wanted to keep firmly in place when she looked at him as if he were some kind of hero.
Still, he couldn’t hide out here behind the bunkers of paper that had been spitting out of his fax machines the last few hours; the majority were associated with this case, but a few updated him on other ongoing cases. Hunter had been diligently attacking the self-replenishing pile, setting aside information that warranted further action from him and delegating other tasks to his operatives.
At some point, he’d seriously have to consider taking on a partner. Maybe Del.
Del had come up the secret passageway to the safe room hidden behind a bookcase in Hunter’s office while making his morning rounds and they’d drafted a plan to whisk Annette out of the Collingwood estate. If someone at the estate was involved in the bombing, she could be in danger.
It was a risk to bring her to the island, but he needed her cooperation if they were going to succeed in keeping Cort’s identity hidden from the world. Plus, she needed confirmation that her nephew was alive.
Hunter had just finished making arrangements so that Gord Nevins could spend a few hours at Juliana’s father’s bedside this evening, when his cell phone rang.
“Bad news, we’ve reached a dead end with Robert Lance,” Investigator Bradshaw barked in Hunter’s ear. “We finally picked him up this morning at his place of employment. He had nothing to do with the pager that detonated the explosion. He lost his wallet on the subway a few months ago. We’ve verified his story with his credit card companies and it all checks out. He reported all his cards lost on the same date.”
Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. Unlike Riana’s abduction, in this case they had a preponderance of information and suspects. A solid lead would turn up, he told himself. They had to keep plugging away until that happened. “So, whoever bought the pager used Lance’s stolen ID?”
“You got it.”
“Anything turn up with the florists?”
“Not yet. If the guy’s clever, he went to three different florists and paid cash for each purchase.”
“What about latent fingerprints on Juliana’s purse?”
“We’re way ahead of you. We lifted Juliana’s prints and Stacey Kerr’s prints. And two others which are unidentified. Definitely not Sable Holden’s. We took the liberty of comparing the prints she left on her coffee cup during her interview with the prints found on the purse.”
Hunter frowned. “Think it’s significant that Stacey was the one who just happened to find the purse? She was Lexi’s personal secretary. Maybe Lexi confided in her about Cort or Stacey stumbled across the information. Juliana saw Stacey at the funeral in a private conversation with Kendrick Dwyer. Later, at the reception, Stacey asked Juliana if she had pictures of the baby with her.”
Bradshaw played devil’s advocate. “Maybe Dwyer’s sleeping with the secretary. He wouldn’t be the first man his age to want a beautiful Southern trophy on his arm.”
Hunter agreed that Bradshaw had a point. He told the investigator about Juliana’s conversation with Sarah Younge in the ladies’ room and voiced his doubts that Ross had been encouraging the controller to take family leave.
“I’m keeping close tabs on David Younge,” Bradshaw assured him. “We’re looking into his personal finances. Maybe he’s got a gambling problem. Ross gave Juliana a corporate check to fund her care of the baby. Younge could have been suspicious about the check and traced it, just like we did, to a bank in Cleveland.”
“I’ve got operatives tailing the senior executives. Sooner or later someone’s going to get sloppy.”
The trooper sighed. No doubt he’d been living on coffee and deli food the last week. “From your lips to God’s ears. I’ve got brass breathing down my neck and TV cameras up my ass. Any promising tips coming in from the hot line?”
“Nothing that twigs. An FBI expert is going through them first, looking for connections. Did your men dig up anything suspicious on Annette? I’m planning to unite her with her nephew tomorrow, provided her background check is clean.”
“She looks clean as a whistle.” He heard Bradshaw rifle through a file. “Not even a parking ticket. We talked to friends of the family and former neighbors. Her parents were middle-class overachievers. The mother put Lexi in beauty contests from the time she was three. Annette was more into books and brought home all kinds of school awards. She had her own used-book stand she’d drag around the neighborhood in a wagon. Not surprising she works as a copy editor and fact checker for a women’s magazine. Her boss says she does a good job. Said Annette was very close to her sister and wouldn’t tolerate people who asked her nosy questions about her sister’s personal life.”
“What about boyfriends who might have figured out that she could inherit a fortune if all Ross’s heirs were dead? Juliana mentioned someone named Darren spoke to Annette at the funeral. She wasn’t pleased to see him.”
“That must be Darren Black. He’s a mathematician at Cornell. Annette was engaged to him a few years ago, but that seems long over. Her phone records show no current contact with him or any other boyfriend in her life. Since someone at the estate may be in on the bombing, she’d probably be safer with you than on the estate.”
Hunter drummed his fingers on his desktop. “That’s my take.” He sketched out his plan for escorting Annette to the island. After he’d hung up, he checked his watch and secured his office, then hurried downstairs.
He couldn’t put off lunch any longer.
“UNCLE HUNTER! Wanna play baseball?”
Three-year-old Parrish’s chair fell sideways and struck the floor with a crash as he bolted out of it and launched himself like a red-haired missile at his uncle’s knees.
Cort, startled by the noise and the shouting, screwed up his face and started to cry, smearing baby cereal and pureed peas into his eyes.
Juliana quickly reached for a facecloth to wipe him off. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”
“Parrish, I’m sure your uncle appreciates the enthusiasm of your welcome, but we don’t jump off chairs as if we’re kangaroos,” Prudy gently scolded. “Now pick up the chair and say you’re sorry to your aunt Juliana for making the baby cry.”
Parrish poked his head out from between Hunter’s knees, his ears red and his freckled little face set stubbornly. “No.”
Juliana suppressed a laugh as Hunter pushed Parrish out from between his legs. He frowned down at him, “You heard, Prudy. Pick up the chair and apologize.”
Parrish eyed Juliana distrustfully. He didn’t budge. Juliana saw more than a little of Hunter in him. “I think he’s objecting to the explanation that I’m his aunt.”
Hunter knelt down beside his nephew. “I know this is sudden, Parrish, but this very pretty lady is my wife. And the cute little green guy is my son. He’s your cousin. They’re going to live with us.”
“Not in my room.”
“No, not in your room. They’ll have their own rooms. Now the thing you have to remember about babies is that they aren’t as strong as little boys like you and they can get hurt easily. You have to be very gentle with him until he’s big like you and then you guys can do boy stuff together like play baseball.”
Parrish’s brown eyes popped. “Baseball?” he repeated hopefully, hopping around Hunter’s feet.
“Pick up the chair and apologize and we can play baseball when Mackensie comes home.”
Parrish managed to right the chair with a little assistance from Hunter, then put his hands behind his back and turned to face Juliana looking angelically contrite. “Sorry
, baby,”
“Par-rish,” Hunter rumbled in a warning tone.
“I’m sorry I scared the baby, aunt lady.”
“Apology accepted.” Juliana met Hunter’s neutral gaze, her heart splintering into a dozen pieces beneath her smile as he delivered a chaste kiss to her temple. Maybe he wasn’t capable of being a genuine husband to her in every sense of the word. But no doubt about it, he’d be a genuine father to Cort.
She could live with that.
WHEN HUNTER KNOCKED at the door adjoining their suites, Juliana yanked the door opened before he could do it again, a finger laid to her lips. “Ssh! Don’t knock. Cort just fell asleep. He was exhausted from watching Parrish and Mackensie at dinner. I never realized raising boys takes so much energy.”
Hunter frowned down at her, as if he wanted to say something, but then his gaze took in the rest of the room that had once been his mother’s.
She clasped his hand and pulled him into the room, sensing his reluctance to cross the threshold. That old wall was coming up. Well, she was going to ignore it. “What do you think? I found the furniture in a guest room on the third floor. I’m afraid I kept Lars and the handyman lugging heavy furniture all afternoon.” She beamed at the results. The white furniture and the upholstered pieces had brightened the room as she had hoped. She’d even cut a bouquet of misty pink roses from the garden to fill the Chinese vase.
Hunter hadn’t set foot in this room in twenty-four years. Hadn’t so much as opened the door since that horrible night when his father had raided his mother’s room and thrown her things out into the garden below. Even now, a sense of apprehension pinched his shoulders. Like a distant echo he could hear the smashing of glass and his mother’s hysterical pleas for forgiveness. He closed his eyes tightly before an image of his mother hanging by a silk scarf from a pipe in the greenhouse could form fully in his mind. To this day he’d never told anyone that he’d found her first.
He drew a ragged breath and opened his eyes, forced himself to absorb the changes Juliana had wrought to the room. The furniture, the vase of flowers, the wool throw on the sofa, the candles and the pile of books on her bedside table infused the room with her warmth.
There was nothing here to remind him of his mother. The room held Juliana’s stamp now.
He felt a loosening in his chest as if he’d finally let go of a breath he’d been holding and gazed down with gratitude into Juliana’s expressive eyes. Strands of her silver-blond hair had slipped loose of her French braid and framed her face. Like a rose, he thought, she bloomed more beautifully with each passing day. Became harder and harder to resist.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It suits you. This was Brook’s furniture once.”
“Do you think she’ll mind that I’ve scavenged it?”
“Not at all. She’ll be flattered.”
“I was disappointed she didn’t return for dinner. At least Mackensie was there. Your nephews are quite a handful.”
“Worried?”
She laughed, a sound Hunter had rarely associated with this room.
“No, delighted. Thank you for bringing me and Cort into your home.” He stiffened as she raised on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the mouth, her lips warm and enticing and capable of chasing away old demons. “I’m honored.”
Then she stepped back and stared up at him, as if defying him to reprimand her. Hunter found that he couldn’t. Not when she’d told him she had a soft spot for his hellion nephews.
“I thought you’d want to know that Gord’s visit to the hospital went off without a hitch. We’ve got another one scheduled for tomorrow evening. And we’ve booked him into a hotel near the hospital for the weekend.”
Hope danced in her eyes, casting an irresistible spell on his heart. Making him more determined than ever to keep from hurting her. She’d gone through enough already.
“I’m so glad. Gord’s a caring man. It will mean a lot to my father to hear a friend’s voice.”
Hunter nodded. “I also came to tell you that I’m leaving shortly for New York to pick up Annette and bring her back here for a few days. She’ll stay in the Windermere guest house. We should be back by morning. But before I go, there are a few things you should be made aware of, for your safety.”
“Of course.”
“Follow me.” He led her out of the room and up the stairs to his office. “Lars will provide for your personal security, and Del and Ty will remain here to ensure the island is secure. They’re staying in the Chelsea guest house. You can reach them by picking up any phone and pushing the Chelsea button.” He punched in a code to unlock the door to his office. “Your emergency code to enter my office is ‘wife.’”
Hunter grinned when she rolled her eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re finally accepting that notion. But why are we here?”
He approached the wall of bookshelves fitted between the bank of TVs and showed her a button concealed beneath the lip of a lower shelf. Juliana pressed the button and the center bookcase silently swung open. In the wall behind, a panel simultaneously slid over to reveal a hidden room.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“This is a safe room. I had it built into the house in the event someone might come after me and pose a threat to my family or the staff. Only Lars, Brook and Del know it’s here. It’s stocked with enough food and water to last several days. And, of course, weapons.” He pushed another code into a keypad on the wall and a door on the far wall of the safe room slid open. “This is an emergency exit. Use the same code as my office. But don’t leave this room unless you feel you must. The exit will let you out behind a row of shrubs on the west side of the house. There are some strategically planted hedges to provide cover all the way to the woods and the boathouse.”
“I hope you’re not suggesting I jump in a boat and head out onto the river. I know as much about boats as I know about camping, Hunter. I’m not even a very strong swimmer.”
He smiled, remembering her idea of camping. He’d make a point of teaching her some basic boating skills. “Live with me long enough and you’ll discover I always have a backup plan.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” she said, looking less than amused. “What’s the backup plan?”
“Head through the woods to the western tip of the island. There’s a rocky point. You’ll see a sundial and a bench. The sundial faces north. Walk fifty-three paces southwest from the sundial and you’ll spot a chip in the rock face that looks like an arrowhead. Just to the right you’ll find a slit in the rock face. Slide your fingers in that slit and pull. It’s actually a door. The cave is stocked for emergencies. Hide out there until I come for you.”
A worried frown crossed her face. “Now I’m wishing I’d accepted Lars’s offer of a tour of the island today—I only went as far as the garden. I’m not even sure which cottage is which.”
He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb and felt her jump at his touch. “Relax. I told you this so you’d know what to do—just in case. Windermere has the star-shaped window in its tower. Chelsea has the twin scalloped-shaped windows. If you’re out wandering by yourself or with the boys, stay away from the shore. The current is strong. Can you remember all that?”
“Wife, fifty-three paces southwest, look for the arrowhead. Got it.” Her mahogany eyes searched his face, concern evident in their shadowy depths. “Hurry back, okay?”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon. I’ll be back.”
He regretted the words almost instantly.
The warmth evaporated from her expression and she stepped away from him abruptly. “Just remember you said that. Not me.”
SHE COULDN’T SLEEP. Memories of last night played along her nerves, making the idea of sleep impossible. The house, without Hunter’s reassuring presence, seemed full of strange sounds in the dark. Just after eleven she heard a helicopter land, likely Brook returning from her long day at the head office of Clairmont Hote
ls. Juliana was tempted to go downstairs to greet her and offer to make a cup of tea for them both, but didn’t want to intrude. Brook was probably tired.
Juliana wasn’t sure when she drifted off, but a small noise woke her just after 3:00 a.m. She lay in bed listening, trying to determine the source of the sound. Had Hunter already returned with Annette? She hadn’t heard the helicopter.
The muffled squeak of a door hinge reached her ears. She heard a definite footfall that sounded as if it were coming from the direction of Hunter’s suite. Had he gone into her dressing room via the corridor that connected their suites to check on Cort?
Juliana climbed out of bed, anxious to reassure herself that he was home safely and Annette was comfortably installed in the guest house. “Hunter?” she called softly, padding toward her dressing room where Cort slept.
There was no response.
Thinking he hadn’t heard, she called again softly.
She heard a faint audible click like a lock being set.
It was then she realized that the connecting door that led to her dressing room was closed. How odd, she’d left it open before she’d gone to bed so she could hear Cort.
Had Hunter closed it? She turned the knob.
It was locked from the other side.
Her heart started to pound. She rapped her knuckles lightly on the door. “Hunter, open the door please!”
There was still no answer.
An ill feeling stuck between her shoulder blades. She slapped her palm against the door, the fear of waking Cort the least of her concerns. “Hunter, you hear me? Open this door!”
The racket she made roused Cort. At least his plaintive wail was reassuring. But she wasn’t going to feel better until she had her baby safely in her arms. And to think her gun was in her purse high on the shelf in her dressing room!
Fear chasing her heels, she ran out of her room and into the hall. Down at the end of the corridor a shadow seemed to move, but her mother’s instinct to go to Cort was stronger than the desire to investigate the shadow. The door to Hunter’s suite stood open. His bed was undisturbed. He wasn’t back yet.
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