Crane moved forward, until he was beside the desk. “You could, but I’m guessing you won’t.” He cocked his head to one side. “What are you doing down there?”
Sarah flushed and got to her feet. He offered a hand, but she refused it, placing her hand on the desk instead. “I could say I caught you breaking in.”
“You could, but when I say I saw the light on in the study and came to investigate, who do you think your husband will believe?”
She fell silent. He was right, it wasn’t worth the risk. Even if her husband did believe her, there was the small matter of the key in her pocket.
“I’d wipe that print off there,” he said, eyeing where her hand had been. “If your husband suspects anyone’s been here he might dust for prints.”
She frowned, but wiped the handprint off the desk with her pyjama sleeve. “Who are you?”
“I’ve told you, I work for your husband,” he said, his blue eyes studied her face, then dropped to her clothes.
“I know that,” she hissed, suddenly feeling ridiculous in her pink striped pyjamas. “You’ve been spying on me. I saw you at the gym, then again at the airport…”
He nodded, “I know. Your disguise fooled me the first time. Very clever.” He gave a glimmer of a smile, “But not the second or third.”
“You mean you followed me to the Coast…” she stopped. How much did he know? She narrowed her eyes. It was best if she didn’t say anything else. Then something struck her. “You didn’t tell my husband about that trip, did you?”
“How do you know I didn’t?” He stood stock still, watching her. She found him unnerving. Perhaps it was the combination of his attractiveness and his direct gaze, coupled with the knowledge he worked for her husband, therefore he was the enemy. Not to be trusted.
She bristled. “If you had, I’d have a matching bruise on the other side of my face right now.”
Crane scowled. “That’s the reason I didn’t.”
Sarah looked away. She couldn’t make him out at all. “If you’re employed by my husband, what are you doing breaking into his study?”
The man sighed. “The same thing as you, I imagine. Looking for information.”
Information? What did he mean? Something wasn’t right here. “I don’t understand. Who are you?”
He hesitated, as if unsure how to proceed. “You can tell me,” she said after a good few heartbeats, “I won’t give you away.”
His blue eyes came to rest on her. “Okay, all you need to know is I’m investigating your husband. I’m here to find out if his business interests are… legitimate.”
“So you’re undercover?” She knew there was something unusual about him. He wasn’t the normal type her husband hired. He wasn’t a brainless thug with a violent glint in his eye and a smirk on his face.
He nodded. “Yes, you can trust me.”
Her whole body went weak and she collapsed in Kaz’s leather executive chair. “Thank God.” He wasn’t the enemy. He was on her side.
His eyes softened. “I know you’re looking into the death of your friends in that boating accident.”
She stared at him. “How on earth do you know that?”
“I followed you, remember? It wasn’t hard to figure out who Rick Copeland was, and he led me to the accident and the other deaths.”
Sarah let out a shaky breath. It was such a relief to be able to talk about it instead of keeping it bottled up inside. “Yes, that’s right. It struck me as strange, that accident. I thought there might be more to it. Then Rick was killed in a fire just the other night…” Her voice broke. She shook her head, her eyes welled with tears. It was still raw. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know he was a friend of yours.” He paused, then said softly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” Then she wiped her eyes. Crying wouldn’t get them anywhere.
Crane glanced around the room. His gaze roamed over the side cabinet, the book case and then back to the desk.
She sniffed. “So what are you looking for? What kind of information?”
“Anything that might indicate your husband is involved in drug smuggling.”
“Drug smuggling?” If she wasn’t sitting down she would have fallen over at that point. “You’re serious? Kaz?”
“Yes.” He gave her a hard look. “I take it you didn’t know?”
She shook her head, dumfounded. “No. I had no idea. I thought he imported textiles.” But it did make sense. The foreign guests, the secret phone calls, business trips to the Middle East. The unsavoury bodyguards who went everywhere with him. The beefed-up security. It was possible her husband was running a drug smuggling operation.
How had she never cottoned on before? She’d been so caught up in her own dismal situation she hadn’t seen the bigger picture. How blind she’d been.
“So you haven’t seen anything suspicious? Contracts? Shipping documents, that sort of thing?”
He lifted the laptop up and studied it. She noticed he wore gloves, and had a flashlight in his pocket. He’d come prepared, unlike her.
“No, there were some company statements in that drawer, but they looked legit. Not as profitable as I would have thought, but reasonable. Nothing about drugs. There might be some stuff on his laptop, but I don’t know the password.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m not a hacker either. I leave that to the experts.”
He opened the drawer and retrieved the folders. Sarah watched as he scanned them, his eyes moving quickly across the page. Like her, he didn’t think they were relevant, and he put them back in the drawer with a little shake of his head.
There was a creak on the floor boards upstairs. They both froze. Sarah swallowed. “I’d better go. I can’t be caught in here.”
He nodded. “Good idea, but we need to talk some more. Can you meet me tomorrow?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, where?”
“Go for a run tomorrow evening, around the lake and into the woods. I’ll find you.”
“Okay. How will you lock the door?”
“I’ve got a lock kit, but it would be easier to use your key.” He grinned at her, causing a flutter in her belly which took her by surprise. He waited until she was out of the room, then switched off the desk lamp. The room was bathed in darkness. Sarah watched his torch beam as he followed her out of the room. They stood next to each other in the passage as she relocked the door. She was acutely aware of his reassuring presence. It felt good to have someone on her side, someone who was also pretending, living a lie.
A door opened upstairs. “Shit,” she whispered. “That’s Kaz. How am I going to get upstairs to put the key back?”
Crane held up a hand. They froze as footsteps padded along the landing, then the bathroom door opened. Sarah hardly dared breath.
“Wait,” mouthed Crane. A few seconds later there was a flush and then another creak as Kaz made his way back to bed. A door closed.
Sarah let out a shaky breath. “Thank God. But now he’s awake, how am I going to get the key back?” She turned to Crane, not that he could help her.
To her surprise he said, “Why don’t you tell him you heard a noise.”
“What? Are you crazy? Then he’ll want to check the house.” She started shivering, not with cold but with the thought of Kaz discovering the key was missing.
“He may not check it straight away. Chances are he’ll leave the room first to have a listen. That’s when you slip the key back.”
Sarah bit her lip to stop it from quivering. Christ, Crane probably thought her such a wimp. “It’s easy for you to say,” she whispered. He wasn’t the one who would get beaten black and blue if things didn’t go as planned.
He laid his hand on her arm. It felt good and she wanted him to keep it there, but he didn’t. “Stay calm. You have to do this. It’s your only option. Now go.”
“What are you going to do?” She didn’t want him to leave her alone at the mercy of her husband.
“I’m going back to my bungalow. She’s down by the lake. Give me five minutes before you wake him up, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He was right. She could do this. It was either that or wait until Kaz had gone back to sleep, then try to sneak the key back. Neither appealed to her.
Crane gave her an encouraging smile, flicked on his torch and disappeared down the corridor towards the kitchen. A few seconds later she heard the kitchen door click shut.
Silently, she returned to her room. To her dismay, there was a light on under Kaz’s door. He must be reading. Her pulse went into overdrive. What if he’d realised his key was missing?
If she was going to do it, she had to do it now. As soon as she got back into her room she opened the dividing door between them. He was propped up in bed, a book in his hand. He looked up in surprise when she came in.
“Did you hear that?” she asked. Her teeth chattered. Hopefully he’d think she was scared of an intruder.
“Hear what?” He frowned.
“I don’t know. A bang. It came from downstairs. I think someone’s in the house.”
“What? I didn’t hear anything,” he said, but he swept back the covers and got up.
“I definitely did.” She couldn’t keep the quiver out of her voice. At least it made her fear seem realistic.
Kaz sighed and did just what Crane had said he would. He opened the bedroom door and walked out onto the landing to listen. This was her moment. Sarah flew over to the chair where his pants were lying and slipped the key back into the pocket. She just prayed it was the right one. Then she followed her husband out onto the landing.
“I can’t hear anything,” he said. “Are you sure you didn’t imagine it? Perhaps it was the wind?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and muttered, through chattering teeth, “It could have been the wind, I suppose. I got a fright, that’s all.”
“Nothing to worry about,” he said, then took her hand and drew her into his bedroom. “Come, I’ll make you feel better.”
Sarah’s heart sank, this was the last thing she felt like doing, but she dutifully let him lead her to his king-sized double bed. Sex was a small price to pay for not being discovered. By comparison, even this was bearable.
As Kaz undressed her, she closed her eyes, but instead of switching off like she usually did, she thought of Crane. She imagined his hands on her body, his mouth on her lips. While it didn’t change the disgust she felt at her husband’s lovemaking, it definitely made it more tolerable.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Crane caught up with Sarah in the forest, a mile and a half from the lake. He’d seen her head off in her running gear and waited until the coast was clear before he took off after her.
Kaz had asked him to make up a four on the golf course, so Crane had spent a fascinating afternoon learning about the textile market in Afghanistan and the logistics of shipping to the U.S. when all he wanted to know was whether this was how they were bringing in the drugs. It was a point he’d raise with Doug when they next met. Something to consider, even if it was a tad obvious. He didn’t think Kaz would be stupid enough to import drugs in his own cargo, but then again, it was the perfect cover.
Despite playing some appalling golf, he’d met Kaz’s CFO. Ashley Kramer. According to the caddie, the guy was reported to be some big shot finance whizz who’d made a bucket load on the stock exchange back in the eighties, when everyone else was losing money and jumping off buildings. He certainly knew how to play golf, however, and was by far the best player of the group. It must be brokering all those dodgy insider deals.
The fourth player was called Mike, who it turns out owned the Lloyd’s Fitness franchise, the exclusive chain of gyms Sarah frequented. When Crane had asked why it was called Lloyd’s and not Mike’s, he’d been told the company had been started by his father, Lloyd, and the name was synonymous with its upmarket image. It made sense.
Ochre trees bent over the footpath like willowy, old men, while under his feet lay a carpet of fallen leaves. Sarah kept appearing and disappearing as the path meandered through the trees. She wasn’t running fast, but she’d had a head start so he had to run at almost double her speed to catch up to her. He felt the familiar twang in his ankle but ignored it. Eventually, he gained on her, and she turned around when she heard the crunching of his feet.
“Hi,” she said in a breathy voice, coming to a halt. There was a thin layer of perspiration on her forehead, it glistened in the dappled sunlight. Her hair was in a ponytail but not scraped back, more messy, with tendrils around her face. He liked that she wasn’t too precious about her appearance.
“Hi.” He ran up to her, then stopped, putting his hands on his hips to catch his own breath. It didn’t take long. He was fit from all the kayaking. A different type of fit, but he had stamina, all the same.
“I didn’t know if you’d make it,” she said shyly.
“We just got back,” he replied. “I saw you head off.”
“I waited until you were back.”
There was an awkward moment where they gazed at each other, not sure how to proceed. Their secret meeting had all the subterfuge of a romantic assignation, except it was anything but. What they were doing was dangerous and they’d both get into a great deal of trouble if they were discovered.
Crane said, “So I take it you managed to put the key back last night?”
“Yes, he did exactly what you said he would, so I slipped the key back when he was on the landing.” Then she glanced down at the ground, unable to meet his eye.
What wasn’t she telling him? Had something else happened? Her face was clear, no bruising. Perhaps he’d hurt her somewhere else? Then he knew what it was.
“Are you alright?” he asked, candidly. It wasn’t his place to pry, but he didn’t like the thought of her in bed with Kaz, at his mercy. The man was a ruthless murderer.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” She obviously didn’t want to talk about it.
“No reason. Shall we walk and talk?” It was better if they kept moving.
She fell into step beside him. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Last night, what were you looking for in your husband’s study?”
She paused, as if wondering how much to say to him. Crane waited, patiently. From her perspective he was a virtual stranger. Why should she trust him?
He relented. Perhaps it was better if he broke the ice. “Okay, why don’t I go first? I’m working with the FBI on this. I’m not going to report back to your husband on what you were doing. You can trust me.”
She weighed up his words, then gathering her thoughts, then she said, “I hope so, because there’s no one else I can tell.”
He nodded, encouraging her. He could see she was frightened, that she needed a confidant, someone to talk to.
Taking a deep breath she said, “I was looking for proof that my husband was involved in Chris’s death.”
“Who was Chris?” He knew Chris was one of the men on the fishing boat, but what he didn’t know was her connection to him.
“Chris was the man I loved.” The words came out softly, surprising him with the emotion behind them. She kept her eyes on the path ahead, refusing to look at him. “When he died, my whole world came crashing down.”
“I’m sorry,” he began. They were silent for a few moments, then he said, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
“I know what you’re going to ask.” She glanced sideways up at him. “How can I be in love with Chris when I’m married to Kaz?”
Crane nodded.
She sighed, a short breathy sound. “It’s a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I can’t help you if I don’t know all the facts,” he said honestly, realising he did want to help her. She didn’t deserve to be with a man like Kaz, who lied to her and abused her.
She glanced at him in surprise. “You’re going to help me? Why?”
Doug would say it was because he couldn’t help himself. He had to save every damsel-in-distress he came across. Perhaps there was an element of that, but he genuinely liked Sarah, she seemed like a nice person and she deserved better.
“I don’t agree with what he did to you,” was all he said.
That reply satisfied her. They kept walking, but slowed their pace. Crane kept an eye out for anyone following them, but there was nobody else around, only the sounds of the forest, which he knew well. Nothing appeared out of place.
She started her story.
“Chris and I met at college. We dated for two years before he moved to Astoria – that’s where he’d grown up. I was so ambitious back then, I got a job as a junior reporter on a local paper and decided not to go with him. So we broke up.” A gust of wind blew some leaves off the trees which fell on them like confetti. One landed on her head. She didn’t appear to notice. “It was while I was working in L.A. that I met Kaz.”
Crane remembered the wedding picture. She’d looked so happy then. Now when she spoke of her husband, lines etched around her eyes and her mouth hardened.
“He was handsome and dynamic. He’d graduated top of his class at Stanford and was considered a great catch. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me.”
Crane could. She was beautiful now, so he could only imagine what she must have been like back then. Looking at her, he could tell she wasn’t wearing any makeup yet her skin was smooth and clear. Her hair, thrust up in that pony tail was a soft, golden blonde, in no need of maintenance.
He brushed the leaf off her head. At her surprised glance, he mumbled, “leaf” and she gave a small nod, before continuing, “Kaz swept me off my feet. He had money and wined and dined me. I’d never been treated like that before. We had a whirlwind romance and before long we were planning our wedding.” Her eyes had a distant look in them, not wistful, but tinged with sadness.
“So what happened?”
She shook her head. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. One day he received a phone call saying his father had died. His father lived in a remote village in Afghanistan. That’s where Kaz was born. The Taliban had killed his family. He was hysterical with rage. I’d never seen him like that before.” She took a deep steadying breath. “And then he left. He got on a plane and went to Afghanistan. I didn’t see him for two years.”
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 11
