Midnight Betrayal

by Leigh, Melinda

Pat walked up behind him. He wrapped an arm around Conor’s shoulder and handed him a burger. “I’m damned glad to have you back.”

  “I’m glad to be back.” Conor ate the hamburger in a few bites. “Thanks for springing me.”

  “Wasn’t me.” Pat shook his head.

  Setting the plate on the table, Conor glanced from Pat to Damian. “Then who—?”

  “Louisa hooked you up,” Pat said. “You should go see her.”

  “It’s late.” But he knew he’d never sleep until he talked to her.

  Damian nodded toward the door. “Really, she’ll want to see you. She was worried.”

  “She was?” Conor asked.

  “Yes. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Damian sipped his Guinness. “Go.”

  Conor was already out the door, car keys in hand. Louisa had saved his ass tonight. Why? Sure, he’d thought they’d had a couple of moments earlier, but he could never tell where he stood with her. She seemed confident about her professional abilities, but personally aloof and alone. He had to work to get a hint of the real person underneath all that expensive silk. But the glimpses he’d seen were a fascinating combination of strength and vulnerability. Reading her was like trying to see through frosted glass. After being skewered by Barbara’s lies, lack of transparency made him wary. Louisa was definitely holding back on him.

  Yet two minutes later, he was in his car and driving toward Rittenhouse Square.

  11

  Louisa removed the tea ball from the ceramic pot and breathed in the jasmine-scented steam. Would Conor call? He was home. She’d talked to Damian earlier. The police hadn’t pressed charges. Though Damian warned Conor was still in jeopardy.

  The phone on the counter rang, and Louisa jumped to answer it. Only the front desk called on the landline. Everyone else used her cell number.

  “Dr. Hancock, Conor Sullivan is here to see you,” the doorman said.

  “Please send him up.” She hung up the phone and turned to the dog sleeping on the sofa. “See? I told you everything would be all right.”

  The soft knock on the door a few minutes later brought the dog off the couch. Louisa opened the door. Conor stood in the hall. She wanted to say hello, but she wasn’t prepared for the flood of relief into her throat at the sight of him. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he smelled like soap. She inhaled. No fancy cologne, just the scent of clean skin.

  He held out a takeout bag. “The doorman asked me to bring this up to you.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you. Come in.”

  In the foyer, he handed her the bag and crouched down on the tile floor to greet the dog. “Nice place.”

  Louisa led the way into the kitchen. The scent of grilled steak wafted from the bag, and her stomach rumbled. “The lease is short-term. Really it’s more than I need, but I didn’t know the city when I moved here. I didn’t want to buy until I decided where I wanted to live.” Though she loved the sleek kitchen, the gas fireplace, and the view of the city.

  “Hey, I’m damned glad you’re staying here.” He followed her across the black-and-white porcelain tile. “Looks nice and secure.”

  “I prefer a building with a doorman and twenty-four-hour security.” Louisa set the takeout on the black granite counter next to an assortment of designer dog food. She pulled the Styrofoam cartons from the bag. “Please sit down. You look tired. Are you hungry? I have green tea and coffee.”

  “Whatever you’re having is fine.” He slid onto a stool. “Thank you for sending Damian. How do you know him?”

  “When I first moved here, he recruited me to help out in his teen shelter. I was impressed with what he’s doing trying to get kids off the street and encourage them to stay out of gangs.”

  Louisa took a second china mug from the overhead cabinet and poured tea for both of them. “With Zoe’s disappearance tied to the museum, I feel like your involvement is my fault.”

  Conor gave the steam a suspicious sniff, then tasted it. He set the cup down. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Opening the food carton, she lifted the steak onto a plate and sliced off a large chunk, which she cut into bite-size pieces. “I had my reservations about using Damian. He works mostly with juveniles. But I didn’t know whom else to call. I haven’t lived here long, and he’s the only lawyer I know. Your brother was frantic.”

  “Damian was great. I don’t know how to thank you. We’ll find a way to pay you back.”

  She heaped French-cut string beans onto the plate and cut them into inch-long strips. “No need. He owes me.”

  Louisa slid the pile of cut-up meat and vegetables into a bowl and set it on the floor.

  Conor stared. “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t get Kirra to eat dog food.”

  “So you ordered her a rib eye?”

  “We were splitting it. The portions are enormous. Would you like some?”

  “No, I just ate.”

  “I haven’t shopped this week.” Heat flooded Louisa’s cheeks. “I researched dog nutrition on the Internet. An assortment of meat and vegetables is recommended for a balanced diet.”

  Conor dropped his head onto his crossed arms on the counter. His shoulders shook.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.” He lifted his head. A grin tugged at his mouth.

  “You’re laughing at me.” Relieved, she set the bowl on the floor. Kirra gave the food a wary sniff and a nibble but ate only a few bites before wandering away.

  “I’m sorry.” He stood up and rounded the kitchen island. “It’s been a long day.”

  Louisa followed his glance to the corner of the room where she’d stowed a dog bed, a large chew bone, and several squeaky toys. “The woman in the store said Kirra would like her own bed, but she doesn’t seem interested.”

  “You named her Kirra?” He stopped in front of her. His eyes, though red-rimmed and shadowed with fatigue, were bright with humor. How could he be laughing when he’d just been questioned by the police?

  “It’s Celtic for ‘dark lady.’” She wanted to take a step back. No, she wanted to take a step closer. What did she want? “Is that all right?”

  “I love it.” He leaned in. “I love that you took my dog in at a moment’s notice. I love that you ordered her a fifty-dollar steak.”

  “We were splitting it,” she murmured.

  “Thank you.”

  Her nerves hummed with anticipation. Even though she expected—and wanted—the kiss, the muscles in her body went rigid when he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tender and unhurried, and a surge of longing shot all the way to the arches of her bare feet. Her toes curled on the cold tile. He lifted his head, and her body protested. The lip-to-lip contact had lasted barely three seconds, not nearly long enough for her to relax.

  He lifted his head, and his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Louisa nodded, wishing she could explain. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to trust him yet.

  “You’re sure?”

  She was more than all right. He’d kissed her, and she’d enjoyed it. The tension in her body had been pure shock at how much she’d enjoyed it. She licked her still-tingling lips. A simple yes wasn’t enough. He was still staring at her with that worried look.

  “Definitely.” A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  “Will you tell me something?”

  She tensed. “Yes.”

  “Why did you hire Damian? Why are you so sure I didn’t do anything?”

  She could hardly tell him she just knew he hadn’t done it. Although it was the truth, her gut reaction didn’t make any sense, not even to her. “It’s not logical.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I put that badly. I’m sorry.” Louisa studied the small Flyers logo in the center of his gray shirt. “I o
ften say the wrong thing when I get nervous.”

  “It’s not a test.” Conor put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Just say what you’re thinking.”

  He had the most beautiful eyes. When he focused intently on her, like now, her skin warmed and her muscles loosened, remembering that gentle kiss. Yet the tension rising in her belly was anything but relaxed. She was simultaneously comfortable and aroused in the strangest juxtaposition of sensations, like she’d washed a muscle relaxer down with a triple espresso.

  But he wanted her to talk, and she was going to ruin everything with her nerdy analysis. There was no yield in his gaze, just patient determination. Should she risk it?

  New life. New attitude.

  Here goes.

  “You’re an intelligent man. If you killed Zoe and intended to get away with your crime, you wouldn’t have left a bloody T-shirt where the police could find it, nor would you have driven off with her in front of witnesses.”

  “What if it was an accident?” Conor reasoned.

  “If you simply intended to sleep with her, why would you drive her anywhere? Your apartment is right upstairs. Plus, that doesn’t explain the connection to Riki’s murder. The police have based their case on an argument that isn’t logical.”

  “Maybe you should be my lawyer.” Conor grinned. “I think I should call you Spock.”

  “Spock?”

  “You know, from Star Trek.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it.” Louisa sighed. “We didn’t have a television growing up.”

  “No shit!” Conor cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s a shame.”

  “Since you’re joking with me, can I assume you aren’t angry?”

  “Why would I be angry?” Conor tilted his head. “You kept me out of jail.”

  “Because I didn’t send Damian solely because I believed in you.” Louisa blinked away. “Although that was part of it,” she admitted. Heat flushed the back of her neck.

  He paused, and his usually open expression closed down. “That would be foolish. We don’t know each other well enough for blind loyalty.”

  But she wanted that deep-seated faith. She didn’t want to believe this kindhearted man who was devoted to his family and made her laugh and took in a pathetic stray dog would hurt a young girl. She wanted him to be her knight, which probably wasn’t fair to either of them. Life had taught her that no one could be that good. Even Lancelot betrayed his king.

  From the shuttered look in his eyes, he knew that too.

  This time Louisa chose her words carefully. “I’ve learned the hard way to be careful.”

  “Noted. If it helps, so have I.” His admission wiped away the reservation in his eyes and left them full of empathy. “A few years ago, I was involved with a woman who neglected to tell me she was married. We’d been together for three months when her husband showed up at the bar. Apparently, he traveled a lot, and she got bored easily. I was just her plaything when he was away.”

  Betrayal thickened his voice. He’d had feelings for that woman.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “So I know all about moving slowly. Whatever you have in your past, you can tell me.”

  She should. He’d shared something personal with her, but her story was long and complicated. Zoe’s disappearance and Riki’s death had left her spent. She didn’t have the energy to put the words together, let alone deal with the emotional fallout talking about that pivotal night from her past would unleash. “Not now.”

  Doubt swirled in her lungs, shortening her breaths. Enough psychoanalysis. Riki was dead. Zoe was missing. “Tomorrow, I’m going to keep looking for Zoe. It seems as though the police are convinced she’s already dead, and they don’t see beyond you as a suspect.”

  “No kidding.” Conor sighed. “Where are you going to start?”

  Good question. “Her boyfriend, Heath, seems like the logical starting point. He was with her the night she disappeared. He claims to have gone home and passed out immediately after his encounter with you, but his alibi rests entirely on his friends’ statements. Not the most reliable, in my opinion. How intoxicated was he that night?”

  Conor considered. “Drunk enough to make him stupid, but unfortunately, not drunk enough to render him incapable of acting on it.”

  “Some people can’t handle any alcohol.” Discomfort welled inside her. She pushed the memory back into the dark corner of her mind where it belonged.

  Conor snorted. “This wasn’t Heath’s first night out.”

  “When I spoke to him this morning, I suspected he might be lying, but I couldn’t be sure over the phone.”

  “I don’t like the thought of you alone with that arrogant jerk.” Conor squeezed her hand.

  “Would you like to come along?” Though their mission was somber, Louisa couldn’t stem the rush of pleasure that accompanied the idea of spending time with him.

  “That’d be a surprise to Heath.” Conor laughed.

  “It might be interesting to see Heath thrown off guard.” In hindsight, Zoe’s boyfriend had been entirely too composed when she’d spoken with him. He’d seemed barely concerned about his girlfriend’s whereabouts. Was it because he was a self-centered, uncaring jerk or because he already knew what happened to Zoe? Or both?

  “I like the way you think.” Conor’s eyes sparkled with shared mischief. “Count me in.”

  “I’d planned on talking with Zoe’s roommate tomorrow as well. They lived together for a month. She must know some details about Zoe’s personal life.”

  “Good idea. Now how about I walk the dog while you eat some dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry yet.” She went to the closet for a pair of athletic shoes and the dog’s leash. “I’d rather we walk her together. I wish she’d eat more.”

  “The vet said to give her a week or so. She’s had a rough time.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  They took the elevator downstairs to the lobby.

  Gerome, the Rittenhouse doorman, stooped to pet Kirra. “I want all the dogs in the building to like me. If you ever run late or need her walked during the day, just let me know.”

  Thinking about Conor’s dog and the possibility of future dog-sitting, Louisa put Conor on her approved guest list. With a pat on Kirra’s head, Gerome opened the door for them.

  Conor took her hand as they crossed the street and followed the dog into the small park. A cool breeze swept through the neatly trimmed azaleas and wrought-iron fence that edged Rittenhouse Square. They strode along the circular walkway that ringed the park and turned onto one of the diagonal paths that ran from each corner and met at a rectangular reflecting pool in the center plaza. Old-fashioned lampposts flooded the paths and highlighted the Greek statues interspersed throughout the green space. It was nearly midnight, and the park was empty, except for a man walking a corgi on the other side of the square. Kirra led them down the walk, sniffing her way toward the center of the green space.

  Louisa shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.” She glanced around. A cluster of people lingered on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. She didn’t recognize anyone. No one was paying them undue attention, but Louisa couldn’t shake the creepy feeling. Next to her, the dog abruptly stopped sniffing and pressed against Louisa’s calves.

  “What’s wrong?” Conor moved a step closer, scanning the area. The dog hunkered between them.

  “I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

  “Come on. She’s done.” He took Louisa’s elbow and steered her back toward the Rittenhouse.

  She followed Conor back into the building, but she couldn’t shake the cramping sensation deep in her belly, the feeling that someone was watching.

  12

  In the shadow of a building on the west side of Rittenhouse Square,
I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. I leaned a shoulder against the worn brick, the rough texture catching on the cotton fibers of my shirt like Velcro. Taking in the cool fall night outdoors was no hardship. The small patch of green was mostly empty, except for a man walking his dog. At the end of a retractable leash, the corgi sniffed the curb with unabashed enthusiasm. Some straggling late diners spilled out of a closing restaurant, two couples that walked slowly, as if digesting too much food and alcohol was requiring all their concentration.

  Winter and its long, frigid nights were coming. This week’s mild weather was merely a temporary reprieve, a delay of the unpleasant and inevitable months of cold darkness breathing down Philadelphia’s neck.

  I wasn’t the only one watching the square. From my corner location with its clear view of the Rittenhouse, I could also see the unmarked police car parked in front of Smith & Wollensky’s.

  I’d observed Conor Sullivan walk into the hotel earlier. My prediction had come true. He’d gone to see Louisa almost immediately after being released. What did the police think of that? Did they question the nature of their relationship? I certainly hoped so. I’d all but written it down for them.

  Across the street, Conor Sullivan and Dr. Hancock came out of the hotel. He was holding a pink leash connected to that ugly dog he’d taken in. He took Dr. Hancock’s hand.

  As soon as the dog had done its business, they hurried back inside. Sullivan’s protective stance didn’t escape my notice. Echoing the old newspaper clipping from last spring, he kept his body between Dr. Hancock and the park, as if shielding her from danger. Were the cops watching? Yes, they were.

  Perfect.

  13

  Ugh. A heavy weight settled on Conor’s chest. He opened his eyes. Kirra stared down at him, front paws planted on his solar plexus, tongue lolling.

  “Good morning.”

  She wagged her tail stub.

  He squinted at the brightness pouring in through the huge expanse of windows in Louisa’s living room. He was on her sofa. After their walk and Louisa’s sudden attack of anxiety, they’d returned to her apartment. Her building was as secure as possible, but he hadn’t wanted to leave until she’d calmed down. He must have fallen asleep while she ate her dinner.