She rubbed her palm along the seat upholstery between them and frowned. “The delta region has been a hotbed of strife and violence for a long time in Nigeria, fueled by greed over oil fields in the area. My parents’ plane was shot down by a guerrilla group who thought they were taking out executives of a hated oil company. Somebody’s communications got messed up that day, and my parents and their pilot died for the mistake.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t yet know my parents were dead when the orphanage was raided in the night.”
Brody exhaled a low whistle as they turned off the highway onto Killebrew Drive. The first raindrops spattered the windshield. “Raided? You’re kidding! These same guys who shot down the plane?”
“No, locals. But that part of the story can wait. The horrors that taint my memories of Nigeria are mostly tied up in those terrible minutes at the orphanage. I only heard secondhand about my parents’ deaths, but this I experienced. Here we are anyway.” Hallie pointed toward the yellow-and-blue sunburst sign outside the hotel ahead and to their right. “Time to see if we can get past Dragon Drayton and talk to his captive maiden. I need her to be honest about where she got the bracelet. Maybe whoever had it before Alicia’s mother can tell me more about what happened and why. I was pretty little and scared and very confused at the time.”
They parked and went into the hotel. At the front desk, Brody introduced himself and Hallie, and offered to show ID, but the clerk grinned and said he watched WDJN news all the time. Hallie smiled and asked for the Drayton’s room.
The man’s grin fell away, and he shook his head. “I’d call their room for you, sure thing, but it wouldn’t do any good.”
Hallie stepped closer to the desk. “I understand they’ve probably been pestered by the media, but I’m hoping they’ll spare me a few minutes since I did them a favor yesterday.”
“Media? Sure.” The clerk scratched his head. “But that’s not why I can’t contact them. They packed up and moved out about a half hour ago. Paid for the room but the guy said they weren’t staying in it.”
“What?” Hallie said.
“Why would they do that?” Brody chimed in at the same time.
The man shrugged. “Weird dude. Claimed someone was watching them.”
Heart sinking, Hallie exchanged glances with Brody then returned her attention to the clerk. “Do you have any idea where they went?”
“Not a clue.”
Why did every move she made toward finding out about the bracelet end in disappointment? Her shoulders slumped, and she looked up at Brody. “I’m so sorry to bring you on this wild goose chase.”
“No problem.” He pulled a card from his wallet, along with a green bill, and handed them both to the clerk. “If you hear from them or get an inkling where they’re at, give us a call, and I’ll match the donation.”
The man behind the counter slid the offering into his palm. “You got it.”
They went out the door and stopped on the sidewalk underneath the entrance canopy. Rain pounded the pavement and brought welcome freshness to the muggy air.
Hallie turned to Brody and put a hand on his arm. He gazed down at her, brows knotted. She drew herself up to her full height, only a few inches shy of Brody’s. “I only have one source left to explore, and you’re the only available liaison. I need to talk to Damon.”
THIRTEEN
That soft, elegant hand on the crook of his elbow could turn him any direction she wanted him to go. And those big, brown eyes…But he couldn’t give in. The police and the lawyers on both sides of the case would have conniption fits. Not only that, but Damon would be sure to take exception to her opinion of him and come off belligerent when he needed to be cool and sincere. Tact was not that young man’s middle name.
Brody backed away from the tempting touch. “Tell me what you want to ask him, and I’ll get the information.”
“No good.” She shook her head hard enough to disturb a tendril of dark hair from its restraint. The hair bounced against her cheek, and Brody curled his fingers into fists to keep from smoothing it behind her ear just so he could feel the texture.
“I don’t merely want to ask him about the bracelet,” she went on. “As a return favor to you, I’m going to give him the chance to tell me what happened in that rental house, and I want to be looking him in the eye when he does. You claim he’s innocent.” She poked his chest. “I’d think you’d want him to convince the main witness against him.”
Brody sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “You could talk an umpire out of his call.” He looked her in the face. Raw hope stared back at him. “I promise only one thing. Damon and I will discuss the possibility. I’ll let you know.”
She smiled, and the sun came out, though the rain still poured. Brody sprinted into the torrent and brought the car up under the canopy.
Hallie piled in, still smiling. “Thanks.”
Brody shook his head. “For keeping you out of the rain or actually considering your cockamamy request?”
“Both. And for helping me look for answers to my personal riddle when you don’t have to. Lots of men would take pleasure in my frustrations if I was set on making trouble for someone they consider like a brother.”
“I haven’t forgotten about receiving my share out of this odd partnership. I want every scrap of information you get from your interviews with people in the modeling world.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to be my escort to the Fashion for Fibromyalgia benefit the Friday after next. Stan hates wearing tuxes, so he was just going to meet me backstage before and after the show. But now I won’t have to be a fifth wheel at some table.”
“It’s a date.”
“So it is.” She sat primly on the passenger seat, chatting about nothing in particular, all the way back to her apartment.
Brody dropped her off and got to the station in plenty of time for his broadcast. Afterward, he headed straight toward the house where Damon was staying. As he turned the last corner onto the proper block, he groaned long and loud. A couple of news vans skulked in front of the house. The media had found their quarry.
Brody and the lawyer had decided the young basketball player’s emotional condition was too volatile for more than a brief, official statement on the courthouse steps before they whisked Damon away. Evidently the hidey-hole hadn’t been secret enough, and he meant to find out who had ratted them out. But first things first.
Brody pulled into the driveway past a For Sale sign on the lawn. When did that go up? It explained a lot. His friend Trent must have decided to sell, and Damon probably had a visit from a Realtor today, and the Realtor had hot cell phone fingers to the nearest news outlet.
Grumbling under his breath, Brody pressed the button on the door opener his friend had lent him, along with the house—thanks for nothing, pal—and pulled into the attached garage. Snug inside, the steady rain ceased pattering against his vehicle. Brody got out and went in through the kitchen door, calling for Damon. No answer. His chest tightened. Had the kid been spooked and ran off when he’d seen the reporters outside? Brody charged through the silent house. He opened the door to the bedroom Damon was using and spotted a large body sprawled on the bed. Brody exhaled a long breath and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.
“Damon?”
The body didn’t move.
“Damon!” Brody rapped sharply on the door casement.
“Huh?” The young man stirred. “Wuzzup?”
“What are you doing in bed already?”
Damon sat up, rubbing his face. “Already? What time is it?”
Brody checked the luminous face of his watch. “Not quite seven p.m.”
“Oh, man!” He got off the bed and stretched. “I’ve been sacked out since midafternoon when that Realtor dude left. I’m beat all the time. Must be boredom. There’s nothing to do stuck inside these walls.”
“You’d better be up for an interview pretty quick. The media’s going to
be hounding you until you give one. Even now there are a couple of news vans sitting outside in the rain.”
Damon grunted. “No wonder the door bell rang a few times while I was sleeping. I did what you said and ignored it.” He scowled. “Who do I gotta talk to? Not that Berglund woman.”
“Any on-the-record interviews will be with Vince Graham. We were going to schedule one with him anyway. Promising WDJN the first exclusive was the only way I wasn’t going to get in major trouble at the job for hiding you.”
“Can’t you do the interview?” His tone edged toward a whine.
“We’ve been over this already. The public would scream foul. Vince will be tough but fair, and you’re going to have to be tough back, but calm and controlled.” He jabbed a finger at his protégé.
“Hey, I’m the king of cool.” Damon sauntered past Brody into the hallway and headed for the bathroom, clothes and hair rumpled.
Brody snorted. “And I’m Samson smiting the Philistines single-handedly.”
Damon turned at the door to the bathroom, gaze sober. “To me you are.” He disappeared inside.
Brody returned to the living room, shaking his head. That kid always did know how to turn him to mush. He sat down on the couch and planted his forehead on his palms. He’d have a bone to pick with Trent later, but he’d do it gently. The guy was a brilliant computer technician but didn’t have a clue about people. Probably swore the Realtor to secrecy and thought that’d be good enough.
In a few minutes, Damon emerged with his hair combed and a fresh shirt on. Then they put ham sandwiches together in the kitchen. Brody bit into his just as his phone jangled.
He took it from the pocket of his sports shirt. Hallie, he mouthed to Damon and flipped the phone open. “Hi, sunshine.” His jaw froze in mid-chew. Did he just call Hallie Berglund sunshine? The smirk on Damon’s face said he had. Maybe she didn’t notice the unconscious endearment. He forced the bite of sandwich down his throat.
She laughed. “You sound like you’ve got a mouthful.”
“Just a couple of guys scarfing down sandwiches.”
“So you’re with Damon right now.” Her voice took on a note of uncertainty. “Um, have you talked to him about my proposition? He tells me what he knows about that bracelet, and I give him a chance to explain himself about Alicia’s death.”
“Not yet, but I’m working up to it. Had a crisis to deal with when I got here.”
She gasped. “Oh, no! Did he make an attempt on his own life?”
“Nothing like that.” He scowled at Damon, who was bobbling his eyebrows up and down. “The media found him. I need to find another place to stash him.”
Damon stopped the eyebrow dance. “You make me sound like a piece of luggage.”
“Can it!”
“What?” Hallie’s tone darkened.
“Not you. This annoying kid brother of mine is giving me a hard time.” He waved Damon out.
The young man exited the kitchen, chuckling.
Brody returned to his conversation. “He’s in a good mood right now because he yanked my chain, so I’ll sound him out after we hang up. I might need to give him a little time to get used to the idea though.”
“Hmm. You know, I’m going out on a limb here, giving you my opinion, but the last place anyone would look for him now is the most obvious.”
“My place.”
“Bingo!” She laughed.
“Ms. Berglund, you’re a genius.”
“Well, at least the arrangement will be a lot more convenient for you. But I’m not sure I’ve done myself any favors, since the guy will now be closer to me.”
“You sure you want an eyeball-to-eyeball talk with him?”
“Only if you’re there, Jordan.”
“It won’t happen otherwise.”
Two hours passed in fruitless phone calls to mid-range hotels and motels from every area of the Twin Cities and suburbs as she tried to locate James and Cheryl Drayton. Hallie keyed off her latest attempt with an audible growl. She uncurled from her easy chair, stretched and padded toward the kitchen in her pajamas and bare feet. Another cup of tea sounded divine. This one with a little honey in it to soothe her overused voice.
She returned to the living room as her phone rang. The caller ID said unknown caller. That usually meant a telemarketer. But after nine o’clock at night? That was an unusual time for them to be operating. She keyed the button. “Hello?’”
“Graves Hotel,” a male voice grated in a gravelly base.
“Who is this? What do you want?”
The line went dead. Hallie stared at the phone with her mouth open. She set her tea on the side table with a quivering hand. The sensation of being observed, even in her private apartment, crept in upon her. Every inch of her skin crawled. There was no way anyone was watching her here, but someone knew she was looking for the Draytons, and that someone meant her to find them.
What about the Days Inn clerk? He knew she and Brody were looking. No, it couldn’t have been him. He would have identified himself and asked for more money. Besides, that guy had Brody’s business card for contact information, not hers.
Hallie eased into her chair, swallowing against a dry throat. She picked up her tea mug and took a gulp. Heat scalded the roof of her mouth. She choked and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
The call could be a prank to get her hopes up. The Graves Hotel had five stars—way above the price range of Days Inn. An unlikely roost for a probation officer and a day care provider. Of course, if Alicia’s parents had been paying her college tuition, they must have money tucked away somewhere. Or maybe James had gotten wind she hadn’t given up on talking to them and made the phone call himself to play with her head. Only one way to find out.
She found the listing in the phone book and punched in the number.
“Graves Hotel, Minneapolis. How may I help you?”
The mellifluous female voice soothed Hallie’s frazzled nerves. “Give me James and Cheryl Drayton’s room, please.”
“One moment. I’ll ring you through to their suite.”
Hallie’s heart leaped. They were there! Then the phone was ringing again…once…twice…“Hello?” Cheryl’s tone was tentative.
“Mrs. Drayton, this is Hallie Berglund. I only want a few minutes of your time, and then I’ll let you alone.”
“You shouldn’t have called, Ms. Berglund. I can’t…well…I’ve said all I can say.”
“Is your husband there, Mrs. Drayton?”
“James has gone to the fitness center.” The woman’s voice fell to a whisper.
“If he’s not there, then what are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.” The tone turned flat. Cold.
Hallie strangled the phone in her grip. She was so close to answers. She could feel it. “Yesterday, I had the impression you wanted to tell me more about the bracelet than your husband would allow. Here’s your opportunity to do the right thing.”
“Young lady, you have no idea what you’re asking. I got the armband from a man I loved a long time ago. Before James. Things didn’t turn out well with him. He made a terrible mistake and—” A sniffle came over the line, then a gurgle like she was swallowing a drink. “I know nothing about the person who made it. I passed it on to my daughter without James’s knowledge, and now I wish I’d tossed it in a lake. Please stop pestering us, or we’ll file suit for harassment.”
“Those words sound like your husband’s, Mrs. Drayton. Not yours. Besides, it’s difficult to get an injunction against a reporter for asking questions.”
“Your questions are personal. Not news.”
Hallie’s eyebrows climbed. Cheryl Drayton was smarter than she acted. “One last thing then. What was this man’s name? If I have that much, maybe I can find out how he came upon the bracelet.”
“I’ve told you more than enough already. I mustn’t talk about him.”
“Did James threaten you not to?”
A whimper met the questi
on. “What does a piece of jewelry matter? You can have the thing, for all I care. Please, pleeease…” A man’s voice called in the background, far enough away to be in another room of the suite. “Leave us alone.” The woman’s voice dropped to a feather of sound, and the line went blank.
Hallie let out a strangled cry and resisted the urge to fling the phone across the room. What was the big secret? Hallie went still. Didn’t Mrs. Drayton realize that teasing a reporter was tantamount to laying scent for a bloodhound? Who was this man who had given her the bracelet? Digging into Cheryl Drayton’s distant past just jumped to top priority.
Well, not quite. First she needed to fill Brody in on the fruits of her evening. She was bursting to tell somebody, and he was the closest to the situation. Her finger paused over the phone. No, maybe calling him was a bad idea. That would make twice in one evening and might give him the wrong idea. What idea was that? That he anchored her in the midst of this confusing, dangerous investigation? The harsh, grating voice of the man who’d told her the Draytons’ location played again in her head. She shivered.
Okay, maybe calling Brody was her best option. She picked up the phone just as it rang. The caller ID showed a familiar number. She grinned and answered.
“Hi, Brody. Did you manage to whisk Damon out from under the reporters’ noses?”
“Hello at last. You have been diligent on the phone. I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. To answer your question, yes, Damon curled up in my trunk—quite a feat for a guy his size—and I drove off with him nice as you please. We’re at my place now, and our fellow nosey newsies,” he laughed, “are still camped outside an empty house. How about you? Any success?”
“Yes and no.” She told him about her inroads into the yellow page hotel listings without results and then the anonymous phone call that had supplied the answer.
“You need to report that call to the police, Hallie.” Brody’s tone was urgent.
“What are they going to do about it?”
“It’s not so much what they can do. It’s making sure these contacts are documented.”
Witness to Murder Page 13
