A Lover Awaits

by Patricia Rosemoor

  And Simon didn’t try to initiate any conversation all the way into Fort Myers. When they were only a couple of miles from their destination, however, he reached over and hit the radio’s power switch.

  “What kind of setup does Laughlin have?”

  “A big house on a few acres.”

  “No water access?”

  “He hates boats.”

  “Sounds like that’s lucky for us. How close is the house to the road or a neighbor?”

  “More than spitting distance.”

  “Is there a drive?”

  “A long one.”

  “Open?”

  “Vegetation.”

  “What kind?”

  “A hodgepodge of native plants and trees most of the way.”

  “Any reason I’m having to drag this information out of you?” he finally asked.

  Phoebe flushed. “No, of course not.” What in the world was wrong with her? “It’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before. I guess I’m a little nervous.”

  “Which is understandable.”

  Though she wasn’t certain which made her more so—their mission or Simon himself.

  He gave her a moment of breathing space before saying, “Once we’re on the property, drive slow and I’ll get out somewhere along the way.”

  She glanced at him. “I figured you could just duck low in the car and stay there until I signaled you that it was safe to sneak into the house.”

  “And chance someone seeing me?”

  “I thought the object was your getting inside.”

  “It is.”

  “But if I don’t know where you’ll be, how will I—”

  “I’ll find you. All you have to do is make sure a first-floor door or accessible window is unlocked.”

  “Piece of cake,” she muttered, already worrying how she was going to manage that under Regina’s nose.

  And how would Simon get inside without alerting the cleaning woman?

  Phoebe gave him details of the house’s layout, so once he was in he would know what was what. While she was going through Audra’s things, as she’d told Vance—her purpose being very different from the one stated, of course—Simon would be taking her brother-in-law’s study apart. She only hoped they weren’t on a fool’s errand.

  Turning off the main road, she tried to ease her own qualms. But as they slowed before the entrance to the Laughlin property, her anxiety mounted. She gripped the steering wheel with palms that were starting to sweat.

  “Stay cool,” Simon said, as if he sensed her growing distress.

  “I’m trying.”

  She made the turn and put the car in first, barely giving it enough gas to move up the drive. He was craning around, getting the lay of the land. As she’d indicated, both sides of the drive were lined with growth, low-growing sea oats giving way to strangler figs, gumbo limbo and live oak.

  Not a soul was in sight.

  “Tell me when.”

  “That curve just ahead...”

  His hand went to the door handle and her foot came off the accelerator, slowing them even more. When she heard the catch release, she gently tapped the brake, urging the car to a near standstill. He flashed out of the still-rolling vehicle, slamming the door closed behind him. He made straight for the foliage on his side of the road and disappeared so quickly she might have imagined the scenario.

  She put her foot back on the accelerator, but barely gave the car gas. Better to maintain a steady slow speed than rouse any suspicions, in case someone was around and tracking her movements.

  A moment later, the house became visible. As always, Phoebe remained unmoved by its similarity to an old plantation manor fronted by two-story white columns. The only other car in sight was Regina’s subcompact, which she’d left outside the garage. Relieved that no one else was around, she parked the convertible on the wide circular drive, which seemed designed for a carriage drawn by a team of horses.

  Before Phoebe had a chance to ring the bell, the front door opened to reveal a wiry woman whose small stature disguised her strength. For once, Regina wasn’t smiling. Her dark face was drawn into a sad expression.

  “Mr. Laughlin said to expect you.”

  “Hello, Regina.” Phoebe entered the house she’d hoped never to set foot in again.

  “This is a sad time for you,” the cleaning woman said as she closed the door. “And me. I liked Miss Audra a whole lot.”

  “She liked you, too.”

  “She was always kind to me. Respectful,” Regina added. “Not like some.”

  Though she didn’t name him, Phoebe figured the woman meant Vance. Phoebe doubted that her brother-in-law was kind or sincerely respectful toward anyone.

  “Where did Mr. Laughlin store my sister’s things?”

  “Store? He ain’t touched nothin’. Everythin’s like it was when Miss Audra moved out. He even made me keep her rooms spit-and-polish clean—like he figured she was gonna come back any time.”

  While her sister had shared the master suite with her husband at night, Phoebe knew she’d had her own dressing room and bath, plus a dayroom downstairs.

  “Well, then, I don’t have to sort through boxes.”

  “Nope. Miss, if you want me to help you, all you gotta do is ask. You tell me what you’re lookin’ for and I can most probably find it for you.”

  If only...

  “I’m not even sure what, Regina. I just want a few things to remember her by.” Phoebe grew edgy. She hated lying to someone so sincere. “I really need to do this for myself, but thank you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Besides, this is a big house. I’m sure you still have a lot to do and I know how particular Mr. Laughlin can be. I wouldn’t want him angry with you.”

  “Me, neither,” the woman muttered. “I’ll be get ting back to the kitchen, then. Can I get you anythin’? Something cool to sip?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Phoebe nearly collapsed with relief when Regina finally left her alone. She waited until the woman was out of sight before sneaking into the great room, where Vance’s taste reigned. Instead of a light or bright decor that would go with the sunny space, he’d insisted on heavy woods, darker rugs and traditional muted upholstery patterns. The effect was funereal. And the air conditioning was set so high that Phoebe could imagine it being cold enough to store a corpse...

  Audra had avoided the room whenever possible and Phoebe didn’t blame her.

  Able to hear faint strains of Regina’s singing coming from the kitchen, she opened a set of French doors and stood fixed, trying to spot Simon. Humid heat assaulted her from the front while the room’s conditioned air chilled her back. The effect was odd and disturbing, unexpectedly reminding her of Audra’s water-faucet experience.

  Reminding her of Simon.

  Senses swimming, she felt as if his gaze had found her and those bedroom eyes were pinning her with their intensity...undressing her...

  “Oh, no...!” Realizing that it was happening again, she grimaced. She had to stop this, had to concentrate on what was important. She couldn’t afford to be distracted this way.

  But try as she might, Phoebe couldn’t tell if Simon was in position yet. Plenty of cover on this side of the house. He’d merely have to chance an open expanse of several yards.

  Silently urging him to show his face, she realized he was probably just being extra cautious. All she could do was hope that he’d spotted her. She backed into the house, pulling the doors shut but leaving them unlocked. She stared through the glass.

  Still seeing nothing of the man who plagued her, Phoebe finally turned toward the stairs that would take her to Audra’s old dressing room.

  SIMON WAITED UNTIL Phoebe disappeared inside before considering an approach to the house. His antenna raised, he sensed no threat, yet he took one last thorough look around before stepping from his camouflage and out into the sunlight.

  A few seconds of exposure brought him to the French door
s, which opened easily and silently. He slipped inside. Ears tuned to the most minute sound, he placed the cleaning woman somewhere off to the right.

  He veered to the left.

  Phoebe’s description of the house’s layout had been precise. Quickly finding Laughlin’s office, he gazed around a room even darker and colder than the one he’d just left.

  Where to begin?

  From what he could see, the cleaning woman had already finished in here. Everything seemed in order.

  No stacks of files on the credenza...no scraps of note paper on the desk...no Post-its attached to the computer monitor...

  Simon turned to the desk calendar.

  He checked over every entry made during the past several months, day by day, found nothing unusual, then checked again to be certain.

  The desk drawers were equally neat. Equally uninformative.

  Same with the file cabinets.

  Simon knew a moment’s despair. Perhaps there was nothing to find? Then he chastised himself for expecting too much, too soon. He was becoming more anxious than Phoebe.

  But his stake in this was more urgent, more personal than hers. He wasn’t only beginning to bet on his brother’s innocence. By virtue of their oneness, and theirs was possibly the closest connection one person could have with another, he was betting on himself.

  A ceiling-to-floor bookcase backed the desk. He pulled a volume free. Perfect condition, as if it hadn’t ever been touched. Was Laughlin that careful, then? With all his possessions? With Audra?

  Or only with those that didn’t matter?

  The books, too, were perfectly aligned by size and type, enough to fill each shelf from side to side. In the midst of concentrating his attention elsewhere, Simon hesitated and turned back to the book wall.

  There was something out of place...

  He focused on several volumes at one end of the shelf directly above eye level and immediately saw what it was that bothered him about them. They protruded a quarter of an inch forward from their neighbors.

  How odd...

  He hesitated barely a moment before reaching for the tomes, freeing them from their perch. His pulse quickened as their secret was revealed. They’d been hiding a large manila envelope that stood flat against the back of the bookcase.

  “Well, what do we have here?” he murmured.

  Simon abandoned his armload of books on the desk, not bothering to catch one that slid across its polished surface and knocked a tray of paper clips to the carpeted floor. Instead, he reached for the padded mailer that had been purposely hidden from view.

  The typed label on its face gave up Vance Laughlin’s name and an unfamiliar Fort Myers address. No doubt the man’s office. No return information, of course. And across the packet’s front, Photos: Do Not Bend was stamped in red ink.

  Telling himself not to expect anything of value, Simon inspected the envelope’s contents.

  Which reassured him they might very well be on the right track...

  OF ALL THE THINGS she might have found, Phoebe hadn’t expected a second diary. One quick flip through the handwritten pages and she shoved the leather-bound journal into the bottom of her shoulder bag.

  Another thing she would keep from Simon.

  Her secrecy would be justified, Phoebe assured herself. If she shared this with him, he would suspect a more current chronicle existed. And unless she found some proof of Vance’s guilt within its pages, she couldn’t wouldn’t—share her sister’s most private thoughts with anyone.

  Especially not with Simon.

  Because somehow, he would know.

  He’d take one look at her and...

  Phoebe pulled herself together.

  She’d gone through the dressing room carefully but had found nothing significant before lifting the shoe box that had felt too heavy for shoes. She replaced the sandals that had topped the diary and returned the box to its shelf before checking the others.

  Then finished with her search, she headed downstairs for the day room.

  Having heard no untoward ruckus, she assumed Simon had gotten into Vance’s study without incident. Had he found anything of significance? Tempted to check on him, she paused at the study door.

  Before she could put hand to knob, however, a warning creak twirled her around to face the very man she’d been hoping to avoid. He towered over her, his gray eyes deadly cold as they pinned her to the spot.

  “Vance!” Phoebe gasped.

  Dear Lord, they were trapped by the murderer!

  Chapter Six

  Loud enough to be heard even through a thick wooden door, Phoebe said, “Oh, good grief, Vance, you startled me.” Hoping to convince him, she threw a dramatic hand to her breast as if trying to still her madly pumping heart. “I really wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “I mean I...uh, know I was supposed be gone by the time you got home.”

  “I left the office early.”

  Purposely, no doubt.

  His expression chilled Phoebe. Why hadn’t Audra noticed how cruel his smile could be before marrying the creep? Instead, she’d been blinded by his smooth good looks, his meticulous appearance and his powerful aura.

  Phoebe was certain that she hadn’t tamed his suspicions, though. He’d obviously meant to catch her “in the act” all along. She’d have to outfox him. Despite the silver at his temples (evidence of the probable decade he had on Simon), he kept himself in top shape. And who was to say he wasn’t carrying a gun? Either way, he could do damage to them both.

  Look what he’d done to Audra and Boone...

  Innocently, she murmured, “I didn’t hear your car pull up,” in hopes of distracting him.

  He ignored her feeble attempt. “I thought maybe you needed some help.”

  Vance Laughlin volunteering to help her? Not bloody likely. She went along with his ploy, though, indicating the door several yards along.

  “I was just about to see what I could find in Audra’s day room.”

  “Funny. It looked as if you were more interested in my study.” Gray eyes flat, he smoothly asked, “What did you hope to find, Phoebe?”

  Her heart hammered faster. It was all she could do not to turn tail and escape to her car. But she had Simon to think of. She’d gotten him into this...

  “In your study? Nothing.”

  Vance was already opening the door. “Why don’t we see? Together.”

  Her heart beat its way out of her chest and into her throat where it threatened to choke her. From the corner of her eye, she caught Regina standing at the end of the hall, gaping at her. Swallowing hard, Phoebe followed Vance inside, darting her gaze from one dark corner to another.

  No sign of Simon.

  Had he been there at all?

  Vance, too, was slowly looking around, seemingly checking over every object. Knowing how particular he was—Audra had claimed that if one item were out of place he would immediately notice—she studied him for any reaction.

  For a moment, his gaze lingered on the bookshelf behind his desk...

  Phoebe’s gaze followed his. What in the world had his attention? She caught herself holding her breath.

  Finally, he turned back to her. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “What?”

  He was accusing her...and she was trying to appear innocent. Trying being the operative word.

  “That piece of jewelry you gave Audra,” he said. “That’s what you indicated you hoped to recover.”

  “Jewelry?” Phoebe echoed.

  Fear was disorienting her, making her stupid. She couldn’t seem to focus her thoughts.

  “A locket, wasn’t it?”

  “Locket. Right.” She shoved a hand into her pants pocket and pulled out the treasure, which, fortunately, she’d brought with her. “Here it is.”

  “I’ve never seen that before.”

  He grabbed the locket and chain from her hand. First he read the message inscribed on the back of t
he heart. Then he flicked it open with a perfectly manicured thumb nail and glanced at the aged photographs inside.

  Though he remained expressionless, Phoebe would swear he was disappointed. He threw the trinket back at her. Gasping, Phoebe caught it even as the pressure released from her chest like the air out of a pricked balloon.

  “Since you’ve found what you were looking for, you can leave,” he informed her.

  “But the day room—”

  “Holds nothing for you.” He started toward the door, then stopped. Something on the floor near the desk caught his attention. He bent at the waist. “Now how did that get there?” He quickly straightened, paper clip in hand. “You wouldn’t know anything about this?”

  No need to feign surprise. “A paper clip?”

  “This wasn’t on the floor when I left this morning.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t look at me. This is the first I’ve been in your office.”

  “Is there anyone else in this house?”

  About to deny it, she was preempted.

  “Me.” The cleaning woman stood in the doorway, dark eyes wide, her already thin body seeming narrower somehow. “Sorry, Mr. Laughlin. I—I knocked over the tray when I was dustin’. Musta missed pickin’ up one of them critters.”

  Certain Regina was lying for her, Phoebe went wide-eyed herself. She hadn’t been in here before. Which meant that Simon had! Considering his purpose, could he have gotten in and out so fast?

  Where in the heck was he?

  As Phoebe covertly peered around again, this time for some other exit, Vance said, “Very careless of you, Regina.”

  “Yessir.”

  The windows?

  “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Yessir.”

  The windows appeared secured to her.

  Anger warred with disappointment in his face as Vance spun toward Phoebe and bellowed, “As for you—”

  “Consider me gone.”

  She whipped past Regina fast. Not fast enough to miss the satisfied quirk of the other woman’s lips, though.

  Regina knew.

  Whether the cleaning woman had actually seen Simon or had merely sensed Phoebe’s underlying purpose, she had no way of telling. And this was not the time to ask.