As Good as Dead

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Angel went into the dining room on the main floor and was offered a seat at the window, where she could watch boats come in and out of the harbor. As she followed the waitress, she glanced around at the other customers. No one looked the least bit suspicious. And no one resembled the gardener.

  All the way to Idaho, she’d checked the cars and people around her. She’d seen nothing to indicate she was being followed. Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been. Angel was well aware of ways to tail people without being seen.

  Making herself relax, she studied the menu and settled for eggs and toast with orange juice and coffee. Though her stomach rebelled at the sight of the food, she forced herself to eat. She needed the energy. And she needed courage—too bad that didn’t come in the form of food.

  When she finished breakfast, she braced herself for her encounter with Kinsey Summerfield-Sinclair. Angel paid the bill and then, nervous as a first-time actress, walked across the marble floor and through the enormous lobby with its comfortable-looking seating areas. Again she scanned the occupants. No one looked out of place or familiar.

  Her heart hammered in her ears as she approached the gallery. She took a long, settling breath and stepped inside. As she slowly walked through the place, she pretended to examine the artwork, almost wishing she didn’t have an agenda. She caught sight of a watercolor by Steve Hanks, one of her favorite artists. The scene depicted children examining something in a pond. So exquisite was the work that for a moment she was drawn into their innocence.

  “Can I help you?”

  The female voice jolted Angel out of her reverie, and she turned around quickly. She tried to smile and assess the woman all at once. She was close to Angel’s age and height, only heavier. She had warm brown eyes and rusty brown hair that went beautifully with her tan and the yellow top she wore.

  “Steve Hanks is one of my favorite watercolor artists.” The woman’s gaze roamed over the painting, then settled on Angel.

  “Mine too,” Angel said.

  Reaching out a hand, she said, “I’m Kinsey Sinclair.”

  “Angel.” The name drew no response from Kinsey. She wondered if “Delaney” would but decided not to try it just yet.

  “Are you staying at the resort?” Kinsey asked.

  “Yes. I just got in last night.” Angel found it hard to talk through the constriction in her throat.

  “Welcome to Coeur d’Alene.” Kinsey’s smile seemed genuine. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the gallery. If there’s anything I can do or if you have any questions, let me know.”

  “There is something.” The words gushed out before she could stop them. “Do you know this man?” Angel pulled the photo out of her bag and held it up.

  Kinsey stared at the picture, her features turning from surprise to wariness. Returning her gaze to Angel, she asked, “Who are you?”

  Angel let herself breathe. “Angel Delaney. I’m... I think I may be your sister-in-law.”

  Kinsey looked away. “That’s not possible.”

  “You met my brother at a summer camp. His best friend was Nick Caldwell.”

  She licked her lips. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I need to see him. He’s in danger. Nick has been shot.”

  “I...” She shook her head.

  “Nick’s okay,” Angel hastened to say. “But we’re concerned that whoever shot him is coming after Luke. Please, help me. Before it’s too late.”

  “I can’t...”

  “We need to talk, Kinsey. Is there any way you can get away from here for a few minutes?”

  After a moment, Kinsey nodded. “I’ll close up for lunch.” She stepped outside and waited for Angel, then locked the door and hung a sign in the window that said she’d be back at 1:00. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Just ate.” She folded Luke’s photo and stuck it back into her bag.

  “Let’s walk then.”

  That was fine with Angel. She didn’t want to sit where they might be overheard. They walked to the end of the lobby, then outside and onto a dock, which would eventually take them all the way around the marina.

  “How did you find us?” Kinsey asked when they were clear of the building.

  Angel gave her the Reader’s Digest version.

  “Thomas has been so worried about Nick.”

  “You knew?”

  She nodded. “You say he’s okay?”

  “He’s fine. Hopefully he’ll stay that way. Right now I’m more worried about Luke. This picture has been sent to law enforcement agencies all over the country. I’m surprised no one here has noticed.”

  She sighed. “Actually, they have. The chief of police talked with Luke yesterday. The photo came into their office, and he saw the resemblance. Fortunately, he doesn’t believe the guy in the picture is Thomas—just someone who looks like him.”

  At least something was going right. “You’ve known all along?”

  She sighed. “I know my husband. I trust him.”

  “And you went along with the phony name and...”

  “It was necessary. Luke came here about five years ago. We’d communicated by email and letters before that, and then I didn’t hear from him for more than a year. When he showed up out of the blue, he told me what had happened to him, and I helped him put together a new life here.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Here.”

  “At the resort?”

  Kinsey nodded. “My father owns it, and Thomas is the CEO.”

  “Does your father know about Luke’s past?”

  “No. No one does. I introduced him as Thomas Sinclair, and that’s who he’s been ever since.”

  “I need to talk to him. Nick wasn’t the only one who knew about his coming to the funeral. Someone sent a letter bomb to the house addressed to him.”

  “Oh no.” Kinsey stopped at the railing and looked out over the water. “I told him it was too risky, but he felt sure no one would recognize him now. He so badly needed to make peace with his father.”

  “Nick recognized him, and others might have as well. The guy who shot Nick might also be the one who sent the letter bomb. We’re lucky none of us opened the letter. I got suspicious as soon as I saw that it was addressed to Luke.”

  “You’re right. Thomas needs to know. Should I call and have him meet us?”

  “That might be too dangerous. I don’t think anyone followed me, but I can’t be certain. Where is he now?”

  “In his office.”

  “Take me to him. Don’t call.” They began walking again. She bit her lip. “Truth is, I don’t want him taking off again, and I doubt you’d want that either.”

  “He wouldn’t do that, but all right.”

  They looked at each other for several moments. Angel glanced at a couple coming toward them, then brought her gaze back to Kinsey. “Um... you and Luke, how long have you been married?”

  “Four years.”

  “Do you...” Angel licked her lips. “Nick said you have a little girl.”

  The wariness left Kinsey’s eyes. “Marie. She’s three. You’ll love her.”

  “I wish I’d known about her.”

  “I do too. You don’t know how many times Thomas and I wanted to contact his family, but the danger was too great. I guess we’re about to find out just how much danger we’re in.”

  “Let’s hope not. Like I said, I don’t think anyone followed me here. The police don’t even know about my trip. Nick and a close friend are the only ones who know where I am.”

  Kinsey nodded. At the elevators to the executive offices, Angel hesitated before stepping inside. This was too easy. Could Kinsey really be trusted?

  Angel’s suspicions of Kinsey were too far-fetched. Luke trusted this woman, and Angel needed to as well. More than likely, the Florida hit man had been keeping tabs on the Delaney family in Sunset Cove. The killer had guessed that Luke would come home and had gone undercover at the funeral.

  Angel wished she knew more. T
he puzzle seemed far too complex, but maybe Luke would have the missing pieces.

  God, she offered up an urgent prayer, please keep him safe. Keep all of us safe and let us get to this ruthless man before he gets to us.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Cade held in his frustration as he always did when things didn’t go according to plan. Even if Angel Delaney did get to Luke before he did, it was nothing worth wasting energy over. He would merely alter his plan a little.

  The flight to Spokane had been delayed, making the next flight overbooked. Being a frequent traveler, he was used to the undependability of airlines. He’d finally given up on getting a flight and rented a car. At midnight, he checked into the resort, choosing a lakeside room with a balcony.

  His entire body ached from the long drive. He was getting far too old for this sort of thing. After all, he had a perfectly good job outside of killing people. From the moment he’d heard about Frank Delaney’s heart attack, he’d known Luke would surface. He wished at times he could have looked the other way, but that wasn’t an option.

  Cade settled into the king-sized bed, intent on getting a few hours of sleep before confronting his old friend Luke Delaney, aka Thomas Sinclair.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Luke paced his office like a tiger in a cage, sensing danger yet feeling helpless to do anything to stop it. Fortunately, his good friend, the chief of police, had shown him the circulating photo. “I know this guy isn’t you, Thomas, but you might want to shave off your beard.” Which is exactly what he had done. He’d never really liked it, anyway. And even without it he bore little resemblance to the young Luke Delaney who had run away rather than go to the police. His hairline was receding, and his glasses and expanded girth had changed him considerably.

  The same old questions tormented him. If he hadn’t run, would the hit man have followed through on his threat to kill Angel? For so many years Luke had convinced himself that he’d done the right thing. But now... Now he was forced to open the door to that vast darkness, letting out all the demons he thought he’d left behind.

  His life would be worthless if the authorities or the hit man found him. Had someone followed him back to Idaho after the funeral? He’d carefully assessed everyone who had been on the plane with him. He hadn’t told Nick where he was living, and even if he had, Nick would never tell anyone.

  Rubbing the back of his neck and shoulders to ease some of the tension, he decided he couldn’t just stand around waiting for something to happen. He may have been worrying for nothing, and it wasn’t so much for himself. If the hit man found him, what would happen to Kinsey and Marie? The ache and fear in his heart propelled him out the door.

  “Going to lunch?” Eileen asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be back in two or three hours.”

  “Ah.” She grinned up at him. “Golf?”

  He forced himself to smile. “That wasn’t on my agenda, but I just might have to add it.”

  Luke walked through the lobby and past Kinsey’s gallery. The sign indicated she’d be gone until 1:00. He had the valet bring his car and drove the two miles to the day care, where he stopped to visit with Marie. He ate one of the cookies she offered him, a healthy version of an oatmeal chocolate chip, all the while reassuring himself that his family was safe—at least for now.

  Driving back to the resort, he decided his secretary had struck on an excellent idea when she mentioned golf. He stopped by the house to pick up his clubs and headed for the resort’s course. Once there, he secured a tee time and went into the snack bar for a deli sandwich. Less than thirty minutes later, he was out on the greens, paired with three businessmen from an electronics firm in town. He knew them fairly well, having gone to some of the chamber of commerce events.

  The tension he’d been under stayed with him, giving him trouble on every hole. After nine holes, Luke was ready to go back to the office.

  Before going back to the resort, Luke stepped into the men’s bathroom and found himself looking straight into the business end of a gun.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Did you have an appointment with Mr. Sinclair?” the receptionist asked when Angel and Kinsey asked to see him.

  “I’m his wife, Kinsey. Just tell him I’m here.”

  “Oops, sorry.” The young woman grinned. “I’m new here. I didn’t recognize you.”

  Kinsey smiled. “No problem. Is he with someone?”

  “Hi, Kinsey.” An older woman stepped into the reception area. “If you’re looking for Thomas, you just missed him. Were you supposed to have lunch together? He didn’t have you written in.”

  “No, I was hoping he’d be here. We have a guest from out of town, and I thought we might catch him.” She gestured toward the older woman. “Angel, this is Eileen. Thomas runs the place, but she’s the brains behind the whole operation.”

  Eileen laughed and extended her hand. “Some days it feels like it. Thomas has been out of sorts today. He left about five minutes ago. Said he’d be back in a couple of hours. He’s probably at the golf course.”

  “All right. Thanks.” Kinsey turned to Angel, concern filling her eyes.

  “Do you want me to tell him you came by? I can send him down to the gallery.”

  “Yes, please do that. Tell him it’s important that I talk to him.”

  “Will do.”

  Angel and Kinsey left, and as they exited the elevator, Angel felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She glanced around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Two men in suits and a woman in casual dress stepped onto the elevator they’d just vacated. A thin bald man with wire-rim glasses wearing a tan shirt with the resort logo was watering plants nearby.

  A chill shuddered through her as she thought about the gardener at the funeral. Was the bald guy him?

  “Are you okay?” Kinsey asked.

  “I’m not sure.” The guy was an employee—but hadn’t the gardener posed as an employee of the hospital to get to Nick? She watched the guy intently, looking for some movement—something to indicate he might be the gardener. He was young, she noted, and had more of a tan. Was the baldness by choice?

  “See that bald guy watering the greens in that big planter?” she whispered.

  Kinsey nodded.

  “Do you recognize him?”

  Kinsey shrugged. “I’m not sure. We have several young bald guys working here.” She smiled. “We also have a lot of employees—new ones coming in every day.”

  Angel glanced up and caught the young man watching her. He grinned, obviously pleased that she’d noticed him. Angel looked away.

  “Is something the matter?” Kinsey asked.

  “No—it’s just... I got a feeling someone might be watching us and... Never mind. After all that’s happened, I guess I’m paranoid.”

  “Are you sure? I could find out if he’s legitimate.”

  “No, that’s okay.” Angel glanced back and caught his gaze again. He winked, and she smiled back. If he was someone to be concerned about, she didn’t want him to think she might be suspicious. But if she saw him watching her again, she’d find out about his legitimacy herself.

  Angel left Kinsey at the gallery, uncertain of her next move. Hopefully Luke would be back in two hours. If not, she would go home with Kinsey and see him there.

  Angel’s emotions seemed paper thin and stretched to capacity as she went back to her room. She was tired from the long drive the day before and disappointed in not seeing Luke.

  Back in her room, she placed a call to Rachael and then to Nick, telling them she’d located Kinsey and that Nick had been right. Thomas Sinclair was Luke Delaney. “If everything goes okay,” she told Nick, “I’ll be having dinner with my brother tonight.”

  “Have you talked to Callen?” Nick asked.

  “No. I thought I’d try calling when I’m done talking to you.”

  “Detective Downs came by to see me today,” Nick said. “He isn’t too happy about getting Callen’s leftovers. Says he’s up to his earlobes and that unles
s they get something substantial fairly soon, he’s going to have to put the case on hold. The lab is still processing evidence on the reporter’s murder. They haven’t found any of the pictures from the funeral yet.”

  “Which probably means the guy who went after you killed her and took the incriminating photos from her place.” Angel told Nick about the police chief who was a friend of Luke’s. “At least he’s safe on that score. Thomas Sinclair has a good reputation in this town. No one suspects he’s anyone but who he says he is.”

  “So everything seems okay? No attacks on Luke?”

  “Not so far. I just missed him. His secretary thinks he went golfing today. Great timing.”

  There was a pause over the line. “I think you should call Callen. The more I think about it, the more concerned I am this guy will go after Luke.”

  “I will.” She sighed. “I just wish we had a photo of that gardener. I was thinking I’d be able to recognize him if I saw him again, but now I’m not so sure. I saw a guy today with similar facial features, except that he was wearing glasses and was bald.”

  “Can you get a picture of him and fax or email it to me?”

  “Good idea, Nick. You got a much better look at him than I did.”

  “Okay, I’ll be waiting for the picture.” Nick paused again. “And Angel?”