Gabe frowned. “An unhappy employee? I doubt it, though anything is possible. The Connors are decent employers and I haven’t heard that anyone has a grudge against them.”
“Me, either,” Lance agreed, feeling relieved. “And I’m sure Jamie would have told me if she’d heard anything. She says Tessa is more like her sister than a cousin.”
“Yeah.” Gabe checked his watch. “I’d better get going—I need to make a phone call.”
“Should I put your load in the dryer when it’s done?”
“Sure. Take this.” Gabe gave him a handful of quarters. “Let me know if you have more questions about the navy. It’s a good career, Lance.”
Lance nodded. “Thanks.”
When he was alone, he carefully counted the change Gabe had given him and put it in his pocket, then jumped onto the washing machine to sit and wait for his clothes to finish. He probably didn’t need to stay, but back in the city he hadn’t dared leave anything at the Laundromat, or else it got stolen. Of course, he didn’t think Gabe McKinley needed to worry about replacing a few ratty shorts and T-shirts. The guy drove a brand-new SUV that was loaded with extras like leather seats.
After a while both machines started spinning.
A deep sigh came from Lance’s gut.
He’d gotten used to spending his free time with Jamie after work and it was lonely without her. Being alone wasn’t new; he’d always been alone. But until he’d met Jamie, he’d never had anyone who truly cared about him, either.
* * *
“YOU DON’T NEED to say it,” Rob announced when he answered Gabe’s call. “I nearly blew your cover with Tessa. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you may be right that I should have told her the truth from the beginning and asked her to work with us. If she’d believed us, she could have easily gotten the local police involved. It turns out that she’s the police chief’s great-niece.”
“There’s no time like the present.”
Gabe’s jaw hardened. “Don’t quote Dad to me.”
A sigh came through the phone. “I’m not quoting Dad, I’m quoting Grandmother Ada. I saw her a good deal after she moved back from Boston.”
“Then Dad was quoting her.”
“Something like that. I know you don’t want to believe it, but he’s changed.”
“Mostly because he divorced Mom and remarried,” Gabe added. Their parents had finally gone their separate ways, but David McKinley had simply exchanged work for other obsessions—parasailing and pretending he was the same age as his twentysomething second wife. “Did you get the email suggesting we call him Dave now?”
“That may have been Shellie’s idea.”
Shellie was their “stepmother.” She was a blonde dingbat who lived in bikinis and probably didn’t know the difference between a prenuptial agreement and a battleship. On the other hand, she was pleasant and seemed genuinely fond of her husband.
“Do you honestly think she cares what Dad’s grown sons call him?”
Rob chuckled. “I just know she makes him happy.”
“Yeah, and meeting her convinced him to retire and let you run the company without interference. But back on the important subject, a kid working in Maintenance asked if someone might have a grudge against Tessa.”
“Change your mind about me being the target?”
“I’m considering options, that’s all. That’s a private staircase to the suite. Tessa’s pattern is predictable—she personally delivers all courtesy baskets for her group clients. The step could have been intended to collapse on her first visit this morning and just happened to do it the second time. Maybe the vandal got lucky that you asked for the switch.”
“You have the jolliest ideas.”
Gabe moved restlessly around his small studio cottage. “I’m just keeping an open mind, despite the hate mail you received. Tessa used to work at her grandfather’s company, and I’m sure Patrick Connor has more than his share of enemies. She may even have made a few of her own when she was in San Francisco.”
His brother didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I don’t remember you being this pessimistic about people when we were kids.”
Gabe’s mouth tightened. Tessa had accused him of cynicism, and now his brother was calling him pessimistic. He didn’t see it either way, though the criticism wasn’t new. “Ask Mom if I’ve changed,” Gabe advised his brother. “I tried tough love a few times when she was drunk, and she called me a coldhearted monster like Dad.”
There was another long silence. “At least you had the guts to try. I slept at a friend’s house whenever she’d had too much.”
The old regret went through Gabe that he hadn’t been there enough for his brother. Early in his career, while stationed in Virginia, he’d asked if Rob could spend his last year in high school back East with him, but his parents had refused, still bitter that their eldest son had enlisted instead of doing what they’d wanted him to do.
Gabe’s mother remained angry, though she seemed to have stopped drinking and was living in Arizona in an exclusive housing development on a golf course.
“Does Mom bother you much these days?” he asked.
“She calls once in a while, usually when she wants money. She’s hoping to enter a senior golf tournament. Do you want me to give her your cell number?”
“Perish the thought. You don’t have to talk to her, either, and you certainly shouldn’t be giving her money. I’m sure she got plenty in the divorce.”
“Still trying to protect me? I’m all grown up now, you know.”
“It’s a habit,” Gabe muttered. The only reason he was at Poppy Gold, pretending to know something about petunias and lawn mowers, was because he was still trying to take care of his little brother. Would he always feel guilty for leaving Rob alone with their parents?
He shook himself.
“Anyway, about the staircase,” he said, “I’m not rejecting any possibility. I’ll tell you something interesting, though... A group was supposed to check into the El Dorado Mansion last night. But they didn’t show or call to cancel.”
“It would have offered the opportunity to rig the stairs.”
“That’s what I think.” Gabe frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me about those letters as soon you started getting them?”
“Because there’s nothing unusual about the president of a large, international company getting hate mail. If we import a product that’s also made in the United States, somebody accuses me of not supporting American workers. If a food product isn’t organic, I get letters saying I’m poisoning children. There are a lot of people out there, with a lot of opinions.”
“But TIP makes every effort to import fair-trade products.”
“Doesn’t matter. Are you warning Tessa, too?”
“I’m going over again tonight, and I’ll look for a way to suggest staying on her guard. But when I get a chance I may also talk with the Glimmer Creek police chief. He’s already suspicious about what happened—he was questioning employees right and left today, which will probably make the culprit hunker down for a little bit. Nonetheless, be alert and careful.”
“Local police involvement might be best, though they may feel the same way about the lack of evidence as the FBI.”
“Threatening letters are evidence, so I need copies.”
“When I get home. They’re in my office safe.”
Gabe got off, wishing he could find out who had reserved the mansion for the night. The name on the credit card might give him a jump in his investigation, but getting the information from Tessa was bound to be a challenge. On the other hand, it was most likely a case of identity theft.
If he could just find some convincing evidence, the FBI would probably be able take over the investigation. In the meantime, he had to keep searching.
<
br /> CHAPTER SEVEN
TESSA LAY ON her couch, resting her shoulder on a hot water bottle and clutching an ice pack to her elbow, wondering if dragging herself to bed was worth the trouble. It was, after all, a very comfortable couch.
Aunt Emma had stopped and checked her injuries, but she hadn’t been amused when Tessa tossed out a joke about doctors who made house calls. She’d scolded her niece for not visiting the medical clinic before finally admitting that nothing seemed to be seriously amiss.
The doorbell rang again, and Tessa groaned. Immediately after Aunt Emma left, Great-Uncle Milt had shown up again asking questions, though he’d refused to explain why he was so curious. Then her father had arrived with dinner, solicitously offering to spend the night to look after her. She’d convinced him to leave, but maybe he’d come back.
“Coming,” she called, hoping it was just a Poppy Gold guest. Her apartment at the Victorian Cat had an outside entrance from the garden clearly marked “private,” but that didn’t prevent them from occasionally ringing the bell.
To her astonishment, it was Gabe McKinley on her step.
“Uh, hi, Gabe.”
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Tessa didn’t feel like keeping a stiff upper lip, but she forced a smile. “I’m fine.” It was a response she’d given all day. The concern was nice, but every time someone asked, it made her stomach plunge.
“I doubt it,” he said bluntly. “Sorry for intruding, but I’ve got a few more questions about what happened today.”
Tessa’s eyes narrowed, her patience at an end. “Gabe, if you want a security job, apply for it. But don’t try to impress me this way. I’m tired and sore and don’t feel like talking. Good night.”
She closed the door firmly and limped back to the couch. It was bad enough to have fallen, but did everyone have to keep talking about it?
Yet she frowned as she put the ice pack back on her elbow, reminded that Gabe had seemed familiar to her since the day he’d started working at Poppy Gold. It’s his eyes, she thought, only to realize that Gabe reminded her of Rob McKinley.
McKinley?
No, there couldn’t be a connection. Her imagination was just working overtime.
* * *
GABE CONSIDERED KNOCKING AGAIN, but unless he told Tessa everything, he probably wouldn’t get far.
The sun was low on the horizon, and he thought about going to the Tofton House to see Rob, but there was too much chance of someone questioning why he was there.
His presence at Tessa’s apartment might also raise eyebrows, though it could prompt a different sort of question. After all, she was a beautiful woman.
Very beautiful.
Back at his studio cottage, he found a paper sack in front of his door, filled with the clothes he’d left in the laundry room. An envelope held the extra change he’d given Lance, with a careful note showing how much had been used to dry the load, along with the remaining balance.
It was almost as if the young man was concerned someone would question his honesty, but Gabe pushed the thought aside. Little was known about Lance Beckley other than he kept to himself, drove a motorcycle the town wasn’t crazy about and was dating Jamie Fullerton. And that he gave her frequent gifts. Supposedly the girl’s parents were wary of the relationship.
The money Lance was spending on Jamie was a question mark, but he’d started working at Poppy Gold after the thefts from TIP began. While that didn’t automatically mean he wasn’t involved, it was a factor in his favor.
Filled with restless energy, Gabe started doing push-ups. Despite his shoulder giving him less trouble the past week, he knew he tended to work harder on his right side. A fleeting wish went through him that he hadn’t retired from the navy, but maybe it had been time, anyway. Like athletes, a SEAL had a short active career. Even before he’d gotten shot, his superiors had been making noises about moving him into an administrative position, which he would have hated almost as much as working at TIP.
Still, it was more than restless energy driving him. He was trying to suppress his attraction to Tessa. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t even his type; his tastes leaned toward earthier women. He liked sexual partners who were tall, experienced with casual affairs and deaf to the ticking of their biological clock.
Sitting at the small table, Gabe pulled out the new housekeeping schedule he’d copied at the employee center and began comparing it with the original schedule. Several other houses showed minor staffing adjustments, just none to the Tofton House. The changes were to be expected; Tessa had closed the El Dorado for repairs, so its staff had been transferred to other assignments.
Frustrated, Gabe shoved the papers away. The staffing assignments for Rob’s prior visits to Poppy Gold might reveal whether any employee had routinely worked in the El Dorado, except the old schedules weren’t available to him. All he’d been able to get were the ones posted in the employee lounge. So once again there wasn’t anything to latch on to; nothing to help catch whoever was stealing information.
TIP was unimportant compared with Rob’s well-being, but Gabe didn’t even know if the person stealing company secrets was connected to the damaged staircase. Or if they’d sent the threatening letters.
Gabe clenched his fingers into a fist, whispers of warning going through his head. The sense of time running out was difficult to escape.
* * *
LANCE KNEW HE was being paranoid, but he’d watched from behind his curtain to be sure no one disturbed Gabe McKinley’s laundry before he came home.
Seeing him take it inside had been a relief.
Lance paced around his studio thinking about Jamie. She was the sweetest, most generous person he’d ever known and had a quirky little smile that turned him inside out. She also seemed so good. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Jamie made him want to be better. When he’d gotten out of high school, he’d just figured he would take any job and make enough to get by. But now things were different. It was like she made him see there was more.
Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He went outside and started walking again.
Glimmer Creek wasn’t bad. None of it seemed run-down or dangerous, even around the country bar that stayed open late. He’d had a fake ID for years, but he wouldn’t have tried going into the Gold Shanty, no matter what. After all, word might get back to Jamie’s parents, and the Fullertons didn’t drink. Maybe he ought to get rid of the ID. It wouldn’t be honest to use it, and he was over eighteen now, so he didn’t need it to apply for jobs with people who didn’t want to hire a minor.
The neighborhood where Jamie lived with her folks was especially nice, and he walked down the street. Most of the lights on the houses were off because people went to bed early in Glimmer Creek. The Fullertons’ house was a sturdy place with wide porches, a big lawn and curtains on every single window. It was a world he’d never known before—pretty and clean, with everything in its place.
Jamie had told him her bedroom was on the side, but he didn’t dare go around to see if her light was on in case her dad caught him. So he just stood outside and looked at the dark house, thinking that no matter what, maybe he’d always be on the outside.
That was what it was like to be a foster kid. You lived as if you were outside a candy shop you couldn’t go in. He supposed some foster homes were better, especially if they wanted to adopt you, but he’d never been in one. Maybe it was because his dad was in prison and people were scared he’d turn out the same way.
But he’d never steal or try to hurt someone. He couldn’t even dissect a frog in high school biology, much less do something worse.
A shadow moved on the porch, and a second later he saw it was Jamie.
“I figured you were asleep,” he muttered.
“I was sitting on the swing. I’m sorry I upset you, Lance.”
>
“You didn’t do anything. It was my fault.” He drew a deep breath, thinking he should tell her part of the truth at least. “The cops used to hassle me back in Sacramento. You know, because of the bike. And I don’t think they like it much here, either. Honest, I don’t try to make it loud—it just is loud.”
“I know that.” Jamie threw her arms around his neck, and he held her tight. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear. “Forever and ever.”
She’d told him the thing he wanted to hear most, and his throat got so tight he couldn’t say anything.
“Come on, let’s go sit on the porch,” she urged, pulling him toward the house. They sat on the porch swing, and she rested her head on his arm.
“Uh, I got you something,” Lance said, pulling out the bag he’d intended to give her earlier.
The paper crackled, and a minute later Jamie giggled. “It’s a charm for my bracelet, right? But there isn’t enough light to tell what it’s supposed to be.”
“Guess.”
“Well...it feels like a cow patty.”
The idea made him laugh, too. “It’s meant to look like gold in a gold miner’s pan, so that’s close enough.”
“Cool.”
She put her head back on his shoulder and he kicked the porch floor with his foot to rock the swing. They’d been out there a couple of times when her parents were around, but never in the dark, and he’d always sat upright and very proper in case somebody saw them.
“Are your mom and dad in bed?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
If she’d been one of the few girls Lance had dated in high school, he might have considered it a convenient chance to angle for more than cuddling and a few kisses. Jamie was different, though. Special. He couldn’t quite explain, even to himself, but he didn’t want to go too fast. She was too important to him to make it all about sex.
Under the streetlight on the corner he saw a cat strolling around as if it owned the planet. It’d be nice to feel that way, Lance thought. He yawned and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze that was cooling the air. A dog barked in the distance, but the only nearby sound was the faint creak of the swing, slowly moving back and forth.
Undercover in Glimmer Creek Page 9
