by Rita Herron
Within a half hour, he’d connected his laptop to the police computer and run a complete background check on Doug Green. Doug was quite an entrepreneur. Jotting down a few notes, he decided to spend the rest of the day researching Green’s business dealings, his investments, all the start-up companies he’d taken public. If his wife wasn’t to blame for his demise, his business dealings might lend a clue. Money and greed were two of the most common motives for murder. And if Green was a self-employed entrepreneur, he obviously enjoyed the business of making big money. And big money often meant big trouble.
SYDNEY’S MIND SCREAMED with worry when she spotted the article about her accident on the front page of the newspaper. The report claimed the accident was under investigation. Once again, her husband’s murder had been mentioned. Damn. Why couldn’t that stupid detective find the real murderer so this nightmare could be over?
The article briefly mentioned the man who’d saved her life, but the reporter obviously had no details about him. She skimmed it further, her hands trembling as she finished and laid the paper on her desk. Thank God they hadn’t named her as a suspect. And the article hadn’t mentioned the gun.
Had the police found it? Were they planning to arrest her? But more importantly, where had the gun come from? And how had it gotten in her car?
Her nerves on edge, she showered and dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a black, short-sleeved sweater, hoping work would relieve the kinks in her sore muscles and take her mind off her problems. And off the enigmatic man who’d appeared at the graveyard, then later saved her life.
But she couldn’t help but wonder how he knew Doug.
She walked to her studio and prepared the backdrops for toddler Beth Perkins’s portrait, determined to forget him. She chose a high-key white background for one set of shots and a favorite backdrop featuring tall green grass with wildflowers for another set.
Four-year-old Beth bustled in with Marla, her mother. “Hey, Ms. Sydney.” Beth twirled around, showing off her ruffled pink dress. A big white eyelet bow teetered in her waist-length brown hair.
“You look beautiful, Beth,” Sydney said.
Beth gave her a hug, then pointed to Sydney’s forehead. “What’s that big purple spot?”
“It’s a bruise,” Sydney explained. “I had an accident last night, sweetie.”
Beth’s small face crumpled. “Did you get hurt bad?”
Sydney smiled and curved her arm around the little girl. “No, honey. I’m fine. It was really scary, though.”
“Gracious, Sydney, I saw the paper! What happened?” Marla looked stunned.
Sydney explained, minimizing the details to avoid scaring Beth. “I’m fine, really. A little sore, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” Marla said sympathetically. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes—let me photograph this little darling.” She tickled Beth, grateful when the little girl’s frightened expression disappeared and she collapsed into giggles.
“Thanks for fitting me in this afternoon,” Marla said as Sydney adjusted the lighting. “I hate that you aren’t feeling well, but I did want to have these ready in time for the family reunion in a couple of weeks.”
“You know I love photographing Beth.” Sydney changed the camera filter, then took several poses of the toddler against the white background. “Perfect,” she said when Beth struck a silly pose. Then Beth flounced into a small rocking chair in front of the grassy backdrop and Sydney snapped some more shots.
“You did great today, sweetie,” she said when they finished. “You’re one of my favorite models.”
Beth wrapped her arms around Sydney’s legs and squeezed. “I wuv you, Ms. Sydney.”
“I love you, too.” Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes when Beth kissed her cheek.
A pang from her husband’s betrayal hit like an icy dart. A vasectomy. He’d had one and never told her. She’d wanted kids so badly, and Doug had pretended to go along. All the times she’d talked about it, planned for the baby—he must have been laughing behind her back.
He’d never wanted a family with her. Never intended to have one. It had all been lies. And worse, he’d let her believe that her failure to conceive was her fault, that she’d been inadequate.
“How are you doing?” Beth’s mother asked quietly. “I know your husband’s death was hard on you.”
“I’m okay.” Sydney averted her gaze, avoiding the pitying expression on Marla’s face. One she’d become very familiar with.
“Do the police know who killed him?”
Sydney shook her head, tensing. “Not yet.”
“I do hope they find the person.” Marla wiped at her own eyes. “Doug was such a handsome man. And brilliant, too, wasn’t he?”
“I suppose so,” Sydney said. At least brilliant enough to fool her.
Marla had an odd expression on her face. “We’ll miss him at the club.”
“The club?”
“Yes, you know, the Beaufort Health Club.” Marla frowned again. “You did know he belonged?”
“Oh, right.” Sydney feigned a smile. “With his traveling, I didn’t realize he made it there very often.”
Marla shrugged. “Well, even though he and Randy didn’t hit it off, the rest of the staff liked Doug.”
Sydney nodded, although she hadn’t known Doug had belonged to the health club. And she didn’t know anything about Doug having problems with Marla’s husband, Randy. She was discovering a lot of things about her former husband she hadn’t known.
Marla ushered Beth out the door. The memory of Doug’s funeral surfaced, along with the memory of Marla’s tearstained face. Just how well had Marla known Doug?
The telephone rang before she had time to contemplate the question. Kelly’s friendly voice came over the line.
“Hey, Kel, where are you?”
“Meg’s been fussy all morning,” Kelly explained. “I think she must be cutting a tooth.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Sydney hated the thought of Meg in pain. “I hope she feels better. Do you have something to give her?”
“Yes, I’ve rubbed medicine on her gums. And now we’re both going to take a nap,” Kelly said with a laugh. “We definitely won’t make it by for pictures today. Maybe we can get together tonight and order pizza.”
“Sounds great,” Sydney said, deciding she’d spend the afternoon in the darkroom catching up on some projects.
Kelly yawned and they said goodbye, then Sydney retreated to the darkroom, enthusiastic about developing the photos. Seeing the faces of smiling children immortalized on film always brightened her day. And she could certainly use some brightness.
A few hours later she hung the last of the shots up to dry and went out into her studio. She checked her appointment book, noting how few entries there’d been since Doug’s death.
As she closed the shades on the floor-length windows, thoughts of her problems resurfaced, and an image of Collin Cash popped into her mind. When she’d first looked into his eyes, she’d felt drawn to him. Something eerie had passed between them, a sort of déjà vu.
Then he’d saved her life.
Still, she didn’t trust him. Doug had been handsome, but he’d also been a liar. Her judgment about men was apparently off base, and she’d definitely seen trouble written in Collin Cash’s sexy eyes. She glanced up in dismay as he sauntered through her studio door.
He leaned against the shadowed corner of the brick wall, his masculinity filling the room. Broad shoulders, square chin, muscular thighs. That dark stubble of a beard.
He folded his arms and watched her. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, the long ends curling around his collar. And the faint lines around his bedroom eyes added to his mysterious, sexy persona.
She shouldn’t be thinking that way, she realized, annoyed with herself. She was a recent widow, still mourning the loss of her husband. Her deceitful, dead husband. Who’d known this man.
Meaning she couldn’t trust him
, either.
The phone rang and she quickly answered it, relieved to have an excuse to delay talking to him. “Sydney’s Custom Photography.” She began to rifle through a stack of bills.
“Sydney, this is Steve Wallace at Norvek Pharmaceuticals.” Steve’s agitated baritone cut off her thoughts.
“Yes, hi, Steve. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve been working on securing that deal for the weight-loss product.” A pause punctuated the tense silence. “But we have problems. We’re missing part of Doug’s paperwork, his material on the patent agreement.”
“What?” She turned her back on Collin Cash and lowered her voice so he couldn’t hear her conversation. “July was supposed to be the debut month.”
“I know.” Steve’s voice crackled over the phone. Irritated, she pulled back slightly from the earpiece. “But after Doug’s death, we postponed it. Now we’re trying to get back on track, but we can’t find the disk. The information on the hard drive isn’t complete. Did Doug have any copies of his work at home?”
“I’m not sure,” Sydney said, remembering the boxes she hadn’t yet sorted through.
“Look, Sydney,” Steve said, his voice edgy, “I’d like to come by and look for it. How about in a couple of hours?”
She’d known Steve for months, and he’d questioned her before about Doug’s personal things, each time sounding increasingly agitated. Could he have killed Doug and she’d come home before he’d had a chance to search for the files? “Wait a minute,” she said, stalling. “I don’t understand. Doug closed the deal months ago.”
“That’s what he told us. But we don’t have a copy of the licensing agreement. And I’ve heard that another health-care company has a similar product they’re getting ready to unveil.”
“What? How can they?”
His voice faltered. “I hate to slander a good man’s name, but we wondered if Doug might have misrepresented us and sold the agreement to this other company.”
Sydney masked her shock by covering her mouth with her hand. “You really think he’d sell out from under you?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said in a hard voice. “But it’s vital I find that document. So, I’ll see you in a bit?”
“No. I’ll look for it,” Sydney said, uneasy about Steve poking through her possessions. “And if I find any of Doug’s files, I’ll give you a call.”
“But Sydney—”
“Listen, Steve. I want this deal to go through as much as you do, so there’s no reason I would hold back. I’ll call you if I find something.”
Sydney hung up, baffled. Doug had worked on closing this deal for months. The weight-loss product tasted like soda and actually inhibited hunger. Filled with nutrients, it increased users’ metabolisms, causing them to burn calories at a faster rate. Steve’s financial board estimated it would earn millions from diet centers and health spas across the nation. Had Steve tried to cheat Doug out of his share?
Or had Doug tried to cheat his company?
Her husband’s lies splintered though her mind. He’d betrayed her. Had he betrayed his company, as well?
Remembering her visitor, she turned to see him studying her intently, that probing, serious look in his sexy eyes. Another man she didn’t want to deal with.
Yes, Collin Cash was trouble. Widowed or not, a woman would have to be dead not to notice his potent charm. While Sydney might be hurt, she might be confused, she might not ever want another man, she wasn’t dead.
She had to find out what Collin Cash was doing here and how he’d known Doug. But she wouldn’t get involved with the man. Because she wasn’t a fool—or, at least, she wouldn’t be fooled twice.
Chapter Three
Collin carefully gauged his reactions as Sydney hung up the phone. Despite her attempts to keep the call quiet, he’d been able to hear most of what she said. His theory about Doug’s death being related to his work might be on target. At the library, he’d scanned numerous articles about Doug’s business dealings. The man had acquired some pretty hefty accounts. The impending deal with Norvek Pharmaceuticals alone would pad his bank account into the millions.
But after making a quick call to Sam, he’d also learned Doug had a sizable life-insurance policy with Sydney as the benefactor. With the closing of this new deal, she stood to inherit a great deal of money. She definitely had a motive. And she’d found Green’s body. It was a wonder Raeburn hadn’t arrested her already. Probably waiting till he found the murder weapon.
When Sydney faced him, her expression immediately became guarded. Yes, she was definitely a suspect. What was she hiding?
“Hi.” He made a production of admiring the display of photographs on the wall. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Sydney said.
“You have some great photographs here.”
“Thanks.” Sydney regarded him through veiled eyes—did she know who he was? “What are you doing here?”
He relaxed his stance, hoping to alleviate her anxiety. “I was passing by and saw your studio. Thought I’d drop in.”
Sydney arched one dark eyebrow. “You were passing by?”
Collin sighed. “Okay, truthfully...I looked you up in the phone book. I had to see if you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated. She shuffled through some paperwork, jammed it into a leather briefcase and slung it over her shoulder, accentuating her point. She was ready to go home.
“Once again, thanks for saving my life.” She rolled her shoulders as if her muscles ached. “But right now, unless you want a portrait, I need to go home and soak in a nice bubble bath.”
“No, I don’t want a portrait.” Collin tried his best to maintain his calm, but the scent of jasmine invaded his senses, the sultry aroma pumping through his body. Sydney’s gold hair clip dangled precariously to one side, causing strands of her unruly hair to sweep down against her cheek. The image of her lying in a bubble bath, her hair wet with his fingers combing through it—
“Look, Mr. Cash. I don’t mean to be rude, but I recently lost my husband. I’m not up to dealing with anything right now. If you had business with Doug, you should take it up with his office. I can’t help you.”
He cleared his throat, her comment a definite reminder of his motive for being in Beaufort. “I understand, but I thought I might be able to help you in some way.”
She simply stared at him. “How do you think you can help me?”
“I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he said softly. “I’m a good listener. We could go for coffee.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’d rather grieve in private.”
“I’m not going to be in town long. Could we just talk about Doug?”
“I don’t feel like it tonight, Mr. Cash.”
His police instincts wouldn’t let it go. For the first time since he’d been shot, he felt challenged and alive. That, on top of this unwanted physical attraction, made it impossible for him to get her out of his mind.
He wanted—no, he needed to learn more about her, to know if she was a murderer or if she herself was in danger. To learn if he really was witnessing Green’s murder in his visions.
“Look, don’t take it personally,” Sydney finally said, flipping off a desk lamp. “I don’t make it a habit to go out with strangers.”
“Even ones who save your life?” It was a low blow and he knew it, but he was desperate.
Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag. “I already thanked you for that. Now I want to go home.”
“You can tell me about the town,” Collin urged. “It’s my first visit here and I’d like to play tourist. How about breakfast tomorrow?”
Sydney headed to the door. “I have to work tomorrow afternoon.”
“But you also have to eat. Come on, Sydney, it’s only one meal. I know you and Doug were practically newlyweds. I’d like to hear about how you two met.”
The dark circles beneath her eyes deepened in the light from the door as s
he turned to stare at him. Just when he thought he’d lost the battle, she replied, “And I’d like to hear exactly how you knew my husband, Mr. Cash.”
Collin resisted the urge to wince. She might look fragile, but she was a tough lady. “Fair enough. We’ll talk about it over breakfast tomorrow.”
“Okay, but brunch, not breakfast.”
“That sounds fine. Where can I pick you up?”
“Meet me at the Plantation Café. It’s on Main Street.”
“I thought you might need a ride. You haven’t gotten your car back yet, have you?”
Sydney frowned and he silently chastised himself for reminding her of the accident. “No. But the café’s within walking distance. And I’ve already contacted my insurance company and arranged for a rental.”
“Okay. What time shall I meet you?”
“Eleven. They have a nice Sunday buffet.”
“All right.” Collin jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and nodded, pausing to admire a small eight-by-ten of a baby girl lying on a white rug, then another photo of a little boy riding a small tractor. The scene touched some deep emotion inside him, stirred a momentary longing for family, which he quickly dismissed. Sydney had captured the joy of youth in that one shot. Yet, as a cop, he’d seen the destruction of innocence so many times he’d become jaded. His own bout with blindness had hammered the realization into his head with undying clarity. “You do nice work, Sydney.”
“Thanks.” She relaxed for the first time since he’d met her, giving him a brief glimpse of how beautiful she was when unencumbered by grief. “It’s easy with such cute subjects.”
“You obviously like children.”
“I freelance for magazines and newspapers, but I specialize in children and family portraits. I couldn’t do my job if I didn’t like kids.”
Collin smiled again, an uncomfortable feeling eating at him as he said goodbye, then walked outside and put on his sunglasses. Could this beautiful woman who captured the innocence of children in her pictures possibly be a murderer?
