by Cassie Miles
“You’re back in the news,” she said cheerfully. “You found Kate Carradine. Want to tell me about it?”
He said nothing. Not one sound bite.
Joyce craned her neck, trying to see around him. “Is she here? Kate?”
“She’s in the bathroom, tidying up. Come inside and you can wait.”
He held the door wide for Joyce and her cameraman. As they entered, he left. Dodging around a second reporter, Liam spotted his car. He leaped into the passenger seat. “Go.”
Chapter Ten
Liam was thrown back against the passenger seat of the Land Rover as Kate peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street.
“Buckle up,” she warned.
“Just go.” Peering through the rear window, he saw the reporters scrambling for their trucks.
Kate left them in the dust. Behind the wheel, she was fast but safe, negotiating her way across traffic for a quick left turn onto a busier street. She dodged onto a side road, then another and another until she hit a deserted two-lane.
Then she floored it. He’d never known his Rover could move like this. After a couple of blocks, she whipped a one-eighty and drove back in the direction they’d come from, making sure nobody was following.
“Where did you learn how to drive?” he asked.
“Driving is a sport, and I’m good at sports. Besides, RMS is one of the sponsors for the Grand Prix of Denver,” she said. “I had a couple of lessons from the pros. Where are we headed?”
Though he was tempted to tell her to point west and keep driving into the mountains, Liam knew there was no escape from the press. “You’re going to have to make a statement, sooner or later. It’s your choice on where you do it.”
“My mother’s house,” she said decisively. “She promised to get me some clothes. If I have to face the media, I want to look decent.”
Liam figured they were only half an hour away from the Carradine mansion. Once they got there, their privacy would be shot. Kate would be swept up in a whirlwind of reporters, doctors and her family—one of whom was probably trying to kill her.
“It’s time, Kate. You’ve got to tell me the details you’ve been holding back.”
Her slender fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Her lips compressed into a tight line, and he thought she was planning to stonewall him. Again.
Then she spoke. “In my memory, I saw a man. Could have been Wayne Silverman or someone else. I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at his face. His chest was covered with blood. So much blood. He’d been shot.”
“Murder.” Liam had suspected as much. “You witnessed a murder. Now the killer wants you out of the way.”
She darted a glance toward him. “I want to believe that’s what happened. That I was a witness.”
“Why would you doubt it?”
“I was afraid.” He saw the tension around her eyes and jaw. Her lips drew back from her teeth as she forced the words through them. “I was afraid that I might have killed him.”
Finally, he understood her reluctance to tell him everything. Because she couldn’t remember the whole scene, she was afraid of what she might have done. “Believe me, Kate, you’re not a murderer. Even when you were face- to-face with that intruder in your house, you couldn’t pull the trigger.”
“But how can I know for sure?”
“I know,” he said firmly. “I’ve dealt with killers, and that’s not you.”
He carefully avoided mentioning the possibility that she might have fired the gun in self-defense or by accident. Experience had taught him that innocent people were capable of murder when threatened.
“All the same,” she said. “You can see why I don’t want to tell Detective Clauson about this. Not until I have a clearer picture.”
“No problem. I think Clauson is assuming murder, anyway.” They were rapidly approaching the turnoff that led to her mother’s house, and he didn’t have time to waste on subtlety. “What about the diamond necklace?”
“I’m not sure what it means.”
“Tell me what you know, and do it fast. When you step back into your mother’s house, we won’t be able to talk.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “You’re not going to leave me there alone, are you?”
“I’ll be there.” He reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. Though she was rail-thin beneath the baggy sweatshirt, there was no question about her femininity. Kate was all woman, and when she met his gaze, he saw the promise of sensuality in the lift of her eyebrow and the tilt of her chin.
Liam had intended for his touch to reassure her, but their slight physical contact had a more potent effect on him. All these little pats and hugs were piling up, creating a tension that begged for release.
“About the necklace,” she said. “It isn’t a memory. It’s a fact. Again, it looks bad for me.”
“Go on.”
“When I woke up in the meadow, my mind was blank. All I had was the backpack—Wayne’s backpack—full of supplies from RMS.”
Cranking the steering wheel, she whipped a right, avoiding the slowdown for construction on a side street.
She continued. “The backpack contained more than camping gear. There was cash. I found thousands of dollars in neat bundles of hundreds. And a pouch of jewelry. Gold and diamonds.”
He blinked. This revelation was totally unexpected. “You have no idea where it came from?”
“None,” she said.
When they had left her campsite, they’d brought the backpack with them. He remembered carrying it from the plane to his cabin. “What did you do with the loot?”
“I hid it in my cave,” she said. “I was afraid. Liam, what if I stole those things? What if Wayne and I were making a getaway?”
“Why would you steal your mother’s necklace?”
“I can’t remember if the diamonds belong to Elizabeth. The necklace didn’t look familiar, and I didn’t recognize the design.”
“It might be new,” he said.
“It wasn’t until Mickey talked about Peter making a copy that I thought it might belong to my mother.”
Which still didn’t answer Liam’s question. “Why steal from your own mother?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I was trying to get back at her. Maybe I was angry.”
“The legendary Kate Carradine temper.”
But he still couldn’t believe she’d go to all that trouble to snatch her mom’s jewelry. Kate didn’t need the money. Since she couldn’t even recall what the necklace looked like, she hadn’t taken it for sentimental reasons.
“I’d like to think I wasn’t such a brat,” she said. “So, here’s a different theory. Nobody has the combination to the safe in the library where Mom keeps her valuables except for her and the family attorney—that’s the firm where Wayne works.”
“You’re thinking that Wayne got hold of the combination and swiped the necklace.” Liam saw a hole in that theory. “Why would he take the necklace on your camping trip? Was he making a getaway?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“If so, why did he take you along?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she said miserably. “Not unless I knew his plans. Not unless I’m a thief.”
She was approaching her mother’s house. “Pull over,” he said.
She glided to the curb and parked in front of an attractively landscaped yard. This housing development had obviously grown up around the sprawling Carradine property near the foothills. These were nice, new homes in neutral colors. Organized and tidy, they were in direct contrast to the chaotic speculation inside Liam’s head.
The worst-case scenario: Kate was a murderer and a thief. She and Silverman had stolen the necklace. Then she’d killed him.
More likely, she was guilty of bad judgment—aiding and abetting Wayne Silverman.
“How much cash?” he asked.
“It was fifty thousand when I found it. All in hundreds. But I used some.”
“In the mountains? How
did you use it?”
“For kindling,” she said.
She had been burning hundred-dollar bills. While scraping out the barest nourishment for survival, she still managed to be extravagant. A woman of many contradictions.
He stared into her wide blue eyes—the innocent color of periwinkle sparkled with a laser edge. If he reached out to stroke her cheek, she might bite his finger off. Or she might kiss his hand. Unpredictable as the Colorado weather, she intrigued him. At the same time, she drove him crazy. “You always keep me guessing.”
“I want to know the truth as much as you do.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
“That’s everything I remember. The blood. The jewels. The forest fire. Driving Wayne’s car. And the hunters coming after me.”
A veritable kaleidoscope of clues. There had to be a connection, but Liam couldn’t see it. Instead, his gaze lingered on her trusting smile. She felt close enough to tell him her secrets.
The questions he wanted to ask at this moment had nothing to do with solving a murder. He wanted to know how it felt to hold her in his arms all night. He wanted to taste the morning dew on her lips. To make love to her. To discover the secrets of her body and her heart.
“Here’s another glitch in my theory,” she said, “about Wayne being the thief.”
He tried to drag his attention back to the crime. “A glitch?”
“The money and the jewels were probably worth a hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand. I don’t think Wayne Silverman would throw away his career for that amount.”
“People have killed and been killed for a lot less. He might have been desperate.”
“Why?”
“Gambling debt, blackmail, embezzlement. Wayne specialized in legal audits. That leaves a lot of room for white-collar crime.” He shrugged and tore his gaze away from her. “We need to know more about Wayne Silverman. I’ll put in a call to Molly at CCC.”
Kate rubbed her palms together. “This is starting to sound like a plan.”
“There’s something else we need to do. As soon as possible.”
She looked expectantly toward him. “What?”
“You and I have to go back to your campsite and get that stash.”
She gave an excited little gasp. “I’d like that. Seems kind of weird, but I miss my safe little cave.”
And now, they would be driving directly into danger. Though Liam wasn’t looking forward to what came next, he faced the windshield and nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
“No problem.” But Kate wasn’t ready to move forward. Her mind was in the mountains. As soon as Liam had mentioned her campsite, she’d wanted to go back. With him.
Unfortunately, such solitude wouldn’t be possible until they’d dealt with the immediate problems here in Denver. She cranked the key in the ignition and started the car. Using a back route and parking on a hillside, she showed him a secret path into the Carradine mansion, so they could avoid confrontation with the reporters who had settled along the circular drive at the front of the house.
“I used to come this way when I was a teenager,” she said. “Sneaking in. Sneaking out.”
“You were a troublemaker,” he said. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
When they entered through the French doors to the dining room, the first person Kate saw was Jonathan Proctor. Usually, when she faced her ex-husband, there was a clenching of her stomach muscles and a tension behind her eyes—sharp little pangs of regret, faded anger and a sense of failure. But now, she felt nothing. Not even an emptiness. Jonathan had lost whatever claim he’d had on her emotions.
Utterly self-composed, she introduced him to Liam, and it pleased her to compare the two men. Liam was a few inches taller and much more manly. Jonathan was polished to a slick, high gloss.
“Jonathan,” she said, “there are a few things we need to get straight. I was not abducted or held captive. For twenty-eight days, I survived very nicely in my own little campsite, where I built my own fires, hauled my own water and caught my own fish.”
“Good for you.” His monotone response was more appropriate for someone who’d just heard they were about to have a root canal. “I’m glad you’re safely home. We’re all glad.”
“Not everyone,” Liam said.
Jonathan glanced dismissively over his shoulder at him. “What does that mean?”
“Last night, a professional assassin entered Kate’s house.”
“I’m aware of that,” Jonathan said. “It’s what made me think of a possible abduction.”
She watched as Liam strolled around the dining room table. His manner was casual, but she could tell that he was getting into position, much the way an attorney would maneuver in a courtroom.
“The assassin had a key,” Liam said. “Other than the immediate family, who has keys for Kate’s house?”
Forced to confront Liam head-on, Jonathan backed up a pace. “Someone who had taken her captive and stolen her purse.”
“How would this captor know the code to disarm her alarm system?”
“Ask Kate.” His smile was brittle. “Oh, but you can’t. She has amnesia.”
“She’ll remember soon enough,” Liam said.
She watched Jonathan’s reaction. He was too professionally poised to betray his discomfort with anything obvious, like gulping or looking away. But she noticed a twitch in the fingers of his right hand, like a gunslinger waiting to draw.
Was he the person she ought to fear? Had Jonathan sent people to kill her? It was totally within his character to use hired assassins. And he had a motive for wanting her out of the way.
“While I was gone,” she said, “you pushed through that project near Cougar Creek.”
“I acted in the best interests of RMS. And for the environment. A lot of land in that area has been destroyed by fires.”
“You knew I was opposed to development.”
“Sorry, Kate. The project is already underway.”
“I intend to stop it,” she said.
“Now isn’t the time to discuss business.” His fingers twitched again. “You need to make a statement to the press.”
Of course, that was also business—public relations to enhance the RMS image. The company was so much a part of her family that she’d given up trying to keep them separate.
Her mother swept into the room. “I thought I heard you in here.”
“You were right, Mother.”
Elizabeth gave her an air kiss on each cheek. “I have a lovely outfit for you, dear. And my stylist is here. We simply must do something with your hair.”
Before Elizabeth could drag her off for a makeover, Kate latched onto Liam’s hand. “Come with me.”
She needed for him to be near her. He was the only person she trusted. He grounded her. The thought of being away from him—unprotected and vulnerable—was more than a little scary.
“My dear Kate,” her mother said, “I’m sure Liam would be bored with all the primping.”
“Not at all.” He looked into Kate’s eyes and responded to her desperation. Gallantly, he placed her hand on his arm as though he were escorting her to a grand ball. “Lead the way.”
In her mother’s upstairs bathroom, which was large enough to be a beauty salon, Kate was directed to a high stool in front of the mirror. While a stylist repaired the color in her hair and gave her a wispy cut, Kate kept an eye on Liam. Seated on a red velvet chaise in his denim work shirt, he looked big and rough-edged, incongruous as a moose among chipmunks. But he didn’t seem uncomfortable.
Apparently, his masculinity wasn’t threatened by a mob of women with lotions, potions and sprays. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. An amused grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he allowed a manicurist to give him a hand massage and buff his fingernails.
Within an hour, Kate’s hair was blown dry and her makeup applied. By conventional standards, she looked stylish and pretty. In the mirror, she met Liam’s gaze. Thou
gh he nodded approval, she recognized a hint of regret in his expression, and she felt it, too.
All this grooming had suppressed Rain, the woman who had survived in the wilderness, the fighter, the self-sufficient survivor. Kate missed that independence—the challenge, and the satisfaction when she’d made it through another day.
“Fabulous,” her mother said. “Slip into your new dress and you’ll be ready to make your statement to the press. I’ll be so glad when you do. I can’t wait for those dreadful reporters to go away.”
“What makes you think they’ll leave?” Liam asked.
“They’re waiting for Kate,” Elizabeth said. “Once she’s talked with them, they’ll be satisfied. That’s the way it works with a press conference.”
“This is different,” Kate gently corrected her. It was hard to believe that her mother, who was experienced at publicizing charity events, could be so naive. “This is a criminal case.”
“Oh, please.” Elizabeth glanced at her own reflection in the mirror and vaguely patted her hair. “You were lost and now you’re found. There’s nothing criminal about that.”
“I’m talking about Wayne Silverman,” Kate said. “He still hasn’t—”
“I’m aware of the situation.” Elizabeth’s tone took on a sharp, imperious edge, befitting a woman of power and influence who could not be bothered with the details. “We have so many other things to worry about, darling. This weekend is the summer gala. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mom. But—”
“As soon as you’re done with your press conference, I need your help with the planning details.”
In the mirror, Kate searched the reflection of her mother’s eyes. Trying to discover what was really going on inside Elizabeth Carradine’s head was like peering into a house where all the curtains were drawn. If the facts were cruel or brutal, Elizabeth dismissed them with a wave of her manicured hand. She always put up a good front. Her appearance was flawless. Her family was perfect and happy. And the show would go on. The summer gala would take place as scheduled. Never mind that someone was trying to kill her daughter.
