by Meryl Sawyer
“Lindsey didn’t need to support herself. She had me.”
The man gave Hayley a half smile that was really a sneer. This was going nowhere, she decided.
“Lindsey loved you very much, but you were too controlling. You wouldn’t allow her to express herself, have friends. That’s why you didn’t know about me. She was afraid to tell you, afraid you’d beat her up again.”
Steve jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “What are you talking about? I never touched Lindsey.”
Hayley didn’t want to argue so she kept quiet.
“Never. I—I loved her too much to hurt her.” Steve stared at the stone fountain with water undulating rhythmically over sea creatures like starfish and turtles into the pool below. “Did she say I hit her?”
Not trusting her voice, Hayley nodded. A quick glance at Ryan told her that he was a perplexed as she was. She could sense the controlled power in his body. She was really glad he’d insisted on coming with her.
“How well did you know my wife?” Steve asked.
“We talked every week on the day you went into the office. I called her because she said you checked the phone records and wouldn’t approve of her calling me.”
“I never check the calls unless our bill is unusually large.”
He sounded so sincere and appeared so truthful that Hayley didn’t challenge him. Clearly the man was delusional.
“Did Lindsey come down to see you last week the way the police claim?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe it.
Hayley nodded and felt the welcome warmth of Ryan’s hand on her arm. “She was nearly hysterical when she called—afraid of you. She thought you were so angry this time that you might kill her.”
“What?” He slapped the table so hard their coffee cups jumped.
“Take it easy,” Ryan cautioned in a voice that only someone with a death wish would ignore.
“I advised Lindsey to take an express shuttle to San Jose and fly from there to John Wayne airport. That way I could meet her and give her the keys to my car and my condo. She was going to hide out and think things over. When I returned, we planned to talk. Then she’d make a decision about what to do next.”
Steve Fulton stared at her as if she were speaking an unusual foreign language. “What do you mean?” he asked in a voice so low that it could barely be heard above the burble of the fountain and the chatter from nearby tables.
“I think it’s clear,” Ryan said when she didn’t reply. “Your wife was considering a divorce.”
“Why are you making this up?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his corduroy trousers, his shoulders hunched forward.
“She’s not making it up,” Ryan said.
“We were happy. She wouldn’t have left me.” He flushed a deep crimson.
“Lindsey did love you,” Hayley said softly. “She just needed a little space. I wanted to meet with you so you would know exactly what happened and how sorry I am. Lindsey was so young, so talented.”
An unexpected sob burst from the man. “She never said she was unhappy. I gave her everything.”
“Why would your wife make up a story like this? Coming here got her killed.”
Steve noisily sucked in air, took a minute before saying, “I have no idea. It wasn’t like her to lie.”
Stunned silence enveloped them. Steve Fulton rose and quickly walked away. Hayley wanted to call him back, to comfort him, but she had no idea what to say. She’d wanted to comfort the man, to let him know what really happened so he could get on with his life. Instead, she’d given him more to be upset over.
“Do you think he’s psychotic, delusional?” she asked Ryan.
“No. He could be telling the truth.”
“No way! I spoke with Lindsey. I knew how afraid of him she was. We’d talked about it for two years. I’d been encouraging her to leave him. She finally did and look what happens.” She was dismayed at the magnitude of her own sorrow. She’d believed she could fix things but it seemed impossible.
“Did you ever see Lindsey after he’d beaten her up?” Ryan wanted to know.
She shook her head. “How could I? We were miles apart.”
“I just thought you might have been in town on one occasion,” Ryan said in a troubled voice. “Did she file a police report?”
“Of course not. Lindsey didn’t want to cause a problem for Steve after he’d done so much to help her.”
His compelling eyes riveted her to the spot, but he didn’t utter one word.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Maybe Fulton is telling the truth.”
Hayley couldn’t believe it. “You didn’t see Lindsey that night. She was scared to death.”
Ryan nodded slowly and took her hand. “Okay, but was it her husband that had her so spooked?”
“Yes.” But some small part of her did wonder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DEATH IS THE one constant in life, thought the killer. Time flows along to one final, inevitable point. There were defining moments in a person’s life, but the last heartbeat was the same for everyone.
Death.
The world could take its time. Death might not arrive for years and years. But for some it came sooner. The Grim Reaper couldn’t eliminate Hayley fast enough.
Stupid bitch! She thought the Grim Reaper was such a clever logo. It was a sign—if there ever was one—that she was destined to die.
The killer didn’t like being forced into action, but the road of life had created a pothole—make that a landmine. But it had been handled. Alison Fordham’s computer had to go. Who knew incriminating evidence had been left behind when the files had been erased? That was the problem with technology today. There was no getting away from it.
With luck the police wouldn’t realize why the computer had been heisted. Taking other electronic gear should have made it look like an ordinary break-in except—of course—it had been on Linda Isle.
A small island with a guard gate and water surrounding it should not be a robber’s target unless the thief had the ability to come in from the waterside, using the house’s dock. So many boats came and went from all the private docks in the harbor that no one paid attention to who was on them.
The house had the added impediment of a security system, but it was easy to foil by cutting through the sliding door’s glass and not tripping the alarm. Carrying the televisions and the Blue Ray player out had been simple under the cover of darkness. No one noticed. The police wouldn’t have been called for days except the gardener next door noticed the hole in the sliding glass door.
Shit! Why didn’t nosy people mind their own business? Never mind. It had been for the best. Having the police snooping, asking questions, meant Sylvia Morrow had to die. Life often provided such moments of epiphany.
The old woman had gone to a lot of trouble to hide. But all she’d really done was drop out of sight. Anyone with any tenacity at all could have found her. The elderly secretary’s death was sure to be ruled a heart attack.
It was doubtful anyone would connect the two incidents. What would a robbery on exclusive Linda Isle have to do with a heart attack in Tustin?
MEG AMBOY WAS straightening her skirt, getting ready to go down to lunch, when she heard a knock on the door to her suite. She hesitated. Who could it be? The last time someone had unexpectedly come to her door it had been Steve Fulton searching for Hayley.
She cautiously approached the door and looked through the peephole. Nothing. Maybe the knock had been next door, where Gus Miller lived. She turned away to go run a brush through her hair. Another knock, louder now.
Again she checked. This time she caught a blur at the bottom of the fisheye. Conrad, she realized. In a wheelchair he was too short to be fully seen from the peephole. She swung open the door and saw the breath-taking bouquet in his hands.
Two dozen red roses.
“What?” she cried.
“For you, Meg.” He held out the crystal vase with the clus
ters of fabulous rosebuds.
“Why?” She motioned for him to come in and he pressed on the electric button that moved his wheelchair forward. “It’s not my birthday.”
He zipped by her and stationed himself beside the sofa where they often sat to talk. She placed the magnificent arrangement on the coffee table in front of them and took a deep breath of the fragrant bouquet.
“They’re fabulous. Thank you.” She sat beside him with a delighted smile.
“I’m glad you like them.” His voice held a rasp of excitement.
“Like them? You know red roses are my favorites.” She leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the lips. “I give up. What’s the occasion?”
Now his smile seemed mischievous. “I passed my physical the other day with flying colors. Other than my balance problem—which is a short-circuit in my brain—I’m in great shape for my age.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot to ask,” she said, ashamed of herself. “With Hayley and all that was going on, it skipped my mind. I’m thrilled. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my bridge partner.”
“What about a life partner?” He pulled a small blue Tiffany’s box out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Meg’s fingers trembled as she opened it. Inside was a magnificent diamond, its multicut facets winking in the light. She felt herself color fiercely. Did this mean what she thought it meant?
Of course it did. A life partner had to mean marriage. It wasn’t the first time a man had asked her, but it was the only time she wanted to be asked. Was she too old? she wondered.
“What do you say?” Conrad asked in a lower, huskier tone. “How does Mrs. Conrad Hollister sound?”
“W-wonderful.” A rush of tears startled her; she’d never been the type to cry. “It’s just that I’m too, too…old.”
“No, you’re not,” he assured her. “I’m older than you are. We might not have a lot of time left, but we still can be happy.”
Blood pounded in her temples, thundered through her heart and made her knees tremble. “Yes, oh, yes. We can be happy.”
He held out his arms and she moved toward him. It was a bit awkward with him in the wheelchair but they made it work. Why hadn’t he come into her life years ago? she asked herself.
You can’t turn back the clock, she decided as she hugged him. Be grateful for what you have today. They kissed with a tenderness Meg hadn’t considered possible. “Mrs. Conrad Hollister sounds wonderful.”
“Where are we going to live?” he asked. “Your place or mine?”
Meg eased herself back onto the sofa. She’d been so taken aback by the proposal that she hadn’t considered anything else.
“You know, just because I’m in a wheelchair doesn’t mean…”
Another rush of heat rose to her face. “I—I understand.” A strange inner excitement filled her suddenly. “What about one of the new cottages they’re building? They’re almost finished.”
Twelve Oaks had acquired the land just below the existing buildings. They had constructed single-story cottages to keep from blocking the ocean views from the main building where Meg and Conrad now lived.
“They’re bigger,” Conrad said, “but the views aren’t as good. We could go down there and look—”
“Views don’t matter. Being together is what’s important. You still will be able to see the ocean, just not the sweep of the coastline toward Laguna Beach.”
“Yes,” Conrad said softly. “Being together is what really counts. Let’s not wait any longer. Let’s get married as soon as possible.”
Meg nodded her agreement, but her mind was on Hayley now. She wanted her niece to be there. Until this mess was resolved, a wedding didn’t seem possible.
“Having second thoughts?” he asked in a teasing voice.
“Of course not. I was just thinking about Hayley.”
“You’re wondering if she ends up with my son—will two Mrs. Hollisters in the same family cause confusion.”
Now Meg couldn’t help laughing. “No. I would love it if they decided to become serious. I’ve been impressed with Ryan since I first met him. I just want them both to be at the wedding. With all that’s going on I don’t know when that will be.”
Conrad considered what she’d told him for a moment before responding. “I think we should have a justice of the peace marry us as soon as possible. After this thing is straightened out, we’ll have a big celebration at the Balboa Bay Club. The whole works—flowers, dinner, dancing.”
“Sounds great,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Really special. I can’t wait to tell Hayley. She’ll be so happy for me.”
FROM THE SURF’S UP stockroom, Hayley watched Cynthia Fordham escort a woman with an obvious face-lift. They sorted through the racks of tees and board shorts. Trent had gone out as soon as his mother had appeared, then returned, saying Cynthia was helping one of her clients select a wardrobe for her granddaughter’s surf camp.
Hayley could have told her old tees and board shorts over a bikini with straps that wouldn’t easily break were all the “wardrobe” a surf camp required. Anyone with too new clothes and flip-flops that weren’t two seasons old would be branded an outsider.
Hayley was packing the boxes of clothing that she’d rush ordered for the Board Wars. As soon as they were finished, she and Ryan would join the others at the beach to set up the booth. She watched Cynthia, still wondering about the GPS tracker placed on her car and the bomb. Others might write off Cynthia, but Hayley gave her credit for being a very intelligent, cunning woman. She would have made much more of her life had she been able to let go of Russell Fordham and concentrate on a career.
Instead Cynthia never gave up on watching his every move. It had been clear for a long time that she still loved him despite the fact her ex had remarried, fathered a child and was very happy. When Hayley’s father had been killed, Cynthia had been crushed. She’d been even more upset—outwardly—than Russell Fordham’s children.
Right now, Cynthia was pointing out the replica of Duke’s famous surfboard to her friend. The surfboard made Hayley think of all the other valuable boards decorating the shop. There was certainly more money involved than Hayley had realized.
There were also the custom molds her father had created for world-famous surfers. They could be modified slightly and used again as an authentic Fordham Board. That could be priceless.
No doubt Cynthia believed Hayley’s charmed life on Linda Isle and education at a private school represented more than her fair share of the estate. Had Cynthia coveted the money so much that she’d destroyed the trust Hayley’s parents had written? Had she arranged for the car bomb? Cynthia could be sneaky, Hayley decided. No telling what she was capable of doing.
She put Cynthia out of her thoughts. There were no answers to these troubling questions. It just made her mind whirl. She concentrated on packing the few remaining boxes while Ryan helped nearby with the surf stuff that Trent wanted in the booth.
Ryan’s closeness was so male, so reassuring. She’d come to care for him more than she wanted to admit. It had happened so fast, so unexpectedly.
Thinking about Ryan reminded her of Chad. No matter who was behind the destruction of the trust, Chad must know about it. They’d been fighting over his inability to keep away from other women when her parents’ plane crashed. Losing her parents had brought into focus their loving relationship and Hayley realized she couldn’t settle for anything less.
“How’s it going?” Ryan interrupted her thoughts.
“Almost finished.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Ryan had loved his wife deeply and remained committed to her even after she was gone. Would he ever feel that way about her?
Wait a minute!
How do you feel about him? She’d never been so attracted to a man. The way she felt about Chad couldn’t compare to her intense feelings for Ryan. Her feelings for him had nothing to do with reason. But did she love him or was this merely about attraction an
d sex? So much was going on in her life that Hayley didn’t know which way was up most of the time.
Ryan was a lover, a protector, a friend. She had to give this relationship time to develop, she decided. She needed to be living a normal life to see what she wanted—and who she wanted to spend that life with.
She saw him pull out his cell phone. “You get more calls than a teenage girl,” she told him.
He winked and checked the caller ID. “It’s your aunt. Wanna bet this is for you?” He answered then handed her the telephone.
“Aunt Meg, how are you doing?”
“I’m getting married.”
Hayley sank down onto the nearest sealed box. “You’re kidding!”
“No. Conrad and I plan to marry as soon as possible.” Aunt Meg sounded totally serious and very happy.
For a moment the shock wedged words in her throat. “I’m so glad for you,” Hayley finally managed to say after a long pause. She couldn’t imagine her aunt, who’d always been single, getting married so late in life. And to Ryan’s father, of all people.
“Your father wants to talk to you,” she told Ryan after Meg asked her to give him the telephone so his father could explain the situation.
Hayley studied Ryan as he spoke with his father. She expected him to frown at the news but instead his face glowed like a kid on Christmas morning. “Hey, Dad, that’s great!” He gazed at her and gave the thumbs-up sign with a smile.
They chatted a few more minutes, then Ryan said goodbye. “How do you like that, Hayley? We’re going to be related.”
She attempted a smile, but she wasn’t sure she did like it. What if something happened and they were no longer a couple? She would have to face Ryan at family functions. “Don’t you think they’re a little old to marry?”
He crossed the small space cluttered with boxes and pulled her into his arms. The warmth of those arms and the affection in his eyes affected her deeply. “No. They’re not too old to marry. My father says he loves Meg. I believe him. We’re a lot alike. He never remarried after my mother. If he’s finally found love, I’m all for it. I want him to be happy.”
