Against the Wall
Page 8
“Arrived,” he echoed with a sheepish laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” He stretched his arm across the seat and tapped her shoulder. “I should’ve asked earlier. Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she replied, smothering a smile that made her feel completely foolish. He was being courteous and she couldn’t read more into it than that. “I should’ve thanked you last night.”
“For?”
“Doing your job, even if you were protecting me from myself.” She considered it a great accomplishment when he belted out a genuine laugh. While they’d probably never be real friends, it felt like they were finally on good working terms. “I’ve never told anyone how much I enjoy being alone in the dark.”
“Why not?”
“The night became the one place where everyone’s expectations disappeared. I could dream anything, be anyone. Excel at dance rather than math. Theo always told me that anything was possible under the stars with no one watching.”
“Who did you want to be?”
“Myself,” she said. Yet here she was on the verge of thirty and she hadn’t figured out how to make that happen. She had always been Senator Clayton’s daughter. Her goal had always been to be just like him. For the first time in her life the thought made her truly sad. Her dad was gone. Who was she supposed to be now?
Dylan drove out to her childhood home without any directional assistance from her, reminding her again just how comprehensive his case file was. Rather than dwell on questions he would never answer, she brought up the three studies they’d reviewed yesterday. Neither of them could draw a viable connection to anyone with enough desperation, means, or access to kill her dad.
“Maybe Camille will have some insight,” she said. “Dad might’ve told her something she doesn’t realize is related.”
Dylan shifted in the driver’s seat, keeping an eye out for the next turn. Sharing details with Camille felt like a mistake, especially if the woman wasn’t coping well with being widowed. But Jana would want more than his gut instinct to back up his opinion. “She wasn’t open to the idea that the suicide was staged.”
“She didn’t want to hear it, but that may have been her grief talking.”
He expected waterworks any second now, but when he slid a glance Jana’s way, her expression was resolute.
“When she told me he was dead—”
“Wait. You heard it from her first?”
“Yes.” Jana took a deep breath. “They’d already taken him—his body away, but I came to the house immediately. I helped with all the final arrangements. I told her and Sam then that he couldn’t have killed himself. It just wasn’t possible.”
“Neither agreed with you.”
“Not at all. I didn’t mention it again until the letter came. The police and even Sam still refused to consider my theory.”
Dylan slowed for the last turn onto the long tree lined drive.
“Camille is so lost without him,” she murmured.
He glanced at her. “That surprises you?”
“A little,” she confessed. “They were in love, but she kept a full schedule between her career and other interests. I assumed that meant they weren’t as close as he’d been with Mom. I was wrong. Camille is a complete wreck.”
Based on his professional and personal experience he’d learned that the duration of a relationship had little to do with the impact when one ended, especially if someone was keeping secrets. “Maybe we should tread carefully this first visit. Give her the cover story and not push too hard for answers,” Dylan offered. He didn’t want to increase the odds against them before they could pinpoint the source behind her dad’s murder and the attempts on her life. In his opinion, Camille was a prime suspect.
The spouse was always a suspect, whether Jana wanted to see it that way or not.
“All right,” Jana acquiesced. “Whatever you believe is best.”
Tall, iron gates crowned with a ‘C’ parted as they approached. The house sprawled out from a circular drive. He parked in front and they climbed out. The housekeeper, Helen, greeted them at the front door. Jana introduced him as her friend from college and the woman welcomed Dylan with a big smile.
“How’s Camille today?” Jana asked as they were led into the kitchen for coffee.
“Better.” Helen poured two cups from the carafe on the counter. “She went to the boutique this morning.”
Dylan figured the boutique was one of Camille’s business interests. According to the file, she had extensive assets of her own, including a number of businesses. He surveyed the modern appliances and sleek stone countertops of the enormous kitchen. If Camille benefitted from any life insurance, she wouldn’t need to apply it to a kitchen remodel that was for sure.
“Well, I’m glad she’s getting back to her routine,” Jana was saying. “The university library wants to put together a section on Dad’s accomplishments. Dylan and I have pulled a few things from the office, but I know there’s more they’ll want from the study.”
“Oh, you can’t do that,” Helen said, her voice rising.
“Why not?” Jana looked taken aback.
“It would upset her.” Helen laid a hand over her heart. “She can’t bear anything of his out of place. No one is allowed in there.”
“In Dad’s study?” Jana frowned.
Helen nodded. “She saw me dusting and told me never to go in there again.”
“That’s unreasonable,” Jana argued.
Helen patted Jana’s cheek. “You’re young. You don’t understand how she misses him. She has spent hours in there since his death.”
“Doing what?” Dylan asked when Jana seemed speechless.
“Sitting and staring from what I can tell.” Helen turned a worried gaze to Jana. “I think you should spend more time here. There’s too much empty space for her right now. She’s not herself at all.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Jana promised.
Dylan knew Jana’s promise was sincere but he was more curious about the crease between her eyebrows. He’d quickly learned that meant she wasn’t pleased with what she’d heard or seen. He’d noticed it right before she lost her temper over Maguire’s comments.
“For now, Dylan and I will only take a quick peek. She’ll never know we were there.”
“If you insist.” Helen shrugged. “Don’t blame me if she gets upset.”
Dylan pushed back from the counter. “The university means no disrespect to the family. Senator Clayton is an inspiration. What we have planned to honor his legacy will take some time if we’re going to do it right.”
The tension eased from Helen’s shoulders. “I’m glad to hear the university will do the right thing. Maybe she won’t be so upset.”
“We try.” He tapped his cup. “Thank you for the excellent coffee.”
They left Helen beaming in the kitchen as they headed to the study. “Is your house the Versailles of Texas?” he whispered for Jana’s ears only.
She giggled and somehow that silly, girlie sound touched him.
He brushed it off and stared up at the soaring coffered ceiling. The place felt more like a museum than a home. There were seating areas and artwork on display. The floors were marble and wood, all gleaming like brand new. The dining room looked bigger than his apartment, with a table that could seat twenty with ease.
“You get used to it.”
“Did you really grow up here?”
She made another of those tinkling sounds. “Dad and Camille did extensive remodeling after I left for college, but yes, it was always really big. This part of the house is permanently ready for entertaining.”
Entertaining all his rich, powerful friends, Dylan thought. He came from a different social stratosphere than Jana and her Texas politicians. “The last time I saw a table that big it was outdoors.”
“Where?”
“On a ranch in Montana,” he replied without thinking. “It was big enough for the family and the ranch hands. Aren’t you an only child?”
/> She shot him a look. “You know I am.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” he admitted, feeling like his head was on a swivel. It gave him new insight into the woman at his side.
“I should’ve brought you through the back if you think this is so special.” She turned down a wide hallway.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid you’d develop grill envy,” she teased, grinning up at him as she made another turn. The expression transformed everything about her face.
He nearly tripped over his feet. “What?”
She opened the intricately carved double wood doors leading to the study. “We do things big in Texas. There’s a courtyard right through those French doors,” she pointed directly across the room. “Next to that is an outdoor kitchen, the star of which is a massive grill Dad adored.”
Dylan looked around the well-appointed room. Not a single sign that the senator had died here remained. The cleaning and restoration was impeccable. He crossed to the exterior door, but he’d already forgotten the grill. “So there’s direct access. A visitor to see your dad didn’t have to come through the formal part of the house.”
“It’s a privilege he granted judiciously.”
“Always good to remind people who has the power,” Dylan agreed. Clayton had power and influence to spare and, according to all accounts, he wielded both with care and thought. Who, in his inner circle, resented that power and influence enough to kill him?
As Jana booted up Clayton’s computer, Dylan did a physical search starting at the exterior door. He noted the security system contacts, but again, it would’ve been easy enough to bypass them.
Jana managed her search with more composure and less chaos. Likely out of courtesy for Camille as well as her dad. Relieved as he was, he couldn’t help commenting as he searched the credenza behind the desk. “You’re remarkably calm.”
“It surprises me, too.” Her gaze drifted around the room. “You know I haven’t sat in this chair since I was sixteen.”
“Forbidden territory?”
“No. Dad wasn’t like that. It was more like respect for the ‘seat of power’,” she said, adding air quotes and a deep voice for effect. “As I started to understand what he did, it didn’t feel like a game to play senator anymore. When Camille had the house redone, this was one of the first rooms to be gutted. It wasn’t the same after that. I guess all those little girl games and fantasies went out with the old furnishings and bookshelves.”
“Why do you think she comes in here every day?” He wasn’t buying the housekeeper’s explanation. He scoured the numerous bookshelves.
Jana inhaled. “Maybe because this was where he took his final breath. Before... it always smelled like him. Good Scotch, decadent cigars, and Givenchy Gentleman. I suppose the cleaning agents took that away.”
Dylan figured that was as good a theory as any, but he wondered if Camille was looking for something like they were. While Jana went through the desk, he examined books, admired framed pictures, art work, and a star-shaped sculpture until his fingers landed on something that didn’t feel right on the spine of a book. Pulling it from the shelf, he opened it and found a hiding place. Half a dozen letters, all addressed to the senator, were tucked inside.
“I think this volume could be nice, if your stepmother can part with it.”
Jana swiveled the chair and looked at the book he held open for her. She opened the first of the letters. Her hand went to her chest. “No wonder I didn’t find a hate mail file. He had it hidden away. Why on earth would he do that?”
“Most of these letters look fairly recent.” Dylan noted the dates, all were within the final weeks of the senator’s life.
The security system panel on the wall chimed.
“That’s someone coming through the front gates,” Jana explained, still rifling through the letters. “Camille may be back.”
Dylan assumed as much. “Maybe we should take the book and have a look at it later.”
“Good idea.” She placed the book into her oversized purse while he adjusted the shelves to cover its absence.
Another chime sounded. Jana looked up. “That was the front door.”
They worked together to ensure all in the study was as they’d found it.
“This room is so quiet,” he said. “You wouldn’t know that company had arrived without the security system to alert you.”
“We had it soundproofed during the remodel so J.D. could concentrate,” a smooth, feminine voice replied from the doorway.
Camille looked docile in a dove gray suit, but there was an annoyed edge to her expression. “What are you doing in here?”
Jana’s smile faltered and she came out of the chair as if it had zapped her. “We’re choosing a few things for the new section honoring Dad at the university library.” She wrapped Camille in a gentle hug. “How are you? You look wonderful.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking past Jana. “I didn’t see any request from the university.” Her eyes raked Dylan from head to toe.
Jana made the introductions quickly, adding, “As an old friend, Dylan came directly to me.”
“I see.”
Her tone suggested she didn’t see at all. Dylan stepped forward, breaking the awkward moment. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mrs. Clayton,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
Camille’s gaze shifted between them. “I don’t recall Jana mentioning your name before.”
“College was ages ago,” he said. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Clayton.”
She acknowledged that with a regal dip of her head. “I’m glad Jana has a good... friend available during this difficult time.” Camille pressed her fingers to her lips. “Forgive me. I’m an absolute wreck.”
Her eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall. If the stepmother was a wreck, his instincts were failing him. He recognized the cold edge under the polished exterior of the elegantly grieving widow. He’d seen it during his law enforcement days in Montana. While he should be grateful he’d only missed that dangerous disguise once, the incident had ended his career. He was a far more cautious man now.
For a split second he experienced a burst of gratitude for that mistake. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here to help Jana. Whether she realized it or not she definitely needed someone on her side. He was suddenly and inexplicably glad it was him.
“Please, sit down.” Jana ushered her stepmother into the nearest chair. “The university has the best intentions.” She pulled the guest chair closer to Camille. “You’ll like it, I promise.”
Dylan stood, hands in his pockets, not daring to sit in Clayton’s chair or lean against the desk. Hearing that need to please, like the little girl she’d once been, in Jana’s voice tugged at something inside him. He tried to shake it off. He’d damned sure never had that happen before.
“It’s just so fast.” Camille blotted her eyes with a tissue. “I’m not ready to part with anything.”
Jana held one of Camille’s hands between both of hers. “That’s not what the university is asking,” she said. “We’re sharing what made Dad so special. Dylan explained to me how honoring Dad would inspire others to follow his example. Anything displayed there will be expertly cared for.”
“His legacy of generosity and service will live on,” Dylan added. “We’ll display only copies if that’s easier on you.”
“You don’t look like a librarian,” Camille said, her gaze severe, despite the gentle smile on her lips.
“Thanks.” He bobbed his head. “I make every effort to destroy the stereotype.”
“I really feel this is for the best,” Jana urged. “It gives us something positive to work on. Don’t you agree?”
Camille’s gaze wandered around the room, but Dylan wasn’t buying the wounded expression on her face. “I went to the boutique this morning to silence those wagging tongues.” She shuddered visibly.
“Have you made a statement to the press?” Jana asked gently.
“Do you want me to make a statement on your behalf?”
“Who would believe you?” Camille snapped, and then turned instantly repentant. “I’m sorry. Oh, sweetheart, I’m just so irritated. Your offer is thoughtful, but would it really change anything? You know those vultures in the media. They’ve circled us for years just waiting for any little thing, now they smell blood and they’re closing in.”
“It can’t hurt to try,” Jana said brightly, patting her stepmother’s hand. “I’ll talk with Sam. We’ll draft something and run it by you this afternoon. I’m sure he’s already working on it.”
“Probably so.” Camille sighed and pushed to her feet. “My word.” She clutched her chest. “Here I am obsessing over how I feel, how are you?” She looked Jana over, head to toe. “Were you hurt in that awful shooting Sam told me about?” She gave another of those exaggerated shudders. “I can’t believe you were caught in the middle of something like that and so close to the capitol. You must’ve been terrified.”
“I’m fine,” Jana assured her. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“If I hadn’t been avoiding the news, I would have known sooner and could have checked on you last night. You could have come here and let me take care of you.”
Jana smiled. “Really, I’m okay. Dylan was right there. He protected me during the shooting and he took very good care of me last night.”
Camille’s complexion paled. “I need to lie down.”
“I understand,” Jana said. She patted Camille’s hand. “You rest. We won’t be long.”
Camille made her way to the door, but then paused. “I don’t think I’ll be able to rest knowing...” She motioned for them to join her. “Leave the library acquisitions for another day. I just... can’t cope with anyone—not even you, dear heart—touching his things right now.”
“But Dad,” Jana started to argue.