Secret Lover

by Shawna Delacorte

  “Look—I understand your anxiety and sympathize with your apparent feeling of helplessness in this matter, but you’ve got to trust that I know my job.”

  “Right.” The sarcasm crept into Jim’s voice in spite of his efforts to keep it neutral—sarcasm surrounded by antagonism. “The ever-popular trust me once again rears its ugly head.”

  Steve put any further comment on hold as he slowed the car and pulled over to the curb. They had arrived at Andi’s house.

  Jim and Steve sat in silence and watched as Andi got out of the van and entered the bungalow, her movements not quite as confident as they should be. The expression on her face told of her anxiety over what she feared she would find inside.

  Andi unlocked the front door and entered her house. A sob caught in her throat as her gaze darted around her once-neat living room. She hugged her shoulders with trembling hands in an effort to ward off the sudden chill that spread through her body. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to overflow the brims and trickle down her cheeks. A sick feeling churned in the pit of her stomach. She felt violated, almost as if she had personally been the recipient of the destructive assault.

  Every cupboard and drawer had been pulled open and the contents scattered around the room. They had yanked the cushions from the couch and chairs, overturned lamps, uprooted plants from their containers. Her insides quaked as she made her way through the mess to her office. File drawers had been emptied and books snatched from bookcases. Next she checked the guest room. She found the same type of vandalism.

  The sick churning in her stomach increased in intensity as she surveyed her bedroom, her own private sanctuary. Everything had been torn apart—the dresser drawers had been emptied out on the floor, clothes had been pulled out of the closet, the sheets and blankets had been stripped off the bed and the mattress left askew on the box springs. Her legs turned weak and refused to support her any longer. She pressed her back against the wall, closed her eyes and sank to the floor—her senses numb from shock and despair. She could not muster the energy to go to the front door and motion for Jim and Steve to come inside.

  Jim could not contain the anxiety that forced its way out. He turned toward Steve, his voice fearful. “She’s been in there too long. Something’s wrong.” He opened the car door.

  “Wait—” Before Steve could stop him, Jim leaped out of the car and ran across the lawn toward the bungalow.

  A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Jim’s stomach as he stepped up on the front porch. The door stood wide open. He cautiously entered the house, then stood still. His heart pounded a little harder as he took in the disarray spread out in front of him. He listened for any sound. At first he was not sure he heard it then it became more distinct—the muffled cries of someone softly sobbing. He moved through the jumble toward the back of the house, zeroing in on the direction of the sound.

  Andi looked more like a lost child than a bestselling author. She sat on the bedroom floor with her back against the wall, her legs pulled up against her body and her arms wrapped around her knees. A pattern of mottled sunlight filtered through the lace curtains at the window and played across her face, picking up the wet highlights of her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes stared straight ahead, apparently not focusing on anything in particular.

  “Andi?” When she did not respond, he knelt down next to her and took her in his arms. He looked around at the mess. The room had been ransacked in the same manner as the rest of the house. He rose to his feet, bringing her up with him, and guided her across the room. They sat together on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around her and his hand holding her head to his shoulder. Her body trembled in spite of the warm temperature.

  “Andi...” He did not know exactly what to say, how to comfort her. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  She spoke through little sobs, the tears still wetting her cheeks. “I know what Steve said at the pub, that someone had broken into my house, but I didn’t expect to find this. I’ve never had anything like this ever happen before.”

  Jim clenched his jaw. This was his fault, all his fault Here it was, five years later and now another woman’s life was in danger because of him.

  “Well, I think we can rule out common vandals and burglary.” Steve’s voice cut through the still air, immediately grabbing both Andi’s and Jim’s attention. “Your television, VCR and computer are still here.” Steve again noted the closeness and intimacy between Jim and Andi. It would make things very difficult over the next few days.

  “Come on, Andi. Snap out of it. We don’t have time for this now.” Steve’s manner was not exactly harsh, but it showed control and made it clear that he was in charge and did not intend to indulge any unnecessary emotional reactions to what had happened. “We’ve got to get this mess cleaned up and figure out exactly what’s missing.”

  STEVE PUT AWAY HIS equipment after doing an electronic sweep of Andi’s house. “Everything checks out okay. The phones are clean and I didn’t find any listening bugs anywhere else.”

  It had taken several hours to put things back in order so that Andi could do an inventory of what was missing. She placed the handwritten list on the dining table in front of Steve. “As near as I can figure it, this is what was taken.”

  He picked up the list and studied it. “No jewelry or personal items of value?”

  “No, all that stuff is still here, including my photographic and dark-room equipment. It looks like the only things taken were my research files and interview tapes on the Buchanan Chemicals book.” The uneasiness jittered through her stomach. She felt the reassuring touch of Jim’s hand come down on her shoulder. She placed her hand on top of his.

  Steve glanced at his watch. “Not only is it getting late here, but my body is still on New York time where it’s three hours later. I’ve got to get some sleep.” He pointedly stared at Andi and Jim, allowing a slight frown to wrinkle his brow as he again noted the intimacy between them. “In fact, we should all get some sleep. I just checked in with my people in New York and a contact in Chicago. That little publicity blurb seems to have stirred up a lot of activity. Several names from the past are suddenly popping up out of the woodwork. We’ve got a few very busy days ahead of us.”

  Andi caught the look of disapproval in Steve’s eyes and knew exactly what he was really saying. It was going to be a bit of an awkward situation. She knew Steve had assumed that he would be staying in her guest room, as he always did when he was in the San Diego area. She did not know what his assumptions were about Jim’s sleeping arrangements, but as far as she was concerned, Jim would be sleeping in her room. She was still unnerved about the break-in. She wanted the comfort of his touch and the reassurance of his closeness.

  She addressed her comments to Steve. “I put fresh towels in the guest bathroom and I’ve just made up the bed in the guest room for you.” She offered him one of her best smiles, trying to tighten the tension that filled the room. “I think I’m going to stay up for a little while. I’m too keyed-up to go to sleep right now.” She saw the hesitation in Steve’s eyes. She could almost see the thoughts running through his mind. She turned away from his stare.

  Steve cleared his throat, showing an unusual nervousness that she did not normally associate with him. “Look, Andi—”

  She did not give him an opportunity to finish his sentence. “Good night, Steve. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Steve hesitated for a moment, then apparently decided to let the subject drop for the time being. He went to the guest room, closing the door behind him.

  Andi turned to Jim. She had noticed the way he had been following the conversation with keen interest. His voice was low and throaty, sending a little tingle through her body. His mouth curled in a teasing grin. “And just where do you want me to sleep?”

  “Well...once again there seems to be only one room available.” She returned his teasing grin, grateful for the brief moment of lighthearted banter. “I hope you don’t mind sharing.” She straightened
up and assumed a look of mock seriousness. “I assume that we can both be adult about this.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and captured her mouth with a soft kiss. “I’m sorry about what happened to your house. It seems that no matter how much I didn’t want you involved, others have conspired to take that decision away from me.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder and slipped her arms around his waist. The sob caught in her throat as she looked around the newly straightened room. “Why did they have to do this? The files were clearly labeled and in plain sight in my office. Why did they have to ransack my house?” They stood together for several minutes, Andi drawing comfort from his strength.

  It was Andi who finally broke away first. “It’s a beautiful, clear night. I’d like to take a walk along the beach.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  They went out to the patio and crossed the lawn to the stairs.

  Steve pulled the bedroom curtain aside just enough to give him a clear view. He watched Andi and Jim walk across the yard to the back gate, then take the steps down to the beach.

  As soon as they had disappeared from sight, he picked up the phone extension in the guest bedroom and dialed a number that immediately forwarded his call to another phone number. He made some notations on a notepad while waiting for someone to answer.

  “This isn’t going well, too many complications. We have to step up the schedule, speed things along. Hollander is real antsy. There’s not a chance in hell that I’m going to be able to get him on a flight to Chicago, so it’s going to have to go down here. That means we’re going to have to revise the game plan.”

  “That’s going to be tricky. Are you going to be able to get him to stay put for a few days until everything’s ready?”

  “I’m sure he’s not going to take well to having nothing to do while being confined inside the house, but I’m going to have to work it out somehow. We don’t seem to have any other choice.” A hint of a cynical laugh traveled the phone line. “Starting with about five minutes ago when he and Andi walked out the back door and down to the beach.” Steve changed the topic slightly. “What’s the word on Lou Quincy? How and where does he stand?”

  “The U.S. Marshals Service has passed him over for promotion three times in the past five years and he’s pretty bitter about it. He’s coming up on retirement age and won’t have as large a pension as he had anticipated.”

  Steve paused for a moment to digest the information. “Was it deserved or political?”

  “It was a little bit of both.”

  “What about that cousin of Lou Quincy’s who was the court clerk for the judge who presided over the Buchanan case?” Steve leafed through a small notebook but did not find what he was looking for. “The mousy little guy who blended in with the woodwork but knew absolutely everything that was going on—where the bodies were buried, so to speak. What was his name?”

  “You mean Theo Gunzleman?”

  “Yes, that’s him. What’s his status?”

  “That’s a good question. He seems to have dropped out of sight. He quit his job four years ago, then a couple of weeks later left town. Whether or not Lou knows where he is, I couldn’t say. I’ll make contact with Lou and see if I can get any information on Theo.”

  ANDI AND JIM WALKED ALONG the beach hand in hand. They found a large rock and sat down. He put his arm around her shoulder, but it was more of an absentminded gesture than a purposeful action. He had been doing his best to not let his disappointment show in either his words or actions. The tape had been stolen. His one and only possibility of a lead had gone up in smoke. And Steve Westerfall...Jim could not put his finger on exactly what bothered him, but an uneasy feeling persisted where Steve was concerned. Andi obviously trusted Steve Westerfall, but Jim did not share that feeling.

  Andi snuggled her body against his. She listened to the gentle sounds of the waves as the soft breeze ruffled through her hair; she took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the clean ocean air. “There’s something so calming about the ocean. No matter how bad things seem, I can always come out here and feel better.”

  “Things will work out, Andi. They’ll be okay.” He gave her shoulder an extra squeeze, kissed her lightly on the forehead and projected a smile that said he had full confidence in the words he had just spoken. He wanted so much to calm her anxieties. If only he could calm his own. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me for the past few days?”

  She stood up and placed her hand against his chest, taking comfort from the rhythm of his strong heartbeat, and offered as confident a smile as she could muster. “It’s very close, Jim. You heard what Steve said, things are moving very quickly. We’re going to find the guy who made the second attempt on your life, find the agent who sold you out and link them to Milo Buchanan.”

  The smile faded from her face as she looked deeply into his eyes. “Then you’ll be free—free to go where you want to go and free to do...” She could not finish the sentence. It meant he would be free to get on with his life, leaving her with a story, an ending for her book and a broken heart. She took a calming breath as she tugged at his hand. “Come on, we’d better get back to the house.”

  The tall man stood back, hidden behind the large outcropping of rocks. He watched Jim and Andi as they retraced their path along the beach toward the steps leading up to her yard. He continued to watch until they entered the house and were out of sight. He had been watching her house since early that afternoon. He had come by every afternoon and again in the evening, checking to see if she was back in town. She had finally returned, but was not alone. He made his way back to his car where he could continue to watch for a while.

  MILO BUCHANAN HUNG UP the phone, then lit his cigar and blew out a long stream of smoke. He paused for a moment to savor its essence. “I’m not comfortable with this, Gordon. I never was overly confident in Ross Durant, but now that things are being stirred up I think our government agent is getting cold feet. I didn’t like the nervousness in his voice just now, and I was especially unhappy with his attempt at a veiled threat. Ross Durant is looking more and more like a liability. It would certainly be tragic if some sort of accident—”

  “Happened to him.” Gordon finished his employer’s sentence. “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Buchanan.”

  “You do that, Gordon.” Milo Buchanan leaned back in his large leather chair and took another deep puff on his cigar. “You do that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Steve had been on the phone all morning, one call after another. Andi had been assimilating all the information that they already knew with the new information Steve had been gathering. It was a smooth working operation, one perfected over the years. Everyone was busy—everyone, that is, except Jim. He felt useless, restless and increasingly uncomfortable. He wandered over to the front window and stared out at the activity. It appeared to be a pretty busy place for a quiet side street in a residential neighborhood.

  Jim’s senses shot to full alert. He watched for a few more seconds, then turned toward Andi. “Someone seems to be moving in across the street and down one house. Were you aware of the house being sold?”

  She joined him at the window and watched the two men carrying boxes from a motor home in the driveway into the house. “I guess it must have been rented while I was gone.”

  “Has the house been empty?” Something did not look right to him, but he could not put his finger on it. He continued to watch the two men carry the boxes inside the house.

  “Yes...” Her voice trailed off as she watched what was going on across the street. “I guess I didn’t pay any attention when we arrived yesterday afternoon. There had been a For Rent sign in the yard for a couple of weeks before I left.”

  He turned his head toward Andi. “Before you left for Canada?”

  “Yep. Before any of this started.”

  “Okay.” Jim accepted the situation on the surface, but kept his eye on what was happening for a moment longer befor
e turning away from the window. Was he letting his imagination run away with him? Something was still out of place. He felt it in his gut, an instinct he had learned to trust over the past five years. Would every car that drove down the street arouse his suspicions? He took a calming breath. It was just that he did not have anything to do. His thoughts returned to the picture of the two men carrying the boxes.

  The realization dawned on him. The men were carrying stacked boxes. Unless all the boxes were filled with feather pillows, they just about had to be empty for the men to be handling them the way they were. And empty boxes meant they were not really moving in. And if they were not moving in, then what were they doing? The thought suddenly struck him that they were carrying only boxes. There had not been one piece of furniture moved into the house, not even a chair. He started to say something, but changed his mind. He did not want to voice his suspicions in front of Steve.

  He turned toward Andi. “Why don’t I go to the corner market and get some food? We skipped breakfast, but I’d be happy to fix lunch for everyone.”

  Steve immediately jerked his head up from his work. “No. I don’t want you wandering around outdoors in broad daylight where anyone could spot you.”

  Steve’s unspoken words said that the more important reason was his need to know Jim Hollander’s whereabouts every minute. He could not afford to have Jim slip out of his reach and disappear again...especially now that things were almost in place.

  Andi’s attention had been drawn to their conversation. “But wouldn’t anyone watching my house have seen all of us yesterday afternoon when we arrived?”

  “That was a careless slip on my part.” Steve stared at Jim for a moment, remembering the way he had jumped out of the car and run across the lawn to Andi’s house over his objections. “But that doesn’t mean we can afford to go on making mistakes.” Steve glanced at his watch. “Andi, why don’t you order something for lunch, whatever you can get delivered—pizza, Chinese... I don’t care what.”