There Goes the Groom

by Rita Herron

  Georgia shifted nervously, then smiled. “Actually I might take you up on that.”

  “With a little clip here and there and some make-up, you won’t need a gun to subdue men.”

  This time the detective laughed.

  Marci brightened then climbed out and hurried up to her apartment. The moment she went inside, the stack of hate mail still piled in the corner drew her eye.

  Sick at the sight of it and too exhausted and wired to sleep, she flipped on the television.

  Her heart tripped in her chest though as a special news report flashed across the screen.

  There stood Cade.

  Unable to watch, she stabbed the button to cut it off, grabbed her purse and hurried to her car.

  She couldn’t stay here tonight. She had to be with someone who’d understand.

  Still hurt with Kim, she tried to remember Dottie’s address. She didn’t live too far away, just a few blocks. Yes, she needed a friend right now, especially since she’d lost them all when her story first aired.

  Paul might be in jail, but the rest of the world still thought she was a criminal.

  *~*~*~*

  Cade hated being in front of the camera, but he’d suck it up for Marci. He just hoped she was watching.

  Voices rumbled from the team of reporters who’d gathered in front of the police station. The bright lights of the cameras hurt his eyes, but he faced them anyway.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Detective Muller. As you know from previous reports that aired, we have been searching for a man named Paul Pendergrass who we believe ran a multi-million dollar con scheme across our city as well as other cities in the southeast. Tonight, we’re happy to announce that we have him in custody. During the next few days, we will be working to recover the money he stole and eventually hope to give restitution to his victims.”

  “What about his accomplice?” one of the reporters asked.

  A bald reporter waved. “Was his fiancé behind the scheme?”

  Cade held up his hand to fend off the questions. “As a matter of fact, not only has Marci Turner, the young woman who was engaged to Mr. Pendergrass, been cleared of all charges, but she is the hero in this investigation. She was instrumental in helping police apprehend Mr. Pendergrass and should be commended for her actions.”

  Leaving off on that note, he headed back inside the station.

  Hopefully his statement would satisfy the press and help ease his way back into Marci’s good graces.

  But as he drove home, he tried her number over and over and she didn’t answer.

  *~*~*~*

  Marci fell into Dottie’s open arms when Dottie opened the door. “Come on in, Honey, and tell me about it.”

  The sumo guy from jail raised a brow from his perch on Dottie’s couch.

  Marci started to back away. “Oh, no, I’m interrupting.”

  “No, sweet thing,” Dottie grinned at sumo guy. “Charlie’s just here hanging out.”

  Marci noted the open six-pack they were apparently sharing.

  Charlie stood, took the bottle of wine from her, uncorked it then poured her a glass. “What happened, Marci? We saw the news.”

  Tears leaked from Marci’s eyes as she poured out the horrible story of being kidnapped, then her father showing up and the revelation that he worked for the CIA.

  “My god,” Dottie said. “That’s some kind of story.”

  Charlie shook his bald head back and forth. “We’re proud of you, Marci.”

  “Proud of me?” Marci said as she drained her glass of wine. “I was a fool. Even my sister lied to me.”

  “But you came out the hero,” Dottie said.

  “Yeah, that cop said so on the news just a minute ago.”

  Marci frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Dottie patted her back. “At the press conference.”

  She gulped back more tears. “I saw the report, but I couldn’t stand to look at him.”

  Charlie chuckled, his belly shaking. “Well, he must have it bad for you cause he told everyone you were the hero. That you were …what’d he say, Dot?”

  “That she was instrumental in apprehending Pendergrass, and that you should be commended.”

  Marci swallowed hard. “He said that about me?”

  Dottie and Charlie gave vigorous nods. “If you ask me, I think he’s got the hots for you, sugar,” Dottie said.

  Marci poured herself another glass of wine and stared into it. Detective Strait’s words echoed in her head. She’d said the same thing.

  But how could she believe anything Cade or any other man said?

  She turned her glass up and drank it. She couldn’t. She’d forget men and focus on getting her life back together.

  First, she’d get a job so she could finish cosmetology school.

  Then maybe she’d open her own salon. Dorothy and the other girls from the jail and Detective Strait could be her first customers.

  Then she’d never need anyone else again.

  *~*~*~*

  Two weeks later

  Cade was desperate. It had been two weeks since he’d seen or heard from Marci.

  He’d never been a patient man, but this was driving him crazy.

  Because he’d never been in love before.

  He’d tried phoning her and driving by her apartment, but she’d either taken a trip or was staying with her sister.

  Finally he decided to try Kim. Of course she might be angry at him, too, but he didn’t care. He had to see Marci again.

  When she answered, he almost lost his nerve. But the memory of Marci’s lips on his taunted him, and he spoke up.

  “Kim, it’s Cade.”

  “Cade?”

  “Detective Muller,” he said. “I’m looking for your sister.”

  “So am I.” Kim’s voice warbled. “I’ve been calling and calling and she won’t return my calls.”

  His stomach knotted. “Has she ever done this before?”

  “No,” Kim cried. “I know she was upset with me about Dad, but I never thought she’d just run off and not speak to me again.”

  A million different scenarios raced through his head. None of them good.

  What if Pendergrass had allies? Someone who’d retaliated by coming after Marci?

  Good God. She could be hurt…

  “Detective Muller?”

  “Please call me Cade.”

  “Cade, what can I do? I wanted to report her missing, but Austin told me she was probably at a friend’s, that I had to give her time, but I’m worried. I called the restaurant where she worked, but no one has heard from her.”

  “I’ll find her,” he said, his shoulders knotting with tension.

  “You have to,” Kim said softly. “She’s not just my twin. She’s my best friend.”

  Cade’s throat closed. He wished he could say that about his brother, but it wasn’t exactly true. “I’ll call you back when I have something.”

  Frantic, he called the tech department and asked for a favor, a trace on Marci’s phone.

  “I thought you cleared her,” the tech said.

  “I did, but her sister says she hasn’t seen or heard from her since the night of the press conference, so I’m worried.”

  “All right, I’ll run it now.”

  He paced the office while he waited, his nerves on edge. Where in the world was Marci?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Twenty minutes later, the tech phoned Cade back. “All right, I have a location.”

  “Give me the address.”

  She gave him the coordinates and he frowned. “It’s just a few blocks from where Marci lives.”

  “Right. A woman named Dottie Mills lives in the house.”

  Dottie?

  Cade slapped his forehead. Dottie, the woman from the jail cell Marci had made friends with. Dammit, she’d been hiding out at her friend’s place while he’d been worried sick.

  He was going to kill her.

  He headed to the d
oor, then stopped himself. What would happen if he barged in and confronted her?

  Maybe not a good idea.

  Instead, he punched Kim. “I found her. She’s at a friend’s house nearby.”

  “I have to see her,” Kim said, frantic. “She’s still upset with me. I have to make things right.”

  He gave her the address. If she couldn’t forgive Kim, she sure as hell wasn’t ready to see him.

  Maybe he’d let the sisters work things out first. Then he’d devise a plan to win Marci back.

  He couldn’t go on without her.

  *~*~*~*

  Marci had been working at a salon near Dottie’s washing hair. The money wasn’t that great, but it would add to her resume, and at least she was learning on the job. The owner was a trendy stylist and let her watch while she did highlights and cuts.

  She and Dottie had stretched out in the back yard on her deck with a pizza and a bottle of Merlot. Thanks to the shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten for her friend, her hair had transformed from peach fuzz to silky strands that were almost three inches long now.

  Charlie claimed he hadn’t mind anyway. He liked bald.

  Marci was glad her friend had found someone. He’d been like a big teddy bear, gushing over Dottie.

  A knock sounded, and Dottie pushed her bulk up and lumbered to get it.

  Marci stuffed a piece of pepperoni into her mouth, then nearly choked when she heard Kim’s voice. A second later, Dottie escorted her sister out to the patio.

  Marci’s heart fluttered. She’d missed her sister more than she’d ever thought possible.

  “I’ve been worried to death about you,” Kim began frantically. “I thought one of Paul’s cronies might have gotten you.”

  “Oh, geesh, Kim, I didn’t think of that.”

  “Well, you should have,” Kim said angrily. “I haven’t been able to sleep I was so upset. For god’s sake, Marci, I’m your sister. You can’t do that to me.”

  Marci’s chest swelled with regret as Kim rubbed her pregnant belly. “I’m sorry, Kim, really.”

  She stood and took her arm and helped her settle into a chair while Dottie rushed to get her sister some water. Charlie looked terrified and disappeared somewhere in the back yard.

  Kim burst into tears. “I’m sorry you’re mad at me, Marci,” Kim continued. “But we have to get past this. You’re my best friend. We made mud pies together and played dolls and had tea parties, and had pillow fights…” her voice broke as she blubbered on. “And we shared secrets about boys –”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Marci said, battling her own tears. “I just hated that you and Dad talked about me behind my back. That you…thought I was so gullible and stupid –”

  “I’ve never thought you were stupid.” Kim was sweating now, and accepted the water from Dottie. “I just wanted to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection,” Marci said stubbornly. “I’m just sorry that this mess with Paul hurt your childcare center.”

  “The funders are back,” Kim assured her. “But you’re more important than they are, sis. It’s always been us.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve always been the responsible one,” Marci said, her guilt resurfacing. “I…that’s why Dad came to you. You were always smart and did the right thing. You were the one they were proud of.”

  “Are you kidding?” Kim shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “I had to do something to make mom love me, to get her attention,” Kim cried. “You were always so much fun, the one she liked to hang with, the one she talked about because you were funny and lively and you liked to shop with her. I was always the boring one.”

  Marci gaped at her. She’d never heard Kim talk like this. “I had to be fun and cut up to get noticed because I couldn’t live up to you.”

  Dottie clapped her hands. “Good grief, you two. Just hug and make up.”

  Marci glanced at Dottie then Kim. A second later, they fell into each other’s arms. “I’m sorry I made you be responsible,” Marci whispered.

  Kim laughed through her tears. “And I’m sorry I made you be the fun one.”

  *~*~*~*

  Cade picked up a copy of Travel magazine that he’d just received, admiring the sailboat on the front. He’d always dreamed about sailing as a past time.

  But he’d never had a past time, just is job.

  And now his job – rather his devotion to it – was ruining his life.

  Maybe if – no when – he got Marci back, they could take some time away, maybe a vacation, maybe start saving for a boat of their own.

  Too antsy to look at the magazine though, he punched Kim’s number, grateful when she answered quickly. “Is Marci all right?”

  “Yes,” Kim said. “She’s going back to her own place tonight.”

  “Good.” Then he’d send over some flowers. Maybe that would soften her up.

  “Cade?” Kim said.

  “Yeah?”

  “If you love her, don’t give up. She deserves someone who’ll treat her right.”

  He certainly hadn’t done that. But he would.

  He just had to prove it to her now.

  “Thanks, Kim. I’m just glad she’s safe.”

  Kim hesitated, then hung up, and he called a local florist he’d used for a funeral for a colleague. He ordered red roses then remembered she’d had roses at her wedding, so changed the order and sent her lilies instead.

  “What do you want on the card?” the florist asked.

  “Just write ‘I’m sorry’, and sign it ‘Cade’.”

  The florist agreed, and he disconnected then paced his office. Maybe he should have said more. Told her he loved her.

  But he wanted to do that in person.

  Hmmm… he’d never had to romance a woman before. Never tried to win one.

  His analytical skills kicked in. If he wanted to get close to a suspect, he’d do it slowly. Keep at it until the person broke.

  He’d take it slow with Marci. He wouldn’t pressure her. But each day from now on, he’d send her something special. A little reminder of him.

  Something to make her think about that titillating night they’d spent together.

  No, it couldn’t just be about sex. It had to be …romantic.

  Only he suddenly felt lost, as if he’d traipsed into foreign territory. He hadn’t been romantic in so long that he didn’t think he knew how…

  *~*~*~*

  Marci felt drained as she hurried to her apartment door. The vase of lilies sitting on the stoop made her heart ache.

  But when she read the card, she frowned. “I’m sorry. Cade.”

  Nothing more. Nothing to indicate he had feelings for her.

  Just regret.

  Hurt suffused her, and she unlocked the door. A mound of envelopes had been stuck under the door.

  Good grief. More hate mail?

  Would it ever stop?

  She bent and began scooping it up, but one post card caught her eye and she flipped it over.

  “Thank you so much for catching Pendergrass. God bless you.”

  Marci rubbed her forehead, then dumped her purse on the table along with the letters. She rushed back and returned the lilies, then sat them on the counter. But the note mocked her, and she tossed them in the trash.

  Looking at them reminded her of Cade and the night they’d shared. She had a terrible feeling she was in love with the man.

  But he was just…sorry. Sorry for what? Sorry he’d met her? Sorry she’d gotten in the middle of his case?

  She grabbed her letter opener from the desk and slit open another envelope. Surprise flared inside her as she read.

  “Thank you so much, for standing up to that scumbag Paul Pendergrass. You’re a brave girl. I heard you’re doing hair. Where do I call to get an appointment?”

  She smiled and opened another.

  “I finally got my money back and bought those Sunday teeth I told you about.”

  Marci fondly remembered the woman whose only fant
asy had been to have a great smile for her resort photo. She always tipped her in spite of the fact that her husband had lost his pension because of gambling, then Paul had struck and finagled her out of the rest of her savings.

  Curious, she opened letter after letter, and was surprised to see they all shared the same sentiment. And she had dozens of requests for hairstyles.

  A knock sounded at the door, and she figured it might be more mail, so she crossed the room and opened it.

  Nana Muller stood on the other side.

  Marci took a step back, instantly throwing up her hands to ward off a blow. The woman might be small, but she had a vicious right hook with her purse.

  “I’m sorry for beating on you like a heathen,” Nana Muller said, raising her head so she stood almost five feet now. “I hope this will make up for it.”

  Still wary, Marci lowered her hands and took the envelope the woman thrust at her. “What is it?”

  “Just a little something me and the ladies at the garden club threw together.” Nana Muller patted the bun at the nape of her neck. “We thought you deserved a little something for helping us get our money back.”

  “But I didn’t – ”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Nana Muller said with a twinkle in her eye. “My grandson told me everything, how you lured that dickwad Paul Pendergrass to the cabin to trap him. How brave you were to stand up to him.”

  “But –”

  “Don’t be modest, dear. He also mentioned that the evil man took your money, that he was supposed to pay for your cosmetology classes but he didn’t.”

  “Well, no, he didn’t,” Marci admitted.

  “There’s enough in there to cover that and also a start for your own shop.” Nana Muller gestured toward her hair. “There’s a bunch of us that would like to be your customers.”

  Marci smiled and hugged the woman, then promised she’d have free perms the rest of her life.

  Nana pulled out a bottle of vodka and the two of them shared Bloody Marys, then Nana Muller called a cab to take her home. But not before they’d become bosom buddies.