Kathy nodded. Brent had disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared with her terry robe. He tossed it at her with a scowl. “Put that on, will you, please?” he demanded fiercely, then started out the door, holding Sam by the collar. Robert shrugged at Kathy and followed Brent to meet his officers.
Kathy checked the barbecue grill. The coals had died, so she brought the steaks in and threw them into the refrigerator.
Darkness came. Eventually Brent and Robert returned with other officers, and Kathy sat and answered what seemed like ridiculous questions while Brent went with one of the men into the pool to look for the bullet.
At midnight she made coffee and sandwiches. They found the bullet, then checked the grounds again. The officers left.
Brent and Robert sat on bar stools, talking. Brent was clean again; the water in the pool had washed away the dirt and grime from his skin. Robert was insisting that Brent think, and Brent was growing irritable, telling Robert he didn’t have any damned solutions. It was going to go on for a while, Kathy decided.
“I’m calling it a night, guys,” she told them. They looked at her blankly and she started down the hall for the bedroom.
Robert called after her. “Kathy?”
“What?”
“You should be thinking, too. You were on that tour with everyone else. You might know what Brent knows.”
“I don’t know anything!” Brent flared.
“All right. So the killer may think Kathy knows whatever he may think you know. So anything, anything at all, you call me, Kathy.”
“Sure, Robert. Good night.”
In the bedroom she stripped off the robe and the bikini and crawled into an oversize tailored shirt and slipped beneath the covers. She wanted to wait for Brent, but as she lay there, her eyes closed. He would wake her, she thought. If he wanted, he would wake her.
But he wasn’t coming in that night. Somehow she knew it.
She dozed. She awoke a few hours later and saw that it was almost three. He hadn’t come in. She closed her eyes and slept again, and when she next awoke, sunlight was filtering through the curtains and bathing the room in a golden glow. She rose and washed her face, brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Then she walked to the living room.
He was on the couch. He hadn’t changed. He was still in his cutoffs, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His eyes flew open as she stared at him.
He sat up, startled. “Morning, huh? Already?”
She nodded. “I’ll start the coffee. Want anything to eat?”
He nodded and stood. “Yeah, toast and bacon and eggs, sunny-side up. You feel like doing it?”
She nodded. “Well, it seems that the rest of my activities have been curtailed. I might as well.”
“Thanks.” He stared down the hallway. The phone began to ring. “I’ll get it,” he called to her.
Kathy went into the kitchen and started the coffee.
Brent picked up the receiver in the bedroom and after his initial “Hello?” went rigid.
“McQueen. You’ve got something of mine and I want it. You understand?”
“Who is this?” Brent demanded heatedly.
“No, McQueen, no way. I know that there’s a tap on this phone and I’m not staying on long enough for a trace. You just find what I want. Your wife will go first. Then your daughter. And don’t ever kid yourself. I can get to her. You just can’t hide from me. Find what I want.”
“What the hell is it you want?”
“The number. I want the number. Soon. I’ll give you until the benefit, then I want that number!”
“You sure as hell aren’t going to get it if I’m dead. And someone was shooting at me.”
“Warning shots. Next time, it won’t be a warning. Next time, we’ll take your wife. And if you don’t give us what we want, you won’t get her back. You understand?”
The phone line went dead. Brent jiggled the phone, then called Robert’s office. Robert wasn’t in, so Brent talked to one of the detectives, who apologized. They had gotten the husky, sexless whisper of the caller on tape, but they hadn’t had time to run a trace. Brent thanked the man and hung up.
His hands were covered in a cold sweat. The caller couldn’t get Kathy. No one could, not here. It was just that the thought of it…
And he had said he could get Shanna, too, that they couldn’t hide.
He slammed his fist against his hand in raw, helpless fury. He had to find out what the hell was going on. None of them was safe if he didn’t.
He picked up the phone and called the police station again. Robert had come in by then. He agreed to send a few plainclothesmen to stay with Kathy while the two of them set out together.
Brent rose and showered and dressed quickly. He went into the kitchen. Kathy had coffee poured for him and the scent of the sizzling bacon was delicious. He sat, wondering how to tell her casually what he was doing. He didn’t want her to know about the call.
The phone started to ring again. He made a leap for it but the wall phone was right next to the refrigerator and Kathy picked it up. She looked at him, startled, when he nearly crawled over her.
“I’ll get it,” he said.
“I’ve already gotten it,” she said to him. Her eyes remained on the receiver while she said, “Hello?”
She listened for a moment, her smile growing plastic. “Yes,” she said at last. Then she thrust the phone at him.
“Who is it?”
“Marla Harrington. I was going to tell her that your mouth was occupied but I don’t think she would have cared. She’s insisting on talking to you. She’s terribly sweet. She told me that she’d see me Friday, too, but I’d have to understand that there were things between you two and she needed some time alone.”
Her plastic smile remaining in place, she thrust the receiver into his hands. He watched the rigid squaring of her shoulders as she walked away.
“Hello?” he said to Marla.
He didn’t hear her answer at first. Kathy had turned around, and as he watched her, the voice on the phone seemed to fade. In the long tailored shirt that reached down to her upper thighs, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her makeup all scrubbed away, and with her back nearly arched and her claws just about showing, she was a picture of dangerous appeal. Her eyes flashed at him, beautiful deep blue, and little tendrils of her hair curled around her classic features, framing them.
“Brent, are you listening to me?” Marla was saying.
“Uh, yes, yes, I heard you.” What the hell had she said?
“I’ll talk to you more at the benefit, but I know Johnny thought you knew something, too. I think Johnny knew exactly what was going on, but he didn’t believe what the consequences would be until it was too late. Brent, I do think you have the key somewhere.”
She wasn’t telling him anything, Brent thought wearily. Just the same old stuff.
“Yeah, sure, thanks. I’ll see you Friday,” he said, then told her goodbye and hung up. Kathy had laid out the plates. He sat down and sipped his coffee, watching her.
“There really isn’t anything between Marla and me, you know.”
“Hey, what’s it to me?” she said sweetly. She took a delicate bite of egg, then smiled at him. “But if you touch that bathing suit, I’ll break your arms.”
He smiled and set down his fork. “When I leave, it’s coming with me.”
“A present for Marla? Not on your life.”
He groaned and bit into a piece of bacon. They heard Sam start to bark, and the bell out by the gate began to ring.
Brent leaped up. Kathy looked at him, her eyes widening suspiciously.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Where?”
“It’s all right. Someone is coming to stay with you, and I’m going to my place and to my studio with Robert. I’m going to go through every damn thing I have and try to find out whatever this number is that’s causing all of this.”
“If you find a number, what good will it do yo
u? There are numbers on everything. What good is a number?”
“Kathy, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back later.”
She thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. He paused, then walked to the door.
A few minutes later, there were two young men in jeans and T-shirts at the door with Brent. One was working very hard on getting to know Sam. The other offered her his hand and a grin.
Then Brent was there, behind the two. “Kathy, these are Detectives Clinton and Barker—”
“Jerry,” the darker of the two said.
“Steve,” the second told her, reaching out a hand. They were both young and friendly and smiling with open admiration.
Kathy realized she was barely dressed. Brent was less than subtle about it. “Kathy, will you please go put something on?”
She flashed him a furious gaze. “I wasn’t expecting company, remember?” she asked sweetly.
She stared at him then turned. His gaze remained implanted in her mind—the condemning, hard gold in his eyes, the tightness in his features. She strode into her bedroom and pulled out shorts and a tank top. Then she sat on the bed, a tempest of emotions roiling within her.
Damn him! He didn’t want her, but it seemed he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either. She should call Axel and apologize.
But she didn’t want to apologize. And even as she wondered just what the relationship was between Marla and Brent, she knew she really didn’t care about Axel. Oh, she did, as a friend. He was a very nice man, a good man. He just wasn’t…wonderful.
And Brent was.
She rose and dressed, and when she came out, she offered the plainclothesmen coffee and breakfast, but they had just eaten. They were both great guys, easy, relaxed. Still, they were making her a nervous wreck.
She tried to work. She did manage to plan a few layouts. She talked to Patty and found out her picture had been in the paper. She had been standing next to Brent at the funeral and people were speculating.
There was nothing to speculate about, Kathy assured her. She asked Patty to sit tight. The police wanted them under guard for a while, that was all.
She hung up and tried to work again. She wanted to talk to Shanna, but she knew she couldn’t.
She was sitting there, still trying to work, when the phone rang. She answered it and was surprised to find that the caller was Marla Harrington again.
“Kathy, is he around anywhere?” Marla asked her.
“Uh, no, not now. Why? What is it?”
“I just wanted you to know…” The other woman hesitated.
“Know what?” Kathy demanded, exasperated.
Then Marla started to talk in a rush. “I care about him, you know, I really care about him. I’m not trying to cause trouble or anything like that. It’s just that…you hurt him. You’re bad for him. He was just starting to get a new life. You should…you should leave him alone!”
“Marla, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say to you. I didn’t come to Brent. Brent came to me.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t know what he’s said to you, but it may not be the truth. He’s trying to protect you, but…he’s going to marry me. He asked me to marry him. We weren’t exactly living together, but we were together most nights. Don’t get involved. You’ll hurt everyone.”
“Marla—”
The phone went dead. Kathy hung up.
The woman was lying. Kathy was certain of it. Brent had said he wasn’t sleeping with her. He had said he had never slept with her. Hadn’t he? Or had he evaded the question? She couldn’t remember.
She pressed her head between her hands. Someone was lying. It wasn’t Brent. He didn’t lie to her.
Or did he? He had never pretended he was staying. He was trying to protect her. If she loved him, she should believe in him.
She loved him. She had always loved him. That didn’t mean he loved her, and it didn’t mean he was sworn to tell the truth.
“Hey, Mrs. McQueen.” It was Steve, tapping on the door to her bedroom. “Are you a poker player?”
She smiled at him. “Sure.”
She played poker with Jerry and Steve. She made lunch, dug out Casablanca and her colorized version of King Kong and they argued over the merits of both.
The day passed. She thought about calling Brent’s house and his studio, but every time she picked up the receiver, she put it down again.
In the evening Jerry went out for pizza and they agreed on everything but anchovies and cold beer. At one o’clock she thanked them both and said she was going to bed. They both assured her it was one of the nicest assignments they had had.
She went to bed and lay awake for a very long time. Then she closed her eyes and dozed restlessly at last.
He wasn’t coming back.
But he did. Sometime in the night, he returned. Though he didn’t touch her as he had before. He didn’t try to make love to her.
He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. She opened her eyes and saw him there. She didn’t know if she wanted him to touch her, or if she was afraid that he would. She wanted to ask him the truth about Marla, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do so.
His eyes closed. She turned her back on him. A few minutes later she felt his arms around her, pulling her close.
He didn’t make love to her. He simply held her in the curve of his body, and she could feel the heat and security of his naked body wrapped around her.
She lay awake for a very long time.
Chapter 9
Kathy awoke in the morning to music.
She was alone in bed. Brent was at the piano playing the chords to “Forever My Love.” She got up, showered and dressed, hoping that he would have quit playing the tune by the time she reached the living room.
He had. When she came down the hallway, he was still sitting at the piano, but he did so silently, his hands idle on the keys.
“Hi,” he told her morosely.
“Hi.”
“Coffee is already on.”
She nodded and walked by him into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup and came out. She wanted to talk to him, really talk to him. She wanted to tell him about Marla’s call and demand to know the truth.
And of course, she wanted him to tell her that Marla was behaving like a child, trying to destroy things for them.
Destroy what? Could anything be more broken and shattered than their relationship? These few days were just an interlude. No one had ever pretended they were anything else.
No. They were pretending that these days would pass, and then nothing more would follow. She had to talk to him.
But it didn’t seem to be the time. She didn’t have his attention. “So you didn’t find anything at your place? Or at the studio?”
He shook his head. “Robert seems to think that I must have a paper or something stashed away. Something Harry gave me. And there’s nothing.” He hesitated. “I just keep coming back to the song.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow’s the benefit. Maybe something will come from that.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. She shrugged. “If you want, I’ll play around with the song, too.”
“I thought you hated it.”
“Yes, well, it seems to be all our skins that we’re dealing with here, doesn’t it? And I never hated the song. I just hate to hear it now.”
It seemed that she had his attention at last. He was watching her, his eyes gold and curious and his smile wry and crooked. “Why is that?”
She started to answer him, but they were startled by the sound of Sam’s ferocious barking.
Kathy arched a brow at Brent. “Robert?”
He nodded. “One more day of searching through records and notes and all. Kathy, I’ve got to figure out what the hell it is that I supposedly know.”
She nodded. He rose and came toward her. He pulled her into his arms.
For a moment, she stiffened. For a moment she could see Marla Harrington with him in that video, and she could hear the woman’s voice coming t
o her urgently over the phone. Maybe she was just hurting Brent and herself. Maybe this was insane.
But he was touching her. And she seemed to melt in his arms. They were hard and secure around her and his lips were achingly tender when they touched hers. He kissed her slowly, lingeringly, then he stepped back and brushed the moisture from her lips with his thumb. “I’ll be back.”
“Will you?” she asked him softly.
He frowned. “Of course. Why?”
She shook her head. “No reason. I’ll…I’ll play with the song.”
“Your two little friends are back, you know.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “Little?” Detectives Jerry Clinton and Steve Barker were both over six feet tall.
Brent shrugged. “Well, they’re just kids, you know.”
“Mmm,” she agreed. “Very attractive ones. And actually, I imagine that they’re both at least in their mid to late twenties. Mature, responsible—”
“And duly impressed with your charms. Behave,” he warned her. “I heard all about that poker game.”
“Hey, I won.”
“Yes, that’s what I heard. They were having problems concentrating.”
She smiled. “Bye. Have a nice day. And you behave, too.”
“I don’t have much choice. Poring through drawers with Robert doesn’t give me many opportunities to practice my wicked ways.”
“Ah, but is Robert the only one around?”
He frowned. “Kathy, what are you talking about?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll talk later.”
“Yes, we will,” he said flatly. His eyes remained on hers. They could hear Sam going into a frenzy. Brent sighed and turned. “It’ll probably be late,” he said.
Something about the tone of his voice bothered her. There was a weariness to it, and a desperation. Maybe something more. She felt a cold hand squeeze her heart. Was it because of the things going on between them? Passion had risen so quickly, and now it seemed that the embers were cooling as fast.
“Brent, there’s something you’re not telling me,” she said flatly.
He swung around, staring at her, and she knew she was right.
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