by Susan Crosby
He heard Dana come into the bedroom and moved to take the tray from her when she came through the doorway.
“I got the evil eye from Hilda,” she said, looking much more relaxed than when she left. Obviously she’d needed a break, too. “She doesn’t like me messing around in her kitchen.” She sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having a servant.”
“You think you could do the job you do without help at home?”
“No. But I wish I could.”
“What about in D.C.?” He sat on the sofa, close to the coffee table where he’d placed the tray, then he dipped a chicken strip into a red sauce.
“I have a cleaning service, but that’s all. I eat out most of the time. Meetings often run well into the night.”
He took a bite and nodded his appreciation for the food. “I’ve heard the women senators meet for dinner once a month.”
“That’s true. They took me under their wing the day I arrived. We may not agree on everything, but we respect each other, and they’ve been generous.” She snatched a stalk of cold asparagus from the tray then kicked off her shoes and joined him on the sofa, sitting cross-legged.
Her T-shirt clung even more tightly when she moved. He liked watching her. She had a graceful way about her that he associated more with women who lived leisurely lives, not someone with Dana’s work ethic.
“I hope iced tea is okay,” she said, leaning to pour two glasses.
By unspoken agreement they finished eating before they continued their discussion. Finally she wadded her napkin and tossed it onto the empty tray. “I needed that,” she said, rearranging pillows on the sofa and nestling into them. “Let’s keep going.”
He picked up where they left off. “Two things. First, we need a motive. That’s key. Second, dig into Randall’s background.”
“How will you check out his background?”
He was more concerned with figuring out who was after Dana than about Randall’s past, but she couldn’t seem to set aside her concern. “Interviews, for one.”
She started shaking her head.
“No choice, Dana. I’m sure we’ll need to talk to his oldest friends and staff members, people who would keep his secrets, if he had them.”
“What if one of them is the blackmailer?”
“Then interviewing them will be even more helpful. There isn’t any other way to determine who Randall’s enemies were. Who had grudges? What about former employees? An ex-lover jealous of you? Only personal contact can yield that kind of information.”
“It seems like Abe would be the one to know. And he says he doesn’t.”
“Surely Randall had other friends?”
“Of course, but politics were his life. Let me think on it. What else will you do?”
“See what we can get off the envelope aside from the San Francisco postmark. DNA and fingerprints, if we can.”
“You can get DNA from the envelope?”
“If they licked the flap. Short-term, we might get gender and race. We can use what we get toward either eliminating someone or making them a strong possibility. If we had more time, who knows? Next step, an assets search, personal and professional finances, including campaign contributions. I’ll get my partners up here tomorrow to run that side of it. That’ll free me for the interviews.”
She paled. “How many people are going to be involved?”
“Dana, if I didn’t trust my partners one hundred percent, I wouldn’t involve them. If we don’t keep confidences, we don’t stay in business.”
“I expect you to use an alias for your written records.”
He thought she was being unnecessarily paranoid but didn’t say so. “Okay. As for motive—what harm is caused by revealing something about Randall’s past? His reputation would be soiled. So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what?’ He spent his life—”
“Bad choice of words. I apologize. What I mean is, who is most affected by revealing his secrets? You.”
“Well, I figured that out.”
He liked when she got short with him because it meant she’d let her guard down, reminding him of the girl she’d been. If they’d had a different kind of relationship he would’ve teased her about it. “Give me some possibilities.”
“Someone who wants my seat in the Senate.”
“Someone from either party.”
She nodded. “Or not even the candidate but someone who wants him in office. It could be done without his knowledge or agreement.”
“That’s potentially a big number.”
“Could be, yes.” She rubbed her temples.
“What other possibilities?”
“Someone who plain old doesn’t want me to win.”
“Anyone come to mind?”
“No.”
“I can think of one.”
She looked puzzled.
“Harley Bonner,” he said.
“Harley’s not smart enough. What could he have on Randall?”
“Harley’s rich enough to hire smart. And we don’t know what anyone could have on Randall, do we?” He sipped his iced tea. “Hilda?”
Dana’s eyes widened. She laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Until you’ve ruled someone out, keep them on the list. Did she resent you marrying Randall?”
“I have no idea. She doesn’t show emotion of any sort, like or dislike.”
“You said she gave you the evil eye in the kitchen. She also saw us kiss.”
He said nothing as Dana absorbed that information then levered herself off the sofa. She wandered to the window overlooking the backyard, her arms crossed.
“The motive may not even involve you, Dana, except as a barrier to someone else’s goals. I’m pointing out possibilities.”
“Okay.” She traced a square on the windowpane. “What else?”
“Could Randall have had an affair? A child out of wedlock?”
“He wouldn’t have turned his back on a child. As for an affair, he had no reason to have one.”
A spiraling path of jealousy once again swept through Sam and wouldn’t dissipate. “People stray for lots of reasons.”
“Our sex life was fine,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Good.”
“Not great?”
She faced him.
“You were married a year and a half,” he pointed out, making himself treat her like any other client. “You were still on your honeymoon. Sex should’ve been great.”
“I had no complaints.”
“Did you have comparisons?”
Her jaw got tighter. “Yes.”
He hesitated, then came close. He almost put his hands on her shoulders. “I have so little information to work with. I know it’s hard to tell me.”
“Especially you.” The words seemed to stick in her throat.
“Why?”
“Because you already saw me at my worst.”
An image flashed. Dana, her blouse torn away, skirt pushed up, her body covered by Harley’s holding her down. She bucked beneath him, giving her all to get away. He had one hand on her mouth, the other trying to unzip himself. Sam had grabbed him by the shirt, yanked him off and threw him aside like a sack of garbage, finding a strength he didn’t know he had.
After he’d chased Harley off, he turned to Dana. The shell-shocked look in her eyes ripped through his soul. She’d sat there, not moving, not attempting to gather the tattered remains of her blouse. He’d taken off his shirt and draped it around her, helping her slip her arms into the sleeves, but otherwise not touching her.
“What happened before wasn’t your fault,” he said. “Neither is this.”
She shrugged. “Randall and I had everything in common. We thought alike. We believed in the same principles. I felt useful. I was happy.”
“But?”
She stopped him with a look. “Sex isn’t everything, you know.”
That brought him up short. The passion in her dark eyes made him push when caution dicta
ted restraint. “No?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What is everything?”
She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Common goals and values. Supporting each other through good times and bad. Knowing what to expect at—”
“Were there bad times?”
She looked confused at the interruption. “Well, no. Not yet. But we would’ve supported each other.”
“And that was enough to make you happy?”
“What do you want to hear? That I wanted to swing from the chandelier?”
“Did you?”
“Gymnastics don’t— Dammit, Sam. I haven’t lived a sheltered life. I’ve read the Kama Sutra.”
“Ah.”
He could see by her expression that she finally understood he was trying to lighten the moment. “I’m trying to figure out if Randall cheated on you,” he said. “And if it’s come back to haunt. You really don’t think there was another woman?”
“No.” She glared at him. “Not a man, either.”
“I keep going back to the word saintly. It implies something personal. And moral.”
“If I knew I would tell you.”
He realized she’d reached the end of her tolerance for the interrogation. He scooped up his jacket. “You’ll need to get Hilda out of the house tomorrow.”
Several seconds passed before she showed signs of having heard him. Exhaustion stole over her face. Ah, Dana. Show me anything but vulnerability.
“Why?” she asked.
“I need to check out the house.”
“For what?”
“Clues. I’m assuming he had an office here.”
“Yes. I’ve never noticed anything out of the ordinary, though.”
“You weren’t looking.”
“Okay. I’ll figure out something. Sam—” She touched his arm. “Thank you.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise you. Get some sleep. Call me when Hilda’s gone. You can stay home tomorrow, right?”
“It’ll take a little finagling, but yes.”
“Can you ask Abe to come here?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll need the names and addresses of your attorney and accountant.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll let myself out.” He wanted to hold her, to rub her shoulders until she stopped holding them so stiffly. “Good night.”
She tried to smile. The effort twisted his stomach into a tighter knot.
He eyed her bed as he left the room, wishing he weren’t picturing her there with her husband. Wishing, too, that he’d asked her why she’d told Abe not to contact him about her letters. But that opportunity was gone.
He walked down the hallway and descended the stairs, observing the house differently than when they’d climbed the stairs earlier. She fit here. Her father had been right all those years ago. Perhaps she’d achieved even more than he’d expected. The road she’d taken had led to a life of helping others, of doing good, of leaving a legacy when she was done.
She truly had been destined for something better than Sam could have offered her then. Here was the proof.
Seven
Late the next afternoon Dana sank into a chair in front of Randall’s desk in the downstairs office. Seeing Sam seated behind the monstrosity wasn’t as odd as she’d anticipated. He was big enough to do it justice.
She wanted to touch him, she realized with a jolt. To march over to him and kiss him senseless.
“Anything new?” she asked, forcing herself to be businesslike.
He sat back, the chair squeaking a little. “Not much. I’ve been through every file and searched all the bookshelves. I was just about to start checking out the other rooms.” He pointed to a large piece of paper spread out on a table, the curling ends weighted with books. “I even found a copy of the original house design. So, how’d it go in the attic?”
“I pulled a couple of boxes you might want to look at. Mostly it’s old furniture, and clothing that would sell for plenty in the vintage market. Nate said to tell you that everything’s in order, so far.” She liked his partners. Nate Caldwell, Southern California blond and handsome, was a nice foil to Arianna Alvarado’s dark beauty. She was no dainty lady, but a no-nonsense, I-can-take-care-of-the-world woman. Sam had already interviewed Randall’s attorney and accountant, then brought boxes of paperwork to the house with him before his friends arrived that morning. They’d gone right to work in the library. Sam had settled in the office next door after lunch.
“How long have you known Nate and Arianna?” she asked.
“Since just after boot camp.”
“Were you in the same unit?”
“We worked the same details off and on.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “I have a feeling we’re not going to find an answer here,” he said, changing the subject. “If anything tangible existed, I doubt it was something he’d keep to be discovered later.”
“He wouldn’t have expected to die so young.”
“True. But he would be aware of potential damage. If it’s something personal enough to destroy his ‘saintly’ reputation, there might not be physical evidence.”
She’d come to the same conclusion. “Meaning it may come down to someone making an accusation that no one can confirm or deny.”
“I’m afraid so.”
How could she fight that? There had to be another angle, she just hadn’t thought of it yet. “Hilda should be back soon, Sam.”
He looked at his watch. “We can’t quit now,” he said, “so I suppose we need to come up with a reason why we’re all here. I expect we’ll be at this well into the night.”
“I don’t need to tell her anything other than we’re working. Should I ask her to fix dinner for all of us?”
“That’d be good, thanks.” He moved to the table where the house plans lay and leaned on his palms to study the page. He shifted his shoulders as if to loosen the muscles.
Dana took a chance. She came up behind him, put her hands on his shoulders and pressed hard with her fingers. His body went rigid.
“Don’t pull away,” she said. “You’ve done so much for me.”
He relaxed his shoulders by degrees. She liked that he didn’t argue, even though she’d found that she liked arguing with him. As tired as she’d been last night, she hadn’t been able to sleep, and it wasn’t for worrying about Randall or the threat. She’d held her fingers to her lips, trying to recapture the kiss.
“Did you sleep last night?” she asked, continuing the massage, enjoying it probably more than he, as she filled her own need to touch him.
“Some.” He arched a little as she pressed along his spine, moving lower, then heading back up before he stopped her for venturing too low. He never stopped studying the house plans.
“You could lie down for an hour now,” she said.
“I don’t nap.”
She smiled at his words, as if he’d been insulted. Then an involuntary sound came from him as her thumb hit a spot along his shoulder blade.
She worked at it, felt the knot smooth out. He had an amazing body, the ideal male with broad shoulders and chest, narrow waist and hips. Beautiful. She wanted to lay her head against his back, wrap her arms around him—
He jerked upright.
She pitched backward, but he managed to reach behind and grab her.
“Sorry,” he said, then tapped the plans. “Look at this.” He scanned the room. “There’s a secret passage in the wall. It’s not uncommon for the era, so I thought there might be, plus the walls are so thick, you can camouflage it. The opening’s in this room, behind the bookcase.”
He strode that direction and knocked on the wall, which did sound hollow. “I wonder where the latch is. Did you know about it?”
“Not a clue.” She joined him in the search. Had Randall known? Was it a secret passed from father to son? He’d been an only child, and he had no children. Why hadn’t he told her about it? If the plans were in his desk, surely he’d
known.
Had he used the passage?
“Where does it lead?” she asked.
“Looks like it runs between this room and the library then goes downstairs. Maybe into the wine cellar you showed me this morning. There might be an exit to the outside from there. Or there might not.” He tried twisting carved wood curlicues and swirls in sequence down the wall.
“Do you think it was an escape route?” Dana asked.
“Built in 1908? Who knows? Usually secret passageways are found off bedrooms. A way to sneak the mistress in and out.” He moved up a level, finally turning a silver wall sconce. The wall popped open a couple of inches. “A silver latch,” he said, turning to her and grinning. He opened the door fully and peered in. “Undoubtedly an inside joke in the Sterling family. I saw a flashlight in the bottom desk drawer.”
Dana found the flashlight and passed it to him, then followed him inside.
As secret passageways went, it was nothing special, just dark. She didn’t have to squeeze to get through, but Sam had to angle his body a little. He kept the flashlight moving, not really lighting the path, but everything else. The air was stagnant, dry and dusty. She trailed her hand down the walls to steady herself, finding rough plaster and lathe.
She sneezed.
“Plenty of cobwebs,” he said, spotlighting the ceiling, brushing at the wispy streams. “The dust on the floor has been disturbed, but I can’t tell how recently.”
Her finger snagged on something sharp. She snatched her hand back then twitched her nose, trying to stop another sneeze. “I can’t see where I’m going.”
He reached for her hand.
Oh. Well. This is nice, she thought. He could keep her in the dark awhile longer.
She sneezed again.
“Arianna, I believe there are rats in the walls.” Nate’s voice, layered with humor, filled the passageway.
“With allergies,” Arianna added.
“Look up there. It’s a speaker,” Sam said to Dana, spotlighting it, then another on the office-wall side. “Not exactly an early 1900s innovation.” He shined the beam over the rest of the wall.
