by Diane Kelly
“Huh.” Oddly, another mortgage payment had been made on January 3. I scrolled down to see the payments that had been made this month. Again, two payments had been made. One for the current month, the other for January. The same thing had been done in the preceding year. It didn’t make sense that thirteen mortgage payments had been made during both of these years. Of course, the mortgage company would have simply applied the extra payments to the mortgage account. Still, it surprised me that Chloe would have made such a mistake. She was a financial whiz, after all. I jotted another note to take a look at the mortgage documentation.
Jeremy returned just as I was wrapping things up. “How’s it looking?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” I said. “But I’ll need to take a look at the utility bills, invoices for the manufacturing materials, and mortgage statements. The bank statements, too.” Might as well do the job right, even though I fully expected the additional information to put my questions to rest. “Can you get those documents for me?”
Jeremy’s brows drew together. “I’m not sure where Chloe keeps the hard copies. Let’s try her office.”
I followed him down the hall to the closed door. He rapped on it twice, but there was no response from within. He tried to turn the knob only to find the door locked. Stepping next door, he rapped now on the door frame of his father’s office. “Tara needs to take a look at some of the bills and invoices. Do you have a key to Chloe’s office?”
“I believe so,” Dennis replied. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a key ring, carrying it over to us. Most of the keys were labeled with small stickers that read: Shipping, Barn, Front Door, et cetera, but none of them were identified as the key to Chloe’s office. He stepped over to Chloe’s door and tried each of the unlabeled keys. None of them fit. “Well, darn,” he said. “Doesn’t look like I’ve got a copy of her key.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “How about I come back when Chloe will be here and take a look then?”
“We’ll be closed tomorrow and the day after for New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day,” Dennis said, “but we’ll be open again on Friday.”
“Great,” I said. “I’ll be back then.”
I left with a thumb drive loaded with financial data and a briefcase loaded with candy. All in all, not a bad afternoon.
chapter twenty-five
Inbound
I spent the rest of the day in the audit office, looking over paperwork. At 6:00, I crept east on I-30, surrounded by thousands of equally frustrated drivers fighting the urge to bang their heads on their steering wheels. I might have if not for the fact that I was high on exhaust fumes. A sign on the side of the road read: “MINIMUM SPEED 45 MPH.” Yeah, right. My speedometer had yet to reach 20.
On my drive home, I stopped by the grocery store for cereal, bread, and toothpaste. All that sugar I’d consumed this afternoon had me fearing cavities. I picked up some staples for Nick, too, knowing he’d be in need of some fresh food when he returned from his trip. I also picked up another bottle of champagne for tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve celebration, since I’d used part of the original bottle to make mimosas and the remainder had since gone flat.
Nick would be flying home tomorrow. I couldn’t wait to see him. The time difference between Dallas and Japan had made it difficult for us to talk much on the phone, and texting was a poor substitute. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice, to see him, to feel his arms around me again. With my criminal trial looming over me, I hadn’t been able to relax. Nick would be able to distract me from my woes. So would celebrating the new year at Wolfgang Puck’s Five Sixty restaurant and bar atop Reunion Tower.
* * *
No sleeping in for me on New Year’s Eve. December 31 wasn’t a federal holiday, either, and I had no accrued vacation time. Rats.
Nutty had left a puddle on the kitchen floor near the back door. I couldn’t blame the poor dog. His ancient bladder could only hold out so long in the morning and I didn’t have a doggy door for him to let himself out.
I cleaned up the puddle, fed the dog and my cats, and fixed myself a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Alicia wandered down a few minutes later and started a pot of coffee.
“I can’t wait until tonight,” she said as she plopped down in a chair at the table to wait for the coffee to finish brewing.
“Don’t forget our manicure appointments today.”
“How could I? After pulling my ski gloves on and off all those times my nails are a wreck.”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” I replied, casting her a look. “At least you were allowed to leave the state.”
She reached an arm across the table and squeezed my hand. “It’ll all work out, Tara. You’ve got to trust that it will.”
“I’m trying.” I wasn’t totally succeeding, however.
I spent five hours at the audit office, close enough to a full day. Besides, everyone else had sneaked out early, including Clyde Hartford.
In the afternoon, I met up with Alicia at my favorite nail salon. The technician removed my Christmas-themed polish, shaped my nails into soft curves, and applied a glittery, glamorous gold coat. Alicia opted for silver.
“Thanks.” I paid the tech for my manicure, adding a few extra dollars to my tip. My holiday spirit hadn’t quite yet evaporated, despite the circumstances I found myself in. Besides, my mood had been buoyed by the fact that I’d get to spend the evening with Nick, surrounded by our friends and in a gorgeous new dress to boot. No sense letting a looming criminal indictment spoil what might be one of my last fun, free nights for a while.
Alicia headed back to my town house while I drove to the airport. I parked in short-term parking. It might have made more sense to pick Nick up at the curb, but I didn’t want to wait a second longer to see him than I had to.
I made my way to the baggage claim area, reading a romance novel I’d downloaded to my cell phone while I waited. The star-crossed couple could never seem to get things right. At least I didn’t have that problem. Then again, if I ended up in prison could I really expect Nick to wait years for me until I was released? He’d already had to put his life on hold when he’d been in forced exile in Mexico. Would he be willing to do that again, for me? And would I want to know that I might be holding him back from a chance at happiness with someone else?
Ugh.
I stuck my phone in my purse as weary travelers began to filter through the revolving door and into the baggage claim area. I stood on tiptoe, trying to see over the heads of the gathering crowd. I watched as each person emerged from the door.
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Nick!
The instant the door spat him out I hurled myself at him. He dropped his carry-on bag to the floor and wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in warmth, comfort, and the conflicting smells of citrus-based soap and stale, recycled airplane air.
He kissed the top of my head and released me. “Lord, it’s good to be home.”
Agent Tanaka followed soon after, though I greeted him with a mere nod and a, “Welcome home.”
The three of us moved along to keep from blocking the other travelers eager to reconnect with their loved ones. I looked up at Nick as we stopped next to the baggage carousel. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been sleeping on the plane. His eyes carried bags nearly the size of his luggage. His cheeks bore a five o’clock shadow, or, given that he’d flown in from Japan, maybe it was actually a 10:00 AM shadow, Tokyo time.
He grabbed his suitcase as it came off the belt. We said good-bye to Tanaka and headed out to my car. Nick climbed into the passenger seat and laid his head back against the headrest, his eyes closed. “Stick a fork in me. I am done.”
“You’re still up for tonight, right?” I needed tonight. I needed some fun to take my mind off my troubles.
Nick forced his bloodshot eyes open and glanced my way, noting the anxious look on my face. “Of course. I’d never leave my woman disappointed.”
Nick updated me on the Tokyo Discount
Telecom case as I drove. While the Japanese officials had finally pinpointed the person in possession of the cell phone used to accept orders for the business, they realized the twentyish young man involved was merely a low-level chump. Rather than bring him in for questioning, they’d decided to follow him for a few days, trace his movements and calls to determine who else was involved. No sense putting the ringleaders on alert and giving them a chance to disappear if they could be tracked down and arrested in a larger sweep. They’d agreed to keep Nick and Agent Tanaka informed of their findings, and our agents agreed to return the favor. The only thing we could do now back here in Texas was wait to hear when the order of counterfeit phone parts would be delivered to my town house so we could follow the truck back to its source.
I drove Nick back to my place, where we rounded up Nutty before walking down the street to Nick’s digs.
“I’m starved and I’m tired,” Nick said as we stepped inside. He cut me a grin. “I’m also dirty and in desperate need of some good lovin’.”
“Clean up and get in bed,” I told him. “I’ll make fried baloney sandwiches and then we’ll see about the lovin’.”
He gave me another kiss on the head before heading upstairs. “Give some to Nutty!” he called back over his shoulder.
As if the dog would let me ignore him.
Nick’s shower kicked on with a hiss overhead as I heated a nonstick pan and added a pad of butter. I slung three slices of baloney into the pan, tearing another into bite-sized portions that I fed to Nutty. He wagged his tail and woofed for more. I pointed the spatula at him. “Watch your manners.”
The shower turned off as I slapped the meat onto slices of white bread spread with mayo. I added a pickle to the plate along with a big blob of store-bought potato salad and poured Nick a refreshing glass of lemonade to round things out. Nutty followed me upstairs, still woofing for more baloney despite my repeated assurances that he’d grow a fat ass if he didn’t watch his calories.
When I reached Nick’s bedroom, I found him flopped facedown and sideways on his bed, the white bath towel he’d wrapped around his waist gaping to reveal part of one firm and irresistible butt cheek. My hands full, I lifted a foot to nudge his exposed rear. “Sit up, cowboy. Got your lunch ready.”
His only response was a shuddering breath before he broke into an all-out snore.
Dang.
Nutty looked up at me, wagging his tail back and forth.
“Okay, buddy. It’s all yours.” I set the plate on the floor. Nutty devoured the sandwiches, though his sniff of the potato salad told him to give it a pass. I drank the lemonade myself.
I folded the bedspread down over Nick so he wouldn’t be cold and climbed onto the bed next to him. This wasn’t at all how I imagined our reunion, but how could I fault the guy? He was wiped out. Besides, we had a late reservation at Five Sixty. Why not let him get in a couple hours of shut-eye before an evening of fine dining, dancing, and celebration?
I lay snuggled up against him for a few minutes, thinking, worrying, and wondering, until deciding I might as well take my new rifle to the range and get in some practice. Lying next to Nick with him completely naked was only making me hot and bothered.
* * *
“New gun?” asked the attendant at the range as he took in my shiny new long-range rifle.
“Christmas present from my dad.”
“You’re a lucky girl. That’s a nice piece.”
Only the best for Daddy’s girl.
I headed out onto the rifle course, tugging my knit cap down farther on my head as I went. I’d left the coat Nick had given me at home and traded it for the old puffy bright red jacket my father had made me wear for safety when we’d done shooting practice in the woods at the back of our property in Nacogdoches. The neighbors who owned the property behind us sometimes leased their acreage to deer hunters. Didn’t want to risk being mistaken for Bambi.
I set up my targets and took a few warm-up shots. Oh, who was I fooling? I didn’t need to take any warm-up shots. I hit every one of them dead center.
I quickly ran through two full boxes of ammo. Not cheap, at over a dollar a bullet, but I’d needed this. Besides, Dad had sent me home with an entire case of ammunition in a special dry-storage box. It would take me months to get through all of it.
When I turned to go back inside, a couple of men who’d been watching me tipped their baseball caps.
“You’re one hell of a shot,” one of them said. “Former military?”
“Nope,” I said. “Former IRS special agent.” My heart twitched at the word “former.”
“IRS?” His face scrunched in confusion. “I didn’t know IRS carried guns.”
“Special agents do,” I said.
“Want to shoot some skeet with us?” the other asked. “Maybe you could give us some pointers.”
My arms and shoulder muscles had already grown weary, but I was never one to back down from a challenge. “I’m game.”
We moved over to the skeet range, where I easily put the two men to shame. To their credit, they didn’t seem to mind being bested by a woman. I gave them some pointers, advising the first to loosen up his shoulder, the second to widen his stance. When we finished, they thanked me and even paid for my gun rental and ammo.
* * *
By the time I returned home, evening had set in. I glanced down the street and noted Nick’s place was still dark. The guy must still be sleeping.
Upstairs, I showered and fixed my hair, swooping it up into the best updo a nonprofessional could manage and shellacking it with the contraband Chinese hairspray Lu had given me a few months ago. The caustic stuff could stop a train. I reserved it for special occasions but kept it handy in case of an alien invasion. I layered on the makeup, applying a generous swipe of gold eye shadow, glamming it up for this special night.
My face and hair complete, I unzipped the nylon bag containing my gown and gently slid it off the hanger. The dress was divine. The fact that I’d scored it on sale made it that much better. I gingerly stepped into it and eased it up over my hips. The ruby drop earrings Nick had given me when we first began dating found their way to my ears, completing the ensemble.
Alicia came over from her room across the hall. My roommate was decked out in a silvery-gray dress with a stiff bodice, the skirt hanging just above her knees in front but swooping down to mid-calf in the back. She’d put some loose curls in her normally straight, angular hair, and they curved around her ears and chin in a beguiling way.
She stepped up next to me and we checked ourselves out in my full-length mirror.
“Damn, girl,” I said in my best street-tough voice. “We look fine!”
After expressing sufficient mutual admiration for each other, Alicia and I parted ways. I went downstairs to phone Nick while she returned to her bedroom to search for her evening purse.
The phone rang five times before going to voice mail. “This is Nick Pratt. I can’t take your call—”
I hung up and dialed again. Still no answer.
I called up to Alicia to let her know I was going down the street to check on Nick. I grabbed the bottle of champagne and my purse and set off down the sidewalk in my beautiful gown and stilettos, way overdressed for a neighborhood stroll.
Nutty raised his head from the couch as I walked into Nick’s place.
“Hey, boy,” I said. “Where’s your daddy?”
The place was silent. I ventured upstairs to find Nick sprawled on his bed, his eyes closed. This time, he lay completely naked, the towel having come undone and fallen off the side of the bed. He had one arm flung over his head, the other lying crooked beside him.
“Nick?” I whispered.
No response.
I tried again. “Nick?”
Nothing.
I sighed and sent Alicia a text. Have 2 cancel. Nick’s beat.
I set the champagne down on the night table and eased out of my dress, finding a spare hanger in his closet to hang it up. I lo
oked down at myself, now wearing a pink push-up bra, lace panties, and the sparkly stilettos.
Nick had no idea what he was missing.
I slipped out of my shoes and bra. Rather than retrieving my red nightie from the dresser, I snatched Nick’s white T-shirt from the chair where he’d tossed it and slid it on over my head. The shirt smelled like Nick. If I couldn’t actually have him wrapped around me, at least I could pretend.
I climbed into bed, picked up his remote, and turned the television on low, trying to combat my sense of disappointment and loneliness by engaging in a virtual celebration. I popped open the champagne and drank it straight from the bottle as I scrolled through the channels. A local station broadcast the “Big D NYE” festivities from Victory Park, an open space near the American Airlines Center that served as a gathering point for various celebrations. A local country-western band performed cover songs on a wide stage, to the delight of the crowd, who raised fists and sang along. They looked like they were having a great time. Dang.
I supposed tonight was par for the course. After all, fighting crime wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job. Serving in law enforcement wasn’t just a job; it was a calling. A calling that required occasional sacrifices.
For the first time, I wondered if the sacrifices were too great.
chapter twenty-six
New Year, Same Old Worries
I woke on January 1 with a slight headache. That’s what happens when a woman drinks an entire bottle of champagne all by herself.
I climbed out of bed, snagged a couple of aspirin from the medicine cabinet in Nick’s bathroom, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Nutty heard me inside and squeezed back in through the rubber flap of his doggie door.
“Hungry?” I asked him.
He wagged his tail as if to say, Silly you! I’m always hungry!
I scooped a cup of kibble out of the bag in the pantry and poured it into his bowl. He sniffed it and looked up at me.
“Oh, all right, you spoiled thing.” I opened the fridge, retrieved a slice of baloney, and tossed it into his bowl, earning a happy tail wag in reply. “But tomorrow you start a diet.”
