On the fifth day, Albee called her from the airport. He was on his way to Florida to talk to Pizer’s first wife. “The research is going well,” he said. “Your English friend really delivered on the police chief. We’ve got that pretty much written. Now I have to nail Pizer. He’s the biggest fish in this story. If I can get him—” He paused, and she could hear a voice on a loud speaker in the background. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “My flight is boarding.”
It was another three days before Nicole heard from Albee again. “Sorry I’ve been out of touch,” he said. “It took me a long time to convince Angie Pizer to give me what I’m looking for. She’s one smart cookie. When they first got divorced, she hired a forensic accountant, who assembled a paper trail of Pizer’s financial dealings, including those with the mob. She keeps it in a vault—I’m talking about a vault in an actual bank.”
Nicole was quiet.
“You wouldn’t believe the security she has in her house,” Albee continued. “An alarm, of course, but also a bodyguard and dogs. Thing is, she wouldn’t let me remove the documents from the vault. She had a couple of dozen key pages scanned for me. With the rest, I had to take notes by hand. But now I’m done and heading for the airport. So I’ll be back at work, finishing up the research and getting ready to write the story.”
“How long do you think it will take?” Nicole said.
“It depends on what the other reporters have dug up and whether legal has any objections. It might be as soon as next week or maybe ten days. I can’t say for sure. This story is going to blow the lid off,” he said. “The editor thinks it could win a Pulitzer.”
“When I gave you the story, Greg,” she said, “I knew you couldn’t just run it in the paper the next day. But I’m in terrible danger here, and this is taking too long.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that this story has to run pretty soon or I’ll take it elsewhere.”
“Listen Nicole,” he said. “Please! Just sit tight. I’ll see what I can do.”
Not long after Albee’s call, Nicole and Josh had their first argument. Nicole was in the room when Josh’s mother called, and she overheard his side of the conversation.
After an exchange of affectionate greetings, he was quiet, listening. “I can’t come for dinner tomorrow night, Mom,” he said, “I’ve got a date.”
He was silent another few moments, then said, “The weekend isn’t going to work, either. Um—I’ve met someone. We’re going to Laguna.”
Josh’s mother was so excited that she almost shouted, “That’s wonderful, Josh! Tell me all about her!” Her voice was so loud even Nicole could hear her. Josh held the phone away from his ear and rolled his eyes.
“This isn’t a good time, Mom,” he said. “I have company.”
Another silence on his end. Then, “Yes, she’s here now. We’ll talk later in the week, OK?”
After he hung up, Nicole said, “You really should visit your family, Josh. I’ll be fine here on my own.”
“I’m not leaving you until I’m sure it’s safe,” he said. They argued about it until he said, somewhat testily. “You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my family.” His jaw was set and there were spots of pink on his cheeks.
Nicole regarded him with surprise. She’d never seen him angry before. Was the sweet nature he always displayed just courtship behavior? Or was she being too pushy? That had been one of her ex-husband’s complaints.
“You’re right,” she said. “You know your parents, and I don’t. Thanks for taking such good care of me. But I can’t imagine what your family will think when they find out who your new girlfriend is.”
“They’ll be thrilled,” he said. “They’ll love you.”
She wasn’t so sure. Ever since the paparazzi had set their sights on her, she’d felt as if her reputation was forever tarnished. She thought of her various misadventures—becoming heir to a murdered man’s millions, getting kidnapped and having to kill a man to escape. There was the photo of her that appeared in the tabloids, the one in a barely-there bikini—courtesy of expert photo manipulation by the tabloids—sunning herself with Reinhardt. The media had also revealed that her ex-husband was a jailbird.
She thought about her earlier experience that had somehow escaped the British tabloids’ notice—her previous year’s escapade in the UK. These kinds of things didn’t happen to other people. Had she just been unlucky, or was there something about her that invited trouble?
In this case, the tabloids had done a pretty thorough job of making her out to be someone who was “mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” She couldn’t imagine that Josh’s parents would be pleased to find out he was mixed up with her. If she were Josh’s mother, she wouldn’t be happy about it at all.
Late in the afternoon, Josh told her he had to go in to the office to meet with clients. “I’ll be back at 5:30 at the latest,” he said.
“Do you want to go for a run before dinner?” she said.
“Sure. This shouldn’t take long.”
But at 5:45, he called and said that the clients were ready to sign the final contract for the house he’d designed, and he probably wouldn’t be back before 7:00. “Why don’t you go ahead and eat,” he said.
“No, I’ll wait,” she said.
“Promise you won’t go for a run without me. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want to come home and find you gone.”
“I promise.”
After they hung up, Nicole looked at the clock. She was dying to get out of the house. It was so tempting. How good it would feel to take a run in the crisp evening air.
No. I can’t do that. I promised, she thought, She just had to suffer through until this damned story ran. She went upstairs and changed out of her running gear. Leaving the bedside lamp on, she lay down on the bed, and tried to think of a way to endure this interminable wait. She’d dozed off when she heard a car pull up in front. Her first thought was that it was Josh. He was early. They could go for a run after all. She got up and looked out the window. It was too dark to see out with the lamp on. She turned it off.
The car was a dark SUV. She couldn’t make out the color, but it looked like the one that had been following her. The doorbell rang. She tiptoed downstairs and into the living room. The lights were off and the blinds closed so no one could see in.
There was a knock at the door. A man called out, “Federal Express.” She tiptoed into the entry hall and looked out the peephole in the front door. The man outside was under the porch light. She recognized the large, shaved, bullet-shaped head she’d seen in her rearview mirror when the SUV tried to run her off the road.
Somehow he’d tracked her down. Her car was parked out in front, a tipoff that she was here. The bell rang again. Nicole quietly opened the hall closet door, reached into her backpack, and pulled out Sue’s gun. The man knocked several more times, repeating that it was Federal Express, and that he needed a signature. When this produced no results, he disappeared from the peephole. What was he going to do now? The backyard was secured by a six-foot fence. There was a gate the gardener used to get in. It was padlocked, but how hard would it be for an expert to dispose of that obstacle? If he managed to get into the backyard, though, the house was fairly burglar-proofed. Somehow she doubted he’d smash a window or kick in a door. From what Earl had said, the hit man was under orders to make her death look like an accident.
Her hands were shaking as she picked up the phone in the entry hall and called Josh’s cell. When she heard it ring in his study, she realized he’d forgotten to take it with him.
She peeked through the slit at the side of the blinds in the living room. The SUV was still parked across the street, but the man had disappeared. She walked back upstairs, hoping to spot him from the bedroom window. Just then she heard a scrambling noise and a thud. She stopped just outside the bedroom door and peeked in. Through the French doors that led to the small deck outside the bedroom window, she could see a man�
��s silhouette. She’d stepped out on the deck earlier in the day and hadn’t engaged the deadbolt. She could hear soft, clicking sounds as the man worked on the lock. He’d make short work of that.
Nicole turned and ran downstairs. When she’d looked outside before, the neighboring houses were dark. She could leave the house by the front door, but where would she find safety? She doubted she could grab her car keys and make it to her car before he caught up with her, and she had no way of knowing if any of her neighbors were home. She had to find somewhere in the house to hide. Then she remembered the storage closet under the stairs. The wall was finished with white-painted vertical boards. When Josh had showed it to her, he’d explained he was going for a seamless look. Instead of a doorknob, he’d used a latch that popped open when it was pushed. This made the door almost invisible. Nicole slipped into the closet, carefully moving aside the vacuum cleaner to avoid making any noise.
She silently closed the door. Waiting in the darkness, she fought a tickle in her throat, barely daring to breathe.
Nicole could hear the man walking around upstairs, opening doors, looking for her. Soon he came downstairs, searched the kitchen and laundry room before heading toward the front of the house. Her heart was beating in her throat when he passed the closet where she was hiding.
Just then, she heard Josh’s car pull in the driveway. Her terror escalated. What would happen when Josh walked in? Was this man going to shoot him? I have the gun, she thought. I’ll come out with it pointed at the intruder and distract him before Josh opens the front door.
Nicole heard the jingle of Josh’s keys and reached for the closet door. At that moment, the man reversed directions and dashed back up the stairs. She could hear him run through the bedroom and onto the deck. Just as Nicole stepped out of the closet, Josh walked in and flicked on the light.
“What are you doing in there?” Josh said. “And what’s with the gun?”
“I don’t know how, but he found me,” Nicole said. “He broke into the house through the deck outside the bedroom. This was the only place I could think to hide.”
“Holy shit,” Josh said.
“Look outside,” she said. “He was driving an SUV. He parked it across the street. It’s the same one that almost hit me the day we met.
They both went to the front door and looked out the small window. The intruder was just getting into his car. He revved the engine and, with a screech of tires, sped off. His lights were off, making it impossible to see the license plate.
They retreated into the living room and sat on the couch in stunned silence. Josh put his arm around Nicole. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“What do you think made him run away?” Josh said.
“When I was kidnapped, I heard Earl talking about the hit on me. He said the killer was instructed to make it look like an accident. When you showed up, I guess that ruined his plan. How could he invent an accident that would explain two dead bodies?
“We’ll have to call the police,” she went on. “I didn’t want them involved, but I don’t see that we have much choice.”
“Wait a minute,” Josh said, “I just thought of something. I know a guy who works as a bodyguard. I should have called him days ago.”
“Who is it?” she said.
“Carlos, my personal trainer at the gym. Big guy who does security for visiting celebrities, stuff like that. He’ll either take the job himself or find someone else to do it.”
He got out his phone and made the call. It took him a while to explain the situation.
Meanwhile, Nicole went in the other room and put in a call to Greg Albee.
“What’s up?” Albee said. In the background was the sound of a busy newsroom, a low roar of voices and the clatter of people moving about.
“The hired killer has found me, Greg. I can’t wait for you to vet this story. Something has to run now, tonight, or I’m taking it to XHN.”
“Please don’t do that, Nicole. You can’t trust those—”
“I don’t care. I’ve talked to David Griffen. He’s dying to get my story. XHN is just irresponsible enough to run it without checking it out or asking the chief and Pizer what they have to say.”
“Please!” Albee sounded desperate. “Just give me a little time. I’ll call the editor and see if we can make it happen. Maybe we can get at least part of the story in the paper right away.”
“It has to be enough to get the hit man to back off,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I’ll give you an hour. It’s 8:15 right now. You’ve got until 9:15.”
“An hour!” he complained. Then, “Okay, okay, I’ll get back to you.”
When she rejoined Josh in the living room, he said, “Carlos is on his way.”
Nicole told him about the call she’d put in to Greg Albee.
“Good,” Josh said. “I never could figure out what was taking so long. Those guys are slower than the department of building and safety.”
In less than ten minutes, the doorbell rang again. Josh went over to look out the window, then opened the door. A huge Latino man in his late thirties nodded at Josh. He was at least six-foot five and built like a truck. “Hi, bro,” he said.
Nicole stood up, and introductions were made. Then Carlos walked around the house, inspecting the locks on the doors and windows. He went outside and looked around. When he came back, he said, “The gate to the back was open. That lock on it is pretty lame. You’ll have to pick up something better.” At Josh’s invitation, Carlos sat on a big upholstered chair near the couch. The men started talking sports, and Nicole tuned out their conversation.
She glanced at her watch. Forty-five minutes had passed since she’d talked to Albee, and she was beginning to think she really would have to put in a call to XHN.
It was another five minutes before Albee finally rang. He was a little breathless. “We’re running the story about the chief on our website late tonight, and it will be in the morning paper,” he said. “Legal is giving it a final once over. The story gets the police chief, Pizer, and his lawyer. It proves they’ve been bribing the chief on a regular basis. We’ll keep working on Pizer’s mob connections and, hopefully, have that out in a few days. This story will say that it’s the first in a series, and that we’re continuing to work on information about Blair’s other blackmail targets.”
“Thanks, Greg,” she said. But her enthusiasm was muted. Why in the hell hadn’t they done this in the first place? The story could have run a week ago, even before Albee went to Florida.
“Now, there’s just one piece of this story I’m missing, and that’s what I want to talk to you about,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“My exclusive interview with Nicole Graves. The story in your own words. How you found out about Blair, the attempts on your life, everything you’ve been through. Remember? You promised you’d do that when you first contacted me.”
She had forgotten, but she said, “No problem.” She put her hand over the phone and whispered to Josh, “He wants to interview me. Is it okay if he comes here?”
Josh nodded.
Albee agreed to come to the house, and she gave him the address.
“I’ll have to bring another reporter with me and a photographer,” Albee said. “Is that all right with you?”
“Sure,” she said. Mention of a photographer grabbed her attention. As soon as they hung up, she got up from the couch and, with renewed energy, hurried upstairs to change.
By the time Albee and his crew arrived, it was 10:00 p.m. Carlos and Josh both went to the door. Josh looked out and, recognizing Albee, gave a nod to Carlos before opening the door. Albee greeted Nicole and Josh enthusiastically, pulling her into a hug and shaking Josh’s hand. He introduced his photographer and the other reporter.
Then Albee looked at Josh. “Are you going to tell me your name this time? Or do you still prefer to remain anonymous?”
“I’m Josh Mulhern,” Josh said. “This is Carlos Rodriquez, Nicole’s bo
dyguard. I’m Nicole’s—uh—significant other.” This made Nicole laugh. He looked at her in mock seriousness. “Have I misunderstood the situation?” he deadpanned.
She flushed and patted his arm. “No, silly. It’s just such a ridiculous phrase.” Then she turned to Albee and said, “I’d rather you not use Josh’s name in the story.”
“Hey!” Josh said. “Why not?”
“You’re not going to like it when everyone you know reads that you’re connected to some very unsavory events. Seriously, Josh, you don’t need that kind of publicity.”
“And I’m saying I want to be with you on this.”
When she saw his jaw set in the way it had been during their argument, she realized she was stepping on his toes again.
She gave Albee a shrug. “If you think it’s relevant.”
Josh went to get chairs out of the dining room for the photographer and the second reporter. Meanwhile, Albee sat on the couch next to Nicole. After he put his phone on the coffee table and turned on its voice recorder, he started asking questions. He wanted to know about Robert, her relationship with him, why she thought he’d left her the money, and what she planned to do with it once she got it. On the last point, she simply said she didn’t know.
During the interview, Carlos kept getting up to look out the windows, checking to see if anyone was out there.
Albee asked Nicole how she’d found Robert’s computer. Then, backtracking, how she’d discovered the safe room in the first place, and how she’d gotten into the house. And, finally, where she’d been since she’d disappeared ten days before.
At this point she veered from the truth. She told him she’d been kidnapped by the man police later found dead at Robert’s cabin and another man whose name she didn’t know. She said the two men had fallen asleep after consuming several six-packs of beer. She’d taken the car keys and escaped. She didn’t mention Rick because she’d promised him she wouldn’t. Nor did she say the man found dead in the cabin wasn’t actually Robert’s murderer. From what she’d gathered, Robert had been the target of the same hit man who was after her. Maybe this would come out. But there didn’t seem much point in going over it. Nor did she admit she was the one who’d shot Earl, that he hadn’t committed suicide.
The Bequest Page 20
