Adrenaline and anger surging through him, Cole dropped the glass and karate-kicked the door open.
Birch wheeled around and stood staring at him—a cellular in his hand that had an attachment over the mouthpiece. Undoubtedly, that’s what was altering his voice-After an initial startled second, he tossed the phone onto the couch and snarled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?’’
“I’ll give you a hint.” Cole pulled the gun from his waistband and aimed it at the creep.
His face paled. “Wait a minute. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’ve got something real wrong here.”
Cole clicked off the safety, then worked the slide. Birch swallowed hard and rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“Look,” he tried again, sweat appearing on his forehead. “Whatever you’re thinking is wrong.”
Before Cole could reply, Beth came hurrying into the apartment—still tugging on her robe.
“You’re just in time,” he told her. “Your friend here’s about to tell me why he’s been playing games with you.”
“Spit it out!” Cole menacingly waved his gun.
“I…I was just trying to take her down a peg or two. She figured she was too damn good for me, and I was just giving her a little payback.”
“Yeah? Well, guess what? The cops are going to give you a little payback. Call them, Beth. Then we’ll just wait right here until they arrive.”
“ITS HARDLY WORTH GOING back to bed,” Beth said, after the police officers had taken Marlon away.
Cole gave her a tired smile. “One of us hasn’t even been to bed yet, so even a couple of hours sounds good.”
She gazed at him, wishing he’d take her in his arms, even though she knew it was a dangerous wish.
When he didn’t, she said, “Well then, I guess I’ll…Cole, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Hey, I was just doing my job. So now there’s one mystery solved and only one to go:” Giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, he shooed her off to her bedroom.
She closed the door, then climbed into bed again, wishing the “one to go” wasn’t such an awfully big one. But at least she didn’t have to be afraid to answer her phone anymore. And at least her caller hadn’t been Brian. If it had turned out she was that bad a judge of character…
Of course, she’d never have figured Marlon was the one, either. Letting him know she wasn’t interested—even if she had done it in no uncertain terms—hardly seemed enough provocation for him to have been tormenting her for weeks.
Telling herself you never knew how warped people might be, she tried to make her mind go blank. Gradually, she drifted off into the oblivion of sleep.
And then she came awake with a start, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding.
The cats were on the floor, meowing and staring up at her instead of sleeping at the bottom of the bed, which meant she must have been moving in her sleep.
But that was hardly surprising. She’d been having a doozy of a nightmare—a different one this time, but in its own way just as horrific as the attic one.
In tonight’s, she’d been standing beside Cole, watching her father being strapped into an electric chair.
Sitting up, she turned on the bedside lamp and told herself that could never happen. Canada had abolished the death penalty decades ago. Still, how would she feel if she helped convict him of murder? She exhaled slowly, wishing once again that she’d done more thinking before insisting on being involved in this. But now, as Cole had said, she was in too far to back out
Yet with more and more things pointing in the direction of her father’s guilt…And if he was the murderer, he’d undoubtedly been the gorilla man.
She tried to imagine what learning he’d definitely been the shooter would do to her. And how it would make her feel about Cole, for finding the proof. But that wasn’t something she wanted to think about.
She and Cole…It was as if the most unexpected thing had happened at the most unlikely time. And kissing him made her feel as if she’d found something she’d never even known was missing from her life.
But what if they did turn up evidence that helped convict her father? Wouldn’t she remember, every time she looked at Cole, that they’d sent her father to jail for the rest of his life?
Of course she would. Because, regardless of what he might have done, he’d still be her father.
And didn’t that mean she should put what was happening between her and Cole on hold? Until her life was no longer in danger and they knew for certain if her father was guilty?
Yes, that was undoubtedly the only sensible option. It might not be what she wanted, but anything else would be playing emotional Russian roulette.
Switching off the light, she lay back down and stared up through the skylight, unable to keep from thinking about Cole. She pictured him sitting in her kitchen, eating pizza. And in her living room, reading his book with the cats draped around him.
At the time, he’d seemed so right in those pictures. But how right would he seem if the two of them had destroyed her father?
She lay awake, her thoughts spinning, until the timer on the louvered blind started sliding it silently shut over the skylight, telling her it was almost dawn.
The next thing she knew, Bogey and Bacall were demanding to be let out of the bedroom.
“Just give me two seconds,” she told them, climbing out of bed and heading for the tiny en suite bathroom.
She freshened up a little, so she didn’t look morning-dreadful, then ran her fingers through her hair and shook it more or less into place. Grabbing her robe and tugging it on, she told herself the very first thing she was going to do was talk to Cole about cooling things between them—for the time being, at least
After all, she’d been the one who’d initiated the kissing last night So if she simply tried to keep him at arm’s length, without explaining why, he’d figure she’d switched places with an evil twin.
It wasn’t until she was heading for the bedroom door that she remembered this was the anniversary of Larisa’s death—and began dreading the visit to the cemetery.
They’d put flowers on the grave, the way they always did. Then they’d stand gazing at it, Mark looking as if he were totally lost in memories. Before they were done her mother would end up in tears, the way she always did. And Beth herself…
Normally, she just stood there feeling sad and un-comfortable. But now that she knew Larisa had cheated on Mark, and now that Cole had started her wondering why Mark was obsessed with an unfaithful wife’s memory, she’d probably spend the whole visit trying to figure out the reason.
When she opened the bedroom door and followed the cats out, she could smell that Cole had made coffee again this morning. As she neared the kitchen, she could see he’d also put down fresh cat food and made a deli run for bagels and cream cheese.
They were sitting on the counter, looking delicious, while he was sitting on a stool—looking even more delicious.
He was wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt, drinking a mug of the coffee. He hadn’t shaved yet, and just like yesterday, his dark growth of beard struck her as outrageously sexy.
Merely looking at him made her want to wrap her arms around him and kiss him good morning. Instead, she slid onto the stool next to his and said, “Mmmm. Someone must have given you lessons on being the perfect houseguest.”
He grinned at that, sending a little rush of desire through her.
When he reached for an empty mug and began pouring her coffee, she cleared her throat and ordered herself to start talking. “Cole…about last night?”
He didn’t say a word, simply put the mug down in front of her and waited.
She could feel her face growing warm, but this was something she had to do. She delayed the inevitable by taking a couple of sips of coffee, then said, “I guess you couldn’t help noticing I find you attractive.”
“What a fortunate coincidence.” He gave her a killer smile that turned her insides to j
elly.
“But…look, I’ve got a real problem with this whole situation.”
His smile faded. “I’m not surprised.”
“I mean, between my father looking like our prime suspect and someone shooting at me…”
“And breaking up with Brian,” he offered. “And discovering it was your neighbor who’s been harassing you.”
That took her aback. She hadn’t expected him to be helping her out.
Did the fact he was mean he’d been having second thoughts, too? Was he relieved that she wanted to put on the brakes?
Suddenly, her face was well beyond warm. She felt as if it was the color of a tomato.
“Look, Beth,” he said quiely, “I’m no Mr. Sensitivity, but I realize your life’s not exactly running smoothly at the moment. Hell, saying it’s in utter chaos would be more accurate. And I know you must be…well, as my sisters would put it, emotionally vulnerable. So let’s get a few other things sorted out before we start dealing with the fact that we’re attracted to each other.”
She simply stared at him. And the next thing she knew tears were streaming down her face. Never, not in a million years, would she have expected that re-action from a man, and it was so darned sweet-she didn’t know what she’d do if the other things didn’t get sorted out.
Cole sat looking at Beth in disbelief. He never had gotten any sleep. Instead, he’d spent the past couple of hours doing the most rational bit of thinking he’d ever done concerning a woman.
But look at the result. He’d reduced her to tears. So where was the flaw in his thinking? Rapidly, he reviewed it, trying to figure out where he’d gone off track.
It certainly hadn’t been in realizing that he was falling for her, because there was no doubt he was. Hell, as fast as it might have happened, he’d already fallen. He wanted her so badly it hurt.
And surely he couldn’t be wrong about the emotional vulnerability bit. Not when her life was such a mess. And that meant it would be a big mistake for her to get involved with anyone at the moment.
What she thought she wanted now wasn’t necessarily what she’d want once her life was back to normal—assuming it ever got there. And from his point of view, he wasn’t crazy about the possibility he’d get left hurting when that time came.
Dammit, all his logic still made perfect sense to him. So what was the problem?
“Beth?” he said at last. “What did I say wrong?”
She shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just…Oh, Cole, this isn’t really what I want.”
Then what on earth did she want?
“I must look like hell,” she murmured, wiping her eyes again.
“No, you look fine. Terrific, even. There’s something about the red-nosed, tearstained look that I’ve always found cute.”
“Oh, Cole.” She managed something that almost looked like a smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”
He wasn’t sure which of them moved, but a second later he was kissing her. She tasted of tears and coffee, a combination he’d never have imagined could taste half as good as it did.
Indulging himself in the warm sweetness of the kiss, he tried not to think about anything except the moment But he couldn’t entirely forget her words.
She’d said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.” Which was perfectly in line with what he’d been thinking.
And if what she figured she wanted now turned out to not be what she’d want once this was all over, where would that leave him?
Chapter Eleven
A cemetery would never have been Cole’s first choice of destinations on a warm sunny morning like this one. But since that was where Beth had to be, it was where he was going. Besides, not letting her out of his sight wasn’t exactly a hardship.
When he glanced across the car, she looked so kissable that his lips began to tingle. He forced his eyes from her and stared straight ahead once more, trying not to think about how sensuous her kisses were.
After their little session in the kitchen, he’d warned himself—yet again—that he was treading in very dangerous waters. But since he could still feel himself getting in deeper and deeper, practically with every breath he took, the warning had obviously done no good.
Ordering himself to think about something other than Beth, he turned his thoughts to her mother. He’d be meeting her when they got to the cemetery, and he was more than a little curious about her.
Even though Glen Gregory was looking like a shoo-in as the murderer, sometimes a killer turned out to be the most unlikely person imaginable. And that time lag between when Angela Gregory had discovered her sister’s body and when she’d called the police had bothered him from the beginning.
Not that he figured there was any real chance she was guilty. And he certainly didn’t want her to be. Hell, for Beth’s sake, he didn’t want her father to be, either. But as Mick Jagger had immortalized in song, you can’t always get what you want.
Glancing across the car again, he said, ‘Tell me about your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Yeah. I always like to know a little about people before I meet them.”
“What sort of a little?”
“Oh, how about starting with where she lives and what she does.”
“Well, she still lives in the house I grew up in, near Royal York, just north of Dundas. It’s a big two-story place, far too big for one person. But she got it as part of the divorce settlement, and she’s never wanted to sell—I think mostly because people have always told her she should.”
Cole smiled. “She doesn’t take kindly to advice?”
“Mmm…I guess that’s a fair way of putting it She got some money as part of the settlement, too, and she didn’t listen to anybody’s advice about what to do with it, either. She invested it in a fitness club.”
“People invest in fitness clubs?”
“Well, this one’s actually more than that. It’s a women’s club with spa facilities and a first-rate restaurant—plus the regular exercise equipment and pool and everything.
“A lot of the members are pretty high-powered women. At any rate, it was just in the planning stages when my mother got her settlement, and they were actively seeking women investors.”
“Aah. It’s a sexist club, then.”
Beth smiled. It made him want to kiss her.
“It’s also a successful one,” she said. “I’m sure, way back when, everyone thought Mom was going to lose her shirt. But she didn’t. And since she’s been a lifelong fitness nut, she ended up on staff as well as being an investor.
“She’s in charge of the exercise classes—every-thing from scheduling them to hiring the instructors. It doesn’t take all her time, but it’s enough to keep her busy.
“Oh, no, don’t turn here,” she said when he flicked on his signal. “The first entrance off Wharton is the closest to Larisa’s grave.”
Flicking the signal back off, he drove on up the block between Russell and Wharton, thinking about the fact that a lifelong fitness nut would have always been in good shape. And that Abbot had said Larisa Niebuhr could have been murdered by a woman.
Telling himself his imagination was getting way out of line, he turned into the cemetery’s entrance and followed Beth’s directions to the grave.
“It’s where those two cars are parked up ahead,” she said, anxiously glancing at her watch. “That’s my mom talking to Mark.”
“We’re not late,” Cole assured her, pulling up behind the other cars. The white Cadillac had personalized plates that read MN MD. Which meant that the green Taurus parked ahead of it had to be Angela Gregory’s.
“Wait a sec,” he told Beth as she reached for her door handle. Taking a slow look around, he satisfied himself that there was nobody else in sight.
“What?” she said nervously. “You think our gorilla man might be lurking behind a tombstone?”
“It’s pretty unlikely in broad daylight
, but there’s no sense taking chances.”
“Does that mean you’re wearing your gun?”
He pushed his suit jacket aside far enough that she could see his holster, then reached past her and opened the passenger’s door. Canada’s gun laws were strict, and he really shouldn’t be carrying, but under the circumstances, obeying the letter of the law didn’t strike him as the wisest thing to do.
While Beth headed over to her mother and uncle, hugging each of them in turn, Cole climbed out of the Mustang and assessed things.
Larisa’s grave was marked by an impressive marble headstone, its inscription carved in letters large enough to be read from the road. There was a white marble dove perched on either corner, and two large flower urns stood at ground level.
It made him wonder once again why Niebuhr seemed to hold Larisa’s memory in such high es-teem. Was it his way of denying that she’d been a less than perfect wife?
Telling himself he wasn’t the psychiatrist, Cole focused on Angela Gregory. In her early fifties, she was an older version of Beth—about five foot six or seven, slim, with blond hair.
The killer, he could hear Abbot saying in his imagination, was right-handed and somewhere between about five foot seven and five-eleven.
Angela Gregory, he noted, was wearing her watch on her left wrist, which likely meant she was right-handed.
“Cole,” Niebuhr said, stepping toward him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Cole shook the man’s hand, thinking he didn’t need to be a detective to realize that neither the good doctor nor Angela Gregory were pleased to see him.
“Mom,” Beth said, “this is Cole Radford.”
“Yes, so I gather.” Angela gave him a brittle smile.
“I invited him to come back to the house for lunch, too,” Beth added.
“Oh. How nice.”
When Beth shot him an uneasy glance, Cole said, “If I’ll be in the way, Mrs. Gregory…”
“No. No, of course not. I have lots of food. And, please, call me Angela.”
The Missing Hour Page 13
