by Peggy Jaeger
“I swear to God, Sean, I’m not making this up. Someone deliberately tried to scare me. The lights did go out and someone was following me. Luckily, I got to the corridor door before anything could happen.”
“Why weren’t you followed into it, then?”
Tiffany thought for a moment.
“Because I would have seen who it was. Whoever did this didn’t want me to know who they were. That’s why the lights went out.”
Sean rubbed a finger across his lips, a habit, Tiffany knew, he did whenever he was seriously thinking. “Aye. Makes sense. But you have no idea who it was? You didn’t see anything, or anyone?”
She shook her head.
“There’s not much I can do about this without being able to accuse someone.”
Tiffany flopped back down onto the love seat and blew out a breath.
“Speaking of accusing,” she said, “what did you find out about the ramp explosion?”
Sean’s bushy white eyebrows rose.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Cole told me all about your suspicions. The skate. The timing of the explosive. Everything. Except why you felt you needed to keep it from me.”
Sean rubbed his chin and remained silent.
“Well?”
He pointed to the couch and said, “Shove over, lass.”
She did, arms still crossed.
“I’ll admit, keeping me doubts to m’self may not have been the best thing to do, but I had me reasons, uppermost of which I didn’t want you to get upset right before the show opened.”
“Too late. When Cole told me, I was livid you’d kept it from me, even more than the possibility someone was trying to sabotage the show. Or me.”
“Not the show, lass. You. ’Twas your skate tampered with, and I’ve confirmed it was, indeed, tampered with. I’ve spoken personally to the last person to see the skates before they were shipped. She swears they were perfect, and I believe her.”
“What about yesterday?”
“Like I told Cole, I have a friend who’s a sort of an expert on explosives. I called him after yesterday’s incident and he came right over and took a look at the whole set-up.”
“And?”
“The timer had definitely been changed. ’Twas originally pre-set for a ten second delay to allow time for your entrance.”
“And it was altered?”
“Aye. Shortened by seven seconds. Not nearly enough time for you to come down before it went off.”
Tiffany digested the information. “What about the explosives themselves? The blast sounded louder than ever before. Or maybe it was just because I was at the top of the ramp when it went off.”
“No, you’re right, I’m afraid. ’Twas double the amount usually used.”
“Double? Good Lord, I could have been seriously hurt.” Her lips started to tremble, and a cold, dark bullet of fear shot straight through her stomach.
“Don’t think about it. It’ll do no good a’tall.”
Tiffany gnawed on her bottom lip. “Do you have any idea who’s responsible? Any suspicions?”
“Unfortunately, it could be anyone in the company. But me best bet is it’s someone who doesn’t want to see you go on opening night. Someone who’s willing to take drastic measures to ensure it, who’ll stoop to scaring you whatever way works.”
“Marina hates my guts,” Tiffany said. “Ever since the Olympics. It’s no secret she thinks she should have won.”
“Aye, that’s true.” Sean tugged on one ear as he looked at her.
A silly grin that quickly tripped across his face made her ask, “What?”
“Think about it, lass. Does she have the, shall we say, mental processes to rig explosives? I don’t think so.”
For the first time since coming into the Garden, Tiffany relaxed. “True,” she said with a sigh. “She can barely lace her skates correctly half the time.”
She considered who else could despise her so much. With a deep sigh, she said, “I can’t figure this out.”
“Aye. Me neither. But here’s what I’ve been thinking.”
****
Cole entered the arena just in time to see Tiffany rehearse her last solo number of the show. She was out of costume, garbed in her usual tights and body suit, woolen mittens on her hands. She skated from one end of the ice to the other in the blink of an eye. Two triple toe loops later, she landed securely on one foot, right leg behind her, arms stretched out at her sides. She skated back to center ice and went into one of her famous sit-spins. When the music ended, she was perfectly in sync with it.
“Better,” Sean called from the sideline. “Much better.”
Arms akimbo, Tiffany skated to her coach.
Cole was surprised the rink was empty except for the two of them. None of the group or crew were watching or waiting around, as they’d been before when he visited. When he was within earshot he called out, “I don’t know how you did that number before, Brat, but it looked absolutely outstanding a minute ago.”
Her smile widened. She threw a haughty look at Sean and then skated to the barrier to meet Cole.
“Don’t be giving her a swelled head, now, lad. I’ve finally got her temperament down to a level I can work with.”
“Cretin,” she called over her shoulder, and then lifted her cheek for a kiss from Cole when he reached her.
Because he wanted to rattle her, and because he’d been dying to touch her all morning long while he worked, Cole scooped her up into his arms and planted a hot, long and deeply sensual kiss on her mouth, dipping her body way back over his arm.
The sound of Sean clearing his throat did nothing to break them apart. He did it again. Louder. “Let me know if I’m interrupting,” he said.
Cole broke away, grinned at him and said, “You are.”
He let Tiffany go, silently thrilled she had trouble maintaining her famous balance.
“Why are the two of you here alone?” he asked, rubbing a hand down her slim back. “Where’s everyone else?”
Sean glanced at Tiffany. “I gave everyone the afternoon off. I wanted to work just with her today, make sure she’s back in form.”
“I’ve never been out of form,” she shot back and rubbed her hands together.
“Plus”—he threw her a stern glare—“we needed to put together a game plan for what’s been going on.”
He filled Cole in on the results of his investigation and what he wanted to do about it.
“Keeping Tiffany sheltered for now is the first step.”
“Sean’s hoping by isolating me, whoever’s been doing these things might get antsy, take another shot at getting to me, and reveal themselves in the bargain.”
“Aye, and with what happened this morning, I think it’s the right way to go.”
Cole looked from one face to the other. “What happened this morning?”
Tiffany dropped her gaze, a characteristic he wasn’t used to seeing in her. “Brat?”
She looked up, took a breath, and told him. When she was done, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“Sounds to me like someone was trying hard to scare her,” Sean said.
“It looks like it worked,” Cole blasted back, his hands tightening around her waist.
“I’m more angry than scared now,” she said, pulling away. “Whoever wants me out of the show has it a lot harder if I won’t be rehearsing with the company.”
“How are you going to know what to do in the group numbers?” Cole asked.
“I’ve already done them a hundred times in rehearsal.” She flipped her hand in the air. “I know where everyone will be. Plus, I’ll be practicing those parts, as well as my solos, with Sean. He’ll know if I’m off.”
Concerned, Cole turned to Sean. “Do you think she needs a bodyguard?”
The director shook his head, but it was Tiffany who answered. “Sean already asked me, and I vetoed the idea. I want whoever did these things to try again. This time though, we’
ll be ready.”
“Plus, I’ve got another ace up me sleeve I haven’t mentioned yet,” Sean said, with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Oh?”
“I put in another order for skates. They should arrive in the next day or so.”
“Why more?”
“One set of each we’ll keep under wraps, the ones you’ll use for the actual show. These we’ll leave out in the open in your dressing room, just like before. If our friend wants to try something to incapacitate you, right before the show would be the ideal time.”
Cole and Tiffany both agreed it was a good thought.
“I just wish I knew who it was,” Tiffany said, blowing out a sigh.
“Skating’s like any sport, lass, you know that. Competition breeds greed and contempt in too many cases. Remember the Tonya Harding catastrophe?”
She nodded.
“So you definitely think it’s someone in the show?” Cole asked.
“Aye. Me money’s on it.”
“Mine too,” Tiffany said. “It just makes sense.”
“Now, we’ve got a few more numbers to run through, so let’s not waste any more time.”
“Give me a minute alone with Cole, would you, Sean?” she asked.
The director’s eyes shifted from one to the other. He nodded and walked over to the sound equipment. “I’ll go check on the next piece of music.”
When he was out of hearing, Tiffany turned to Cole. “What?” she asked, brows grooving.
Cole reached out and, with infinite care, rubbed the furrow smooth again. “I don’t like what’s been going on here. I wish there was some way I could be sure you’re safe.”
Tiffany moved closer and took his hand in hers. “I’ll be fine. Sean knows what he’s doing, and his idea about the skates is a good one. Besides, if I’m separated from everyone else, how can someone possibly harm me?”
“Just make sure you don’t go anywhere in here without Sean. Make him walk you to and from your dressing room.”
“He’s already done that twice today.”
Her eyes stayed on his. He couldn’t read what was in them.
“What?” Cole asked. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
Shaking her head, she gave him a sly smile and said, “Nothing. Just lost for a sec. Shouldn’t you be editing something or interviewing someone?”
He caressed her cheek with a finger and told her, “I’m due back in a half hour. I have a meeting scheduled with Stepman, then I have to edit the piece I did this morning for a spot on the six o’clock broadcast. Then back to the UN. The Peace Committee is still in session.”
“How does it look for a treaty?”
He lifted his shoulders and blew out a sigh. “At this point it’s anyone’s guess.”
“So when will you be home?” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and a sudden rush of heat boiled up within him.
“I don’t know. I have to stay at the UN until the session closes or adjourns for the day. It might be very late before I can get away, that’s why I want you to promise me you’ll cab home and not walk. Better yet, have Sean put you in a taxi.”
Tiffany smiled up at him. “Promise.” She reached up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth.
Cole’s tongue fanned out where she’s touched him. “More.” He leaned in closer.
She obliged.
When Sean cleared his throat again, they broke apart, laughing.
“Take care of yourself,” he told her, touching her hair, her cheeks, her lips.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”
“I hope in my bed wearing nothing but a smile,” he whispered.
Her laugh rang up to the arena rafters. “Hurry home and see,” she told him with one more quick buss on the cheek.
****
When Tiffany rode the elevator up to her apartment floor a few hours later her feet felt lead weights had attached to them. Sean had taken pity on her and quit earlier than originally planned. True to his promise and to Cole’s request, he rode home in the cab with her, and made sure she got safely through the door.
“There was a flower delivery for you a few minutes ago just when I got on duty,” Peter told her. “I left it outside your apartment.”
The elevator opened and Tiffany instantly spied the long white box wrapped with a beautiful huge red bow.
With excited hands she opened the apartment door, lifted the flowers and threw her things down onto the foyer table.
“Sweetie, is that you?”
“Mom, hi. I didn’t know you were here.”
Carly came into the foyer from the kitchen and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “What’s that?” She pointed to the flower box.
“Peter said it just came.”
“Who’s it from?”
“There’s no card.”
Carly gave her daughter a sly look. “What makes me think you know who sent this?”
With a giddy laugh, Tiffany tore open the bow and lifted the box top off. She gasped at the two dozen yellow roses lining the inside of the box.
“Olympic roses,” Carly said with a smile.
“They’re gorgeous!” Tiffany lifted the box and brought it into the kitchen. She began opening the cabinets. “There’s a vase around here somewhere. A-ha.”
She took down the Waterford piece Addie had left to her and filled it with water.
“Care to tell me who they’re from?” Carly asked, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, arms crossed in front of her.
Tiffany debated for a second about confiding in her mother. She took the arrangement from the box and brought it up to her face to delight in the scent. Roses had always been her favorite scent.
Without warning, her eyes started to water furiously, and she began gagging for breath.
“Tiffany!” Carly rushed to her side. “What’s wrong? My God! You’re as pale as a ghost.”
Tiffany dropped the flowers into the sink and grabbed on to the counter, fearful she would faint. Light-headedness engulfed her immediately when she’d sniffed the flowers. The room spun away from her in a dizzying spiral of colors, and she couldn’t hold on to consciousness a moment longer.
The last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was hearing her mother scream her name.
Chapter Sixteen
“She’ll have a hell of a headache, but she should be fine. Just make sure she drinks plenty of water and gets frequent doses of fresh air.”
The doctor shook hands with Mike and Carly and then left them outside Tiffany’s emergency room cubicle.
“This is unbelievable,” Mike said. His mouth pinched into a thin, hard line.
“Did you hear what he said about the insecticide?” Carly asked, biting her bottom lip. “It could have killed her.”
“Could have, Carly. But didn’t. She’s a strong girl and thankfully you were right there with her when it happened.”
“Thank God for that, is right,” Cole said. “What do the police have to say?”
Mike turned to his nephew. “They took the flowers, the box, everything, to be analyzed,” he said. “The preliminary toxicology report showed some kind of powerful insecticide in Tiffany’s nasal passageway. It must have been sprayed full-force onto the roses, undiluted, to have caused such a violent reaction.”
“Who would do something like this to her?” Carly asked, tears breaking in her eyes. “Why would someone do this?”
“I can answer that,” Sean said.
Succinctly, he told them everything that had happened since the skate incident.
“Why haven’t you called the police in before now?” Mike asked, his voice hard with anger. “This makes what? Four attempts on her?”
Cole jumped to the aging skater’s defense. “Before now we didn’t have any real, concrete proof. The skate could have been defective; the explosive could have been checked off to carelessness. Tiffany was the only one in the arena when she was followed. This is the first time we have something t
angible for the police.”
“I called an old friend of mine as soon as I heard about this. His son is a police detective, and he’s on his way over here,” Mike said.
“You’ve got to tell him what else has happened,” Carly said to Sean. “Everything. Whoever is responsible for these…these attempts,” she said, shuddering, “has to be found right away. Nothing else can happen to my daughter.”
“I’d already made arrangements to have her work privately at the arena, out of everyone’s sight,” Sean said, his voice weary. “I never imagined she’d be targeted in her own home.”
“Jesus!” Cole rammed his fist into the hospital wall. “I swear I’ll kill whoever did this.”
“Calm down, son.” Mike squeezed his shoulder. “This won’t help.”
Cole tried to control the savage emotions churning within him. “I want to see her,” he told Carly.
“The doctor said she’s sleeping. But I suppose a few minutes won’t hurt. Come on.”
She took his hand and said, “She’s pretty pale,” before opening the door.
When he walked into the darkened private cubicle, spied the bed and the small figure lying beneath the antiseptic colored sheets, his heart split in half.
After two years of seeing the horrible atrocities of war, of bodies lying naked and dead on desert streets, children without limbs, nothing he’d seen was as heartbreaking as Tiffany, wan, colorless, and deathly still, lying on the hospital gurney.
Her hair fanned out behind her against the starched white pillow, she had an intravenous line attached to her arm, and Cole spied small electrode wires jutting out from her hospital gown, attached to a cardiac monitor on the wall above her.
“When she wakes up, the doctor said we can take her home. I’d rather she sleep a little now,” Carly said.
Cole nodded, unsure of what to do or say.
“I’m going to get the discharge paperwork ready.”
“I’ll stay with her,” he told her.
Left alone, Cole dragged a chair over to the bedside. He placed it alongside her sleeping form, lifted one of her hands and brought it to his lips.
It was ice cold. His heart stopped when he realized how close he’d come to losing her.
