by B. J Daniels
“You should take the afternoon off,” Greg said, quickly warming to the idea. “Have you ever been to the Museum of the Rockies? I heard they have a wonderful new dinosaur display. I would love to see it.”
Charlie felt her mouth fall open. He wasn’t suggesting—
“We could play hooky. You definitely deserve it.”
Yep, he was suggesting. Amanda would have a cow if they went to the museum together. “It’s a lovely idea, but I can’t, thank you anyway. I have some calls I have to make back at work.” She pushed up from the table. “I really should get back, but thank you again for everything.”
Greg looked disappointed. “How did I get so lucky to have you on my team?”
Yes, how did you? She thought about saying something about the headhunter who’d come after her, but her stomach was roiling even worse than earlier. She felt...nauseous. If she didn’t get back to work soon, Amanda might come back looking for them.
Charlie smiled at his compliment. “That goes both ways,” she said and left the restaurant.
The office was only a few blocks away, but her nausea had gotten so much worse that she had to duck in an alley and throw up in a garbage can. She thought that would make her feel better, but clearly she was wrong. She felt dizzy and sick and reached for her phone.
Shep answered on the first ring.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I’M SURE IT was just something going around,” Charlie said after Shep had tucked her into bed. “Or something I ate during a lunch from hell. The mousse had kind of a funny taste.”
He doubted it was food poisoning, which he knew usually hit two hours after a person ingested whatever had gone bad. Charlie had said the stomach cramps hit right after she ate some of her dessert.
“What happened at lunch?” he said. He carefully folded a cold washcloth and laid it on her forehead. “Charlie? You aren’t just sick, you’re upset. What happened?”
She swallowed and closed her eyes. “It has nothing to do with Lindy.”
“If I’m right, someone doctored your food at lunch. You said you were with your boss and the office manager?”
She said nothing, her eyes still closed.
“There wasn’t anyone else? Why would one of them put something in your food? More specifically, in your mousse?”
Charlie slowly opened her eyes. “Amanda.”
“That’s the office manager?”
She nodded.
“Why would she want to make you sick?”
“I can’t believe she would.”
A lie. “You mean you don’t want to believe it.”
“No, I don’t, but the mousse was her idea, Greg said.”
“Greg, your boss?”
“Amanda’s his fiancée.”
“Wait,” Shep said. “Are you saying she’s jealous?”
“Very—not that I’ve given her any reason. Greg likes my work. Apparently he saw some of it and sent a headhunter after me because he wanted me to work for him at his new design company. He and Amanda had been an item before that, so she knew all about it and apparently resented it.”
He waited, sensing there was more.
With a sigh, Charlie said, “I overheard a phone conversation one night when I was working late. She’s cheating on him and now she knows that I know about it. I think she’s afraid I’m going to tell him.”
Shep saw her hesitate. “What else?”
She groaned. “It’s all so silly. After she warned me not to tell Greg about what I’d overheard, I received a package at work.”
“A package?”
“It had a dead mouse in it. Amanda swore she didn’t send it, but when I said I didn’t want the police involved, something Greg wanted to do, Amanda jumped in and agreed with me. She also agreed that whatever message someone wanted sent, that I’d received it. Then she called Maintenance and got rid of the package.”
“Maybe the police could have gotten prints off the package.”
“What was the point? I know who sent it.”
Shep gave that a moment’s thought. “If so, then I guess it wouldn’t be that out of character for this woman to doctor your dessert. But why would she do that?”
“Spite. Jealousy. Meanness. Pick one or all three. Amanda wasn’t getting enough attention during lunch, had drunk too much and had started saying stupid things. She’s just really insecure and needs a lot of reassurance. Or maybe with the wedding coming up so quickly, she’s panicking.” Charlie shrugged. “Anyway, Greg stepped away from the table to talk to a possible client. I got up to go to the ladies’ room to get away from Amanda and when I came back she was gone. But she apparently ordered mousse for Greg and me and told him to make sure I tried it.”
“So she had opportunity.”
Charlie nodded. “I have no idea how long she was at the table alone. Earlier, Amanda was furious that Greg had been complimenting me on the presentation I did for our client. The lunch was supposed to be a celebration of how well it went.”
“Congratulations,” Shep said, smiling at her as he adjusted the cool cloth on her forehead. “I keep wondering about her motive. You haven’t done anything to make her think—”
“Make her think I was after her fiancé? I can’t believe you just asked me that.”
“Sorry.”
They both fell silent for a few moments. Charlie had closed her eyes again. He wondered if she’d fallen asleep and was about to get up and leave the room when she asked, “Did you find Kat?”
He watched her take a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
“She hates me, right? Blames me? Not that she shouldn’t.”
“Lindy died because someone killed her. If anyone shares blame, it’s Kat. I have no doubt that she knew her daughter was torturing you. She and your father weren’t there for you or Lindy. There are a lot of factors that play into what happened that night. The only one truly to blame is the killer.”
She smiled at him as she opened her eyes, then cupped his stubbled jaw. “I’ve always known you were a nice guy. It’s why I dumped you after boot camp. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
He chuckled. “So that was your thinking?”
She removed her hand. “Maybe I didn’t want to steal your heart so I ended it before I could.”
He laughed. “Sorry, you were too late. You already stole my heart.”
She looked at him as if trying to see if he was serious and apparently decided he wasn’t. “So back to Kat...”
“I don’t think she’s behind this. She’s married, has another daughter—”
“Another daughter?”
He saw the instant fear in her eyes. “She looks nothing like Lindy or her mother. Dark brown hair with blue streaks. Her name’s Cara.”
Charlie nodded mutely. “I think I’m going to be sick again.”
Shep helped her up and followed her into the bathroom to hold her hair back as she upchucked.
Once he had her back in bed, she said, “If not Kat, then who?”
He shook his head. “But don’t worry, I haven’t given up.” He rose from the edge of the bed. “Try to get some sleep. You should feel better in the morning.”
“Shep?” she called before he could reach the door. “Thank you.”
He nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind him. All he could think about was the woman who’d made Charlie sick. Did she know about Lindy’s murder? Was she motivated by more than jealousy? He couldn’t for the life of him see a connection between Charlie’s past and Amanda.
But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
WT COULDN’T HELP being nervous. It was one thing to flirt with Meg years ago in law school—back then it had been safe. He’d known she was happily married, so it was all in good fun. Not that he hadn’t meant it. He’d been attracted to her—just
like most of the other male law students.
Meg had always had that extra special something that made her stand out. She wasn’t classically beautiful. She was interesting, full of life and a challenge intellectually. She’d finished in the top five of her class, along with him.
But now there was no husband. No safety net. It would be just the two of them. What if they found out they had no sparks?
Meg had laughed when he suggested that after asking her out.
“What do we have to lose, WT, at our age?” she’d asked. “One dance. That’s all I’m asking.”
When he picked her up at her house for their date, she opened the door in a drop-dead gorgeous fire-engine red dress. She twirled, spinning the skirt out and exposing some damn good-looking legs.
“Wow.” That’s all he could say. He was seldom tongue-tied. Until now.
She laughed. “You look pretty good yourself, Judge.”
“Retired,” he said. “Thanks.”
“We never really retire,” she said and winked at him. “We’re too young.”
He had to admit, he felt young as long as he didn’t try to remember the last time he’d been out on a real date. He’d felt that all of that was behind him for some time now and he’d been okay with it.
She grabbed her wrap and they headed out to his pickup.
“Sorry for the Montana transportation.” He hadn’t brought his sports car because he felt it would be broadcasting the wrong message. He wasn’t sure exactly what that message was. He feared that he’d look like a man going through a late midlife crisis, which he suspected had been the case when he bought the damned thing.
“It won’t be my first truck ride,” Meg said as he opened the passenger side door.
He took her elbow to help her in, but she didn’t really need it. She hopped in as if she was a teenager and he closed the door. The cold winter night air seemed to invigorate him. His step felt lighter as he walked around and slid behind the wheel.
“I didn’t know what restaurant to pick so I asked around,” WT told her. “I understand we can’t go wrong with this one.”
“You really think what food we have will matter?” she asked, clearly amused.
Was he trying too hard? He just wanted this night to be everything she expected. Unfortunately, he really had no idea what her expectations were—if any.
They talked about the weather, Christmas holidays and an update on her grown children and so far, lack of grandchildren, until they reached the restaurant.
Once seated, they caught up on people they’d gone to law school with and how many of them had stayed in the profession. He ordered a good bottle of wine.
“To old friends and lovers,” she said, clinking her glass against his, her summer-sky-blue eyes dancing with mischief.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re paying me back for the way I behaved in law school?” he asked.
“What? You think I’m flirting with you, WT?” She laughed. “I am.” She opened her menu and disappeared behind it, leaving him surprisingly a little flushed with the attention.
When the waiter returned, WT ordered salmon and salad for himself and closed his menu. Meg turned to the waiter and shook her head. “I know what I want, but we’re going to need a moment.”
“Why did you just send our waiter away?” he asked, confused.
“Because you aren’t having salmon and salad. Tonight we’re having beef, rare, with a big fat loaded baked potato.”
“I haven’t eaten red meat in five years, and if I eat all that, I won’t be able to move, let alone dance,” WT told her.
She grinned. “We’ll see,” she said, then signaled the waiter over and ordered them both rib eyes, rare, loaded baked potatoes and side salads. “You still like blue cheese?” she asked him but didn’t wait for a reply. “Throw some blue cheese on them both,” she said, picking up their menus and handing them to the waiter.
“If you’re trying to lead me astray—”
“How am I doing so far?” she asked, leaning toward him, elbows on the table. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight and he felt a tug on his heart.
“You definitely have my attention.”
Meg laughed. “What more could a girl ask?” She seemed to study him for a long moment before she asked, “How have you been, Billy, really?”
No one had ever called him Billy—no one but Meg. Even when he was young, he was Will. “Tolerable.”
She shook her head. “I was surprised when I heard that you retired.”
“It was time.” He looked way, but he could feel her gaze on him. Slowly, he turned back to her. “I keep my hand in some with helping my protégés when they need it. But there are times when...” He’d never put the feeling into words because he hadn’t let himself even think it.
“When it isn’t enough?”
He nodded, realizing it was the first time he’d admitted it to himself—let alone anyone else.
The waiter brought their salads and poured them more wine. The rest of the meal passed easily. They found they had a lot in common so there were no tense silences. WT couldn’t remember a time when he’d enjoyed a meal more. Over dessert—Meg had insisted on the crème brûlée for two—they continued talking and sharing confidences like old friends.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked when their plates had been cleared.
He’d planned on driving back to Whitefish—unless Shep needed him here in Bozeman. “What did you have in mind?”
* * *
AFTER SLEEPING MOST of the afternoon and night before, Charlie felt well enough the next morning to shower and dress for work. She’d convinced herself that it was the mousse that had made her sick—and that Greg had probably been as deathly ill as she had. Amanda was unstable, but surely she didn’t carry around something in her purse to make people wretch like that. No one was that crazy, were they?
“Where are you going?” Shep said when she walked into the living room. He was sitting on the couch and appeared to have been up for some time. He had his laptop open and had been reading something. She could smell coffee.
As she moved into the kitchen to get a cup, she saw that he had also made oatmeal. She hadn’t had oatmeal in years.
“I thought something bland might be best for your stomach,” he said from the other room. “You aren’t really going to work, are you?”
She poured herself a cup of coffee before turning to him. “I have to. I’m sure it was the mousse.”
“So am I.”
“I need to find out if Greg got sick as well. If he did, then...mystery solved.” Shep said nothing, but she could read him only too well. “I jumped to conclusions yesterday. It couldn’t have been Amanda. It’s too off-the-wall even for her.”
“You should have some oatmeal.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate the thought but I can’t eat a bite yet.”
Today’s newspaper was on the kitchen table, opened to the horoscope page. She quickly read hers.
Your love life going nowhere? Maybe you haven’t held the bar high enough. Let your intended rise to your level. You deserve more.
“When that coffee hits your stomach...” Shep came into the kitchen. She gave him an impatient look, and he held up both hands in surrender. “Sorry, none of my business. Let me put my boots on and I’ll follow you to work.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes. I do it every day. You just don’t know I’m there. I wish you’d call me when you get off work each day.”
She groaned and headed for the door. “Shep, since I haven’t seen Lindy again, don’t you think it’s time you went home? I appreciate everything you’ve done but I really think you should—” She let out a gasp and stumbled back in horror at what lay just outside her door.
A pair of blank dark eyes stared up at her from a doll�
�s mutilated face. Its curly chestnut hair, once so like Charlie’s own, had been hacked into a hideous cut. The dress it wore was soiled. But what had been done to its face was what had Charlie’s stomach roiling again.
Someone had applied gruesome makeup to the doll, smearing bright red lipstick sloppily over the mouth so that it appeared to be grinning insanely.
She heard a high-pitched sound and realized it was coming from her. Shep was there in an instant, pulling her away. She saw him look from the revolting looking doll lying on her doorstep to her in confusion.
Tears filled her eyes as she gulped air and found her voice. “It was a gift from my father. A doll that looked like me. It was the one thing that Lindy knew better than to touch.”
Shep pulled her into his arms and kicked the door closed with a boot heel. He buried one hand in her hair and cradled her back with the other.
She closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of his body. Only moments before, she’d been ready to send him away. Now, she was never more thankful that he was here for her—just as he’d been last night.
“I’m not going anywhere until I find out who is doing this,” he whispered as he kissed the top of head. “I’m going to find them, Charlie, stop them and make this end. That’s a promise.”
* * *
WHILE CHARLIE FORCED down some of the oatmeal he’d cooked, Shep took care of the doll. It was evidence, so he treated it as such, bagging it carefully for the judge. He’d called WT, concerned that it might be time to call in the police. But the judge had assured him that they couldn’t do any more at this point than what Shep was doing.
“There really hasn’t been a threat against Charlie. I’ll take the doll to the local lab,” the judge had promised. With luck, there would be fingerprints on it or something else about the doll that would put an end to this quickly.
“I feel as if Charlie’s in danger even if a threat hasn’t really been made,” he told the judge when he called again from the sidewalk just outside the apartment. His breath came out in white puffs as he brought the judge up to date on what had been going on. He talked fast, wanting to get back to Charlie as quickly as possible. He’d come out here because he hadn’t wanted her to overhear his conversation.
