“I’ll keep quiet while you question her, but I’m going with you.”
Dom huffed. “I was afraid you’d say that.” He grasped her arm and herded her outside to the parking area where a dark sedan waited for them.
A small, debonair man, chatting casually with the driver, stood outside the late model car. When he saw them approaching, he turned, smiled and came forward to greet them.
“Tito Gomez, at your service, Señorita Raney.” He bowed his head in a gentlemanly fashion. “Welcome to Buenos Aires.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gomez. Or should I say gracias. I’m afraid I don’t speak Spanish.”
“It is not a problem, señorita,” Gomez said. “I speak good English, no?”
“No, I mean yes.” Lausanne laughed.
Dom growled. Her laughter died when her gaze met his.
The driver took her carry-on from Dom and deposited it in the trunk, then opened the back door. Dom nudged her into action. She slid into the back seat. Dom spoke to Señor Gomez in Spanish for a couple of seconds, then Gomez got in the front seat. Dom slipped into the back seat with Lausanne and the driver closed the door.
Once they were on their way, Lausanne tugged on Dom’s jacket sleeve and whispered, “What were you and Mr. Gomez talking about? Was it something you didn’t want me to hear?”
“I’m not keeping secrets from you,” Dom said. “Gomez reverted to speaking in his native language since he knows I speak fluent Spanish. He was simply telling me that his source at the Alvear Palace phoned him while I was in the airport waiting for you. It seems we now know Ms. Reynolds’s room number.”
“Then we haven’t missed her. She’s still there, at the hotel.” A rush of anxious anticipation swept through Lausanne. “She has to tell us who put her up to hiring me to impersonate Audrey. If we can find out who it was, then we’ll have the name of the real killer.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What—?”
“Don’t count on anything,” Dom told her. “Whoever hired Ms. Reynolds paid her a million dollars. That kind of money can give a person amnesia. Just because we’ve tracked her down doesn’t mean she’s going to open up and tell us anything.”
“What if she doesn’t talk? What will we do then?”
“We’ll tell her that someone has attacked you twice because of your involvement in Audrey’s disappearance. If she realizes she could be next, that whoever paid her a million dollars has possibly already killed two people, she might be willing to tell us what we want to know.”
“Do you think she was duped the way I was or did she know the person who hired her had killed Audrey and probably Bobby Jack, too?”
“You were paid fifty thousand. She was paid a million. Do the math, honey, and you’ll have your answer.”
SEÑOR GOMEZ ESCORTED THEM into the Alvear Palace Hotel through a back entrance and up to the fifth floor on the service elevator. Gomez’s contact had met them before they boarded the elevator and told them he’d been unable to obtain a key to Mary Ray’s room, but that the lady had eaten lunch in and had not left the hotel all day.
The hotel, although in the midst of extensive renovations, still exuded elegance and class, the way only a historic building such as this could. Dom had traveled the world, had been exposed to the best and the worst society had to offer. Nothing surprised him, little impressed him, not even this magnificent old hotel.
They got off the service elevator on the fifth floor and, following the numbered signs, Dom led them down the long, plush corridor.
“There’s her room,” Lausanne whispered as they rounded the corner leading into another hallway.
Dom paused. “I want you to stay here, out of sight, with Mr. Gomez. And keep quiet.”
Lausanne frowned. He knew she was eager to confront Megan Reynolds, but since they had no idea what they might be walking into, he wanted to protect her as much as possible. What he really wanted was her back home in Chattanooga, but she was here now and he had to deal with reality.
“Remember, you’re going to trust me,” Dom said.
She nodded.
Dom headed down the hall. When he reached Ms. Reynolds’s door, he glanced back at Lausanne and gave her a thumbs-up signal. She returned the gesture. He then locked gazes with Gomez, who squinted his eyes and nodded in a barely discernible manner. Knowing that Dundee’s man in Buenos Aires understood that Dom was entrusting his woman to him, Dom knocked on Ms. Reynolds’s door.
No response.
He knocked again.
Nothing.
He knocked louder, harder, and longer.
Silence.
Dom clutched the door handle, turned it and, to his surprise, the door swung slightly ajar. Would a woman deliberately leave her hotel door unlocked? Perhaps, if she was expecting someone. A friend? A lover?
A sinking feeling hit Dom in the belly, one of those something’s-not-right-here reactions that warned a person they were heading straight into trouble.
He eased the door open enough to allow him entrance, then stepped over the threshold. Scanning the room, he noted the bed was unmade, clothing lay haphazardly over the bed, the chairs and the floor. Lamps lay overturned on the tables, one broken on the floor, and items were scattered over the thick, luxurious carpet. Someone had ransacked the place!
As his gaze moved across the large room, he saw a pair of feet sticking out from beneath an overturned armchair. More than half certain that those bare feet with red toenails belonged to Megan Reynolds, Dom made his way across the room. He stood over the tumbled chair and looked down at the woman lying trapped beneath it. Her eyes were open, and had begun to flatten. A shocked expression was etched on her features and her face and neck were dark red.
Dom eased down on his haunches to better examine the body. That’s when he saw the corded rope hanging loosely around her neck. He quickly checked for a pulse. None. But her body was warm, which meant she hadn’t been dead for very long. When he examined her neck, he found a straight line bruise.
Megan Reynolds had been strangled. Rigor mortis had not set in, which was another indication that she hadn’t been dead for very long. Maybe an hour or two, possibly less.
Dom’s mind registered several things all at once. Megan Reynolds, the woman they had hoped could lead them to a killer and clear Lausanne of suspicion, was dead. A wheeled cart clanked down the hallway and stopped abruptly, then a woman screamed. That terrified scream and the thunder of running feet flying down the corridor warned Dom he was not alone. When he stood and turned around, he saw a maid standing in the doorway, a horrified look on her face.
“Telefonee a la policia inmediatamente!” Dom called out to the maid.
She turned and ran screaming down the hall, leaving her cart in the doorway. By the time Dom reached the door, Lausanne was there, shoving the cart aside and staring at him, her eyes filled with questions. Tito Gomez came up behind her and glanced into the room.
“What happened?” Lausanne asked as she glanced past Dom. “Oh my God!” When she tried to enter the room, Dom grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back into the hall.
“Is she Señorita Reynolds?” Gomez asked.
“Yeah, that’s Megan Reynolds,” Dom replied.
“Is she—” Lausanne gulped “—dead?”
“Yeah, honey, she’s dead. And my guess is that it happened within the past hour or so.”
“Señor, we should leave now,” Gomez said. “The police will arrive soon and you do not want to be questioned.”
Dom nodded, then grabbed Lausanne’s arm and led her hurriedly down the corridor, Gomez following quickly behind them. A couple of people in the other rooms opened their doors and peered outside, but no one said anything or made an attempt to stop them from leaving.
Once inside the service elevator, Gomez said, “You take Señorita Raney to the car and go to the airport. I will remain here and contact you with an update.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Dom said.
“Why are
we running?” Lausanne asked. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We know that, but it could take days, maybe weeks to prove that to the local authorities,” Dom told her. “We’re Americans. Foreigners. You have a police record and I…well, I have a military record that the local police might find suspect.”
When she gave him a puzzled look, he grimaced. “I was a navy SEAL. I know countless ways to eliminate an enemy.”
Her mouth formed a shocked oval.
When the elevator hit the bottom level, Dom all but dragged Lausanne off, not bothering for any last words with Gomez. Dundee’s had contacts worldwide, men and women who knew their jobs, performed them well and were paid handsomely. Dom had no doubts that Tito Gomez would handle this situation in a professional manner.
“Come on, honey, we need to get out of here,” Dom said.
When they reached their waiting car, the driver started to open the back door. Dom motioned to him and instructed him, in Spanish, to get them to the airport as fast as possible; then Dom shoved Lausanne into the back seat and slid in beside her.
“Dom?”
“Huh?”
“Megan was killed because she knows who murdered Audrey and Bobby Jack, right?”
“Yeah, that would be my guess.”
“Then the attacks on me—they were meant for me, not Audrey.”
“Yeah.”
“I’d hoped…I guess I knew, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
She looked like a lost puppy, alone and uncertain. God, how he wanted to take care of her, to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her again. He pulled her into his arms and held her. “You’re safe, honey. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
AN HOUR LATER, the Dundee jet took off from the private airstrip at Ezeiza. Dom didn’t draw a free breath until they were out over the Atlantic, heading up the coast, past Uruguay. Lausanne rested in his arms, huddled against him like an exhausted child seeking warmth and comfort.
When her stomach growled, Dom asked, “Are you hungry?”
“I suppose I am,” she said. “But I don’t know if I can eat anything.”
“I’ll fix us something.” He untangled her from his embrace and stood. “The jet has a fine galley and the refrigerator and cupboards are always kept fully stocked. Do you have a preference?”
She shook her head, a sad, weary half-smile on her face.
“Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and rest while I whip us up a bite.”
She obeyed him instantly, easing out her small, slender body on the long, wide lounge sofa. He watched her for a couple of minutes, unable to keep his eyes off her, wishing he could erase those worry lines from her brow and take away all the fear inside her. She tried so hard to project a tough, don’t-give-a-damn image, but he knew better. Just below the surface of that protective shield she’d built around herself lay a kind, loving woman. A vulnerable woman.
When her eyelids closed, Dom smiled. Poor baby.
He entered the galley, all stainless steel shiny and spotlessly clean. He hadn’t eaten anything since he’d prepared himself coffee and toast aboard the jet before landing in Buenos Aires this morning. He had assumed that after talking to Megan Reynolds, he’d eat an early dinner at one of the local restaurants. The last time he’d been in Argentina—on Dundee business last year—he’d enjoyed empandas, which was a dough filled with ground meat, olives, boiled eggs and spices. But what he’d like to have right now was a delicious flan, served with dulce de leche, a luscious sweet caramel.
Damn, he must be hungrier than he’d thought.
He checked the refrigerator and found the ingredients for salad, along with a stack of deli lunch meats and various cheeses. Soup and sandwiches might hit the spot. He opened an overhead cupboard and smiled when he saw a variety of canned soups. He grabbed the can marked “vegetable.”
Halfway through preparing their meal, Dom halted his hand stirring the warming soup when he heard his cell phone ring. He laid the spoon on the counter and snatched his phone from the belt hook.
He was relieved when Tito greeted him on the other end of the line. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Sí, sí.” Gomez spoke rapidly to Dom in Spanish. “You are safely out of the country, yes?”
“Yes, we’re over the Atlantic now,” Dom replied in Spanish.
“The police are searching Buenos Aires for a man fitting your general description. But it is assumed the man is from South America. The maid told the police that he spoke fluent Spanish, but his accent was not Argentinian.”
“You got away without any problems, right?”
“But of course. However, while you and Ms. Raney were on your way to the airport and the police were being called, I returned to Ms. Reynolds’s room.”
“You what?”
“I did not stay long and I was very discreet. But I thought perhaps I might discover something of interest if I simply looked over the room before the police arrived.”
“And did you find anything interesting?”
“The lady had expensive tastes,” Gomez replied. “And she had either contacted a local attorney or was considering contacting one.”
“How do you know this?”
“I found a business card lying on the desk, alongside a letter that I assume Ms. Reynolds was writing.”
“What did the letter say?”
“The letter had not been written. Only the salutation. It read, Dear Lausanne.”
“She was writing a letter to Lausanne. No last name?”
“No last name.”
“What about an envelope?” Dom asked.
“One lay beside the letter, but it had not been addressed.”
“So there’s no way the police can find out who Lausanne is.”
“They will assume Señorita Reynolds was writing to a friend,” Gomez said.
“What about the business card—who’s the lawyer?”
“Alejandro Lopez.”
“Ever hear of him?”
“Not until I saw his card in Ms. Reynolds’s room, but I have already met with the gentleman. As a matter of fact, I have just now left his office.”
“You work fast, Gomez.”
He chuckled. “Ms. Reynolds had spoken to Lopez over the phone and had an appointment this afternoon, one she did not keep, of course.”
“Did he know why she needed a lawyer?”
“He told me—after I had paid him handsomely for the information—that Ms. Reynolds wanted him to hold a letter for her. She was to bring it to him today.”
“Did he—?”
“That is all he knew,” Gomez said.
“And you believe him?”
“Yes, I don’t think he would lie to me. You see, Señor Lopez and I have an understanding.”
Dom knew exactly what Gomez meant. “Thanks. If you find out anything else, call me.”
“Sí, señor.”
After replacing his cell phone, Dom finished preparing two sandwiches, two bowls of soup and snapped open the lids on two cans of lemon iced tea. Placing their meal on a large serving tray, Dom carried it out of the galley and into the lounge. After placing it on a table in front of the sofa, he sat down in a chair across from the sofa and called Lausanne’s name softly.
Her eyelids fluttered.
“Supper’s ready,” he told her.
Sighing deeply, she opened her eyes, smiled at him and stretched before sitting up. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
“You needed it, honey.”
“Mmm…something sure does smell good.” She eyed the tray on the low table between them.
“Just soup and sandwiches.”
“You’re so good to me,” she told him. “I’m not sure I deserve such special treatment, not after the way I totally disregarded your orders and flew off to Buenos Aires on my own. Most men would be furious with me.”
“I’m not most men.”
“No, you’re not. And I’m beginning to realize just how diff
erent you really are from the men I’ve known in the past.”
He removed a linen napkin from the tray, snapped it open and laid it across her lap. “And you, Lausanne Raney, are not like any woman I’ve ever known.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I haven’t decided,” he said, only half joking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LAUSANNE ATE the last bite of her sandwich, then wiped her mouth and hands on the linen napkin. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry. That was delicious.”
“I aim to please.” Dom guzzled the final drops of tea from the can, then set it on the tray.
“You do please,” she said. “You please me very much.”
“Flattery will get you anything you want.” Dom winked at her as he stood and reached down for the tray.
“You prepared the meal.” She hopped to her feet. “The least I can do is clean up.”
He lifted the heavy tray. “Why don’t we do it together?”
“All right.”
Together was such a beautiful word. A word that meant not being alone. A word that conveyed a closeness with another person that Lausanne had never truly known, at least not as an adult.
Dom drew water into the sink, then looked in the lower cupboard for detergent, found it and added it to the flowing water. “While you were asleep, Señor Gomez called.” He dumped their dirty bowls into the foam.
Lausanne’s stomach fluttered with apprehension. “What did he have to say?”
Dom explained that Gomez had found a letter Megan Reynolds had begun writing, starting with the words Dear Lausanne. “He also found a business card for a local attorney, Alejandro Lopez, and Gomez has already spoken to Señor Lopez.” Dom went on to give her details about Gomez’s “talk” with the lawyer.
“I don’t understand,” Lausanne said. “Why would Megan Reynolds have been writing to me?”
“Apparently there was something she wanted you to know.” Using a clean sponge, Dom washed one bowl and handed it to Lausanne.
“Then why did she plan to give the letter to the lawyer instead of mailing it directly to me?” Lausanne dried and put away the first bowl, then the second one.
Dangerous Deception Page 21
