Dark and Deadly Page 5

  “Get in.” He held open the door, but she shook her head.

  “I’ll walk. It’s about a block. I’m all sandy.” She pointed to a bed-and-breakfast facing the street with blue shutters and a Canadian flag flapping in the breeze below the North Carolina flag. “I’m staying at the inn.”

  “It’s a rental,” he indicated the car. “It’ll manage some sand.”

  “No.”

  His blood pressure spiked as she turned and left. He had to forcibly stop himself from grinding his teeth.

  He let her get a bit of a start as he brushed more sand off his clothes, then got the car turned toward the hotel. He needed time to compose himself. She still got under his skin every time. The years hadn’t dimmed his response to her. He still wanted her.

  The difference was now he knew better than to come anywhere near her.

  Especially now when he was, for all intents and purposes, her lawyer.

  Oh, and there was that murder suspect thing. The sarcastic thought got him past his anger, and with a sigh, he parked the car. He had to stop thinking of her as anything but a client in trouble at this point. He had to divorce himself from the Torie with whom he had a past, think of her as someone else.

  Pacing the porch he cleared his mind, tried to see her in a different way, to separate her from Todd, from college, grad school, and from his life. Clean slate. It took him a few moments, but he managed to adjust his attitude, at least a little bit, by the time he walked in.

  Remember, she’s a client. Remember, she’s a client. Clients pay the bills. Clients are good, ergo, Torie is good.

  The image which leapt to mind about Torie being good had nothing to do with virtue and everything to do with vice.

  “Stop it,” he muttered to himself as he opened the door. “Remember, she’s a client.”

  She’d waited for him in the lobby, and they mounted the generous main steps to a lovely sitting area. A fire burned in the fireplace, taking the chill off the room.

  “Torie?”

  “In a minute. You want coffee?”

  “Yeah, that’d be good.” He leaned on the mantel as she poured from a thermal carafe, added two sugars, and handed it to him. “You remember how I take it?”

  Torie looked at him, surprised. “Yeah, that’s one of the crazy things about me. I forget a lot of things, and like anyone, there’s things I’d prefer to forget that I can’t, but I always remember phone numbers and how people take their coffee or tea.” She sipped from her mug. “Go figure.”

  He tamped down a snarky comment and went for bland. “Handy if you want to go into politics or catering, I guess.”

  She laughed. “There’s a thought, if I ever want to give up engineering. Problem is I’m a horrible cook.”

  “Good businesswoman, though, from what I hear.”

  Her face was a study in surprise. “Thank you, I guess. Who’d you hear that from?”

  “From Todd, of course, and from some clients who use our services and also use your firm, and from the Chamber folks.”

  “The Chamber of Commerce guys? Alex and Tom?”

  “Yeah, you get saddled with a lot of the public relations, I take it.”

  She grimaced, and he had to smile. He’d forgotten how mobile her face was, how quickly she could go from looking like a calm society debutante to making a goofy face. She’d entertained Todd to no end with the impressions she could do.

  Thinking about it made his heart clench. His best friend was dead, and he was standing alone in a room with the woman suspected of murdering him.

  “How quickly can you pack?” he asked, trying to keep his thoughts out of his voice.

  Torie looked at him, her eyes sad. She set the cup down. “I won’t be long. Make yourself at home.”

  Spinning on her heel, she left the room. Because the house was so quiet, he heard the rattle of the door opening and closing. Muffled and distant, he heard the unmistakable sound of her blowing her nose.

  Crap. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

  Or maybe he had. God. She’d already driven him to drink on more than one occasion. Maybe he needed therapy.

  The only trace of tears he could see when she came out, though, was in her refreshed makeup and slightly reddened nose.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” She hefted a briefcase onto her shoulder.

  “Just like that?”

  She looked exasperated. “You want me to hurry, then you ask me how I can be ready so quickly? Which is it, Paul? What, do you want me to give you another reason to dislike me by being slow?”

  “No, not at all.” He sighed. “I don’t dislike you, Torie. You know that.”

  “Oh, sure,” she scoffed. “I know that by the way you avoid me, make such friendly remarks when you do see me, and generally speak ill of me to all and sundry.”

  “I do not,” he protested, stung, as he picked up her rolling bag.

  “Um hmm.” Her muttered rejoinder was as mocking as any biting words. She excused herself at the bottom of the stairs to locate the innkeepers and check out. She efficiently settled her bill and joined him in the lobby. He loaded her bag into her rental car for her, and they drove separately to the Wilmington airport.

  “I don’t know when the next flight out is. I’ll be on it and back in Philly as soon as I can.”

  “I booked you on the same flight as mine.”

  A mutinous look crossed her face, but she didn’t speak. It was interesting to watch the feelings skate across her mobile features. Irritation, anger, hurt, and finally resignation.

  “Fine.”

  “We’ve got a bit of time before the flight. Let’s get some dinner.”

  “I’m not particularly hungry.”

  It took everything he had not to snap at her. Lord, the woman brought out the worst in him at every turn. “Torie,” he said through gritted teeth, “humor me. This is a small airport. I’d rather talk with you in the confines of a booth at an airport restaurant than in the general seating area. Okay?”

  She closed her eyes. He guessed that she, too, was holding onto temper. Instead, tears sparkled when she opened her eyes again.

  “Whatever,” she managed, hauling her suitcase onto the shuttle bus from the rental car return.

  They sat in silence for the entire ride. She spoke to the clerk at the ticket counter, showed her license, but said nothing to him or anyone else until they were through security and he had guided her into a small pub in the moderately decorated concourse. Wilmington didn’t have a lot of gates, and they’d be changing planes in Charlotte, a short hop before the flight back to Philly.

  He decided to try a neutral topic. “You love it here in the Carolinas don’t you?”

  She nodded without looking at him. “It’s beautiful. The people are friendly. The beach is wide and clean. What’s not to love?”

  “Hmmm, I agree. I’ve never been down here in winter.” He’d never been down in summer, either. Torie had done a series of graduate classes at North Carolina State University in the summer before she and Todd were to have been married. She’d been in Raleigh when he won the lottery, Paul remembered, so Todd had come to Paul’s house first to share his news, double-check the winning sequence on the computer, and get advice.

  “It’s peaceful,” she said softly. “Serene.”

  “I see that.” The concourse was quiet. The waitress from the bar strolled over to see if they wanted anything. Torie ordered coffee. Paul ordered a beer and a sandwich. He’d missed lunch. “You sure you don’t want something to eat?”

  She shook her head. “Not hungry.”

  It was his turn to frown. Now that he’d achieved his objective of getting her to the airport, he really looked at her. She was pale, and there were circles under her big, expressive eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d lost weight.

  She’d never been a small woman, something he’d enjoyed about her. Usually he thought of her as more statuesque than fragile, but the contrast of the hollows under her high cheekbones, a slight
slumping curve to her broad shoulders, and the pallor in her striking coloring made her look like a strong wind could blow her down.

  He was used to noticing behavior, managing his clients through the subtle body language clues they offered. Her posture and demeanor said sorrow, despair, overwhelm. It irritated the shit out of him to realize that he was dreading what he was about to do. In fact, he was about to pile another load on her, overwhelm her even further.

  So, uncharacteristically, instead of going straight to the punch and talking about the will, or that he’d pretty much dragged her from her sanctuary, he tried a different tack.

  “So, are you still rooting for those losers down in DC?”

  Chapter Four

  The look she shot him was pure venom. And pure Torie. It lightened his heart.

  “Losers? The changes they’ve made this year will see them to the playoffs. The stats from spring training…” she trailed off, narrowing her eyes. Spearing a finger his way, she growled. “What? What is it that you want to distract me from?”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She had a sharp mind.

  “Well, I guess it was pretty lame if you caught on that easily.” He delayed any further answer by taking another bite.

  “Lame? Yeah, well, I guess. Spill it, Paul.”

  “I just thought you looked…weary. I hate to add to it, be the bearer of worse news.”

  “Not just bad, eh?”

  “No, it’s bad. Not much worse than being named as a murder suspect, is there?”

  The stricken look was back. “No, especially in this situation.”

  “Exactly. And you have to deal with me, something you’ve always despised. I’m sure that’s no picnic. I thought I’d try and distract you with something else.”

  “Well, since you root for those lousy Phillies, you don’t have a lot of room to rejoice, now do you?”

  It was a poor attempt for her. Her comebacks were usually so sharp, so sassy, they cut you off at the knees and left you puzzled as to how she’d done it. It irked him as much as it intrigued him.

  “True. They sucked last year and aren’t looking too good this year either, with Adams being traded to the Cubs.”

  They traded halfhearted barbs about baseball for a while as he finished his sandwich and beer. When their flight was called, he dropped a twenty on the table, waved at the waitress and offered Torie his arm.

  “We might as well board and head back with as much energy as we can muster.”

  She looked at his waiting arm, and then into his face. Something flickered in her eyes, and she shook her head.

  “Thanks, I’ll walk on my own. I’m not that feeble. Not yet, anyway.”

  A sharp bite of pain, like a twisted muscle, pierced his chest. For the barest instant, he wondered if he were having a heart attack. It subsided and he moved aside to let her go ahead to the gate. In silence they boarded, sitting next to one another for the short up and down flight to Charlotte without a word exchanged.

  They checked in at Charlotte, where he picked up voice mail and turned on his PDA for the brief lay-over. Thirty-seven emails had piled up, and fourteen voice mails clogged his in-box. Better than half of them were about Torie, or the situation surrounding her. She sat across from him, holding a glossy fashion magazine.

  He knew she wasn’t reading it because she hadn’t turned a page in five minutes. As he watched, she closed her eyes, squeezing them to block some inner anguish to which he wasn’t privy.

  Was it possible that she had killed Todd? Even wondering it made him feel ill. He’d loved Todd like a brother, which had made him feel ten times worse when he’d met Torie, been attracted to her. Could he have misjudged her that much? Had her disappointment, her bone-deep embarrassment, her fear and her anger built so fiercely and deeply over the intervening years that she could plot Todd’s death, carry it out?

  He had no idea. The inability to judge her, to get a handle on who she now was pissed him off. Worse yet, it made his gut roil. God, he was going to have to resort to the prescription meds for his stomach again at this rate.

  The overhead announcement of their boarding call relieved him of his angst. They hadn’t been able to get adjoining seats on the flight from Charlotte to Philly, so he merely touched her shoulder as they boarded, moving beyond her to sit in the exit row.

  Looking at her from this vantage point, Paul saw nothing about her body language. The thought that she might be sitting there in misery only made his stomach hurt more.

  Just as well he couldn’t see her. He had work to do, and knowing she was there was distracting enough; it would have been worse if she’d been sitting next to him. He mentally thanked his secretary for not getting them adjoining seats as he rummaged in his briefcase for the antacids.

  On the ground in Philadelphia, Torie was still wrestling with the notion that she, of all people, could be accused of killing Todd. Tears threatened, and she forced them back. No. She’d cried enough.

  Torie pulled her sunglasses out of her purse as they walked through the terminal toward baggage claim. Neither she nor Paul had spoken, which was just as well.

  Beyond the security gates, she could see throngs of people waiting for their loved ones. It was sad that no one was waiting there for her.

  “Stop.” Paul put a hand on her arm to enforce the command. “Hang here for a second.” Without explanation, he strode forward toward the exit. She was about to follow despite his warning when he turned back. His face looked like a storm cloud, and she could hear him cursing under his breath. “C’mon, let’s find the American Airlines lounge.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The press is waiting out there for you.”

  “What?” Torie couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Torie.” Paul stopped as he said her name, forcing her to turn and face him. “You are a murder suspect. It’s a colorful story. The press has been digging. I didn’t think anyone would figure out that I was going to get you, but someone did and someone talked. And when I find out who…” He let the words dangle. The look in his eyes told Torie someone was in for an ass-whipping.

  “But, but…who? How?”

  Paul managed a wry grin. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you speechless.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” she snapped back. “But I don’t understand.”

  “Not that complex, honey. Todd won big five years ago. That was in the files. Todd donated to a lot of Philly charities, so his name’s well-known. He’s dead. You did his eulogy. You’re news, too, around here.”

  “Not that much,” she protested.

  “More than you know.”

  “But still,” she managed, denying his comment, “I’m just a small fish.”

  “They figured out, or the cops leaked the fact that your dates haven’t fared so well.” His face was closed down now, almost shuttered. “They learned about your boyfriend, the one who was killed.”

  “Christian,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, and they’ve put it together with Todd. Some other guy said he’d nearly been run down after dating you a couple of times. They’re calling you the Black Widow.”

  “The what?”

  “You heard me.” He pushed open the door to the quiet lounge. “Follow me.” He showed the desk clerk his access card, and led her to a kiosk with a computer desk and a phone. “Sit. I have to make some calls.”

  Torie sank down, letting her heavy carry-on bag drop to the floor. Never in a million years could she have imagined this as part of her life. Murder suspect. Black Widow. How could it get worse?

  “Cancel, cancel,” she muttered, knowing it could get worse, and that was the last thing she needed or wanted.

  Yanking out her own cell phone, she called Pam.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Pam didn’t bother with hello before launching in. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m with Paul. He came and got me at the beach. I…I don’t know if I’m all right
or not. Pam, they’re saying things, horrible things.”

  “I know, honey, but they aren’t true. We both know that. Sticks and stones, love.”

  “Pretty ugly stick to hit me with,” Torie said, fighting tears.

  “That’s God’s truth, but I’m here for you. You’ll get through this.” There was a long pause. “You want some good news?”

  “There’s good news in the world right now?” Torie tried to joke.

  “You bet. Tax cut to boost the economy. Three houses sold on my block for full-asking price. That’s not bad.”

  “Yeah? That’s the good news?”

  “Um, no. Good news is your cousin is okay and on the mend. He’s, uh, really nice.”

  Torie heard the underlying excitement in Pam’s voice. Oh, no. She could not let her friend fall for Dev. He was the quintessential ever-philandering flirt. Her sexy cousin was also a marked man, if the cops were to be believed. He was part of her curse.

  “Pammie, girl, don’t go and fall for Dev. He’s not the marrying kind.”

  “I know, but damn if he’s not one of the hottest men I’ve ever met. Seriously. I mean damn, girl. How could anyone resist that smile? And you wouldn’t even go to dinner with him.”

  Torie said flatly. “I go to dinner with him, he’s a target Pammie. He’s my cousin—that already makes him a target. Which would make you one, too. Please, please, don’t go there. And be careful.”

  “You know I will, either way. But I can’t not help your cousin, girlfriend. Since you’re a big fat target for the press right now, you’re not going to be able to. There are newshounds all over the place. They’ve been showing photos of your house, and they’re trying to dig up all the guys you’ve dated. I think one of those cops let loose with his theory that you were some kind of—”

  “Black Widow. Yeah, Paul told me that charming tidbit.”

  “Oh, the other piece of good news is that package we picked up—the night everything went down?”

  Torie had forgotten about their little criminal detour. “Yeah?” she said cautiously.

  “Doin’ fine. I baked that cake and all is well.”