His heart fell to the floor. Didn’t she know how much danger she was in?
Didn’t she know how much he cared?
Chapter Sixteen
Lisa sat in one of the comfortable chairs in the reception area at the Brokerage house watching Douglas as he charmed the receptionist into getting Tempest’s fund manager, Ralph Hoyt, to see them.
With a wide smile, the woman whispered something to Douglas. He smiled back, showing perfect white teeth and emerald green eyes to their best advantage. He oozed that sex appeal most women found so charming.
Lisa wanted to laugh—then cry. He was just being Douglas. Right now, it was helping, but she could wring his neck.
Mr. Hoyt came out to greet them. He took Douglas’ card, walked them back to his office.
Three comfortable chairs, a desk, file cabinet and a credenza with a computer and fax machine weren’t the least crowded in the spacious office. It fairly oozed old money and good taste.
He sat behind his desk, peered at them through granny glasses, waved them to take a seat. “I don’t know what more I can tell you that you don’t know already,” he said. “According to our files, Tempest’s father set up the trust for her soon after he came into money. He wanted to make sure she would be taken care of.”
“Did Mr. Collier make provisions for any other children?” Douglas asked.
“He had no other children,” Hoyt said, looking at a file. His mouth pursed as if he’d eaten something sour.
“What about Tempest’s twin?” Lisa asked.
Hoyt’s head jerked up. “I wasn’t aware she had a twin.” Visibly shaken, he looked at them with dismay. “You must be mistaken.”
“We’re not mistaken,” Douglas said. “So I’m asking again; were provisions made for the sister? Now that Tempest is dead it could be important.”
Hoyt swallowed hard. “None. When Ms. Wheatley came to me about the missing money, I thought perhaps she was, you know…maybe had emotional problems or something.”
“Why would you think such a thing?” Lisa asked, dismayed that the man couldn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.
Hoyt shrugged. “Because she withdrew the money herself. What was I to think?”
“Are you sure it was Tempest? What if it was her twin?” Douglas asked.
Hoyt turned several shades paler. “Couldn’t be.”
“You say that, because?” Douglas asked.
“Because I sat right here, watched her sign for the money. It was Tempest Wheatley.”
“Can you show us her signature?” Lisa asked.
He studied them for a moment. “No. I’d have to consult with our attorney first. Sorry.”
After that he clammed up and wouldn’t say another word. Lisa had done her research before they got here and knew the brokerage firm would be responsible for the missing money if circumstances proved it was given to the wrong person. Ralph Hoyt was covering his ass.
“One more thing,” Douglas asked. “Do you have surveillance tapes?”
“In here?” Hoyt asked, his facial expression stunned, his color rising.
“Anywhere?”
“In the reception area, yes.”
“Would you have the tape of the times the money went missing?”
“It didn’t go missing,” Hoyt said stiffly.
“If it did, do you have tapes?” Douglas asked again.
“Perhaps.”
“We’d like to see them.”
“I’ll need a warrant to release them.”
“If that’s how you want to play this,” Douglas said as they were escorted out the door.
“Doesn’t that prove Storm took the money?” Lisa asked when they were away from the office.
“It’s the most logical explanation.”
Douglas helped her into the SUV. She was moving slower than normal, but couldn’t help it.
“Next stop, HPD?” she asked.
“You got it.” He looked over at her. “Are you up to it?”
She wasn’t. Not because of aches or pains, but because she didn’t want to be questioned again. The cops had all but accused her of murder. Lisa didn’t know how to prove her innocence any more now than she did before.
“You’re still my lawyer, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’m fine with it.”
“You shouldn’t worry, you know,” he said, giving her the same sexy smile he'd given the receptionist. “We’ll find who did this to Tempest, and to you.”
Darn him. As upset as she was with him and his girlfriends, he still managed to take her breath away. Somehow, he always said the right thing. Part of that charm of his, she supposed.
When he came around to help her out at police headquarters, she was already out of the SUV and heading inside.
“Wait up, Lisa.”
“I want to get this over with.” She wanted to get back to his house, pack her belongings, and be ready to go back to her apartment in the morning.
As she watched him go up to the officer and ask for Detective Ryan, her gullible heart kicked up a notch.
Little Sister, huh! She’d spend one more night. No more.
Detective John Ryan was in charge of Tempest’s murder and had investigated Lisa’s accident. She’d endured just about all of his questions she could handle and was grateful Douglas was here to field further queries.
Ryan led them down the hall. Lisa couldn’t help but compare the brokerage office with this one. Ryan’s office could use a good face-lift, including a paint job and new flooring, whereas Hoyt’s reflected money and success.
When they were seated in his small cubicle, he turned to her. “How are you doing?”
“Better than the last time you saw me.”
“Good.”
“Have you found anyone who saw a person around Lisa’s horse who shouldn’t be there the night she was hurt?” Douglas asked.
Ryan’s gaze shifted from Lisa to Douglas. “No.”
“You must have a theory. Something. Things like this don’t just happen, they’re made to happen.”
“You’re right, Mr. Callahan. They are.”
“And?”
Penetrating brown eyes fixed on Lisa. “Everyone we talked to told us what an experienced rider you are. They were shocked you took such a fall.”
“I’ve been riding most of my life.”
“I understand that. It’s probably why you weren’t hurt any worse than you were.”
“I’ve taken tumbles before.”
He chuckled. “I’ll bet you have.”
She leaned across the desk. “Do you know who did this to me?”
He spread his hands. “No. But I have a theory.”
“Are you going to tell us?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. He was a seasoned cop and, according to Darin, had a reputation for getting to the truth pretty quickly. So why was he looking at her as if she were the guilty party?
“Perhaps you cut the cinch yourself so suspicion of Ms. Wheatley’s murder would go elsewhere?”
“What?” Hadn’t she thought of this theory herself? Hadn’t she outlined it just as he said? Someone was clever. But who?
She jumped to her feet, felt heat rise to her face. They weren’t going to do this to her.
Douglas stood to stand beside her. “This is absurd. Have you seen her abrasions? Do you know how she’s suffered? No. You don’t have a clue. Lisa didn’t do this to herself any more than she poisoned Tempest Wheatley. HPD needs to pull its head out and find the real criminal.”
“Sit down. Both of you.”
“We’re leaving. It’s clear you’re open to only one theory.” Douglas started for the door.
Lisa took his arm, pulled him back. “They need to know, Douglas. What they choose to do with the information will be up to them.”
“What information?”
Douglas turned back, but didn’t sit down. “Tempest Wheatley had a twin. It’s possible the twin stole money from her
trust and Tempest thought it was Harold. The twin needs to be found and questioned. If you get a warrant, the brokerage firm will give you the signature of the person who took the money. You can compare it with Tempest’s. They also have surveillance videos. You might want to look at them. Maybe then, you’ll find out who signed for her trust money.”
Detective Ryan’s face flushed a deep red. “How did you find this out?”
“We looked,” Lisa said. “Which is more than you’re doing.” She turned to Douglas. “Now we can leave.”
They left the detective on the phone.
“Will they do anything about the twin?” Lisa asked when they were on their way to Douglas’ house. She sank back against the seat. She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, how draining the day had been.
“Can’t say,” he answered. “We’ll check with Darin later and see if he can find out anything.”
“Douglas?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no way we can prove I didn’t cut the cinch. And there’s no way we can prove I didn’t put poison in Tempest’s glass. Even if we find the twin, it won’t prove anything other than she stole money from her sister.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I could go to jail.”
“You’re not going to jail. I won’t let you go to jail. That’s a promise.”
“How can you stop it? If HPD thinks they have enough evidence, they’ll arrest me.”
Douglas swallowed the bile that rose to his throat.
His gaze went to her. She hadn’t smiled all morning. Lisa always had a smile. Even in the ambulance, even in the hospital, she’d managed to flash a few.
How could he reassure her when he didn’t know how they were going to get out of this himself?
When he reached for her hand, she pulled away. That wasn’t like her either. Lisa was different today. Perhaps everything she’d been through and been accused of was sinking in.
She stared out the window, her profile as beautiful as always.
Something turned over in his chest.
“I won’t let them arrest you, Lisa,” he promised. But his voice wasn’t his own. Could she hear the uncertainty? He hoped not.
She looked both frightened and angry. Little wonder. She was being wrongly accused.
He wanted to pull her close, hold and reassure her. His arm went around her shoulder. He leaned close enough to inhale her scent. Then pulled back. He couldn’t do this. She’d probably slap him.
Even that would be better than the dejection written all over her.
They had to find the twin. He didn’t trust that HPD would put much effort into it.
Plus, they had to find a killer.
When they got to the house, he tried to help her out of the car, but she wouldn’t allow it. She walked into the house and straight to the kitchen.
“Can I get you anything?” Douglas asked.
“I just want a glass of water, then I want to lie down.” She looked at her watch. “Be ready to leave around six. I want to talk to some of the rodeo regulars before the show.”
“You need to eat or you won’t have the strength to go out at all.”
“See you at six, Douglas.”
He watched her walk down the hall. Her step none too steady. She was holding herself upright by sheer willpower.
What was he to do with her?
He had to protect her. But she wasn’t making the task an easy one.
When she turned into her room and shut the door, he’d never felt so alone in his life. Faces of various women friends he’d escorted around town filtered through his head. All were beautiful women, but not one of them reached into his heart and squeezed. Why was Lisa suddenly in his head all the time? Was it because he was taking care of her and felt responsible?
She was determined to leave in the morning. His gut curled as he realized he had very little time to talk her out of it. He had one shot to get this right or he risked losing her.
Whatever it took, he’d get her to stay.
Chapter Seventeen
It was an hour before show time when Lisa and Douglas arrived at Reliant Stadium. Lisa had insisted they get there early so she could meet with her friends and see what was going on.
Even though they were early, they had to weave their way through the throng. The aroma of sizzling barbecue permeated the air.
“Smells tempting.” Douglas said. It was too soon for her to be out and about, but he found he couldn’t deny her anything. How unusual was that? He was a criminal attorney, for goodness sakes. The art of evading, denying, and objecting was part of his nature. Lisa, however, had crept past his defenses and left him feeling vulnerable.
“I love barbecue sandwiches, but let's wait until later.”
She wore a skirt and loose Western blouse along with her boots and hat. She looked wonderful. But tired. TJ had joined him in trying to get her to stay in for a few more days. Both failed.
Though Mike and Owen called every day, she insisted on seeing them first.
“There they are,” she said, pointing toward a group of cowboys and cowgirls.
Douglas looked around for the one man he wanted to see, Harold Wheatley. He’d like to have a conversation with him, but doubted it would happen.
The stadium was filling up fast.
He looked up at the president’s skybox. According to what Lisa told him it was Wheatley’s favorite place to hang out. But Douglas couldn’t see a thing.
According to Mike, who kept in touch with Douglas daily, lies were still floating around the circuit about Lisa and Wheatley. Douglas wanted to know why Wheatley allowed them to continue.
Country music floated in the air, mingling with hundreds of conversations. The odor of animals and hay combined with the smell of food.
Eager for the show to begin, a big portion of those attending headed for their seats.
Mike and Owen broke from the group and came toward them, big grins on their faces.
“Hey, Cowgirl. Good to see you.”
They came up and gave her a careful hug.
“Good to be here. I miss you guys.”
“It’s not the same when you’re not here.” Owen grinned. “How do you feel? You took quite a tumble, you have to have bruises out the kazoo.”
Lisa chuckled. “You could say that. Every color of the rainbow, too.”
“You sure you’re up to this?” Mike asked.
“She’s not. But you can’t tell her anything,” Douglas said.
The cowboys shook hands with Douglas.
“What’s the word on the floor?” Lisa asked.
The cowboys exchanged glances.
“It’s okay. You can tell me.”
“Still not good,” Mike said grimly. “The cops seem determined to hang this on you. Now they’re saying you cut your cinch, took the fall on purpose so you would look less guilty of murder.”
“I know,” she said, her lips compressed in a tight line. “Do you guys have any idea who might be behind this? I didn’t think I had any enemies. Not on the rodeo circuit.” She paused. “Not anywhere.”
HPD was getting nowhere in their investigation. According to Darin, they had no one on their list of suspects except Lisa. They’d uncovered nothing that would point the finger elsewhere. Douglas wondered if they were even trying.
“We’ll find the guilty party, Lisa. Count on it,” Douglas promised.
But so far, all they’d found was the record of a twin no one seemed to know about and couldn’t find. There had to be someplace else to look.
“Douglas is right, Cowgirl. He’ll find who killed Tempest and who cut your cinch,” Mike said, looking at Douglas with a confidence Douglas wished he could match.
“Has Harold been around?” Douglas asked.
“Sure,” Owen answered. “He’s here every day.”
“Have you seen the blonde again? You know, the one who hangs around him?
“Sure have, Cowgirl. She’s here every day, too.” Mike loo
ked over the crowd as if to see if she were anywhere close. “Keep your eyes open. She hasn’t missed a performance.”
“We will,” Lisa said. “Look. My cell is on. If you see her, give me a ring?”
“Sure.” Mike shrugged. “I’m on tonight, but if either of us sees her, we’ll holler.”
“If you feel up to it, let’s wander around,” Douglas suggested, taking her arm to lead her away.
She shrugged him off, walked through the throng and ignored him.
What was her problem? She’d been like this all day. Maybe she hurt more than she wanted him to know. The thought made him pause. “Do you need a Tylenol, Lisa?”
“Nope.”
“When you get tired, let me know. We’ll go back to the house.”
“I will. Let’s catch a few exhibits before the show, maybe we’ll see Harold.”
They wandered around the hall; saw a few displays. The vintage cars fascinated Douglas. Lisa was taken with a rack of hand-sewn quilts and the artwork. But they didn’t see Harold or the blonde.
Douglas stayed close and tried to take her hand to prevent her from wandering off. Again, she pulled away. What was with her today?
Whenever Lisa saw someone she knew, she’d stop and ask a few questions. Everyone was either in a hurry and couldn’t talk or didn’t know anything to tell her. Or maybe they were just avoiding her. Douglas hoped she didn’t catch on to that.
“It’s almost time,” Lisa said as she glanced at her watch. “Let’s get to our seats.”
The crowd had increased; the noise level rose higher. “Who plays tonight?” Douglas shouted.
“Faith Hill. Should be a sell-out.”
Lisa hadn’t realized how tired she was until she sat down and exhaustion set in. For a minute, she didn’t do anything except gather herself together. Silently. No way would she let Douglas know how shaky she felt.
But when the first horse and rider appeared in the Grand Entry, she had to admit it was worth the fatigue to be here. When the flag came into view, she was on her feet clapping, her exhaustion fluttering around the edges.
As the audience took their seats, she dug into her bag and brought out her binoculars. There—waving to the crowd as if his wife hadn’t lost her life here just days ago was Harold. Bastard.
Promise Her Page 14