by L. L. Muir
“Certainly not.” He scoffed. “I’m a lawyer, son. Why would I risk you finding something that might incriminate my family or my employees?”
“I don’t know. How about an appreciation for justice, for Monica Whittaker?”
The man wasn’t impressed. “I regretfully decline.” Then he gave his attention back to his phone.
Tripp glanced at Maddy and tilted his head back, toward the door. “Give me a minute, please. We’ll be done soon.” He stepped back and allowed Maddy to step out of the room ahead of him. He closed the door wordlessly, then led her to the far end of the hall.
“Is one of them a murderer?”
“With all the guilt pouring off of them, who knows?”
He shook his head. He needed better questions. “Tell me about Rhonda.”
“She’s hiding something big. It keeps her up at night. She’s a mess.”
“Okay. What about Sinclair?”
“Barely a pulse. No emotion at all until you asked to look in his lake house.”
“And then?”
“Then he worried for precisely two seconds before he stopped caring again. I don’t think he believes you’d find anything. He just doesn’t want to be bothered.”
“Yeah. That’s the impression I had. And Loftus?”
“He got a kick out of the pajama episode. He also likes the idea of the murderer being a woman.”
“Hmn. I was under the impression he was gay.”
She frowned for a second or two. “I don’t think so, but maybe. Emotion doesn’t change because someone is gay or not.”
“Okay. I’m going back in there to stall them. Would you look around any offices that aren’t locked? Against my orders, of course. Maybe touch some things? I know I’m grasping at straws here, but until I get actual results from the autopsy, you’re the best strategy I can think of.”
Maddy nodded carefully. “I’ll try.”
“No pressure. Just…pressure.” He chuckled and kissed the side of her head without thinking. He had no excuse other than the fact that her head was just…there, and he wanted to show he appreciated her willingness to risk another experience like the one she’d had with the Whittaker children. His mouth only lingered because he was caught off guard by how warm her dark hair was, how soft…
Maddy turned and walked away from him, giving no indication she’d even felt the kiss, let alone how she felt about it. But just as she turned to duck through an open door, he noticed a little wobble to the heel of her boot. The affect it had on him was instant.
He wanted to howl at the moon and beat his chest. He wanted to follow her and take her into his arms like some alpha male in an old black and white movie, to make her forget all about a little peck on the head by giving her a real kiss—one that would make her never risk wearing heels again!
As he made his way back to the conference room, he had only one thought—that it was a good thing she’d kept her gloves on.
13
Despite the fact that she should be moving her butt, Maddy walked into the nearest office and sat down out of sight. Crazy emotions poured through her, crashing through her core like waves from opposite directions. She’d just had her first kiss from a real live man—not some horny college kid, not a high school boy shopping for the first notch in his belt.
That was where the wave of excitement came from. The confusion came from the fact that he’d kissed her head. Boy, was Mac going to be disappointed in the kiss report!
Although, it wasn’t technically her head, but her hair. He’d kissed her hair.
She remembered seeing kisses like that on TV. It was an endearing kind of thing, an expression of affection. And she really wanted to believe Tripp Darro had some affection for her. But how could he? He didn’t know the most important things about her. He could just as easily be feeling affection for the “nicer” version of herself—which meant Mac.
She couldn’t help but feel a small wave of jealousy stirring up from the depths and wanting to get into the fray. But her feelings for her sister sent that little wave back where it came from. For all she knew, it had been an accident. Maybe he’d just bumped into her head. Maybe it hadn’t been his lips. She’d been too freaked out to turn and look.
That was it. It had to be an accident. After all, he hadn’t touched her otherwise. Hadn’t put his hand to the other side of her head to hold her still or pull her closer.
She took a deep breath, mentally set aside all thoughts of kissing, and went searching for that water cooler she’d noticed before. A little drink would help wash the rest away and she could get back to the snooping she was expected to do.
The first open office beyond the water cooler belonged to Julius Loftus. His name was printed on name plates, in the hall and on his desk. She pulled off her glove and ran a finger along the expensive leather desktop. He wanted a flashier office—no, not flashy. Just…visible. He wasn’t flamboyant, he just wanted to be seen. Appreciated…by someone in particular. He was a junior partner. Was he anxious for the next step up?
Over-compensating for something… Maybe he drove an oversized pickup? Or just a really expensive car. Something out of place for Idaho.
The desk was tidy. Nothing out of place. No computer in sight. It was either hidden, or he carried it with him. She didn’t remember any briefcases in the conference room, but it might have been under the desk where she might not have noticed.
She touched the back of his chair and a rush of elation gave her an overdose of adrenaline. She couldn’t stand still, had to move. Had to jump in the air. Couldn’t get air into her expanding chest. Whoever had gripped the back of that chair had felt absolute elation, had gripped the chair with both hands, so tightly there was a crescent-shaped cut in the leather, from a fingernail. But she could only see through their eyes. There was no face. No glimpse of the hands.
She ran her finger over the cut. Too large for a woman’s nails. Probably Loftus himself. Maybe making junior Partner had been a recent thing. That might have done it.
She sat in the chair to keep from jumping around and making noise. She’d never had that kind of reaction before. Felt it, but never had her own system kick in so hard, giving her the same dose of adrenaline instead of just a taste. She couldn’t wait to mull that over with Mac.
Maddy carefully laid the flat of her hand on the desk. Not much feeling there. All business. Not emotionally involved with his cases. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
She ran her hand down the front of the drawers, wondering if she dared open one, but then she was engulfed again in elation…and something else. Protective. Secretive. His greatest treasure? But whatever it was, it wasn’t there now. The drawer that triggered all that passion wasn’t locked anymore. She pulled it open. No files hanging from the sides, though it was obviously meant for them.
She pressed her hand against the bottom of the drawer. Here. It was here.
She jumped to her feet again, if only to get away from another adrenaline rush. She pulled on one glove and started to pull on the other when she got back to the outer office again. Rhonda’s desk was sitting there, inviting her to take a look.
Maybe it was just because Rhonda had been to the house with Monica Whittaker to her first appointment. It made the weepy woman just a little more interesting. There was a risk Maddy would be overcome again with the grief the woman was going through, but maybe just a finger…
She sat down in Rhonda’s chair. The monitor had gone to sleep. Little clutter on the desk. A bobble head of a pug stared up at her, so she plunked it on the head. A flash of three familiar faces came to her. A picture of Devon Whittaker and his two children. It was understandable. Rhonda had already admitted to missing the kids. But there seemed to be just as much love aimed at the husband.
Maddy moved the tissue box to look at a paper sticking out from under it. The post-it was just a grocery list, but the tissue box may as well have come to life and opened its jaws to swallow her whole.
A secre
t. Rhonda Thorne had a big old secret she was guarding with her life. Maddy would bet money on it. But was that secret her feelings for Devon Whittaker?
She spun in the chair and stood. The victim’s door was closed. She pulled on her gloves and tried the knob. It wasn’t locked. Once inside, she turned on the light and closed the door. In the middle of the desk sat a filled banker’s box. On top was the picture of Whittaker and his kids that had flashed in her mind a minute before. When someone came to collect it, she expected that picture would be missing.
Maddy sat in Monica’s desk chair and stuffed her gloves into her jacket pockets. She’d gotten away with so much already, it made her bold. After a deep breath, she lowered her hands to the armrests.
She got elation again, but it didn’t taste the same as the first time. It had nothing to do with victory or satisfaction. This was giddy love. Almost the same as the passion she’d sensed off that pen in Tripp’s pocket. But she doubted Monica Whittaker had much time to spend reading romance novels.
Still, Maddy felt a wash of romantic love, shameless love. And though she hadn’t ever experienced it for herself, the taste on her tongue was very much like a high school crush, but with less trepidation involved.
This was a love Monica Whittaker was sure about. Confident in. Ready to bare her soul kind of stuff. Unashamed. Hopeful. Happy love. The kind of love you’d risk your career for…if that person asked you to wear pajamas to work.
Emboldened further, Maddy said a little prayer that a flash of something gruesome wasn’t waiting to pounce on her and laid her hands on the desk. She felt warmth coming from the left and scooted her hand toward it. She wiggled the chair closer so she could reach. Warmer still.
She moved her hand in a wide arc and found it. That spot. A natural resting place for her left hand if she was sitting up to the desk, close enough to reach a keyboard. She got a flash of a little black phone with a sticker on it. A gold shiny heart.
This is where she kept her touch-piece to the man she loved. Monica just didn’t have a face to go with it, so the phone was a substitute for that face.
The door flew open and Mr. Sinclair stood in the opening. His wide eyes narrowed down to pinholes. “This is called trespassing, Miss…”
“Pearson. Molly Pearson.”
Tripp pushed around the man. “Miss Pearson. There you are. When I told you to find an empty seat and wait for me, I didn’t mean this one.”
She tried to look innocent.
“Come on, now. We’re done here.” He was nose to nose with Sinclair. “For today.”
Sinclair stepped back and gestured everyone out of the room. Maddy hurried out from behind the desk, but Tripp caught her arm and whispered, “Slow down.”
She did, taking slow breaths and small, unhurried steps. And together, they strolled out of the offices without anyone crying foul. When they got to the parking lot, Tripp gestured to his SUV. “We’ll come back for yours.”
She didn’t argue, and they didn’t speak until they were inside the car.
“I’m sorry—”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Yes. I don’t know who the killer is, but—”
“That doesn’t matter. We just need somewhere to look, or someone to look at for this. Did you have lunch?”
“No, but I’m okay.”
“Nonsense. Falls County has got to pay you somehow, and you’d better accept lunch just in case it’s all you get.”
Tripp took Maddy to The Eatery, one of the newer restaurants in Spirit Falls that served an excellent Eggs Benedict with a purple pansy blossom set on the top as a garnish. Maybe she’d remember him every time she saw pansies. Or just flowers in general. All he had left to do was make sure it was a good memory.
Maddy ordered what he did, which he thought was kind of sweet for some reason. Something must have shown on his face, though, because she was quick to point out that she’d never eaten there before, so she thought the safest thing to do was trust him.
He kind of liked the sound of that too.
“Okay,” he said when the waiter was gone. “What did you...learn?”
“I only hit two offices besides Whittaker’s.”
“Whose?”
“Loftus and Rhonda Thorne’s.”
“Good. Those are the only two who interest me, to be honest. Sinclair is just a blow hard, though he could have had you charged with trespassing, I’m sure. We’ll just give him some time to forget about that before we get a warrant to search his lake house.”
“He could have charged me?” She swallowed awkwardly, then forced a smile. “Good thing I know a cop, right?”
“Yeah, good thing.” He wiggled his fingers, telling her to cough up the rest.
“Loftus is a happy man. More than happy, actually. Elated is what I got. Maybe he’s getting a raise. Maybe he’s getting Whittaker’s position.”
“Or maybe he’s just happy she’s dead.”
“Could be.” She took a drink, glanced around, then leaned forward. “Another thing. He was keeping something incredibly precious to him in his desk. Had it locked in the bottom drawer.”
“Had?”
“Nothing there now, but it was his...treasure, if that makes sense.”
“Anything else?”
“Just that he isn’t too emotional about his job, his clients, I guess. I would have known more if I could have touched his keyboard, but it wasn’t around.”
“Okay, what about the assistant?”
“She’s got a big secret.”
“In love with her boss’s husband?”
“No. I don’t think that’s it. I mean, she is. And she loves his kids like crazy, but she’s hiding something, and it’s killing her. All those tears she’s crying aren’t for Monica Whittaker.”
“Fear of losing her job?”
“I don’t think so.” She moved on. “Then there’s Monica.”
“Hang on.” Tripp put his elbows on the table and slid them forward. “I’m ready to move Sinclair, Turner, and Newbold to the probably not column. Rhonda, Loftus, and Ray Christensen stay. Now. What did you get from Whittaker’s desk?”
“She was in love.” Maddy blushed when she said the word, like it wasn’t in her usual vocabulary. “Like, completely and utterly in love. That burner phone? She kept it on her desk, had her hand on it a lot. Even put a little gold heart sticker on it. And she doesn’t strike me as the heart sticker type.”
“And this means love?”
“Absolutely. Any time someone does something out of character, there is a good chance they’ve met someone...different. Special. Someone they think might be perfect for them.”
Tripp pulled his hand into his lap, worried that somehow Maddy had gotten Whittaker’s emotions mixed up with his. After all, he’d been sitting in her office chair a day ago, touching that desk, interviewing people inside her office and hoping to make them a little nervous. Had he touched the left-hand side?
At least there was one detail that didn’t apply to him—the heart sticker. Maybe Monica Whittaker had been just as smitten with her stalker as Tripp Darro was with Dickville’s psychic.
Maddy shrugged. “I didn’t get anything else from her. Nothing about her kids, which is sad. But at least Millie and David have their dad—and Rhonda.”
“Sure. If neither of them winds up in jail.”
“Right.”
They ate in silence for a while. He was relieved she wasn’t watching him, or she might have noticed how closely he was watching her. It wasn’t intentional, but he just found her interesting—the way she started at her forehead and ran her fingers down a wayward lock of hair, then tucked it behind her ear, or the way she looked around the café, taking in every detail of the place like she expected to be tested later. He’d have given anything to have her gift, even if it was only for a few minutes, so he could find out what she was thinking.
Her gaze finally landed on him and he struggled for something to say. “I… I think we’d bett
er put a little pressure on Rhonda tomorrow. We could grab a quick breakfast at the Truck Stop. What do you say? Good food...”
She put her fork down and frowned at her plate. “I think... I think you’d end up with Mac tomorrow.”
He shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”
He couldn’t imagine why that didn’t please her, but she remained relatively quiet while he finished his meal. By the time he dropped her off at her car, she’d stopped talking to him altogether.
“Meet you at the Truck Stop in the morning? Say, nine o’clock?”
She slipped on a pair of sunglasses, nodded, and drove away.
He looked at his hands and tried to remember back. Had she touched him? Had she gotten a glimpse into what he’d been thinking about her? About them?
“If there is one woman you should have never set your sights on, Darro, she’s it.”
14
Morning came early for a guy who didn’t sleep more than an hour or two, tops. But on the bright side, Mac showed up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She arrived about ten minutes after nine with a smile on her face and an extra coffee in hand. The transformation was staggering.
Her high heels were even higher than her boots had been the day before. Her skirt was short and her smile teasing. The sunglasses and the red lipstick made her look like she had yet to go home from partying the night before, but there was nowhere public, in Falls County, that could have accommodated her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said.
He accepted her still-hot peace offering. “Mac, is it?”
“In the flesh.” She grinned and looked him over while she sipped her own coffee. “I don’t know what you did yesterday to tick off Maddy, but...” She shrugged, like it wasn’t the most bizarre thing to say about herself. Maybe her multiple personality disorder wasn’t just a mood swing after all. Maybe it wasn’t just a self-diagnosis, either.
“I only said that if I had to settle for Mac, I would take what I could get. Now I ask you, what was so wrong with that?”