by Aimée Thurlo
She held him then, and for long moments there was only peace and love.
An eternity later, he stirred. “I’m too heavy for you,” he murmured, his voice raw and deep. As he shifted to one side, she reached out to him.
“Don’t go.”
“I won’t.” He pulled her against him until her head rested on his chest. “Sleep now.”
As Burke held her, he knew tonight would be a part of him forever. He loved her—more than he had a right to. Somehow, sometime, she’d made a permanent place for herself in his heart.
But he was a realist, not a romantic. What they’d shared had been born of desperation and unbearable pain. And that would taint and eventually destroy what they’d found.
Love without commitment from both man and woman couldn’t survive, and Laura had made no promises. She’d never told him she loved him, not even during those mindless moments when passion had shuddered through her. She’d only come to him because she’d wanted the ache in her heart to stop—even if only for a little while. Once morning came, what they’d found in each other’s arms would become a bittersweet memory, never separate from the pain they’d both wanted to outrun.
Laura had wanted comfort, and he’d given her everything a man who loved her could. But in the process, he’d lost his heart to a woman who would one day, probably very soon, leave his life forever.
Chapter Twelve
As the sunlight peered through a crack in the curtain, playing upon her pillow, Laura awoke. She was in her own bed, tucked under the covers. Burke lay beside her.
For a moment, she smiled, remembering, and allowing herself a moment to watch him. He lay completely naked on top of the covers, looking very male and endearingly rumpled.
She sat up, careful not to wake him. Men looked cuddly in the morning, but women invariably looked like something out of a teen horror flick of the sixties. At least she did.
Getting out bed, she reached for the first article of clothing near her. It turned out to be a light blue sweater that had fallen to the floor. She slipped it over her head as she got to her feet. Realizing that she was still bare from the waist down, she went to the dresser, searching for underwear.
“You look sexy,” he murmured.
She gasped. A woman’s least flattering attribute was her derriere. She turned, then, realizing that she’d just offered him an even more private look, she tugged at her sweater, forcibly stretching it down. Then, muttering something about a shower, she bolted into the bathroom.
Moments later, alone in the shower, she leaned against the tiled wall and allowed the warm water to trickle down her body. She didn’t regret last night, but it wouldn’t happen again. None of the relationships she’d had with men had ever really grown. And everyone she’d really loved had been taken from her. Her father and mother, now Elena… How could anyone ask for love when every day that passed brought only one certainty—it would not—could not—last.
It was better not to open her heart at all. Love led to loss, and there was no way to avoid it. If she truly cared for Burke—and she did—the best thing she could do for both of them was to protect them from the pain that would follow as inevitably as the end of each day.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, a floor-length robe wrapped tightly around her, Laura felt more in control. As she stepped out into the bedroom, she saw that Burke had gotten dressed. He stood by the window, Wolf at his side.
“I need to take him for a run and go get dog food from my house. Will you be all right?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll fix breakfast for us, then we can figure out what needs to be done today.”
“Laura, about last night…” His voice was rough and hard—a tone she’d learned meant he was feeling uncertain about something. “Do you have any regrets?” he asked at last.
He hadn’t wanted to ask the question; she could sense it. Her heart went out to him, because by asking, he’d made himself vulnerable.
“No regrets at all,” she said.
She saw him relax, then brace himself. “It can’t happen again, you know. I have a job to complete,” he said in a firm, quiet voice.
Laura watched him walk out with Wolf, then sat on the edge of the bed. Once again he’d reminded her that what kept him with her was the case. And now, in the clear light of day, he’d drawn away from her. His expression and his voice had become distant. Though it had been exactly what she’d wanted, and she should have been relieved, the truth was all she felt now was hurt and desperately alone.
AFTER A BRIEF and quiet breakfast, they headed for the senior center. Leaving Wolf in the shade on the grass, they went inside.
The plan called for a change in tactics. Laura would concentrate on Karl Maurer, while Burke questioned Nicole, Maurer’s wife. Burke was convinced that, hidden among the many secrets the center housed, were the answers they were searching for.
A short time later, Laura sat across from Karl’s desk in a small, cluttered office with tired-looking wood paneling covered with tacked-on memos. “My godmother’s death has raised a lot of questions,” she told him. “The police think that what happened to her is related to the thefts and burglaries some of the center’s members have experienced lately. That’s why I’m here. I need to talk to you about that.”
“Laura, I know you’ve suffered a terrible loss, but you need to remain patient and let the police do their job. The people you’re looking for and trying to identify are probably very dangerous. I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” Karl replied.
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to back off. I need to know why this happened to Elena.”
“I wish I could tell you, but I assure you, it has nothing to do with the center,” he insisted. “The addresses and phone numbers of our members are stored in our files and in the computer. The file cabinet is kept locked, and you need two passwords to access the membership files. I’m not saying it’s unbreachable. I’m just telling you that the time and effort it would take would make it very unappealing to an intruder. And since most of our members are on fixed incomes and live modestly, the payoff wouldn’t justify the considerable risk of discovery.”
“How thorough are your background checks on the center’s employees?”
“Do yourself a favor. Drop this before you embarrass yourself or some innocent person, and get sued.”
“We’re talking about a serious crime that led to someone’s death,” Laura protested. “I would think you’d be eager to do everything in your power to find out what part the center played in this.”
Karl’s eyes darkened with anger. “We’ve played no part in what’s happened. This conversation is over.” He walked to the door and held it open. “You’d better leave now.”
Laura left the office reluctantly, hoping that Burke would have better luck. She’d batted zero. Seeing Burke talking to Nicole in the recreation room, she hung back, waiting just outside the entrance. Nicole’s face was pale and her eyes looked wide and alarmed. She kept trying to turn away from Burke, but he stayed with her, asking questions. Finally, anger flashed clearly over her features, and she turned and strode away from him. This time Burke didn’t go after her.
Seeing Laura, Burke walked over to meet her. “I have a real bad feeling about this place.”
“Did you get anything out of her?”
“Not directly, but the way she was acting spoke volumes to me. Innocent people don’t react to simple questions that way. That woman is just plain scared.”
“Maybe we should try and talk to Enesco,” Laura suggested. “He’s in the foyer watching us,” she added, cocking her head toward the soft-drink machine in the small room adjacent.
“Let’s give it a try,” Burke said, walking across the recreation room with her.
“After that, we should talk to the seniors, and John Foster, the real estate guy. He has ties to Karl Maurer because of the land deal my godmother soured for them.”
When Enesco realized they were coming
to talk to him, he tried to slip away, but Burke jogged forward and caught up to him before he could get out the door.
“Mr. Enesco, I wonder if you’d mind answering a few questions for me.”
“English not good,” the wiry, dark-haired man said in a thick accent Burke couldn’t quite place.
“How long have you worked here?”
“No understand,” he said. Then, seeing Nicole, he waved at her.
Nicole came over nearly at a run. “Mr. Silentman, I thought you were finished here,” she said sharply.
“I still have a few questions I’d like to ask the center’s driver.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not with the police. You have no legal authority here, and we’ve already answered enough questions.”
Burke’s gaze was cold as steel. “You’re acting like you’ve got something to hide.”
“No, Mr. Silentman. What we’re doing is forcing you to respect our privacy. We need to get things back to normal around here as soon as possible, and answering endless questions isn’t going to help any of us.”
“Mrs. Maurer, I also work for Gray Wolf Investigations,” he said. “If you’re in trouble, I can help you.”
The news seemed to stun her, and her mouth dropped open. She stepped back, turning pale. “No one here needs or wants your help, Mr. Silentman.”
“Even if you refuse to cooperate, we will find answers. Whatever you’re hiding won’t stay hidden for long,” Burke said.
“Why are you pressing this? Do you think we had something to do with Elena’s death?” When neither Burke nor Laura answered, Nicole looked at them, horrified. “How could you believe that?”
“We’re not accusing you or anyone else, Nicole,” Laura said. “All we know is that something is being covered up here—something that may have begun with the deal your husband tried to cut with John Foster, the real estate developer.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re so wrong. Please leave right now. If you have any more questions, you’ll have to go through our attorney. His name is Eric Cruise and he’s in the book.”
Michael Enesco looked at both of them, and then silently followed Nicole as she walked away.
“Why did you tell her you were with Gray Wolf?” Laura asked.
“I wanted to rattle her, and I think it worked. Now we’ll wait and see if that leads her to make any mistakes we can take advantage of,” Burke said. “Now let’s go talk to John Foster.”
BURKE DROVE ACROSS TOWN to the real estate developer’s office. Now that he knew for sure that they were onto something, he had to dig deeper until the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place.
Burke and Laura went in together, and this time they took Wolf with them. The dog stayed beside Burke, at heel, as they were shown into Foster’s office.
“I think bringing the dog was a stroke of genius,” Laura said when they were left alone in the plush office. “The receptionist took one look at Wolf and decided not to make us wait.”
Burke looked down at the dog, who had a panting grin on his face. “Yeah, furball. I think you’ve earned your dog food today.”
Wolf licked his chops, and when he opened his mouth again, his canines gleamed.
Laura chuckled softly. “I think he’s reminding you not to tease him too much. He considers some things, like his dish of kibbles, sacred.”
Before Burke could respond, Foster strode into the room. He exuded the self-confidence and arrogance of a man used to power. Everything about him—the expensive cut of his suit, the casual attitude and even his custom-designed office furnishings—spoke of prestige and position. A photograph of Foster, the New Mexico governor and the president engaged in conversation hung above the man’s desk in a large gold frame.
Introductions were brief. There was a restless energy about the developer as he walked to a built-in sideboard and poured them both mineral water in silver-rimmed glasses. Although he’d acknowledged Wolf’s presence with a brief glance, once the dog lay down it was clear Foster no longer felt the animal merited his attention.
“I’m sorry to hear what happened to Doña Elena, Miss Santos,” he said, his pronunciation practiced and flawless.
“Thank you. It’s been a difficult time. There are so many things I still don’t understand.”
“Which brings us to the reason why we came.” Burke presented himself as an investigator for the Gray Wolf agency, then waited patiently for the man’s response.
“I had a feeling that your interest in this case was more than personal,” Foster said. “What can I do for you?”
His words stabbed at Laura, but she pushed the feeling aside.
“I’d like you to give me the particulars of the deal you made with the senior center,” Burke said.
Foster regarded him coolly. “I normally don’t discuss my private business dealings with anyone.”
“We believe there may be a connection between the business deals conducted by the center’s administrative officer and an attempted kidnapping that led to a death.”
“My godmother’s, to be precise,” Laura added.
For a moment Foster said nothing, staring across the room, gathering his thoughts. “Elena Baca became my greatest nemesis,” he finally admitted, “but I don’t see how you can link an attempted kidnapping or her death to the business deal I had with Karl Maurer.”
“Cases come together in strange ways,” Burke said, deliberately being vague. “Why don’t you tell me what you know? Your cooperation will make things easier on everyone involved, and maybe help clear up matters before there’s a lot of ugly publicity.”
Foster jumped at the chance to avoid bad press. “It started when Karl asked me to become a sponsor for the center. That operation has always been on the verge of bankruptcy, but it’s even more so lately because the building needs some renovations.”
“I don’t understand. How can they be so critically short of money? They’ve always had such a large membership,” Laura said.
“The fees they can charge are moderate because their membership is, by and large, from a lower-income clientele. This isn’t, after all, the Cherry Ridge Country Club. Right now, the center needs to upgrade the facility to meet the standards for handicap access, and they’re desperate for a corporate sponsor.”
“I had no idea,” Laura said.
“The Maurers bought the center in a mortgage foreclosure arrangement about three years ago. They’ve worked hard and have turned a lot of it around by getting prominent business interests in the community to make donations and become sponsors. In exchange, the senior citizens are encouraged to use the services the businesses provide. It’s worked well, but it still didn’t give the Maurers the funding necessary to meet all their objectives.”
“And you offered to make a substantial donation in exchange for some cooperation,” Laura said.
“Precisely. I wanted to buy the land adjacent to the center and turn it into a low-income apartment complex. But I knew that people generally oppose new developments they perceive as lowering property values, so I had to move fast before neighborhood associations got their people organized. Maurer offered me a deal. He promised me the support of the center in case I needed it to fight neighborhood opposition—in exchange, of course, for a substantial donation. The deal was for a high five figures, and that money would have put him in the black again.”
“But then he found out he couldn’t deliver the support,” Burke said.
“Right. When Elena Baca found out about the building project, she did precisely what we wanted to avoid—she organized everyone into opposing the development, asking that the land be used as a park, as promised. When Maurer tried to get the seniors to support his stand on the issue, he failed. Mrs. Baca’s arguments were far more persuasive, it seems. My development fell through. Of course I rescinded my offer to make a donation, because Maurer hadn’t met his side of the bargain.”
“Did you take a big loss on the deal?” Burke asked.
“In
the long run, no. I just chose another site, and construction is already under way. Unfortunately, the affair resulted in some negative publicity for my company and that did trouble me.” He opened his hands, palms up, and shrugged. “But that’s hardly enough reason for me to have her kidnapped. And to what end? Ransom? Hardly likely, don’t you think?”
“What about Karl Maurer?” Burke pressed.
“I hear he’s still in financial trouble. My guess is he’ll have to shut down or file for bankruptcy in another six months unless he gets a sponsor with deep pockets to back him.” Foster paused. “But it’s partially his own fault, you know. His bookkeeping is a disaster, and he’s frittering away his investment.”
“Explain,” Burke said.
“I had a complete check done on the center’s finances before I agreed to do business with Maurer. In the course of that, my accountant found some routine but substantial debits listed as miscellaneous expenses. Those really cut into his operating budget. At first we suspected he was skimming money, but if he is, I don’t know what’s become of it. I had a credit report done on him and the man’s personal finances aren’t in much better shape.”
“I’d like a look at those files,” Burke stated.
“Absolutely not. Those are confidential reports my business obtained under the condition that they remain private.”
Burke stood. “Then I’ll have to find another way to get those reports, or similar ones. And I will. You can count on that.”
Foster met Burke’s gaze and held it as he weighed his options. “Your company has a solid reputation,” he said at last. “If Gray Wolf can guarantee that they’ll keep the reports entirely confidential, I might be persuaded to cooperate.”
Burke considered it, then nodded. “Agreed. We’ll only use the reports to generate leads. We’ll substantiate the data we need independently.”
“Fair enough.” The developer walked across the office and unlocked a file cabinet. After a moment he found what he was looking for, then headed over to a small copy machine. He placed the papers from the file folder into the feed tray and began to make copies. “Having you put your firm’s reputation on the line is all the guarantee I need.”