Philip's face was flushed again, only now it was obviously excitement, not anger, raising his blood pressure. "Philip, please. You aren't thinking clearly. Running away would only make me look guiltier. And what would happen to Earth Guard?"
He shook his head. "One call to Evelyn and she'd take care of putting matters on hold until we got back." He pulled her to her feet. "We could do it, Holly. It would solve everything. Let's just go. Now. While that agent thinks we're still sitting here talking."
Holly could barely believe it; he was completely serious. "Sit down, Philip," she said firmly then sat back down herself. He perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to leap up again any moment. "What you're suggesting sounds very romantic... on the surface. But we would both regret it, if not tomorrow, next month or next year. I can't run away from this, and you can't protect me from life anymore. You've done a wonderful job of it up to now, but I'm finally ready to grow up and stop hiding behind you."
She cut off his protest before he could get it out. "You know it's true. I just never saw how I was hurting you in the process. This is very difficult for me but I don't think it should be postponed any longer."
Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage. "You are my dearest friend in the world. I care deeply about you. But I don't love you the way you want me to."
"Holly, we've been—"
"Please let me finish. I have finally realized how unfair our relationship has been. I've let you believe there could be a different kind of future for us one day, but that was a selfish lie to keep you from leaving me alone. We're friends, Philip, and that's all we're ever going to be. I'm hoping you can accept that truth, but I'll understand if you can't."
He studied her face for a moment then looked away. "Is there someone else? The reporter?"
Holly ignored the instant tightening in her chest. "David and I..." She stopped herself from being that honest with him. There was no need to tell him what part David had played in her decision to be truthful about their relationship. It would only hurt Philip worse than he was hurting already. "No. We're not... there's no one else."
Philip's held breath came out in an obvious sigh of relief. "You're under a lot of stress right now, honey, and I don't want to make it more difficult by arguing with you. I'll leave you alone for now, but I'll be standing by in case you need me. No matter what you've said, it doesn't change the way I feel about you or the fact that I'd still be happy to share any part of your life that you're able to, including friendship, if that's all you want from me."
After he left, Holly went over his final words. At first she'd thought he had accepted and understood what she'd tried to tell him, but the more she thought about it, the less certain she was. She had the awful feeling she'd just been given another pat on the head by a forgiving father.
Chapter 22
While Diane spent the next several hours on the phone, Holly hoped the agent was accomplishing more than she was. Papers were spread over the kitchen table, but she couldn't keep her mind on any of it. She made lunch for them both, but that didn't even use up an hour. She was trying to come up with a distraction of some kind when her intercom buzzer sounded. Diane reached the speaker before Holly.
"Yes?" Diane asked.
"David Wells is here to see Miss Kaufman," Pete stated in a more formal voice than his usual.
"It can't be," Holly whispered. "He's in a hospital in Miami."
Diane held up a finger and said, "Ask for identification."
The doorman's response was indignant. "I just identified him with my own eyes. He's been here before. Of course, he didn't have half his head bandaged like he does now. The guy with him showed me his ID though. Says he's Special Agent Reese of the FBI. Oh, and he said to tell Diane it's Jim from the Santa Claus case."
Holly narrowed her brows. "It must be him. What could he be doing here?"
"Okay. Send them up." Diane switched off the intercom and turned to Holly. "I heard the official version of your connection with Wells in your taped testimony. Is there anything else I should know?"
Holly felt her cheeks pinken and knew that answered the question as well as words would. "We... got involved... for a while. But it's over." A light knock spared her from further explanation.
Diane waved Holly away from the door as she opened it, checked the corridor then let David and Agent Reese into the apartment.
David swayed a bit as he entered. Holly thought he looked like death warmed over. The last time she had seen him look this bad was—"Dear god, David. Don't you have any sense at all? How stupid can you get? Wasn't your head hurting bad enough from being shot? You had to drink yourself into a stupor too?" She turned her frustration on Reese. "And you couldn't stop him? I thought the FBI was supposed to be protecting him!" Reese opened his mouth but Holly turned her attention back on David before he could speak. "Just go sit down! I'll get the coffee and aspirins."
Diane glanced curiously at Reese as Holly headed for the kitchen.
With a lopsided grin, David answered her unspoken question. "Sympathy isn't one of Holly's strong suits." He made his way over to the couch and groaned as he stretched out with his head propped up on the cushioned arm.
Holly returned just as Diane was offering David the pillow she'd used last night. Setting the mug of black coffee and open bottle of aspirins on the coffee table in front of him, she said, "Don't pamper him, Diane. He's not nearly as helpless as he appears."
David rolled to his side and took a sip of coffee. "So, the lady's still wearing her war paint." He rolled back onto the pillow with his eyes closed.
"David! What are you doing here?"
"Had news for you," he mumbled without opening his eyes. "Made Quick promise... let me... tell you."
Holly waited for more but the soft snore emanating from his open mouth was all she got. He'd passed out! "Do you know what he was talking about?" she asked Reese impatiently.
There was a visible yet silent exchange between the two agents before Reese spoke.
"I swear I tried to stop him from drinking but—"
Holly stopped him with a wave of her hand. "I know. He's terrified of flying. Just tell me what was so important that he left the safety of the guarded hospital room and got on a plane?"
"He was adamant about delivering the news to you personally. Said he owed you that much. It was all we could do to slow him down so we could make arrangements—"
"For god's sake! What news?"
"The maintenance lady not only remembered you, she recalled the name of the book. You're in the clear."
Holly felt like crying and impulsively hugged the agent. "Thank you. Thank everyone."
"Thank Wells," Reese countered as she stepped back into her normally reserved posture.
"Excuse me?"
"When he heard what was going on with you up here, he managed to slip out of the hospital and went searching for the maintenance woman on his own. Had us going nuts for a couple hours 'til he came back. Turns out she was off for the next couple of days. It may have been awhile before our people could have tracked her down with everything else they had in the works."
"David did that? For me?" Holly's voice was filled with wonder.
"Like I said, he insisted he owed you a favor."
Holly was stunned. As Reese continued to fill Diane in on what it took to keep David protected, Holly plopped down in a chair and stared at David. Why had he gone looking for the woman? For her? Or for a story? But if it was for a story, he could have let someone else tell her the results. And he certainly hadn't needed to get on a plane when it wasn't absolutely necessary. If he had wanted to tell her personally, he could have managed that over the phone.
Then she remembered his quirk about calling. It made no sense, but he definitely had a thing about using the phone with her. She didn't count the one time he had called since it hadn't involved an actual conversation. A flutter crossed her stomach the moment she allowed herself to remember it. On the other hand, any hang-up he had about th
e telephone couldn't be as serious as his fear of flying.
She didn't want to jump to any conclusions. He could have a perfectly logical reason for what he'd done. His actions did not necessarily imply that he'd forgiven her or that he cared. Besides, she hadn't forgiven him and wasn't sure she ever could.
Diane and Reese invited her to pass the time with them over a game of cards at her kitchen table but she declined. She wouldn't have been able to concentrate even if the game was as simple as War.
Human kindness had her make a fresh pot of coffee for when David woke up. But leftover resentment stopped her from feeling sorry for him when she heard his pain-filled groan an hour later.
Only when he sat up and took a swallow of the cold coffee without falling back down did she get him a bag of ice, a glass of orange juice to wash down the aspirins and a new cup of the hot caffeine. She knew better than to ask him anything until he was at least on his third cup.
Right on schedule his eyes recaptured a spark of life. He stretched and blinked at her as if he had just noticed her sitting there.
"I hope you realize, your recuperating time is going to get longer as you get older." Her voice sounded completely impersonal, just as she wanted to feel. "Agent Reese told me why you're here. I understand I have you to thank for clearing me of a murder charge."
David shrugged. "No one really believed you did it. I just figured I could pitch in and move things along a bit faster."
"Well, I appreciate your efforts. Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied with equal formality.
"And now, would you please tell me why you risked your health, to say nothing of your life, to come and pass out on my sofa?"
He smirked at her. "I wasn't risking anything. The doctor assured me I was fine to go as soon as the Feds gave the okay."
"You did not have to get on a plane, though. You could have called."
"No. I—" He glanced over at the agents who were politely pretending to be totally absorbed in their card game. He lowered his voice anyway. "It wouldn't have been the same as talking to you, face to face. It wasn't just the maintenance woman that I wanted to tell you about. I thought a lot about what you said... about us being even. You were wrong. When I realized you'd been using me, I was too angry to see the truth of what I'd done to you." He paused and rubbed his forehead. "I had this great speech all worked out on the plane and now I can't remember any of it."
"I don't need any speeches, David. There's nothing left for either of us to say." She picked up his cup and glass and carried them to the kitchen sink.
"I suppose you're right," he said to her back. "I really don't know what I thought I was going to accomplish by showing up here like some damn gift horse. Maybe it was just an elaborate way of punishing myself for being an ass."
The intercom buzzed and both Diane and Reese hurried from the kitchen to answer it.
As Holly rinsed the cup and glass, she sensed David coming up behind her. He lightly stroked her hair and her breath caught despite her intention to remain strong.
"I never meant to hurt you," he whispered. "And I'm sorry if you really feel what I did to you was ugly, because, whether you believe me or not, you were the most beautiful thing that ever happened in my life."
It would have been so easy to turn to him then. If he wrapped his arms around her, she would not have been able to resist. But he made no further move and her moment of weakness passed.
"Excuse me," Diane said behind them. "Agent Quick is here to see you both."
"Great," David said, reaching around Holly for the cup she had just washed. He poured himself the last of the coffee then waited for Holly to dry her hands and lead the way back to the living room.
"So what have you got?" David asked even before they all sat down.
Diane frowned at David then gave Quick a questioning look.
Quick nodded his understanding and said, "I know. It goes against procedure to share information with a reporter, but we made an agreement. If he breaks it, I get to send him out on another assignment where the next bullet might do more damage than the last one."
David grinned at Diane without offering any further explanation.
Quick addressed Holly. "I was thinking if I told you what we'd discovered so far, something else might occur to you that you hadn't told us yet. Any little thing at all."
"I'll certainly try to help," she assured him.
"At the moment, it looks like Greenley's entire confession was a lie. She was probably half gone when she wrote the thing and may have actually forgotten what she had been doing at the time of the first two murders. At any rate, she, Renquist and Donner were all seen together at Greenley's favorite haunt when Ziegler was hit, and she and Renquist were there again when O'Day got it. Plus, Donner was definitely on the West Coast for that one. As to Frampton, one of Greenley's neighbors is positive she saw her go out jogging at dawn Sunday."
"Also, the two women you never met, Samantha Kingsley and Paula Marconi, have been cleared as well. That brings us to the two you felt certain could not be involved, April MacLeash and Cheryl Wallace."
"And I still feel the same way," Holly said. "April was the one who set down the rules for the women to follow. She felt very strongly about the punishment fitting the crime. And Cheryl hasn't been in any condition to do anything."
"Why do you say that?" David asked.
"I didn't mention it before because April didn't want it to get out, but Cheryl... isn't well."
"Explain," Diane said.
"Apparently, she had a nervous breakdown after the hearing and April's been taking care of her."
"Where?" Quick interjected.
"At her house in Newark, Delaware. I told you I was there Saturday morning."
"But you didn't mention Cheryl Wallace being with you."
"Well, that was because she wasn't actually with us. She—I know this sounds odd, but she's been staying in April's attic. According to April, Cheryl's completely withdrawn from everyone. She said Cheryl reacted the same way in college after she was attacked. I know how she feels. You see, I did the same thing for a while."
"Did you see Wallace while you were there?" Quick asked.
"No. April checked on her and said she wasn't up to joining us. I got the impression Cheryl doesn't like to leave the attic room at all."
Quick was on the edge of the sofa. "So, you only took MacLeash's word for it that Wallace was in the attic."
Holly immediately understood what Quick was getting at. "I have no reason to doubt April, but her husband, Theodore, mentioned Cheryl being there when I met him."
"Hmmm." Quick got up and paced a bit. "All right. Here's what happened. The agent we sent up to Newark to question April MacLeash said no one answered the door and neither did any of the close neighbors, so he drove on up to Wallace's house in Connecticut."
"No one was there, either, but the next-door neighbor was very helpful. She was positive Mrs. Wallace hadn't been there since the hearing and Mr. Wallace left the house right after it ended and hadn't returned. He'd told her they were taking a trip to Europe. The neighbor's been collecting their mail for them ever since. Our agent stopped at the MacLeash home again on his way back and an elderly man answered the door."
"That would be Theodore."
"Yes. The agent said the man seemed a little disoriented, yet defensive at the same time. Insisted no one by the name of Cheryl Wallace lived there, and his wife was away on business for a few days."
Holly frowned. "He did seem to have some trouble recalling something when April was speaking to him, so he may have some dementia. But I also remember him mentioning that April goes away from time to time to visit patients who've moved away."
Quick raised an eyebrow. "How convenient. Let me give you a few more pieces of the puzzle. The possibility that Greenley was protecting someone with her confession looks a lot stronger today. We just found out she'd buried the lab findings on the fingerprints from the Ziegler murder. There was one set
of prints not identified. That in itself wouldn't be so astounding, but combined with the deduction that there might have been a witness to the murder—"
"A witness?" David exclaimed.
Quick nodded. "Possibly. We haven't released this information in hopes that the person would come forward without fear of the killer going after him or her. But it hasn't happened. Here's what we know. The killer wore gloves during the murder, and yet someone wiped the doorknobs and took a quick swipe over a few surfaces throughout the suite. The haphazard way this was done suggests it was someone other than the methodical killer.
"The conclusion is that someone besides the murderer was in the hotel room after Ziegler was killed. That person either witnessed the murder or discovered the body afterward, panicked, wiped some areas she remembered touching, and took off. Note, I said she. That's because the unidentified prints were in the bathroom along with a, uh—" Quick cleared his throat.
Diane rescued him. "A piece of tissue found in the toilet had a spot of menstrual blood on it. It's logical to assume the woman who put it there was in the bathroom after the maid had cleaned. Thus, we came to the assumption that Ziegler had a woman in his room when he returned there in the early evening to get ready for his party. When the killer arrived, she may still have been there."
"But why wouldn't she have, called the police?" Holly asked. "Or at least come forward afterward?"
"It's hard to say," Quick replied. "Panic can cause people to do strange things. Then again, what if the woman was there to do harm to Ziegler herself and someone beat her to it? She might be afraid of getting blamed for the deed. Or, there's the possibility that the woman recognized the killer, and is keeping quiet out of loyalty or for purposes of blackmail."
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