“Ruthless when her children’s interests are threatened,” he agreed. “Kirsten never trusted her.”
Shea frowned. “So what if she hires an investigator? It wouldn’t take ten minutes to discover I’m not really Kirsten.”
He drew ever-narrowing concentric circles in the palm of her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve already taken the proper CYA measures.”
“Meaning?”
“I talked to Sheriff Carlton, told him the whole story, the true story.”
“And he’s going along with it?” Her voice rose.
“He wasn’t happy about our little deception at first, but like me, the sheriff thinks the real Kirsten’s dead, and he’s as anxious as I am to flush out the killer.”
“He’s not worried that I’m a con artist who intends to cheat the Raineys?”
“He checked you out, Shea. No criminal record, not even a speeding ticket. You’re just what you told me you were, a junior executive with a plastics firm in Ohio. At least you were until the company downsized a few months ago.”
She didn’t look at him, but he could feel the sudden tension in her hand.
“Want to tell me about that?”
“Not particularly, but since you already seem to know half the story …” She shrugged. “I went to work for Plas-Tech straight out of college. Jerry Maxwell, the owner, was a terrific boss. But when he retired eighteen months ago, his son Jason took over.” She paused.
“Not such a terrific boss?”
“Oh, great boss. Lousy boyfriend. He’s the colleague I mentioned dating. When we broke up, I was corporate history. Jason called it downsizing, but that was just an excuse.”
Teague’s eyebrows slammed together in a frown. “You didn’t fight it?”
“My parents urged me to, but it seemed pointless. I didn’t want to work with Jason any more than he wanted to work with me.” She sighed. “Maybe I was wrong. I don’t know. Water under the bridge now.”
“And it’s not like you have to work,” he said.
She met his gaze. “Meaning?”
“The sheriff also learned that you inherited some money recently. Enough money to make it unlikely that you’re a gold digger after a stake in the Rainey fortune.”
She didn’t look at him, but he could feel tension in her fingers again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re upset because the sheriff ran a background check on you.”
She looked up. “I know it’s silly. He’d have been criminally negligent not to investigate my past.”
“But?”
She dropped her gaze. “But I still feel violated. The way you must have felt last night when you discovered someone had been going through your things.”
“I’m sorry, Shea, but we had to be sure you were telling the truth.” He squeezed her hand. “Fact is, the sheriff’s still following up on a couple of leads, trying to find a connection between you and the Raineys.”
She frowned. “So he does suspect me of something?”
“Only of being related to Jack.”
She smiled faintly, playing with the locket around her neck. “I’ve suspected that myself.”
Javier brought their food then, and Teague watched in secret amusement as Shea took her first cautious bite.
“Oh, it’s good!” she said, sounding surprised. “But spicy,” she added, as the subtle fire of the mole sauce kicked in and she reached for her water glass. By the time she was finished, Teague knew where the evening was headed. Or at least where he hoped it was headed. He couldn’t quit staring at her, and after a while he quit trying.
For dessert Javier brought fruit and a basket of tiny, nut-flavored Mexican wedding cookies.
“I really shouldn’t,” she said, but managed to nibble her way through a plate of fruit and two cookies. As she was reaching for a third, she glanced up and caught him looking at her. “Why do you do that?” she demanded.
“Do what?” he asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Stare.”
“I like to watch you eat.”
She grinned. “I’ve always had a healthy appetite. Fortunately, I’m blessed with a heavy-duty metabolism as well. Otherwise, I’d be big as a barn by now. Or at least a barnyard animal.”
“You look perfect to me.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” Their gazes locked, and slowly her smile faded.
He reached across the table to rub a dusting of con fectioner’s sugar off her lower lip. Then he very deliberately sucked the sweet white powder off his fingertip.
She licked her trembling lower lip, her eyes luminous. “Teague?” she whispered.
In the background, recorded mariachi music competed with the clink of silverware and the chatter of the other customers. He wanted her, he thought, and unless he was crazy, she wanted him too. “Let’s get out of here.”
Shea breathed deeply, trying to calm her raging hormones. The cool night air helped to blunt the edge of the strange, dizzying euphoria possessing her, but when Teague took her arm to help her into the passenger seat of his pickup, another, even more powerful wave of emotion swept over her, weakening her knees and annihilating her inhibitions.
He got in on the driver’s side. “Where to now? It’s still early, but in Liberty our options are limited.”
“Limited to what?” She leaned back against the headrest.
“A couple of bars on Main Street and a strip joint on the edge of town.”
“No thanks.”
“There’s a movie theater, but the last show started at nine. You don’t want to go in in the middle, do you?”
“No. What do you suggest?”
He turned to face her. She was very aware of his nearness in the confines of the front seat. “You could come to my apartment and look at my exquisite collection of—”
“Etchings?” The giddiness escaped in a giggle.
“Arrowheads, I was going to say, but I suppose it amounts to the same thing.”
“The lodge is closer,” she said, surprising herself. “Even though I don’t have an arrowhead collection, exquisite or otherwise.” She could, however, think of one or two other things to show him.
Teague’s eyes gleamed as if he’d read her mind. “The lodge it is.”
SEVEN
Inviting Teague back to her room was completely out of character. Normally Shea was wary of new relationships. But then normally a kiss didn’t turn her brain to Silly Putty.
She leaned against the door of her room, digging in her purse for the key. “There’s a hot tub on the deck,” she heard herself say in a low, breathy voice. “Why don’t we get comfortable out there, count stars or something….” She trailed off. “I forgot. You don’t have a swimsuit with you.”
He studied her face in the light from the fixture above the door. The longer he stared without saying anything, the warmer her cheeks grew. She hoped she didn’t look as nakedly needy as she felt.
He leaned closer, outlined her lips with a gentle forefinger, then kissed her once, softly. “Doesn’t bother me,” he said.
What didn’t bother him? she wondered, having lost the thread of the conversation in a maze of bewildering emotions.
Behind her, inside the cabin, the phone began to ring. She ignored it, willing Teague to kiss her again. She loved the touch of his lips, warm and tender, against her own.
He squeezed her hand. “You really ought to answer that.”
She sighed in resignation and forced her heavy eyelids open. “It’s probably a wrong number.”
“You’ll never know unless you open the door.”
She fumbled the key, all thumbs under his watchful eyes.
“Here.” He took the key from her, fitted it easily into the keyhole, and turned it smoothly in the lock.
The phone was on its fifth ring. She slipped past him to grab the receiver before the caller gave up. “Hello?”
“Who is it?” Teague asked as he pulled the do
or shut.
She waved him to silence. “Yes. What’s wrong?” Shea froze as her caller’s concern communicated itself across the phone lines.
“What’s going on?” he asked again. She shook her head and held a finger to her lips.
“He’s right here. We just got back from dinner.”
“Who is it?” he mouthed silently.
“Cynthia.” She held out the phone. “She wants to talk to you.” Her face was bleak. Even though Kirsten’s stepmother hadn’t said much, Shea could tell the news was not good.
She stumbled over to the nearest chair and collapsed in a boneless heap. In a daze, she cradled her head in her hands, scarcely aware of the murmur of Teague’s voice in the background. She didn’t lift her gaze until the silence told her he had hung up.
“It’s Jack, isn’t it?”
He knelt in front of her chair and put his arms around her. There was no hint of the earlier sensuality in the gesture, just comfort. But the knowledge she saw mirrored in his gaze frightened her.
“About eight tonight,” he said, “Jack complained of stomach pains. At first neither he nor Cynthia was particularly worried, but then he started to feel nauseous. When he began vomiting, Cynthia contacted the hospital. Somehow she and Mikey managed to get him out to the helicopter.”
“Cynthia and Mikey? What about Kevin and the Griffins?”
“They’d left already.”
“Left?”
“Yes. Kevin went out with friends. And the Griffins were at church.”
“On a Wednesday night?”
“They’re in a Bible study group.” He paused. “Cynthia flew him straight to the emergency room.”
“Oh, my God!” Her heart fluttered. She felt faint, but it wasn’t until Teague shook her sharply that she realized she was still muttering “Oh, my God” over and over in a litany of fear. She choked to a halt. “Is he dead?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.
Teague pulled her cold hands into his and held them tightly. “No, Cynthia said he’s stable. Don’t worry. Everything that can be done is being done.”
She twisted her hands free. “Let’s go to the hospital. I need to talk to Jack.” She had to tell him the truth. Before it was too late.
Teague shook his head. “No. Jack’s not in any shape to talk right now.”
“But I can’t sit around doing nothing,” she protested, trying to get up.
He held her down. “Be still for a minute and listen. That’s why Cynthia called. She needs your help. She hasn’t been able to reach Kevin or the Griffins and she needs a baby-sitter. She wondered if you would take Mikey back to the island and stay with her, at least until someone else shows up to take charge.”
“Sure. Of course I can do that. Is Mikey at the hospital with Cynthia and Jack?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I said we’d be by to pick her up in a few minutes.”
She frowned earnestly at the travel alarm clock on the bedside table. “I’d better pack a bag.”
He let her up, and she went through the motions of packing like an automaton. “Do you think I’ll need my jacket? No, not just for overnight,” she answered herself. “How about my sunglasses? Should I take them?”
“The sun’s been down for hours,” he said.
She nodded. “You’re right. I guess I’m not thinking very clearly.”
“Are you ready?”
“I suppose.” She surveyed the room doubtfully, wondering what essential item she was forgetting.
He gently bumped her chin with his fist. “Buck up, baby.”
Shea felt a warning prickle behind her eyelids. “Oh, no. Don’t be nice to me, Teague. I’ll start crying, and I hate women who bawl all the time.”
He shouldered her bag. “In that case, move it, McKenzie. We don’t have all night. How’s that? Rude enough to suit you?”
Tossing him a grateful smile, she grabbed her purse. “Better.”
They found Cynthia and Mikey playing tick-tack-toe in the waiting room nearest the emergency entrance. Mikey placed an “O” in the upper left corner of the grid. “Gotcha!” she said.
“Yes, you did, you little rascal. I’m stuck. Looks like the cat wins this game.” Cynthia glanced up and noticed them. Her fine-boned face showed signs of strain. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “I’m running out of activities to keep Mikey occupied. This place isn’t set up to entertain children.”
“Hi, Teague. Hi, Kirsten.” Evidently the evening’s drama had had little effect on the youngest Rainey. She appeared more excited than frightened.
“Hi, yourself,” Shea said.
Teague tugged the little girl’s ponytail. “We’re gonna take you back to the island, shortcake.”
“Yes!” she said, glomming on to Teague’s legs in an enthusiastic hug.
“How’s Daddy?” Shea was almost afraid to ask.
“He’s sleeping now,” Cynthia answered with a faint smile. “They think they treated him in time.”
“What was it?” Teague asked. “Flu? Or his cancer taking a turn for the worse?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Cynthia stared from Shea to Teague in surprise. “The doctor says he was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Teague’s eyebrows collided. “Are they certain?”
“They won’t know until they get the lab report back on his stomach contents, but they’re pretty sure it was a reaction to something he ate.”
“Food poisoning?” Shea asked.
“Or poison in the food. The doctor I spoke to wouldn’t hazard a guess which.” She lifted her shoulders in a graceful gesture of denial. “Who would want to poison Jack?”
“Right offhand I can think of a dozen suspects,” Teague said. “Jack’s rich, and greed’s a powerful motive.”
Shea frowned at him. “Granted the money provides a motive, but why poison a man who’s already mortally ill?”
“Kirsten’s right, Teague. You’re jumping to conclusions. It must have been an accident.”
But Teague wasn’t ready to give up. “What did Jack eat today? What medicines did he take?”
Cynthia looked bewildered. “His IV. No medicine other than that. And very little food. All I was able to coax down him was some eggnog this morning and a little soup for dinner. Neither should have upset his stomach.”
Teague frowned. “No point worrying about it, I guess. We’ll just have to wait for the lab report.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Shea felt useless.
“Just keep an eye on Mikey for me. This isn’t a good place for her right now. She’s better off on the island.”
Teague patted Cynthia’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Kirsten and I will take good care of her.”
“And if there’s any change or if you need something, just give us a call,” Shea added.
Cynthia hugged the three of them good-bye, then waved them out of sight. Shea felt guilty about leaving her there alone even though it was apparently what she wanted.
“I’m hungry,” Mikey announced as she buckled herself into the middle seat of Teague’s pickup.
“Me too,” Teague agreed. “How does a hot fudge sundae sound? I know a place that serves great sundaes. Huge mounds of ice cream drowning in oceans of hot fudge and topped with real whipped cream.”
“At this time of night?” Shea asked. It sounded like a recipe for indigestion.
“All right!” Mikey’s enthusiasm overruled her.
“Don’t you think she ought to be in bed?” Shea protested.
“Actually,” Teague said with a wink, “that’s where I was planning to be right about now.” He moved his eyebrows up and down like the lecherous villain of a melodrama.
Shea laughed. “Okay. Hot fudge sundaes it is.” Chocolate was the next best thing. Or so she’d heard.
Mikey’s eyes began to droop about halfway through her sundae. By the time they made the crossing to the island, she was sound asleep.
Shea clambered onto the dock fir
st. Then Teague carefully handed the gently snoring child across to her. Shouldering Shea’s duffel bag, Teague leaped onto the weathered boards of the dock. He checked the luminous face of his watch. “It’s only eleven. Seems later, doesn’t it?”
It did. Shea breathed deeply of the night air. Moonlight painted silver squiggles on the surface of the lake.
Teague took Mikey from her. “Shortcake’s heavier than she looks, huh?”
Shea nodded in heartfelt agreement. Forty-odd pounds of sleeping child would have been quite a load for her to haul across the island. She was thankful Teague had elected to help. Even he looked relieved as the house came into view.
Not surprisingly, considering the circumstances under which Cynthia had left the island, lights blazed from every window and the doors were unlocked.
“Where’s Mikey’s bedroom, I wonder?”
“Upstairs,” Shea said. “Next to Kirsten’s.”
Slowly she trailed Teague up the broad staircase to the second floor, uneasily aware of a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn she was under surveillance.
“Kirsten?” she whispered softly. “Are you here?”
“Did you say something?” Teague glanced back at her over his shoulder.
“No, nothing important.”
She followed him into Mikey’s room. Cynthia’s flair for decorating was evident in the bright palette of primary colors. A huge rocking horse stood in one corner. The low shelves that ran along the window wall were packed with toys, notably a huge collection of Legos and enough teddy bears to stock a big city Toys ““Us.
Shea pulled down the covers on the four-poster, and Teague settled Mikey on the mattress. The little girl slept so soundly that she didn’t stir, even when Shea removed her shoes and tucked her in.
They tiptoed out, closing the door quietly behind them.
Teague stopped outside Kirsten’s door. “You’ve had a shock. Maybe you should get some sleep too,” he suggested.
“In Kirsten’s room?” She cast a doubtful look at the closed door. Her reluctance bordered on fear. “It’s locked, isn’t it? Per Jack’s orders?”
“With Kirsten back he changed the order.”
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