Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  The head of security answered the knock on the door, looking startled at Jack’s quick reappearance. At least he’d taken Jack seriously, especially after being told that one of the hotel guests had come damn close yesterday to being killed on an icy street only two blocks away.

  “You have another question?”

  “I just spoke to the woman in question.” He explained about the knock on her door after nine last night, and that the man knocking had claimed to be a waiter with something complimentary for her.

  Art Lessiter shook his head immediately. “Truffles are placed in every room daily by cleaning staff. Occasionally we offer something like a free spa service to make up for an unsatisfactory experience here at the Wilmont, but we would never send food that hasn’t been ordered.” He sounded deadly serious. “And to expect a single woman guest to open her door to a male staff member, when she hadn’t requested food or assistance? Aside from common sense, that could open us—and rightly so—to liability. I feel confident in saying that whoever knocked on her door is not employed by this hotel.”

  Nothing Lessiter said was a surprise to Jack. “Let’s see the footage. She said the knock came at 9:05, although she was looking at the bedside clock, not her phone. Those wouldn’t be as accurate.”

  “The maid is supposed to check the time on the clocks daily.”

  Jack waited tensely. He could see the current view of some hallways on screens. None of those were watched 24-7; whoever was on shift switched between cameras regularly.

  It took Lessiter a minute, but once told the room number, he found what they were looking for. “I’m starting it at 8:55. We can go back further if we have to.”

  Both men stared at the monitor displaying a currently empty hallway in black-and-white—really an overall gray. One minute in, the elevator doors slid open and a couple emerged, turning toward the camera. They were smiling as they let themselves into a room.

  A single man in a business suit came out of the elevator next, expression preoccupied, and walked away, passing Gabby’s room and letting himself in to one several doors down and across the hall.

  Then nothing.

  At 9:04, the elevator opened and another man emerged. He was well dressed in a suit and overcoat, had on gloves that were probably leather, and wore a black fedora that hid his face. He started down the hall without once exposing his face to the camera.

  Jack stored up his impressions. This guy was good-sized, bulky in a way that suggested a once-athletic man who had softened. He had a slightly rolling gait. And damn, he stopped outside Gabby’s door and knocked.

  He also kept his back turned to the camera. Presumably he spoke, because he waited for a minute. Then he strode away—in the other direction.

  “Is there another elevator?”

  “Yes, around the corner.”

  The security chief found that footage. The man reappeared on it, but only briefly to open a door that Lessiter said was to the staircase.

  This footage was from a camera on the fourth floor looking down. Gabby’s room was on the third floor, so they could see only the set of the shoulders and the top of the fedora.

  He continued down to the garage and immediately let himself out a steel door that led to the alley at the back of the hotel.

  And that was it.

  But Lessiter went back to the camera footage taken in the stairwell. Inched it forward, then froze it. “Tell me I’m imagining that.”

  Jack leaned forward and cursed. Something black filled the space between the collar of the wool overcoat and the hat. “A balaclava,” he said.

  “Most people would think ski mask.” The security chief sat back in his chair, his expression incredulous. “If he’d happened to meet someone getting out of the elevator, say, he could have pulled it down a little and mumbled something about not being used to nights this cold. Even without the hat, we wouldn’t have seen his face.”

  He could not believe this. Colleen Ortiz’s killer—or so the odds suggested—had been captured by three different cameras, and not one had revealed his features or anything else meaningful.

  Except, that wasn’t true. Yeah, the overcoat hid his body build, but not entirely. He was a good-sized man, tall and broad. He carried himself with shoulders squared—and then there was a distinctive gait.

  “He knew where our cameras are,” Lessiter said suddenly.

  “He’s either stayed here before and paid attention, or he cased the hotel. I wonder, if we went back...”

  “When I have time, I might do just that.” This was a pissed security chief.

  “Let me know.” Jack stood and thanked Art Lessiter, who promised to send copies of the footage to Jack.

  Then Jack took the elevator himself, needing to see with his own eyes that Gabby was safe and well.

  * * *

  WHEN SHE ANSWERED the door, it was to find Jack wearing a suit, white shirt and tie. He looked extraordinarily handsome, but she surveyed him all the way down to his shiny black dress shoes with her eyebrows raised.

  “I have to appear in court this afternoon,” he said gruffly. “Don’t get used to this.”

  A sharp pang served as a warning. She wanted to get used to Jack Cowan in all his manifestations—but it wasn’t happening, she told herself.

  Once Gabby agreed to have lunch with him, Jack said, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Otherwise, unless you’re having dinner with Ric tonight...” He paused meaningfully.

  “What, I’m supposed to just skip meals?”

  “You’re not taking this seriously,” he told her, his tone stern.

  Maybe she had sounded a little sarcastic. “I am. I’m just not used to taking orders.” She could be diplomatic when necessary, especially where academic politics were concerned, but obeying without question? No.

  She’d spent a lifetime trying to insure she never felt helpless again. If that occasionally made her prickly, so be it.

  The timbre of Jack’s voice changed, became intimate. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m used to snapping out orders and assuming people will jump to obey them. I just want you to be extra careful, okay?”

  Gabby sighed. “I won’t leave the hotel. Like I said, I’ll leave the room only if I hear multiple people in the hall. It’s just—” She hesitated.

  “You don’t want to order room service. I get that. I don’t want you answering the door for anyone but me or Ric.”

  Left alone, Gabby plunked her laptop on the worktable and stared at it for a long time. Jack was right, this was a great block of time she could use to polish her dissertation. But there was no way she could really concentrate.

  Great excuse, a voice seemed to whisper.

  She ignored it. She changed back to her pajamas and spent the morning alternately reading and streaming shows she’d always wanted to catch up on. She even napped.

  The firm knock on the door came at precisely noon. “It’s me,” Jack said, loud enough for her to hear.

  She let him in before noticing he carried a laptop case under his arm. “I thought we were going out.”

  His sharp blue eyes stayed on her face. “We are, but I want to show you that footage first. In case this guy looks familiar to you.”

  “How could he?”

  He’d think she was determined to bury her head in the sand, but realistically, how could she relate camera images to a man she’d seen once, when she was four years old?

  Unless, of course, she should have known him because he’d been at the house before, like Jack’s father had, or even more often if he’d been one of Mom and Dad’s friends.

  No matter what, she resented both Ric’s and Jack’s automatic assumption that she was a coward. She couldn’t have denied that she carried the trauma that had shaped her life as if it was an unhealed wound, painful, hot, somewhere inside her chest, or that she’d spent much of
her life refusing to examine it too closely. But she was trying to change that, and neither of the men knew how hard it was to do that. They had no idea how many times Aunt Isabel had insisted she had to put it behind her.

  Jack had been watching her, as if he guessed she was fuming, but all he said, mildly, was “You’ve been out on your own a few times since you got into town, right? It’s possible this guy has followed you.”

  Cold fingers slipped up her spine.

  She retreated to the bed. “I thought you said you couldn’t make out anything about his appearance.”

  Jack sat beside her, his greater weight compressing the mattress. She raised her head to meet his gaze and saw the tenderness on his face.

  “The way people are built and move can be individual enough that we recognize someone coming from a distance away. Not everyone, but you know what I mean.”

  She did—and had the sinking feeling that Jack was one of those people for her. His long, athletic stride, the set of his shoulders, the way he so often turned his head as he remained aware of everyone and everything around him... Oh, yes, she’d know him long before she could see his face.

  She only nodded.

  He removed a thin laptop, opened it and called up an app and then the camera footage. Then he handed the computer to her and tapped a key to set the still picture into motion.

  Gabby wasn’t sure she breathed as she watched the elevator open and a man step out with his head bent and angled away from the camera. He walked down the hall. If he glanced at room numbers, she couldn’t tell. He stopped at her door, raised a gloved hand and knocked.

  Her lips moved as she mouthed what he’d said, what she’d said, and remembered the silence. Without physically showing any frustration, he walked swiftly away from the camera until he disappeared around a corner in the hall.

  “You’re shaking,” Jack said with quick concern. He wrapped his arm around her, took the laptop away and set it on the bed, then cuddled her close. “I’m sorry. I wish—”

  “I needed to see it,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

  “Was anything about him familiar?”

  She shook her head vehemently, even though...she didn’t know.

  “There’s something,” he said slowly.

  “Yes...no.” She swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s just that seeing him makes it real. A stranger wanted me to let him into my room last night. It wasn’t some kind of mix-up by room service.”

  “No.” His voice roughened. “I didn’t tell you this guy was wearing a balaclava to hide his face. I doubt he intended even you to see it.”

  Her head bobbed. “If only I could tell him that I don’t remember him.”

  After a discernible pause, Jack straightened, his arms dropping away from her. “Is that really what you want?”

  “To not be wearing a target?” she shot back.

  “Don’t you think your mother deserves justice?”

  Scooting away, Gabby would have sworn she’d find a thin slice oozing blood somewhere on her body. Maybe he hadn’t sounded as cutting as she’d thought...but the alternative was contempt. She struggled plenty not to despise herself for sticking to Great-Aunt Isabel’s advice. For protecting herself.

  “You know...” She stood. “I think I’ll skip dinner tonight.”

  “No.” He bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The regret he showed when he looked up couldn’t possibly be fabricated. “I’m such an ass. I stumble over my job sometimes. My...biases. You don’t know how frustrating it is when a witness won’t talk. Half the time after domestic violence calls, the victim refuses to testify.” This all came out raggedly. “We’ve wasted our time. We know he or she’ll get hurt again, and we can’t do anything.”

  Still hurt, she said, “You’re refusing to accept that I don’t know anything to tell you. I want to remember. I do. But it’s not that easy, especially after I’ve spent a lot of years trying—”

  “To forget.”

  Gabby closed her eyes, feeling the dampness in them. “Yes.”

  She felt the rush of air when he stood. She still hadn’t opened her eyes when he enclosed her in his arms. “I’m sorry. I...don’t want to lose the time with you.”

  She should stick to her guns, but...she didn’t want to lose the limited time she’d have with him, either, so she nodded. “I probably overreacted. Ric has said things like that to me so often over the years. I agreed to this visit partly because I know he’s right.”

  Jack lifted her chin gently with his hand. “He needs family, too, Gabby. You’re not the only one scarred by what happened.”

  She tried to smile, if only to lessen the intensity of the moment. “I know that, too.”

  He bent his head and kissed her. Not with passion this time, but gently, telling her without words that he understood, that he cared.

  She didn’t know why, couldn’t let herself wonder how much he could care, if only they had time. Right now, she’d take what she could get.

  Once he looked down at her again, she found a better smile. “To tell you the truth, I’m really starved.”

  Jack laughed. “Me, too. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  That evening, Ric took her to dinner in the hotel restaurant—the same place she’d had lunch with Jack today. The very fact that Ric insisted on coming up to her room to get her was a clue that the two men had been talking.

  The same host remained on shift and seated them. His eyebrows flickered a little to see her with a different man and she thought there was amusement in his eyes, but she could hardly exclaim loudly, “This one’s my brother!”

  Once she and Ric had ordered, he commented on her latest near miss. What if she hadn’t thought twice about opening the door?

  “It was scary,” she admitted. In a different way, far more terrifying than having to jump out of the way of a speeding SUV. “Weird, too. I mean, how did he know where I’m staying? What room I’m in?”

  “He could have followed you.” More slowly, Ric said, “Or me. Probably not Jack.”

  No, she had a suspicion Jack would have noticed if anyone had tried to follow him.

  When she voiced her thought, Ric said, “Yeah, Cowan makes me nervous even at the health club. It’s the way he looks at people. He seems to have eyes in the back of his head. You know?”

  Gabby wrinkled her nose. “I’ve noticed. He’s hyperaware. It’s probably a cop thing.”

  “I’m sure.” He studied her with those dark eyes that reminded her of her father’s. “Have you been anywhere on your own that this guy might have picked you up?”

  She felt sick enough to hope their meals didn’t show up too soon. “I...drove by the house. Actually, I parked across the street from it for a few minutes.” Upset, she wouldn’t have noticed another car that had stuck with her all the way back to the hotel. “But...he couldn’t possibly have been hanging around the house for hours or days waiting for me.”

  “He sure as hell was determined to get in the house,” her brother snapped.

  They stared at each other for a minute. Gabby wanted to say again how weird all this was, but...it was beginning to seem all too real.

  If the killer had seen her at the house and followed her back to the hotel, he wouldn’t have known whether she was staying there or just meeting someone for lunch, say. Was it logical that he’d have then broken into the house to find out for sure whether she was staying with her brother or not?

  “How did you feel about it?” Ric asked suddenly. Seeing her confusion, he said, “I mean, the house.”

  Should she opt for honesty? Or pull her punches? No, what was the point in lying?

  “I hated looking at it. As far as I could tell, neither you nor Dad has changed a single thing. You haven’t painted the house a different color, not even the front door. The a
rbor is still there, probably with the same roses climbing over it. It was...” She had to look away. “I felt like I was having a flashback.”

  “That’s harsh. The house is white. It’s not like it’s all that distinctive.”

  She made herself meet his eyes again, but didn’t say a word.

  He flushed. “I guess I never think about it. Dad didn’t want to change anything, and... I was a kid. Boys don’t think about things like remodeling. You know?”

  “It’s your house now. It has been for eight years. What, you still think you’re twenty-one and lucky because you don’t have to pay rent?”

  He groaned and kneaded the back of his neck. “Maybe. Sort of. I did finally remodel the master bedroom and move into it. I put in a Jacuzzi tub. I stayed in my own bedroom longer than I should have. I couldn’t bring a woman home with me and explain that, yeah, I slept in a full-size bed because that’s all that would fit in the bedroom where I’d grown up.”

  Gabby was startled into a giggle. “No, that would lead to some awkward questions.” She sobered quickly, though. “But...the rest of the house?”

  “Dad wanted it to stay the same. The kitchen is really dated, but even though he could have afforded to redo it, he wouldn’t hear of it. ‘There isn’t a damn thing wrong with it,’ he’d say.”

  “Except for the fact that Mom was murdered in that kitchen.”

  His jaw tightened. “I think he wanted it kept the same as a memorial. Or maybe he deluded himself that she’d walk in the door someday. I don’t know.”

  They were silent, brooding, when their entrées finally appeared. Gabby decided she was hungry enough to eat despite the subject of conversation. In fact, she had several bites before Ric said, “I guess I was trying to honor Dad’s wishes.”