Mirror, Mirror

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  Her hope deflated at his words. “Deep down, no matter what you say, you still think it’s me, don’t you.”

  “You hired me to follow you and find out what’s going on,” he replied. “The easy part was finding out what’s going on. The trouble is, I couldn’t find out why. I think you might have to do some more digging of your own to find that out. Now—” he set his cup on the counter “—it’s time to finish that tour. We’ll talk more later when there isn’t a chance of being overheard.”

  Dana should have known Mac could be charming, even if he hadn’t shown her that side the few times they met. He alternately charmed the women and bonded almost instantly with the men. Nothing was said, but she’d have to be blind not to see how her staff silently speculated about the relationship between their boss and the man with her.

  As she looked around, she felt the tension rise in her body, until she felt so taut she feared she would snap. Could one of them be behind everything I’ve suffered? Can’t I trust anyone?

  Would Greg in Contracts do something like this? His love for practical jokes was legendary. Talk still hasn’t stopped about his using the copier for pictures of his private parts at the last Christmas party. He’d supposedly joked that he wanted to loosen Dana up.

  Or what about Fran Harris in Accounting? She was furious when she was denied her last promotion. It didn’t matter that her work hadn’t been up to par and she was told maybe next time. Fran still hadn’t forgiven Dana. Marti once said Fran had a “diabolical side.” Could she plan something like this? Would she sink so low as to find a way to turn her boss’s life into a living hell?

  How could Dana continue to walk through these offices without wondering if someone here was behind it all? How could she talk to them without wondering if they were secretly laughing at her? Secretly hating her.

  For a woman who prided herself on her self-control, she sadly felt it was spiraling out of her hands.

  The touch on her arm was fleeting, barely felt. But it instantly calmed her. She turned her head and looked up into Mac’s face.

  “Nothing new with a person thinking the world is against them,” he murmured. “You just have to be strong enough not to think it all the time. Paranoia can be dangerous if you allow it to take over your life.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  He led the way back to her office. “Grab your purse and let’s get some dinner. Come on, Madison. They’d expect it,” he added, when she opened her mouth to protest.

  “I choose the restaurant this time,” she told him. She told her assistant she’d be leaving and went into her office.

  Marti smiled at Mac. “It’s good to see her leaving here at a decent hour,” she told him.

  “I told her I’m starved and she has to feed me,” he joked, as Dana walked up to him.

  Dana couldn’t help but notice the curiosity still directed her way as she and Mac left the offices. She’d left herself open to gossip. Something she didn’t believe in doing. She wouldn’t have accepted his dinner invitation, except that she desperately wanted to know why he’d come.

  As they walked toward the elevator, Mac’s glance shifted sideways when a shadow caught his attention. He was certain he’d seen the man before when he’d crossed the downstairs lobby to the elevator. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it, since this floor housed several businesses other than Dana’s. Except, the man seemed to be watching her with a little more than passing interest. Mac made a mental note of the man’s description. He wouldn’t overlook him again.

  “We’ll take your car,” he said when they exited the elevator into the parking garage. When they reached the Jaguar sports car, he held out his hand. “The keys?” he prompted.

  “I don’t allow anyone but my mechanic to drive my car,” she argued.

  “You’ve just added someone else to the list.” He kept his hand out.

  She grudgingly dropped the keys into his palm. He disarmed the alarm and opened the passenger door.

  “I guess your boyfriends don’t show up at the office,” he said, skillfully guiding the car out into heavy traffic.

  “I prefer to keep my personal life just that. Personal.”

  “So no one there knows very much about you.” Mac darted a quick glance in her direction.

  “The ones who’ve been there as long as Marti have known me for about twenty years, but as I said, I don’t like to mix business with my personal life.”

  “Not anymore, Dana. You said a client allegedly saw you in improper circumstances. That means someone decided it was a good idea to mix your personal life with your business life.”

  Chapter 4

  Dana kept Mac’s casual attire in mind and chose a restaurant that wouldn’t require the male diners to wear a tie. She didn’t miss the hostess casting wary glances Mac’s way. She thought of when she was little and was warned not to touch the burners on the stove because they were hot. The warning hadn’t stopped her from trying. She was tempted to advise the hostess that Mac’s form of charm could be lethal. But she doubted the hostess would listen to her any more than she had listened to warnings about the stove.

  In no time he was served his beer and she, her glass of wine.

  “Do you enjoy intimidating people?” she asked, picking up her glass and sipping the tart liquid.

  Mac shrugged. “I can’t help it if people see me as a bad ass.”

  “I think you enjoy it,” she accused him.

  He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Hell, yes.”

  “I’m surprised the criminals didn’t just break down and confess the minute they saw you.”

  Mac looked off into the distance as if his past were depicted on the far wall. “They didn’t believe in making anything easy for me. I was known for not giving the perps an inch. They did wrong, I dragged their asses off to jail. Unfortunately, some of them got out before I could finish filling out the paperwork and they worked on adding more to their list of offenses.”

  She heard a note in his voice that she could only describe as yearning. Not a word she would have thought of in connection with him and his former profession.

  “You miss it, don’t you,” she said softly.

  His jaw worked furiously as he kept his eyes averted. She had begun to think he wasn’t going to reply, when he started to speak.

  “Miss it? Not exactly. What I miss is my satisfaction when I got scum off the street. Trouble is, that satisfaction soured when I saw too many of them were getting back on the street.”

  “Is that why you left the force?” She was curious to find out about him as a man and not just as someone she’d hired. “Because you felt the system was failing you?”

  “Maybe I just needed to do a better job,” he replied, after taking a healthy swallow of his beer.

  She studied him and saw a man whose eyes never stopped scanning the room, as if he was making sure trouble wouldn’t catch him off guard. She doubted anything ever caught him off guard.

  “Something tells me you did an excellent job. Which makes me wonder why you left.”

  “If you’re smart, you get out when you realize you’re past feeling anything,” he murmured, apparently still lost in the past. “A cop who’s lost his edge can lose his life.”

  More questions cropped up in Dana’s mind. But she didn’t think Mac would answer anything she cared to ask just now. As she looked at him, she could see more than memories dimming in the gray-green depths of his eyes. She also read a lot of pain and loneliness.

  She couldn’t miss emotions she knew so well.

  What secrets does she hide? What goes on in her mind?

  Mac could imagine well-oiled gears moving at warp speed inside Dana’s brain. He could see the questions she was fairly bursting to ask. How was she managing to remain quiet?

  What the hell was he doing here with her? This was all wrong.

  He’d made a major mistake taking her out to dinner. He was here with her as if she were his date, not a client. Not
that he’d know what to do with a date. It’d been some time since he’d socialized with a woman.

  Because he had brought her out, she started to see him in a different light. Not the way he wanted her to see him. So the inevitable happened. Like all women, she wanted to know everything about him. Hell, she didn’t need to know anything more about him. She knew all that mattered.

  She had to know he would do his job to the best of his ability. He would protect her from harm, and if there was someone out there with the intention of hurting her, he would stop them.

  She didn’t need to know he didn’t like imported beer or that his beloved leather jacket was more than thirty years old. His needs were few. His office was a dump, but it was his dump, now that he’d gotten up to date on the rent. The only thing in his life that mattered was his dog. And the knowledge that women didn’t fit into his life. If he couldn’t keep a wife happy, he didn’t expect he could keep any woman happy. Easier not to try. Besides, Duffy was enough company—and he could take him on stakeouts.

  “Your father was a strong influence in the company, wasn’t he?” he said, wanting to get her thoughts directed elsewhere before she decided to ask a question he’d have to rudely refuse to answer.

  She seemed surprised by the change of subject. “It was more that Dad was the company. He’d started it from scratch more than twenty years ago. My dad had the kind of personality that drew people to him. He worked hard and expected no less from his staff.”

  “A parent with that kind of workload usually has a lousy home life,” he commented.

  Dana’s reply was postponed as the waitress appeared to take their orders.

  “Dad considered his home life as important as his work,” she continued. “I don’t know how he managed it, but I can’t recall one piano recital or school play that he missed. My father once said that his daughter would be a little girl only once and he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss any of it. I guess I was more lucky than others. My mother’s health has always been frail and she couldn’t be as involved with my activities as my father was.”

  “You mentioned she’d recently suffered a stroke, but she was home now,” he commented, tackling his salad as if he hadn’t eaten all day. “I gather she’s been receiving home health care?”

  Dana nodded. “She isn’t able to care for herself at all, so she has round-the-clock nursing care.” She looked up as their salads were set before them. “Harriet, our housekeeper, has been with my parents for many years. She lives in. She looks out for my mother and oversees the household. I guess I think of her as a second mother.”

  “If you couldn’t talk to your mother about this, why didn’t you talk to Harriet? Ask her if she has any idea who would do this.” He shook his head when the waitress asked him if he’d care for a second beer.

  Dana frowned at the idea. “I couldn’t tell her. She has enough to worry about with my mother without fretting about me, too. Before now, if I had a problem I talked it over with my father.”

  “And he’s no longer here.” He stated the obvious. “So who do you talk to if you’re afraid of causing everyone to worry about you? You don’t have a dog or cat. And believe me, animals make good listeners, and you never have to worry about them ratting on you.”

  A brief smile touched her lips. “My mother was allergic to dog and cat fur, so I couldn’t have pets.”

  “A guard dog is always a good idea,” he pointed out.

  “Except they shed, chew things they shouldn’t, dig holes in the backyard and bark when they shouldn’t.”

  “Sounds as if you’ve been talking to Duffy,” he quipped. “They’re also good company and don’t let anyone uninvited in.”

  “I don’t think I’ll worry about finding a puppy just yet.” She smiled her thanks when her lemon grilled chicken and rice pilaf was placed in front of her.

  Mac looked down at his steak and loaded baked potato, then over to Dana’s plate. “That kind of food wouldn’t keep my energy up for more than an hour,” he stated.

  “Perhaps, but I can imagine my arteries are a lot less clogged,” she retorted, cutting her meat into bite-size pieces.

  “Goes along with those whole-grain cereals you eat.” A corner of Mac’s mouth lifted in a grin.

  “I intend to be an extremely healthy old lady,” she informed him. Her smile dimmed a bit.

  Mac figured she was thinking of her mother. With the older woman in such bad health, he guessed he could understand why Dana would do whatever she could in hopes she wouldn’t suffer the same fate. Since his old man imbibed a quart of whiskey a day and was still going strong, he didn’t think he had anything to worry about.

  He waited until the waitress served them coffee after their meal. “Just because it’s been quiet lately doesn’t mean it’s going to keep on that way.”

  Dana stirred her spoon in tight circles in the hot liquid even though she hadn’t added anything. She didn’t need to ask him what he meant. She just didn’t want to talk about it. She kept on stirring her coffee.

  “You know, this was always one of my favorite restaurants,” she said in an artificially bright voice. She looked everywhere but at him.

  “Dana.” One of his hands covered hers while the other gently took the spoon out of her hand and placed it on the saucer. “I don’t want you to let down your guard just because you think it’s safe now.”

  She stared down at the table. His fingers looked strong and capable of handling anything.

  “Even a crazy client,” she murmured.

  “Is that what you think the doctor is going to tell you?”

  She uttered a short laugh that was anything but humorous. “If I admit it now, I’d save myself a lot of money in medical fees.”

  “Admit what?”

  Dana shook her head. “Admit I sleepwalked. Admit I have fifty other selves straining to break out. Admit I do crazy things because I feel the need to do them. To be honest, I wish I knew what I should admit,” she whispered.

  When she lifted her face, he saw the sorrow in her eyes.

  “I’ll call Doctor Moore first thing in the morning.”

  “I think that would be a good idea,” he said softly.

  As they left the restaurant later, Mac knew what was going on in every direction. For a moment, he almost pulled Dana to a stop. He could have sworn he again saw the man he’d noticed back at Dana’s building. If he hadn’t had her with him, he would have checked it out. But he didn’t want to chance leaving her alone.

  He wasn’t going to worry. If the guy was following Dana, Mac knew he’d see him again. And next time Mac caught sight of him, he’d take the time to ask what the hell he was doing. If the guy decided he wasn’t willing to talk, well, Mac would just have to persuade him it was in his best interests to tell all.

  “Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Dr. Moore,” Dana said, trying not to fidget as she sat in the comfortably upholstered chair.

  “You were lucky. I had a last-minute cancellation.”

  Dana looked around the office in an attempt to get an idea of the kind of woman she would be dealing with.

  She was used to doctor’s offices that were antiseptic looking, but Dr. Abigail Moore’s office resembled a comfortable sitting room more than it did a medical office. Her desk was an old-fashioned writing desk and the chair she now sat in was a cushioned rocking chair, while Dana’s chair was overstuffed and big enough for an afternoon nap. She wouldn’t mind having one in her own home.

  Nothing was what Dana expected, beginning with the male receptionist out front whose suntanned good looks could make him a star on Baywatch and ending with the petite dark-haired woman seated across from her.

  Dark violet eyes that rivaled Elizabeth Taylor’s in intensity, were warm as she gazed back. A yellow legal pad lay in her lap.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she suggested in a voice that held a hint of a Southern drawl. “What made you think you needed to see a shrink?” A hint of a smile touched he
r lips.

  Dana immediately relaxed under Abby’s gentle prodding. She told Abby what had happened, why she felt she needed the services of a private detective and why, after learning what Mac had found out, she knew she needed to find out if her problem might be medical.

  Abby didn’t interrupt her as she penned notes. When Dana finished, Abby began asking questions.

  “Did you notice any of these unusual happenings before your father’s death?” Abby asked.

  Dana shook her head. “The first time I felt something was odd was about six weeks after.”

  “And what was that?”

  She cast her mind back. “I remember waking up feeling very strange. Heavy headed. And I was positive I could smell cigarette smoke in my room, but I don’t smoke and neither does my housekeeper. There was also a tube of mascara among my makeup that I knew wasn’t mine. It wasn’t my brand or my color.”

  “Anything else?” she probed.

  “I suffer from migraines,” Dana explained.

  “Since when?”

  “Since a few weeks after my father’s death. My doctor felt it was a reaction to my father’s death.”

  Dr. Moore jotted notes on her pad. “Did he prescribe anything for the headaches?”

  Dana named one of the popular drugs targeting migraines.

  “Do you remember anything that might trigger the headaches?” the doctor asked.

  “I never thought about it before.”

  “You might want to start keeping a log. Detail what you are doing before the headaches begin. Even what you might have eaten.”

  Dana nodded.

  Abby was gently relentless in her questioning, delicately pulling out information that Dana thought she’d forgotten.

  “I can understand why you came to me,” Abby said once they’d finished. “Considering everything, I don’t think it would hurt to run a few tests. Nothing that smacks of Dr. Frankenstein,” she assured with a low-voiced laugh. “Just so we have a starting place. But I’d also like to see you again in three days.”

  Dana agreed. “If you need to call my office, my assistant thinks I’m seeing a therapist to deal with my father’s death.”