Loving Constance

by Lyn Cote

  As usual, the man beside her gave nothing away. What had he thought about the concept of their double-dating? “Probably the same thing you said.” Connie watched him from the corner of her eye. “We’re not a couple. We’re just involved in a case.”

  “That’s what I said,” he agreed. Mt. Rushmore showed more emotion than the man beside her.

  Rand drove to a drive-in pharmacy’s window. He switched on an easy-listening station on the radio to fill up the tense silence that yawned between them.

  Connie turned the Sanders case and Lou Rossi over and over in her mind. A prompting, an urging to bring these topics up with Rand, gnawed at her. Of everyone involved, Rand O’Neill wouldn’t pull any punches. She’d get his version of the truth. And unfortunately, it would be bitter but probably factual.

  Weighing the differences between Rand and herself, she looked out the window as they drove to Chuck’s apartment. Why did Rand make her feel so inexperienced? So green?

  Mike Petrov, Annie and Gracie’s dad, was older and wiser than she, but he never took the dark view of things. He always had hope. But then Mike loved God and believed in providence. How many times had she heard Mike recite Romans 8:28, “‘In all things God works for good with those who love him whom he has called according to his purpose.’”

  “Want to go in?” Rand asked.

  “No, we’d just be in the way.” And I must make a decision. Can I discuss my worries, reveal my weakness to you again? Could we actually confront Lou? Do I trust you or not?

  “Okay, I’ll drop it off,” Rand replied, “and then come down and take you back to your car.”

  She nodded absently. She found herself tearing at the skin on her thumb again and knotted her hands together to stop herself.

  He left her parked at the curb, the motor and air conditioner running. She chewed her lower lip and fretted. There’s only one way to find out what I want to know and only one person who can help me. But do I want to face all this after what happened yesterday?

  She recalled watching Chuck take the bullet and then the churning of her stomach when Annie had revealed Troy’s behavior starting in March.

  Within minutes, Rand returned. “Okay—”

  Connie looked at him and made her decision. Now or never. “Do you have to be somewhere right now?” she asked. “I mean, do you have time to make another stop?”

  Rand turned to face her. What have you got up your sleeve, Connie? “I’m free. Where do you want me to drive you?” Whatever it is I probably need to hear it…and from your lips.

  “Lou Rossi’s office.”

  So that’s it. He didn’t reply, just checked his mirrors and pulled into traffic.

  After several blocks, Connie fingered his sleeve.

  He sucked in air. Why had he become so sensitive to her slightest touch?

  “Is that where you’re driving us?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He willed himself not to look at her. “I think Rossi’s past due for a visit from me—us.”

  “Do you think he might know something about Troy?” She leaned toward him. “Or am I just grabbing at straws?”

  He gripped the steering wheel, unwilling to surrender to his attraction to the warm, caring woman beside him. “I think it’s worth our while to ask.” In fact, while I’ve been waiting for you to decide to do this, I’ve done my homework on Rossi. But I wanted you with me when I confronted him. Your presence will make Rossi react even if it’s negative and that’s what I need to see—reactions.

  The large office overlooking the toll road wasn’t far, just on the eastern edge of town. Rand parked and walked beside Connie into the building and to Rossi Construction’s receptionist desk.

  “We don’t have an appointment,” Connie said to the receptionist. “But I’m a friend of Lou’s, Connie Oberlin. Would you ask Uncle Lou if he’ll give us a moment of his time?”

  The young woman looked them over, but obviously Connie’s use of “Uncle” and her professional appearance moved the woman into action. She placed a call and then waved them toward the hallway that led to the office.

  Beside his open door, Lou met them in the hallway. The large bear of a man looked worried. “Connie, what is it? Has something else happened?”

  “Not to Annie or the boys. No.” With lowered gaze, Connie walked into the office and took the seat that Uncle Lou gestured her to.

  Rand sat down beside Connie. He’d thought her presence would make this conversation easier but now he wondered if he’d been right. Surely, Rossi wouldn’t want to disillusion her.

  But it was too late now. They’d come together. “Mr. Rossi, Connie has taken a natural interest in my investigation into your nephew’s disappearance.”

  Lou sat down behind his desk and nodded.

  “It has escaped the notice of neither of us that Troy disappeared after leaving your job site.” Rand watched for Lou’s reaction. “This prompted me to question your employees at Troy’s job site—”

  “I know. I told them to tell you everything.”

  Rand tightened his lips. “I’m sure you did. But they may not have witnessed what Troy may have.”

  Connie shifted restlessly at his side, her sleeve brushed his as she moved her chair slightly.

  “I don’t get you.” Lou picked up a pencil and began doodling circles on his desk pad.

  Connie stared at Lou, but remained mute.

  Rand took her silence as a request for him to continue. “Or they may not know what you know. Mr. Rossi, is there anything which you haven’t told us for any reason that might help us find out what has happened to Troy?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Lou stopped doodling and looked up.

  Rand fixed the man with an unwavering look. “Was anything illegal happening at the job site? Anything that might have caused your nephew to disappear?”

  “Illegal?” Lou’s face instantly turned red. “You mean me cutting corners? All my buildings exceed code—”

  “No,” Rand cut in, “I mean, do you suspect anyone at the site might be dealing drugs, acting as a sheetmaker or runner for a bookie…anything like that?”

  “If anything like that is going on, I don’t know anything about it.” Lou belligerently tossed his pencil down to the desk.

  “Uncle Lou, this is important. If you know anything, suspect anything, please tell us,” Connie’s gentle voice coaxed.

  Rand watched Connie’s words soften the big man.

  “I think Troy may have been in debt from gambling,” Rand said quietly.

  Connie gazed steadily at Rossi.

  “How do you get that?” Lou hunched forward, his elbows on the desk top. He suddenly looked older, less imposing.

  “I went to the sports bar that Andy and Austin rode the subway to that Saturday morning in June,” Rand said. “What they told me afterward about their dad’s activities there led me to follow up. It is a place serviced by a bookie’s sheetmaker. And he only takes fifty-dollar or higher bets. Nothing small.”

  “But that doesn’t mean Troy was betting too much,” Connie objected suddenly.

  Rand burned at her ever-ready defense of Troy. But he watched Rossi. “After verifying that Troy could have placed bets at the sports bar, I went back to his job site and questioned his fellow employees and they verified that yes, Troy had been gambling a lot this past year. Something he had rarely done in the past.”

  Connie looked stunned. Rossi made a sound of disgust.

  “This may be all the explanation needed for Troy’s disappearance.” Rand leaned forward. “But could Troy have seen something, found out something he shouldn’t?”

  “Not that I know of.” Lou tilted back in his high-backed black leather chair.

  “It’s common knowledge,” Rand continued in a voice free of condemnation, “that companies such as yours, construction or waste-hauling, often are targets of extortion. Do you pay protection?” There—he’d said it.

  Rossi again shifted in his chair, making the leather sque
ak. But he said nothing.

  His silence was nearly a confession. “I won’t ask for facts,” Rand proceeded, almost tasting the sour victory. He’s going to open up. “I just need to know if the mob might be interested in Rossi Construction.”

  Lou looked at Connie, frowned and glanced back to Rand. “Okay, you’re right. I pay protection money. It’s just another cost of doing business.”

  Connie made a little sound, like a strangled groan.

  Though Rand had expected it, and even though he sympathized with Connie’s disappointment, a surge of bitter triumph galled him.

  “The demand for cash comes subtle, you know?” Lou fidgeted with a note pad on his desk. “No one comes right out and tells me I better ante up. I get a call saying that I might want to donate money to a fund. Or sometimes, I just receive calls to send cash to blind post office boxes. Never the same box and never at regular intervals.” Rossi held up a hand. “That’s all I’m saying and I won’t press charges so don’t ask me to.”

  Rand nodded. His suspicion had been proven right, but he didn’t feel good about it. Connie had lowered her chin and looked crushed. Rand rose. “We’ll leave you then.”

  “Will this help you find Troy?” Rossi stood also. “I’ve never had any other connection with the mob in any way. I just pay to protect my workers and my customers’ investments. People can do things, set things up on a construction site. People can get hurt, you know? There’s no way I can, or the police can, guarantee the safety of my workers if someone decided to hurt them. I don’t see that I have a choice in this.”

  Rand offered Lou his hand. “I understand.” In a way, he did. They lived in an evil world. Sometimes a man had to weigh the lesser of two evils. What if Rossi didn’t pay the money and as a result, some of his workers died on the job? And in any case, how would Lou Rossi or Rand prove that the calls he received were extortion? And how would Rand proceed against the elusive people behind the calls? It was a crime without fingerprints. Besides, my job is to find Troy.

  Lou looked relieved. “Remember, I’m not pressing charges and if you try to maneuver me into doing that, I’ll forget we ever had this conversation. And Connie is a junior partner in my company’s law firm. She must keep what I say to her private.”

  From under her lashes, Connie stared at Rossi, obviously troubled, hurt.

  “Rossi,” Rand went on, “do you have any reason to believe that Troy might have been threatened by someone involved in the extortion?”

  “No, and I’ve done some digging myself. No connection.”

  “Okay then.” But what Rossi had said had not surprised Rand that much. He was glad he didn’t have to make these kinds of choices. Rand nodded and took Connie’s trembling arm. They walked out of the office and its building to Rand’s car.

  Connie marched beside him as though unaware of the people and cars around her. Unaware of him. He held the door open for her, resisting the urge to run his hand down her arm, reassure her in any way he could. She got in and was so silent, so distant.

  He’d gotten used to her insistent presence. He recalled the way she’d stood up to him the night before. How she’d given him comfort when he least deserved it. Now, she began weeping softly beside him.

  Why did she have to care so much about another woman’s husband? Why did she waste so much effort on Troy? He went around and got in behind the wheel. He put his key in the ignition and drove away. The silence stretched between them. He found himself driving toward his house, which wasn’t far from them. He parked in his drive.

  “I can’t believe it. Uncle Lou—of all people—pays extortion.” Connie’s voice broke and tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m finding things out I didn’t know about people that I care about. Things I never wanted to know.”

  “I can understand,” Rand said, “your being hurt or angry, but you can’t have been this naive. You grew up in a working-class Chicago neighborhood. Why is this hitting you like this?”

  “Hearing about it is one thing. But finding out someone like Uncle Lou is actually involved with paying protection is the shocker. It was always out there, not personal.”

  He understood then. She knew the hard facts of life, but somehow divorced them from her immediate circle. It was just like her not believing that Troy could be in debt to a loan shark. He turned to her. Her crushed expression made him recall all the times she’d rushed to defend Troy.

  Then it hit Rand. A gut-wrenching insight slashed through his mind and raw jealousy ripped him in two. “How long have you been in love with Troy Nielsen?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I am not in love with Troy.” Connie tossed the words back at him.

  He opened his door and slammed it. He had to know the truth. “Yes, you are. It’s all clear to me now.”

  Connie climbed out her door and glared at him over the top of his sedan. “You’re crazy. Annie’s my best friend.”

  “What does that matter?” He stalked up to the rear of his house and unlocked it, Connie at his heels. “Now I get why you think Troy could do no wrong. You’re in love with him.”

  “Stop saying that. It’s not true.”

  He waved her to enter. “Then what is true? Why do you care so much about another woman’s husband? Why do you think he can do no wrong?”

  Halting inside his back door, she shook her head at him. “Stop this. We’re not going to talk about this. You have no right. I’m leaving.”

  He moved in front of the door, blocking her. “Yes, we are going to talk about this. This is part of my investigation.” A frenzied need-to-know took him over. “How do I know you haven’t been in touch with Troy? Were…are you having an affair with him?”

  Connie slapped his face. “You have no right to talk to me like that.”

  The blow stung his right cheek. “Tell me the truth then. I need to know the truth.” For me, not for the case. For me. I need to know. He hated making this revealing admission even in silence and only to himself.

  “What is it to you?” Breathing fast and flushed, she tried to push past him.

  Words failed Rand. But his instincts didn’t. He’d wanted to kiss this woman for days, weeks. He wrenched her to him and kissed her.

  Connie froze in his arms.

  For one incredible moment he was kissing her warm, willing lips.

  Then she forced him away. “No.”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t stop now. All his senses thrummed to life.

  “No. This…everything…the case…it’s all too complicated as it is.” She pushed her hair back with both hands. “Take me home. Why did you bring me here?”

  “I’m sorry.” No, I’m not. I want to kiss you again.

  “You should be.” She stood, glaring at him. “You should be very sorry,” she repeated.

  “I am.” This is crazy. “Forgive me.” What was I thinking? “I’ll drive you back to the hospital to your car.” He pushed open the back door.

  “No…I…” She reached for him then, putting her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. She choked, fighting sudden tears. “Why did this all have to happen?” Despair laced her voice. “Why is all this happening?”

  He let the door shut behind him. His body felt weak with relief. She trusted him and had reached for him.

  Rand carefully folded her into his arms. He kissed her hair. She shouldn’t trust me. I can make no guarantees about what may come. He couldn’t say this though, and didn’t she already know it?

  “This thing with Rossi,” he murmured instead, close to her ear, “has upset you, hasn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t fit my life. It feels unreal. Do you understand?” Her lips were so close to his neck, he felt the whisper of their movement.

  From his own experience, Rand recalled this same sense of unreality. Last night, he’d felt it for the second time in his life—when he’d gotten the call that his brother had been shot. “I know what you’re feeling.”

  She lifted her lovely face and gazed into his
eyes. “You do, don’t you? You know.” She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry to be so brittle…but can you hold me just a few more minutes? I feel…betrayed, broken inside.”

  In reply, Rand tightened his hold on her, pulling her flush against his chest. He breathed in her perfume and luxuriated in her smooth hair pressed against his cheek. He’d forgotten what holding a warm woman in his arms felt like. Had it been this intoxicating?

  Finally, she murmured, “I didn’t expect my first year out of law school to be like this. I never imagined uncovering ugly secrets hidden by people I’ve known all my life—people I love.”

  “No one—” he tried to soften his tone for her “—likes to face hard realities about someone they’ve known and cared about. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.”

  “You’re probably right.” She inhaled and shook her head as though just awakening. Still, she didn’t pull away from him.

  “I’m sorry.” He stroked her hair, fingering its silken texture. He never let anyone get close enough to touch anymore. He kept to himself, out of range. That must be why this experience was overwhelming his good sense, which insisted he release her now. “I know that it doesn’t change anything, but I am sorry.”

  “You didn’t do anything to be sorry for,” she absolved him.

  “Then why does my cheek still sting?” He tried to lift their mood.

  “That you deserved. Do you really think that I—”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t know what came over me.” His conscience didn’t let him off the hook. It’s called jealousy. You don’t want to think of this woman loving any other man. He shook off these unwelcome, impossible thoughts. “You’re not the kind of person who would play a friend false.”

  She leaned her forehead flush against his chin. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

  “I guess I find it so unusual,” he explained, “for someone to care as much as you do about your friends that I leaped ahead of my…head, my better sense.” He wanted her to move away.

  He wanted to go on holding her. “I know you’d never behave dishonorably.” She wouldn’t. Of that he was sure. “That’s why you’re so upset about old Uncle Lou paying protection and Troy doing things that ended in hurting his wife and boys.”