Arresting Developments

by LENA DIAZ,

  Mitchell cleared his throat, perhaps realizing that this might have been something better left said in private. “Actually, she seemed genuinely concerned. I told her you’d managed to land the plane, more or less, near Mystic Glades and that we were going to check on you.” He cleared his throat again. “I didn’t tell her anything else.”

  Dex glanced around the room, toward the windows, suddenly feeling as if a ghost had just danced on his grave. Of all the people he’d want knowing where he was at this very moment, Ronnie was last on his list. The few months they’d dated had started out perfectly, but she’d quickly become possessive and almost...stalkerish. He’d considered getting a restraining order by the time he’d managed to disentangle himself from her clutches. But she’d been more of a nuisance than someone he considered to be dangerous so he hadn’t pursued any legal action. He’d just had his security guards at the office keep an eye out for her to insure she didn’t get into the building. And he’d changed his phone numbers. Now, knowing she was still asking about him had him wondering if she knew anything about planes and how to sabotage them.

  “Garreth, when we get out of here and have a chance to talk to the NTSB again—”

  “I know. Tell them to add Veronica Walker to the list of potential suspects. Will do.”

  Dex took another gulp of whiskey, feeling increasingly uneasy as he thought about Ronnie. He tried to pretend that Mallory wasn’t staring at him curiously and, above all, tried to ignore the urge to run across the room and drag Amber somewhere private so he could try to explain everything to her. But he didn’t want to embarrass her, or himself if she refused to talk to him. His shoulders slumped. This whole evening had been a disaster.

  He set his drink on a nearby table. “Mitchell, Derek, if you’re so inclined, perhaps we can have an impromptu business meeting and I’ll look through the papers you brought down for me to sign. May as well do something today to make it not a total waste.”

  “I’ll accompany you, if you don’t mind. Just in case I need to review some of those papers,” Garreth said.

  “Of course.” Dex turned to Mallory and put his hand on hers, still feeling guilty. “Good night, Mal. And I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted your sincerity in coming out here. Thank you for wanting to check on me.”

  The look of surprise on her face had him feeling even lower. Just how much of a jerk had he been to her in the past? He’d always thought the breakup was mutual. Now he wondered if he’d mowed over her without even realizing she might have felt differently.

  “Good night, Dex,” she whispered, looking thoughtful. “See you in the morning.”

  He nodded, looked toward the other side of the room for Amber and saw her laughing and talking to the young woman who helped out at the Moon and Star, Amy. He shot out of his chair. “Follow me, guys.” He stalked through the room, aiming a glare in Amber’s direction before heading through the side door into one of the many hallways in the back of the mansion on the west wing.

  “Where are we going?” Garreth asked.

  “I have no idea. But this mausoleum is big enough that I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to sit down with relative privacy if we just get moving.” He turned to his right, then to his left when a wall blocked him. A few minutes later he found what was probably a library, based on the number of books on the walls. But it had the main requirement he’d been hoping to find. A fully stocked bar. “Bless you, Granddaddy Callahan.” He strode across the room and grabbed the first bottle he could find.

  * * *

  AMBER QUICKLY ENDED her conversation with Amy, giving her a lame excuse that she needed to use the bathroom. She smiled and nodded at the others as she made her way to the end of the room where her aunt Freddie was standing.

  “Do you mind playing hostess for me? I’m afraid I’ve a bit of a headache. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  Freddie patted her shoulder. “Of course. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll just tell everyone to pick a room and make up their own beds. There are dozens of them in this monstrosity. It’s all under control. See you in the morning, dear.”

  She kissed her aunt’s cheek, feeling genuine warmth toward her at that moment. She cast a glance toward Dex’s fiancée, who was silently sipping her drink and looking lost in thought. Then Amber slipped through the same doorway Dex had a few moments ago.

  She didn’t know where he’d gone with his lawyer, assistant and board member, and she told herself she didn’t care. Which, of course, was a lie. She headed up the main stairs to her room to escape.

  * * *

  THUNDER BOOMED OVERHEAD, startling Dex from his stupor. He jerked upright in his chair and looked around. Still in the library, but he was alone now. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. Midnight. The business meeting had ended hours ago. Everyone must have either gone back to the great room or found a bedroom to hunker down overnight. It was time that he did the same.

  He started down the main hallway back toward the great room but quickly got lost. It took a good half an hour before he found a staircase and started up it. Hopefully, it would lead him back to his own room. If not he’d just commandeer one of the many rooms in the mansion. He tightened his grip around the bottle of whiskey in his hand as he topped the stairs and started in what he believed to be the right direction.

  For once, he was right and ended up at his bedroom door. Finally. He shoved the door open and kicked it closed behind him, stumbling to the bathroom. He set the bottle on the sink and took care of nature’s call. By then the bottle no longer seemed quite so appealing. He was beginning to feel as green as he probably looked. Just how many glasses had he had tonight? One too many, that was for sure. And he didn’t have to guess why he was in such a foul mood. Mallory showing up tonight had made him face things he hadn’t wanted to face. It wasn’t a good feeling to realize he’d hurt her and, therefore, possibly others. And now he’d hurt the one person he really truly cared about, Amber.

  If only he could have gotten Amber alone so he could explain. But as soon as Mallory had introduced herself, Amber had made herself scarce, using the excuse of seeing to her guests.

  He looked around the bedroom, which seemed much lonelier now than it had before. Of course, having shared it with Amber, there was no longer any appeal in being alone. He stared at the bedroom door. Amber was just across the hall. If she’d gone to bed by now. Maybe he could talk to her.

  He headed across the room, pulled the door open and was inside Amber’s room in no time.

  She jerked upright in bed, her eyes widening in the glow from the open closet door. Apparently she liked to sleep with a light on. He vaguely wondered how she’d managed to survive in the wilderness all this time if she was afraid of the dark.

  “Get out,” she ordered.

  “Shh.” He put his fingers to his lips, or tried to, but he missed and poked his eye. “Ouch.” He cursed and slid to the floor, holding his eye.

  “Oh good grief.” Amber flipped the covers back and hurried over to him, getting down on her knees beside him. “Let me see.” She pulled his hand back, then waved her hand in front of her face and wrinkled her nose. “What did you do, drink an entire bottle of tequila all by yourself?”

  He lifted his bottle and shook it. “Whiskey. Good stuff, too. Your grandpa had good taste.” He tried to unscrew the cap but couldn’t quite manage it. “Will you open it? The damn thing keeps slipping.”

  She took the bottle from him. “I’ll take care of it.” She stood and set the bottle on top of a chest of drawers, then reached down for his hand. “Come on. I’ll help you find your way back to your room.”

  He grabbed her hand but, instead of getting up, he yanked her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “We need to talk.”

  She shoved against his shoulders and tried to wiggle out of his hold. “I don’t talk to
drunks, especially when every other word is slurred. I mean it, Dex. Let me go.”

  Her tone made its way through his stupor and he dropped his arms. “I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his face as she hopped up.

  “So am I. Now go. It’s late.”

  He tried to push himself up, but his wobbly legs didn’t want to work. He collapsed back against the wall. “Can’t I just stay here? I won’t be much trouble. Promise.”

  She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Won’t Mallory miss you?”

  He winced. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

  “Well, I don’t. If you want to stay, stay. But be quiet. I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” She moved back to the bed and flounced down on the mattress, jerking the covers up around her neck and turning to face the window.

  Dex let out a deep sigh and pushed himself on all fours over to her bed. “Amber,” he whispered.

  “Go away.”

  “I’m tired. Can I please get in bed with you? The floor is hard.”

  “Then go to your room and get in that bed.”

  “It’s too far. I don’t think I can make it. Please?” Thunder boomed overhead and lightning lit the windows. The rain was coming down even harder than before. “Please? Don’t make me sleep alone in the rain.”

  She flipped her covers back and turned to glare at him. “You’re drunk, Dex. And a cheater. Neither of those make you particularly appealing or make me want to share a bed with you again. Especially not at—” she glanced at the beside clock “—almost one in the morning. Good grief.”

  He sighed heavily and propped his head on his hands as he rested his elbows on the mattress. “I may be drunk, but I’m not a cheater. Mallory and I used to be engaged. But we broke up. Two months ago.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If that’s true, why did she introduce herself as your fiancée?”

  “Because she hasn’t accepted it yet. I’m hard to forget.”

  She rolled her eyes again and flounced over on her side, facing away from him. “I’ve already forgotten you, so that can’t be true.”

  “Okay, okay. I think she’s mad at me.”

  “Now, that I believe.” Her voice was muffled against her pillow.

  “Amber?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a big bed.”

  “Oh, for the love of... Okay, get into bed. Just stay on your side and leave me alone.”

  He grinned and slid into bed beside her, right where he wanted to be. He scooted as close to her as he dared, not wanting to make her mad. Then he plopped a kiss on her shoulder. “Good night, sweet Amber.”

  She wiped her shoulder as if to erase the kiss. “Good night, drunken Dex.”

  * * *

  AMBER SIGHED AS Dex’s heavy, even breathing told her he’d already passed out. She really should have made him leave. But it was hard to argue with him when he was so adorably drunk and kept giving her puppy-dog eyes.

  She was fairly certain he was telling the truth about Mallory being his ex. If he was anything like her, then he wasn’t good at lying while intoxicated. Liquor was more likely to loosen lips and make the truth come out than to make someone better at concealing something. And she was more relieved than she probably should have been to learn that Mallory had lied and that they weren’t engaged.

  She brushed his hair back from his forehead, then smiled when he swatted his face as if to swat a fly. And when he reached for her in his sleep, this time she didn’t pull away. She snuggled back against him and pulled his arms around her waist.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bang!

  Amber awoke with a start at the loud noise and was suddenly struggling to breathe as Dex threw himself on top of her, his gaze darting around the room.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered, as she tried to extricate herself from beneath him, very aware that her nightshirt had ridden up to her belly and that Dex had apparently shed all his clothes except for his boxers during the night.

  He glanced down at her as if only just now seeing her, then rolled off her. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so. What was that noise?”

  “Gunshot.”

  She stared at him in shock. “Are you sure it wasn’t thunder?” As if in response to her question, thunder boomed overhead and another incredible wave of rain began pouring in earnest.

  “That sound came from inside the house. Definitely not thunder. And your gun is in my room.”

  She scooted to the edge of the bed and pulled the drawer open in the side table. “Here.” She handed him a Colt .45 revolver.

  He shook his head. “Really? How many guns do you have around here?”

  She shrugged. “Way of life. The Glades can be a dangerous place. And don’t worry about it being rusty with age or anything. I cleaned it earlier, before I went to bed.”

  “Good to know.” He threw his pants on, checked the gun’s loading, then hurried to the door and peered out. “Wait here.” He locked the door, then shut it behind him.

  Amber shook her head. When would the man stop telling her what to do and thinking that he needed to protect her?

  She grabbed her pile of clothes from the chair beside the bed and quickly dressed. She was just tugging on her sneakers when a knock sounded on the door.

  “It was thunder after all, wasn’t it?” She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  Her aunt Freddie stood in the hallway, her face lined with worry. “No, it wasn’t thunder.”

  Amber stepped into the hall, surprised to see a small group of people milling around the doorway across from her. The door to Dex’s room.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. She didn’t wait for her aunt’s reply because she saw Dex coming out of the room with Buddy and two of the men who had arrived in the limo yesterday—Derek and Mitchell.

  She hurried to Dex, but he quickly closed the door, blocking her view. He tested the knob, perhaps making sure he’d locked it as he’d closed it.

  “Stay back,” he said. “Everyone get back. We need to preserve the scene for the police.” He motioned the increasingly growing group of people back, as others followed the noise to the upstairs corridor.

  “What scene? What happened?” Amber asked.

  “It’s Mallory,” he said, his voice tight. “Someone killed her.”

  She gasped and motioned toward the door. “In your room?”

  He nodded.

  Buddy put his hand on Dex’s shoulder. “I don’t think it was Mr. Lassiter, though. He was just reaching the door when I topped the stairs.”

  “Maybe he’d just come out of the room,” Freddie said. “After all, it was his bedroom.”

  Mitchell and Derek shared a surprised glance, as if only just now considering that Dex might have been involved.

  Amber held up her hands. “You can stop that rumor right now. Dex was with me, in my room, when a gunshot rang out. He’s not the one who killed Mallory.” She looked to Dex. “I’m assuming she was shot?”

  “Yes.” His voice was tight, clipped, making Amber wonder if he still harbored some feelings for his ex-fiancée after all. Then again, if they’d been engaged to be married, of course he would still have some kind feelings for her.

  She grabbed his hand and held it tightly in hers. When he looked down at her, she silently mouthed the words, I’m sorry.

  He squeezed her hand in response, then let it go. “Does anyone have a cell phone?”

  Buddy handed him his. “Not that you’ll get a call out in this storm. Even the areas that get coverage around here, like this house, usually don’t work in storms. Don’t know why. But you can try.”

  Sure enough, the call wouldn’t go through. He handed the phone back to Buddy. “If anyone else has a phone, maybe with a d
ifferent carrier, can you please try calling nine-one-one?”

  Aunt Freddie tried, and so did Mitchell and Derek. Both of them shook their heads after trying to get a call out.

  “Okay,” Dex said. “We all need to assemble in one place so we can verify that everyone is safe and accounted for. Who all are missing?”

  Aunt Freddie held up her hands and started counting off her fingers. “There should be eight of us now, minus Miss Rothschild. But I only count seven. Someone’s missing. And it’s not one of us locals.” The tone of her voice said what she hadn’t, that it made sense to her that the missing person—allegedly the killer—would not be one of the Mystic Glades residents.

  Dex looked around. “It’s Garreth. Does anyone know what bedroom he was staying in?”

  Derek shoved to the front of the group. “He was in the room next to mine, in the east wing. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  He led them down the hall, past the staircase. Bare feet and shoes clomped and shuffled against the hardwood floor as the entire herd followed them. When they arrived at the closed door, Dex motioned for everyone to stay back as he drew the Colt from his waistband and reached for the knob.

  A flurry of activity and noise had him looking back over his shoulder. His mouth dropped open when he realized that the locals, except for Amber, were now holding guns and pointing them at the same door he was about to open. Even Amy, who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school, was pointing a pistol at the door.

  “Good grief,” he said. “Where did you all get those?”

  Buddy gave him a confused look. “We always carry guns when we go deep into the Glades, and this house is as deep as we go.”

  “Well, point them somewhere else. I don’t want to get shot.”

  Buddy looked sheepish and lowered his gun, then motioned for the others to do the same. Mitchell and Derek stood away from the others, looking as shocked as Dex felt. And none of them had guns. The theory that the killer wasn’t a local looked pretty flimsy to Dex, considering only the Mystic Glades people were armed. And how would someone in his group have brought a gun out here after flying down from Saint Augustine? They couldn’t have gotten any guns through security.