That Shandra would go to such lengths to deceive her father took Daria aback. She’d never thought the woman sneaky.
“We aren’t in the jewelry business,” Ryker suggested. “Perhaps you should go to an expert?”
“There’s no time.”
“Why not?” Daria’s alarm made her throat tight. She just wanted to write the check and get Shandra out of her office. She didn’t like prying, didn’t want this peek into her father’s and Shandra’s personal lives.
“If we don’t maintain appearances then our friends will talk. The financial experts will get wind of the trouble and Harrington stock will fall. And that’s why I can’t go to a jeweler.”
“Rudolf sent you here, didn’t he?” Ryker guessed.
At his accusation, Shandra wept copiously. “I told him I couldn’t pull this off.”
Ryker’s shrewd guess shocked Daria. After she heard Shandra’s admission, she wished she knew more about the family business, but she’d been so caught up in her own problems, she’d not been aware of any financial setbacks. Her father must be desperate to send Shandra to her like this.
Without further hesitation, Daria stood and removed her purse from the hook behind her office door. Quickly, she wrote out a check and gave it to Shandra. “Let me know if you need more.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Shandra carefully placed the check in her purse. “I’ve one more favor to ask of you.”
“Yes?”
“Could you please not mention this to Rudy? He’s so proud. You know how he is…”
Daria knew all too well that her father must have hated asking his daughter for money—even secretly through an intermediary. “We’ll keep this between us.”
The moment Shandra left, Ryker hugged her as if he knew how badly the conversation had shaken Daria. She accepted the comfort he gave, telling herself she was simply playing her part, but not really believing it. She needed comfort, and going to him, letting him put his arms around her seemed natural.
“I’ve always thought of my father as invincible.”
She supposed he would tell her that she’d just thrown away her money, but instead he tucked her head under his chin. “You have a generous heart.”
His arms around her made her feel safe and secure, calming her nerves. She breathed in the spice of his aftershave and snuggled closer. Leaning against his chest, she wished she could leave all her problems behind and run away somewhere. Run away like Fallon? The thought startled her. Always before, Daria had sought safety in her home. She had always found comfort there by fixing herself a hot cup of tea, petting her cats and pruning her plants. The concept of leaving her home to run away with Ryker was simply a measure of how far off kilter she’d gone due to stress.
Daria could have stayed in his embrace for the rest of the day, but her secretary buzzed. “There’s a call from the warehouse in Brazil. There’s been a disaster.”
Chapter Six
Daria put the call on speakerphone, her expression resigned. “Yes, Carlos?”
“There’s been a fire.” The man’s Hispanic accent was thick, his tone sorrowful. “Señorita, you first want the good or the bad news?”
“Just tell me.” Daria braced, stiffening her back.
Moments ago she’d felt soft and cuddly in his arms. Now Ryker could see the steel in her spine, the flash of anger in her eyes that portrayed a woman who had built an empire and who protected and defended what was hers. Her attitude clearly said that she would overcome whatever difficulty came her way.
Still, she didn’t deserve more bad news on top of her other problems, and Ryker wondered if the fire was deliberate or accidental. He knew a professional could start an electrical fire that wouldn’t appear suspicious, so they might not ever get an answer unless the police caught the culprit.
“The entire warehouse is gone.”
Daria’s expression didn’t change but her hazel eyes darkened. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, señorita.”
“The Passion Perfect seeds?”
“Safe.”
Daria let out a sigh of relief. “Plant seedlings as soon as we set up another facility.”
“Sí, señorita, but the insurance company may, how do you Americanos say, drag its feet.”
“Why?”
“They believe someone from Harrington Bouquet may have set the fire. But my men would never do such a horrible thing. Why would they ruin their livelihood?”
For money. Ryker kept the thought to himself.
Daria picked up a pen and made notes. “Why would they think we started the fire?”
“The fire, it started with petrol.”
Gasoline? So the arsonist hadn’t even bothered to try and make the fire appear accidental. Someone was trying to make Daria’s life difficult, attacking her on several fronts. But why?
Daria didn’t hesitate. “Get the paperwork started. I’ll ship out another greenhouse, and we’ll wait on the insurance money.”
“Sí, señorita. I am sorry.”
“Just get us up and running as soon as possible. And hire guards for the day and night shifts, too.”
Daria buzzed her secretary without saying a word to Ryker. “Jeanie, I’d like you to set up a press conference at two o’clock. But first send out e-mails to every store. The price of Passion Perfect flowers just went up thirty percent. Run a sale on Pink Snowflakes and Thunderclouds.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes, have Isabelle purchase another greenhouse and ship it to Brazil as soon as possible.”
“Okay.”
“And I want round-the-clock security on every greenhouse we own.”
“That’s going to be expensive.”
“I don’t care. Do it.”
Ryker waited until Daria had finished talking with her secretary and turned off the speakerphone before mildly asking, “You sure calling a press conference is a good idea?”
Daria leaned back in her chair. “If I give the press the story, I can try to put my own spin on it. If they dig up the news themselves, they might conclude that I’m going broke, or that I set the fire to collect on the insurance.”
“Or that you’re about to raise all the money you can before you flee and the police arrest you?”
“Exactly.”
“Who has the most to gain from that fire?”
“My competitors. And the greenhouse company will now make a huge unexpected sale.”
“But your competitors can’t sell Passion Perfect flowers, can they?”
“No. But we won’t have enough to go around—even with the price increase. So my customers might go elsewhere.”
“You grow those flowers in other greenhouses, don’t you?”
“Yes. But the demand is so high we were barely keeping up with it. Now some customers will be disappointed. Brazil was our main source.”
“Can you think of anyone else who would have anything to gain by this fire?”
She frowned at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Could Harry’s and your sister’s murders be connected in any way to the fire?”
“How?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Did Harry and Fallon ever visit the greenhouse in Brazil?”
“As a matter of fact, they were there a few weeks ago. Why?”
“I don’t know.” Ryker needed more pieces of the puzzle to make good connections. “What about your other employees? Have any of them been to Brazil recently?”
“Cindy, she’s in charge of customer service and floral design, flew down there on vacation last month with Jeanie. But what would they have to gain by hiring someone to set a fire?”
“Probably nothing.” Ryker’s fingers itched for his computer keyboard. He had hours of research to complete. He needed bank, credit card and phone records of all her employees. He also needed to check out her family and her father’s company.
While Harrington Industries was traded on the New York Stock Exchange and had t
o produce regular financial statements, after the Enron disaster, who could trust the auditors whose livelihood sometimes depended on cooking the books?
“Mike Brannigan’s on line two,” Jeanie’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Now what?” Daria put him on speakerphone. “I’m busy, Mike.”
“I’m hearing rumors about your company.” Mike Brannigan’s smooth voice invaded her office. “If you accept my offer today, I won’t lower—”
“What kind of rumors?” Daria asked.
“That you have internal problems.”
Could Mike Brannigan be applying pressure to try and force Daria to sell? Could he have framed her for murder and started that fire just to get his hands on her company?
“Nothing’s changed, Mike. I’ll call you if I change my mind.”
Her business under control, Daria checked her watch, then looked at Ryker. “If we hurry, we have just enough time for lunch before the press conference.”
WITH HER CAR parked so close by, Ryker didn’t expect Daria to flag a taxi. “You aren’t driving?”
“Not where we’re going.”
He understood a moment later when she instructed the driver to take them to a part of the city known for stripping a car of tires, wheels and engines in less than twenty minutes. Later, at the sight of several drug deals going down on the corner and prostitutes openly plying their trade, Ryker was glad he’d come armed.
They exited the cab and he walked beside Daria toward a building with a sign that said Big Brothers and Big Sisters. This building should have been condemned twenty years ago. The paint had faded to a muddy brown, but the brick flooring had endured through the decades. Inside, the two-story ceiling sported cracked and peeling crown molding, and what had once been an elegant chandelier now housed five bare bulbs that cast a dim light on the interior, which would have been gloomy except for the spirited activity inside.
Kids of all shapes, colors and sizes careened through the massive foyer with enthusiasm. A stereo blared out hip-hop and a group of teens weaved, slid and bobbed to the beat. In another area little kids sipped through straws stuck into cartons of milk.
From out of the group of kids by a Ping-Pong table, a thin girl emerged. A mixture of exotic cultures and races, her light brown skin and Oriental eyes lighted happily on Daria before giving Ryker the once-over.
“Ready for lunch?” Daria asked, handing her a spray of violets.
“Yeah.” The child lifted the flowers to her nose and breathed in deeply. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Daria hugged the girl, then stepped back. “Tanya Johnson, meet Ryker Stevens.”
Tanya gave him a high five but her eyes appeared wary, skipping over him and never settling anywhere. “You ain’t—”
“Aren’t,” Daria corrected.
“You aren’t going to have no—”
“Any.”
“You aren’t going to have any time for me, right?”
Ryker watched the girl fidget under Daria’s corrections. Her grammar might need some fine-tuning, but her instincts were honed to perfection. The child might not have had the advantages of a first-class education, she might have ADHD, but intelligence shined from her eyes. And someday she would be a knockout. Her nose was straight, her lips already full, and her eyes revealed the soul of a woman three times her age.
Daria placed an arm over her shoulders, and they all walked out of the building. “Why would you say that?”
“Now that you’ve got yourself a fine man, you won’t have time for me. You’ll have your own kids…”
Daria laughed. “Whoa, Tanya. Ryker’s my business consultant.”
“You never brought no—any,” Tanya corrected herself, “business consultant to our lunches before.”
Ryker wondered where they were headed. From the looks passersby were shooting their way, he estimated it wouldn’t be long before they could become targets. With their expensive clothes, they stood out like tomatoes in a bin of lemons—prime for the picking. As several tattooed Hispanic brothers approached, Ryker moved closer to the women and unbuttoned his coat to gain easier access to his weapon.
And for the first time, he inserted himself into the conversation. “I’m with Daria to help her over the problems she’s having right now. You’ve heard that the police consider her a suspect in her sister’s murder?”
“Yeah, that sucks.”
Ryker watched Tanya’s face carefully but saw no sign of duplicity. However, she didn’t look surprised by the news, either. Although he had to consider everyone with the means and opportunity to poison the coffee as a suspect, this child had no reason to wish harm on Daria. From the look of excitement in Tanya’s eyes, which she’d tried hard to hide, the girl looked forward to her weekly outings with her Big Sister.
Daria gave him one of her let-me-handle-this looks. “We’re not here to talk about me. How’re you doing? Still clean?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Still having cravings?”
“For sex or drugs?”
Tanya looked about thirteen and, although Daria had mentioned that the girl had a record, the casual question shocked him. Ryker had seen girls in the Orient as young as ten selling themselves, the same in Africa, but he had not yet seen it here in the States.
Daria didn’t seem the least bit shocked. She led them to a diner, and he requested a corner booth where he could sit with his back to the wall. From his position he could see everyone who approached, and while no one bothered them, he still felt as though he had a bull’s-eye painted on his forehead.
“Talk,” Daria ordered.
Tanya grinned, displaying a beautiful set of white teeth to go with her refined cheekbones. “I’m doing my best to avoid temptation.”
Daria passed out menus. “And how’s school?”
The smile evaporated. “The word going round is that you’re going to get murder one.”
“You know better than to believe rumors.”
“Rumors often have some truth in them,” Tanya countered.
Behind the bluster, Ryker saw fear in the kid’s eyes. Fear for Daria or what would happen to Tanya if Daria got sent away?
“You needn’t worry,” Daria told Tanya. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Unless they lock you up.” Tanya fidgeted with the menu and bounced in her seat like a two-year-old.
Daria trembled slightly, then squared her shoulders. “If I go to jail, I’ll send you money for bus fare and you can visit.”
Their waitress interrupted and took their orders of burgers, fries and colas.
“Maybe you should run and hide somewhere.” Tanya didn’t seem happy with the prospect of visiting Daria in an upstate prison. “You ain’t—aren’t—staying around because of me, are you?”
Ryker knew the Big Sister program required the adults to commit to the kids for years. The organization screened applicants carefully. Children from broken homes needed stability, not more chaos in their lives.
Daria spoke firmly. “I’m staying to find Fallon and Harry’s killer and to prove my innocence.”
Ryker wondered whether the girl’s curiosity stemmed from genuine affection for Daria or whether she would simply miss the lunch out once a week? Daria had told him she’d hoped Tanya would someday work for her full-time. To him the kid seemed the unlikeliest of murder suspects. But she knew about poisons and she’d worked summers in the store, so she knew the operation.
Tanya sipped the cola the waitress left. “I heard the computer disappeared from the police evidence room. Will that help?”
“How’d you hear?” Ryker asked, more than startled that Tanya knew inside information that had yet to be released to the papers. The kid might be young, but she was obviously streetwise.
“One of my girlfriends sleeps with a cop.”
“Does the cop have a name?” he asked.
Tanya looked at him warily. “Don’t know any names.” Then she turned to Daria. “The missing computer is goo
d for you, right?”
“I don’t know. Someone planted evidence against me on the computer. Without the hard drive, we can’t trace who did it.”
Not unless Logan Kincaid obtained a search warrant or the Internet service provider cooperated. Ryker kept those thoughts to himself. If he had to hack in, he’d rather keep the information quiet. Hacking was illegal, but if he did no damage, even if he got caught, the law would probably look the other way.
“But now the cops can’t use the evidence against you, right?” Tanya insisted.
Daria nodded and then glanced at Ryker. “If Tanya doesn’t accept my offer to come work full-time for Harrington Bouquet, she’s going to be a fine lawyer someday.”
“First I’ve got to get through the ninth grade,” Tanya teased and then the light in her eyes dimmed as she toyed with the flowers Daria had given her. “I’m worried about you.”
DARIA HAD TO cut their lunch short due to the scheduled press conference and she wasn’t sure her efforts to reassure Tanya had done much good. The girl was too smart to believe her when the television news channels were full of accusations against Daria.
As usual, Daria had trouble finding a taxi back to the office and Ryker had to phone a cab company.
Beside her in the back seat of the cab, Ryker didn’t say a word. She had no idea what he thought about her friendship with Tanya, but she hadn’t liked him questioning the girl. But then she didn’t like him suspecting the people who worked in her office or her family and her friends either. There seemed no real way to eliminate anyone as a suspect—not when anyone who’d had access to her office could have ground up the flowers and placed them in the coffee at any time. No one could have an alibi that covered their every moment for weeks on end. But she’d feel better if Ryker could narrow down the list of suspects so she didn’t feel so isolated.
He’d been on the case less than twenty-four hours, she reminded herself. The police had spent weeks investigating, and she had yet to be arrested. She tried to take comfort in that fact and discovered the pressure inside her had eased a little just by knowing Ryker would do whatever he could to help her. She had no doubts about his investigative skills or his competence, and he’d cut down on his “boyfriend act” in the taxi, giving her a chance to think and regroup.
Defending the Heiress Page 8