by Terry Odell
“Not me,” she said. She pointed with her chin. “Him. Vance Griffith. He’s trying to kill us.”
“Wait right here, ma’am,” a woman’s voice said. “Let us do our job.” She kept her hands on Kelli’s wrists.
“Is Blake all right?” Kelli shook her head to clear it. Now that she could think, she saw the police officers who had seemed to materialize out of nowhere. A policewoman held her away from the three others, who were crouched on the ground over Blake and Griffith.
“Call the medics,” she heard someone say.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hours later, Kelli sat in front of Blake’s fireplace sipping a brandy. He sat across from her, pale-faced, lips white around the edges. Blake had been patched up by the paramedics and she’d been taken to the police station despite her protests to wait for him. She’d given her version of the events, been told Mr. Griffith was in custody and that Mr. Windsor was giving his statement.
Torn between running and waiting, she’d come back for her laptop to find Blake not home yet. Before she could decide if she dared wait to see him once more, he’d dragged through the door. He hadn’t spoken, simply poured them each a drink and collapsed in a chair. Pain etched on his face, he set a small prescription vial on the nearby table.
She picked up the vial and read the label. “If you’d take one of these, you’d feel better.”
“Later. Right now, I prefer this.” He lifted the glass of Scotch he held in his left hand. “Besides, the bullet just grazed my arm. I’m not even sure it’s bad enough to say, ‘It’s only a flesh wound.’“
She shook her head in exasperation, smiling when Blake lifted his eyebrows. No more need to control her automatic gestures. “Back to that bad movie dialogue, then?”
“It’s all I can manage at the moment, I’m afraid. It’s been quite a day.” He stretched his legs out, leaned back and closed his eyes.
“I warned you to stay away from me. And the funny part is—if Griffith hadn’t interfered, I’d never have given Berlyno Manufacturing or a gubernatorial race in Illinois a thought.” She paused. “I wonder what I’d have done if I had known. I wasn’t exactly without an ugly secret of my own.”
“Things have changed, haven’t they? Finding out about Robert.”
Had finding out she’d been duped changed things for Blake, too? Did he think of her as a stupid female, someone blinded by charm and flattery, incapable of seeing the brutality below the surface? With Blake’s eyes closed, she couldn’t tell. At the moment, however, she would agree with him. “I’m going to need to get my head around that one.”
Blake swayed, winced in obvious pain and the internal control she’d been clutching like a life rope snapped. She got up from the leather chair and stood over him.
“And what did you think you were doing, charging a man with a gun? I had everything covered. You could have gotten us both killed.”
His eyes popped open. “Is that any way to talk to the man who took a bullet to save your life? And ruined a perfectly good suit, by the way.”
“What happened to ‘it just grazed me’? And I’m not done here, Windsor. The cops were on their way. I called them. It was a matter of stalling for time until they got there. There was no need for your heroics.”
He pounded back his Scotch and slammed the glass on the end table. “Heroics? Is that what you thought? I was thinking more along the lines of survival. And what do you mean, you called the cops? When? How? And why didn’t you call me?”
She saw the pain in his eyes, but more than that, the anger. Or had she injured his pride? Unconsciously, she took half a step back. “I tried. As soon as I discovered Hollingsworth had been skimming from Berlyno.” She handed him his cell phone. “This was in your bedroom.”
He winced. “Sorry. I guess you shook me up when you came back.”
“I couldn’t risk calling your office or emailing you in case someone was with you. While you were at work, I was going through the files Justin sent from the Berlyno job. I had backups on disc and hadn’t bothered to return them when they let me go. I’d have tossed them, but after Charles … things got … complicated … and I forgot about them until now.”
Blake reached for his glass and grimaced. Kelli gave him another head shake, but went to the bar and brought the bottle over. He extended his hand, but she ignored it and poured a modest portion into his glass. He glared at her but didn’t say anything, merely took a swallow.
“I went to your office,” she continued, “but you’d already left. I’d just gotten off the elevator when Vance grabbed me.”
“So when did you call the cops? He had you the whole time.”
“I called nine-one-one while the phone was in my pocket and left the line open. It took a while, but the cops used the GPS chip to trace the call. I was so glad when you said North River. I had no clue where we were and I wasn’t sure they’d get a decent signal. I tried to relay enough information and to get Vance to talk—to say enough to show we were in danger. I was afraid the operators would hang up when things were quiet so long—”
“They never hang up on a nine-one-one call. So they got a fix on our location and sent the police to the rescue.” He looked up at her and she was drawn in by those chocolate-colored eyes.
She sat on the arm of Blake’s chair and stroked his hair. He closed his eyes and she massaged the creases out of his forehead. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I should have figured you had a plan. You were talking so loud and clear. I thought you were being brave.”
“Brave? Hardly. Even though my brain said he wouldn’t shoot while we were in such a public place, all that registered was a gun in my back. I was scared to death. And at the end, when I heard the gunshot, I was scared that you were dead. Then, when I knew you were alive, the cops wouldn’t tell me anything, they just hauled me to the police station to answer their questions.” She kissed his brow, afraid if she did anything more she wouldn’t be able to leave. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“Like white on rice.” He sighed and finished his drink. “In a way, it’s probably a good thing Vance tried to take matters into his own hands. He’s a lawyer, a politician and a sleaze, but he didn’t make a good murderer. If he’d gotten Scumbag, or someone like him to come back for us, we’d likely both be dead now.”
“You’re probably right.” She took a deep breath. Facing Vance Griffith had been nothing compared with this. Get it out. Clean break.
“I’m going back to EnviroCon. I called Jack. I’ll have to give a statement about Scumbag. I told the cops here Vance Griffith thought I had incriminating evidence against Dwight Hollingsworth. But that’s all I said. I left a flash drive with everything I had from Berlyno on your desk. You can give it to the cops, the newspapers—or not. It’s your choice. The cops should have the nine-one-one tape of the call.”
Blake wiped a hand across his eyes. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? I told them pretty much the same thing—barely hinted at some prior unsubstantiated indiscretions. I’m sure the investigative reporters will sink their teeth into the story.”
“Blake—I meant what I said before. Maybe even more now. Things between us—they’re crazy. We need to step back and put things in perspective. Besides, we both have jobs that take us all over the place. We’d hardly ever be in the same place at the same time. It wouldn’t work.”
He studied his drink for a long moment. “If that’s what you want.”
When he met her gaze, she knew he’d given up. Which was what she wanted, wasn’t it? True, he’d saved her from Scumbag and had been ready to do whatever it took to save her from Vance Griffith. But saving someone’s life didn’t mean you wanted to spend the rest of your life together. All it meant was he probably didn’t want to live with the guilt if he hadn’t tried to save her. She’d convinced herself that leaving was the best thing for both of them. Why did it feel like she was the one being abandoned?
She stood. “I’ve got reservations on the red-ey
e. I’ve ordered a cab. I need to get going.”
“You could stay here, you know. Take a morning flight. Get some rest. I’ll take the couch.”
The couch. After all they’d had in bed. Sex. That’s all it had been, after all. Glorious, mind-blowing, toe-curling sex. Better to remember it that way.
“You know I can’t.” She struggled with the effort it took to meet his eyes. “I wouldn’t even be here now, except I was worried about you. The cops said you were fine, but I had to see for myself.” And say goodbye in person. She owed him that after the way she’d left him before.
Blake stood, a little unsteady on his feet and lifted her hand to his lips. “Godspeed, Kelli.”
“Take care of yourself,” she whispered. Tears blurred her vision. She gathered her computer bag and let herself out. She waited in the lobby for the cab, one eye on the elevator, but its doors remained closed. What had she expected? She’d gone to great pains to make him believe she didn’t want him. Obviously, he didn’t want her, either.
The cab honked. Lamonte, eyebrows raised, opened the door and she stepped into the chilly night air. “O’Hare,” she said to the cab driver.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Three months later
“Drop me off here, please,” Kelli said to Ike. “And can you wait?”
Ike turned and gave her a solemn stare. “Moment of truth is it, then, Miss?”
“I faced my truth weeks ago,” she said. “Now it’s time to see if his matches mine. I’ll be right back.” Either to return to the airport, or to retrieve the bags piled in the back of Ike’s Aerostar. By the time she exhaled, Ike had scuttled around the shuttle and placed the footstool by the door. She took his gnarled hand and gave it a squeeze. “Wish me luck.”
He tapped his fingers to the brim of his cap.
Much as she wanted to run, she kept her pace sedate. It had snowed yesterday and her boots crunched as she walked down the road where she’d asked Ike to wait, out of sight of the house. The smell of smoke from fireplaces filled the air. Christmas decorations had abounded along the drive, but nothing at this house indicated the holiday was days away.
She had made it a point to be as far away from Washington as possible when Blake had to give his statement. The forensics had borne out their stories about Scumbag, and Blake had been dismissed. She’d begged Jack for every single job he could throw at her, hopping around the country doing surveys, filing reports from dingy motel rooms—anything to keep busy. Nothing had worked. Thoughts of Blake consumed her until she couldn’t tell a pack rat from a possum.
She peered down the driveway. A red Corvette and the old green pickup sat by the back porch. At the end of the driveway, the garage door was open. She leaned against the oak tree and caught her breath. Sounds of a power saw ignited old memories. She envisioned Blake at Camp Getaway, working shirtless, muscles gleaming. A lifetime ago.
When she crept closer, she saw the new structure wasn’t a garage at all, but a workshop. Blake’s back was to the door, moving a board through the table saw, placing it on a stack of similar boards nearby and picking up another. His hair was tied back and he wore a black, long-sleeved jersey. A tight-fitting one. She watched him cut half a dozen planks before she entered the space. Not sure of how to start, although she’d rehearsed this moment for weeks, she cleared her throat.
The saw noises stopped. Without turning, Blake straightened. The plank fell to the floor.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked. God, how lame. Of all the lines she’d practiced, that one hadn’t come close.
* * * * *
He’d been half-aware of an approaching shadow, but too engrossed in his work to pay attention. Until he smelled it—her scent. Even above the sawdust. Emily. Kelli. He didn’t dare turn around. His heart drummed against his sternum. She’d all but disappeared. Jack Stockbridge wouldn’t tell him anything other than she was busy working and unavailable.
The shadow had stopped moving. He turned. “Kelli?” Or was she Casey? Or Karen? Or someone new?
Her short hair was blonde now, with thick bangs that drew his eyes down to hers. No glasses, no contacts. Solemn gray eyes, round with questions. She wore jeans, not slacks. Whether she had on an Emily sweater or a Kelli sweatshirt was disguised by a bulky parka.
“Hi,” she said. “You going to kick me out? I wouldn’t blame you. But Ike’s waiting with my bags and if you don’t want me around, I’ll go back and—”
Her words registered and he pushed past her at a dead run, toward the street and Ike’s shuttle. He waved Ike forward, pacing the front porch for what seemed like the eternity it took Ike to get down the block and up the driveway. Without waiting, Blake yanked the Aerostar’s side door open and grabbed a suitcase. And a second. Ike wrested the third one from the van.
“You can leave them here. I’ll get them inside.” He patted his hip pockets. His money was in the house. “Give me a second. I’ll get my wallet.”
Ike grinned, his eyes crinkling. “This one’s on me, Mr. Windsor. Merry Christmas.”
Ike disappeared down the block in a cloud of exhaust. Kelli appeared from the side of the house and picked up the last bag. Neither spoke. They carried the suitcases into the entry, dropped them and stood there, two feet apart.
He looked at the luggage, then at Kelli for the span of several heartbeats. “You took a big chance I’d be here. And alone. For all you knew, I could be married—or living with someone. Or on the road.”
“You’re right. But I was pretty sure you weren’t.”
“Right. The computer queen.” He crossed the room and sat on the couch. She followed, but sat in a chair, not beside him. Memories of her at Camp Getaway, both avoiding and enticing him, sent his blood rushing south. “I’m sure you dug out everything about my life.”
“I could have. What would I have found? A marriage license? Joint checking account? Other cars registered at this address? Other names listed with the phone company?” There was a hint of a smile behind her words.
“So, did you? Dig, I mean.”
This time the smile came out in full force and lit up the room like a searchlight cutting through the darkness. “No.”
He looked at her, willing her to sit next to him, so he could feel the warmth radiate from her body to his. She didn’t move. He went on. “Then what made you decide to load up three huge suitcases and come out to Middle of Nowhere, USA?”
“I decided it was worth the risk.”
He shook his head. “That’s not the Kelli I know. Or are you done being Kelli?”
“No, I’m sticking with Kelli. We’re a good fit.”
“Well, the Kelli I remember plans everything down to the last detail. She knows what she’s going to find before she gets there. So, answer my question. Why did you show up?”
She blushed and he savored her embarrassment.
“I called Brian.”
Brian had talked to her? And hadn’t said a word? He’d kill him. He tried not to shout. “And?”
“And, he told me if I was half as miserable as you were, I should drag my sorry ass back here from wherever it was.”
Brian. His meddling big brother. God, he loved him. “So you came.”
“I came. Me, almost everything I own, and my sorry ass. Forgive me?”
“Sweetheart, if there’s anyone who needs forgiving, it’s me, for letting you walk away. I should have been the one dragging your sorry ass back. I let my damn macho pride almost ruin my life.”
She got up and walked toward the couch. Her hands clasped his and placed them on her buttocks. “You’ve got my sorry ass. You think we can make it work?”
Afraid to move, he left his hands where she’d put them and gazed into her eyes. “Well, I’m not on the road anymore. Griffith is awaiting trial, but he’s got a team of expensive lawyers on his side. Dwight quit the political arena. Pled guilty to the embezzlement charges, made restitution and turned the company over to his V.P. The business community didn’t blink. It’s not
like everyone else hasn’t got something they’d rather sweep under the rug. He’s not going to hurt for money.”
She escaped his grasp and curled up on the couch beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Much as he wanted to ravish her right there, he respected what appeared to be her need to go slowly. He stroked her hair. “What about you?”
“I spent a lot of time hating myself for being played the fool. And more time trying to figure out if it made a difference—if I felt any better about taking a life, knowing Robert was sent to take mine.”
“And?”
“I’m dealing with it. I don’t live in fear anymore. I sent an anonymous email to the cops in Ensenada and gave them Robert’s real name and where to look for him. If they find the remains of a wanted felon, I don’t think they’ll worry too much about how he got that way.”
“Still working for EnviroCon?”
“For now. Camp Getaway is a huge success, and the world could use a lot more places like that. I’m moving toward independent contracting. Go where and when I want. Jack’s okay with it—he’ll still hire me.” She sat up straighter and cocked her head. “So, why are you here and not in Chicago buying and selling everything in sight?”
He cocked his head right back. “Didn’t Brian tell you?”
“No, only that you were here, single, and living in neutral. Besides, I want to hear it from you.”
“Because the business community accepted Hollingsworth Industries with or without Dwight at the helm didn’t mean I was comfortable working there. Someone made me take a long hard look at what I was doing, and I couldn’t live that life anymore. I put the Chicago place on the market and moved here. I’m Brian’s partner, although I still do more administrative stuff than the hands-on. I was a little rusty, but it’s coming back. Bri’s got Dad’s gift and I’m happy to do the bread-and-butter construction chores to give him more time to be the artist he is.”