a Touch of Ice

by L. j. Charles

I took a minute to separate the images into individual steps, then inserted the tools into the keyhole. When the images connected with what my hands were doing, the lock clicked open with a satisfying snick. I didn’t even try to stop the grin.

  Vibrant azure eyes darkened, and a flicker of surprise sparkled before he shut down.

  “This is so cool. Think of what I can—”

  “I’d rather not. A.J.’s not gonna let me forget this as it is.”

  I jumped up. “Can we do the other doors in the house? There’s the French doors off the kitchen, a back door into the garage, more French doors off the downstairs master bedroom, and some upstairs off the second master suite.” I dragged in a happy breath. “There’s a few more, but all the French doors are similar, and you probably have to get back to the doctor job, and I have a client appointment in thirty.”

  He laughed. Tynan Pierce actually laughed. It sounded rusty, so I’m guessing not a common occurrence. “Right. Let’s use the same process. Seems to work well for you. Then you’re on your own. I’ll leave these tools for you.” He ran his hand around his neck, squinted at me. “This was a mistake. The second time I’ve underestimated you.”

  “Yup. You’ve created a B and E fiend.” My words were sunshine happy, and that hadn’t happened in a while. “Your only saving grace is that I promise to be as well-behaved monster as possible, and limit my new skills to places that should be broken into.”

  The muscles in his face tightened. “Today will stay between us.”

  It was more a threat than a statement.

  Seventeen

  By the time I finished with the client consultations and picked up my phone-tag message from Violet, the sun was heading toward the horizon and a breeze was ruffling the leaves around my tree house. I needed to try and reach her again. But…what to say?

  With all the information I suddenly had—her life, her names, what she’d been trying to protect me from for the six years we’d been friends—I wasn’t sure I could pull off sounding naïve when I was so damn guilty.

  She answered on the first ring, “Are you okay? Long time, no response to my message.”

  “Didn’t you get my voicemail about the three clients I had scheduled for this afternoon?”

  “Yes. But I thought you’d be finished sooner. I need to dial Adam into this call. Hang on a sec.”

  Bloody, bloody hell. Did they spot me at Gypsy’s? Why else would they want to talk to me at the same time?

  “Hey El.” A frission of relief skimmed through my veins. Adam didn’t sound like he was about to put a bullet through my brain.

  “Hi, Adam. What’s up?” Okay that was good. My voice sounded normal—like I didn’t have enough secrets to make Mata Hari look like a blonde Barbie doll.

  “I’d like you to come in, work with a police artist. Mitch gave us verbal descriptions of the suspects, but didn’t have time to work with an artist. I need pictures. Now. You’re the only source I have who knows what these bastards look like.”

  Not caught. Okay, deep breath. Adam just wanted me to— “Where exactly do I have to go to do the artist thing?”

  Violet piped up. “I want to know exactly how you’re going to do this, Adam. How are you going to explain to Chief Hayes about El without arresting her? No one will believe she saw these dudes without abetting. What are you going to do when they get on your case? Lock her up?”

  “That wasn’t my plan, no.” Adam sighed, irritation shimmering over the phone line.

  Well, that was a relief. “Look, Adam, I’m not inclined to want to be anywhere near the police station, any police station. Besides protecting myself from the powers that be, like Violet said, it’d be impossible to keep from touching something. And touching stuff in that environment would give me unspeakable nightmares. Although, I’d probably learn things. On second thought—”

  A strangled, choking sound came through the phone. Guess I got out of that one. Yay me.

  “Right,” he finally bit out. I’ll have Peggy, she’s the precinct police artist, meet you at Violet’s house. Maybe we can keep this under wraps for a while longer.”

  “Do you trust…Peggy?” I wished I didn’t have to ask that question.

  “Yeah. I trust her. Peggy is good people, and we’ve worked together for a long time. I’m flat against the wall on this one, El.”

  I knew he was worried about his sister. So was I. But with all the unauthorized info I was trying to juggle, the less contact with them, the better. Acting is so not my thing. Neither is lying. Time to change the topic, see if I could legitimatize some of my ill-gotten information. “Did you get a name on that plate yet?”

  “Yeah. Delano West.” Violet’s voice was grim, her words clipped. “He’s a known criminal. Evil.”

  Before I could say anything else, she changed the subject, turned her attention to Adam. “We’ll eliminate West,” she spat “No question there.” She inhaled with an audible whoosh. “I’m assuming nothing turned up when your team investigated the barn where El was shot?

  “Nada.”

  Violet gave him an unladylike grunt. “I didn’t find anything on my walk-through either. But then, the son of a bitch is off-the-chart careful to cover his ass.”

  I pushed a little harder. “How do you know so much about this guy? Have either of you found anything in his bank accounts? Surely there has to be money moving around in connection with this.”

  Violet answered before Adam could get a word in. “West and I…we crossed paths years ago—” she paused— “before I went into private practice.”

  “We’re checking,” Adam said, picking up the thread. “No leads yet. If we find something, I’ll turn it over to Jayne Hunt.”

  “Jayne? Mitch’s sister, Jayne? You’re kidding, right?” A headache began to drum against my temples.

  “Jayne’s the best forensic accountant around. You didn’t know?”

  I shook my head, bumped my cheek against the phone. “No. Mitch and I avoid talking about Jayne. Works better that way.” I’d think about that it later. Right now—time for an open-ended question. “What aren’t you telling me? You know as soon as I get home tomorrow I’m going to touch you. And take this as fair notice. I’ll be touching with my ESP set to trespass mode.” I paused for effect. “Need I say more?”

  I could feel a smile break through Violet’s tension. “Right. Good point, and one that temporarily slipped my mind. There’s one lead. We’ve found a new business that West has recently incorporated and we’re, that is Adam, is looking into it. Right, Adam?”

  His eye-roll came through the phone line loud and clear. “Right.”

  Violet continued. “Nothing else has caught our attention except for a few hits in the local area—ATMs, restaurants, that sort of thing. His major accounts are all off-shore and harder to trace.”

  Adam made the I-just-swallowed-a-frog sound. Again. Must be he wanted to muzzle Violet.

  I wanted to acknowledge the trust he’d given me. “This must be hard for you, Adam. Guess it goes against all your training to share information on an active case with a civilian.”

  “I don’t discuss active cases. Period. Quite honestly, you’re a pain in the butt. It’s not personal, just breaks every rule in my book.”

  “You’ll get used to it, Adam,” Violet chuckled. “It helps if you don’t think about it.” There was a teasing rhythm in her voice. The one siblings share.

  Adam sighed, heavy. He had to be clutching the weight of his principles tight to his chest. Desperate to keep them intact. “With dead ends all the way around, I have no choice, El, but to tap your…I don’t know what to call it. Let’s hope I don’t ever have to explain it to my boss.”

  “I’m really hoping you don’t have to explain it to your boss either. My plan is to not meet your boss. Ever.” The pain in my head ratcheted up another notch.

  “Glad we’re on the same page. I’ll see you tomorrow when I bring Peggy to do the drawings. Is ten okay?”

  “Sorry,
no. I have a client scheduled then, and I need time to settle back into my routine. How about if we do it at ten on Monday or Tuesday?”

  Violet chimed in. “I’m glad you’ll be back home where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Swell.” Just what I needed.

  Adam laughed. “I’d rather not put if off, so Monday at ten?”

  “That works for me. See you then.”

  We all disconnected. I swallowed three aspirin and curled into a ball with my arms around my knees, glad the phone call was over. I wasn’t happy about the police artist, but it would be good to have Shaved Head, Pudgy, and Messy accounted for, at least in picture form.

  The headache began to ease, but I was getting more uncomfortable about going home. I wasn’t ready. Working with the police left me open to media exposure, depending on how Adam explained me to Peggy. Fact is, I would make good copy. I could see the headlines now—Woman Fingers Felons—how dreadful was that possibility?

  Or, I could be arrested for aiding and abetting, or…who knows? Hopefully Peggy wouldn’t ask any questions, my hinky touch thing could remain a secret, and this meeting would be the end of what Adam needed from me. Maybe the rocking chair wasn’t such a bad place to be after all…

  On the trip home I kept the window rolled up. It was pouring rain, and my hair was slicked back in a tight ponytail—the antithesis of my trip to the house. Interesting. I pulled into the driveway, and uh-oh. Shelly Summers stood on my porch steps, huddled under an oversized yellow umbrella. Not good. She obviously had another crisis that couldn’t wait for a scheduled appointment, and the timing couldn’t be worse, since I hadn’t had time to finish working on myself.

  Shelly’s soggy smile turned to a radiant grin when I dashed from my car to the house. “Marcus proposed to me last night,” she squealed, extending her left hand to show off her ring.

  “Huh? Who’s Marcus?” Not professional, Everly. Really not professional.

  “I know it’s a surprise, but the lesbian experience exploded into a real relationship. Not with Alison, my date, but because—“

  I caught her hand, ooh-ed about the pale blue diamond while I gathered images through my fingers. I had to get it together. And fast. The images flashed through my head, and I quickly made note of significant details, then turned my attention back to the ring.

  Granted I know less than nothing about diamonds, but this one was huge: a square-cut stone, set in what looked like platinum with two smaller diamonds on either side of the center stone. It looked like it belonged on Elizabeth Taylor or in a museum, anywhere but on the finger of Shelly Summers. “Let me put this duffle away and grab a couple bottles of water. I’ll be right with you.” Relief spilled through. Thank goodness I’d established the habit of always offering my clients water. Now I could escape to the kitchen and pull my thoughts together, and Shelly would figure I was acting normal.

  I pressed my back tightly against the hard, wooden doorjamb next to the refrigerator. The images I’d picked up from touching her hand reeled through me, not giving me as much to work with as I’d hoped. I could only see his hand as he put the ring on her finger, but it was enough to put a knot in my stomach and take the starch out of my knees.

  Marcus was not a nice man. My fingers defined him as scum. Bloody, bloody hell.

  I picked up the water and headed back downstairs. What was I going to do with Shelly in Wonderland? “This is a sudden change in your status, Shelly. Tell me what happened on your, was it the second, date with your lesbian friend?”

  “It was. We had dinner reservations the night I saw you, but decided to detour into a straight bar since neither of us was hungry. We were drinking and talking, more like girl friends than, you know, girlfriends.” She held up her left hand, turning it this way and that as sunlight caught on the facets.

  “And Marcus was at the bar?”

  “Good guess, El. Yes! Alison went to the ladies, and he slid into her chair like he belonged there. Asked if Alison and I were a couple. I explained that I was exploring the possibility, but hadn’t committed yet.”

  I got control of my uneasy stomach and weak knees. “Unique approach.” I was shooting for cautious, professional interest while my head played with ways to convince her that this was a serious mistake.

  “I know. He’s so handsome and my heart was just pounding with excitement. Alison came back, saw us with our heads together, and grabbed her coat. She wasn’t upset or anything, told me it was cool with her and even wished us luck.”

  “You’ve decided you’re not gay, then?” I wanted to clarify that before we got into the details about Marcus.

  “Pretty much. I liked spending time with Alison, really I did, but the physical part wasn’t like it is with a man.”

  “That’s—”

  “Marcus and I have been inseparable for the past four days because—” she squealed— “we went to Paris for three days. And he has his own private jet, and we’re getting married next week.”

  I smiled, at least I hope it was more of a smile than a grimace. “Next week? After a four-day Parisian courtship? That’s…” No, no, no, Everly. You cannot tell a client she’s dumb as dirt.

  “Um, that’s amazing. So, tell me about Marcus…?” I waited for her to fill in his surname.

  “Stefano. His name is Marcus Stefano. He’s in business for himself and travels a lot. You know, with the jet and all.” Shelly jumped out of her chair, kept talking as she bounced and ran her fingers through her latest hairdo. A smooth cap of shiny brown with burnished gold highlights. “He proposed at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It’s been a whirlwind romance, and I’m spinning with excitement. I’m sure you can tell since I can’t stop talking about him.”

  What I’d noticed was that she wasn’t saying much about him at all. I caught her hands. “Take a breath and a swallow of water, Shelly. Then sit and tell me what Marcus is like. How does he treat you?”

  She dropped into the chair, curling her legs under her. “He’s tall, fair haired, and handsome as all get-out. It’s so romantic. He treats me like a princess. Showers me with gifts, and when we travel his staff is always there to take care of me.”

  Staff. Always. Four days. Paris. No one would be able to stop this disaster. Best case, I’d have to go with the flow and toss in a bit of reality when the opportunity popped. “You seem…delighted.”

  She nodded vigorously, twirling the diamond around her finger. “I am so delighted.”

  Go with the practical, El. See if you can reach her that way. “Did you do your last assignment, write the letters to yourself?”

  “I wrote them, but there hasn’t been time to read them. And it doesn’t matter anymore, with my life all settled now.”

  “Read them anyway, as a favor to me.” I couldn’t do more than give her a gentle push, not when her head was filled with dreams of the perfect marriage. “Are you and Marcus planning on a big wedding, Shelly?”

  Her face crinkled up and she twirled the ring again. “No, there’s no time for that.” She sighed dramatically. “We’re going to be married in Paris. It’s always been a dream of Marcus’s and since I don’t have family, there’s no reason not to.” Her glossy lips curved into a smile. “We’re going to have a party here, for my friends. Nothing elaborate.”

  I leaned toward Shelly and rested my elbows on my knees. It was time to try the Voice of Reason. “You’ve talked about finding the perfect mate a lot. Have you given this enough time to know that Marcus is the right man for you?”

  Shelly shook her head. “Positive. All I want is for us to be together and to be a good wife to him.”

  She uncurled her legs and went back to admiring her ring. “Hopefully we’ll have children soon.”

  Every muscle in my body clenched. Could this get any worse? I touched her hand, carefully avoiding the ring because I wanted the images to be pure Shelly. “As your coach, I have to ask, do you really want to do this? In your gut, does it feel like the right thing?”

  Damn.
No helpful images popped up, just some blurry movement.

  She looked at me and some of the smile left her eyes, but her voice was strong. “I’m positive it’s what I want to do. I can’t say I don’t have doubts, especially in the middle of the night, but all brides get cold feet, don’t they? And how many women are lucky enough to have a real Prince Charming ride in and sweep them off their feet?”

  No way I could argue with that, and she wouldn’t hear me if I tried.

  “Do you have any questions for me, anything you want to work on before you move into your role as Mrs. Marcus Stefano?” I hoped by making her a Mrs. and taking away the Shelly it would make the situation more real.

  She clapped her hands. “Oh, doesn’t that sound exciting—Mrs. Stefano. No, El, I can’t think of any questions.”

  So much for that plan. “Have you given any thought to continuing with a coach after your marriage? I think it would be good for you to have someone to talk with, especially since you’ll be leaving your home and friends behind. I can help you locate someone in Paris if you’d like.”

  “Oh, no. I want to keep working with you after my marriage,” she said bouncing on the edge of her chair. “I’m sure things will come up because I’ve made this decision so quickly, and it will take time for Marcus and me to learn all the little things about each other. Especially, since I’ve had such bad experiences with men until now, it will take time for me to discover what being a wife is all about. Is it all right if I call you to schedule phone appointments? It may be difficult with the time differences since Marcus and I will be traveling so much, but we can make it work, can’t we?”

  I handed her a card, wrote my email address on the back. “We can definitely make it work. Ping me and we can schedule something. That’ll be easier with the time differences.”

  “The party for my friends will be at my house. I’ll drop an invitation off for you as soon as I pick them up from the printer.”

  “I look forward to meeting Marcus.” The lie tasted sour in my mouth. “In case I can’t make your party, let me wish you the best of luck—and take care of that ring, it’s one of a kind.”