THE WRONG BROTHER

by Bonnie K. Winn

  "No," she replied shortly, her anger and frustration disproportionate to the situation, yet very real. "But I would prefer not having my every movement scrutinized. I'm not the criminal."

  "It's necessary," he replied quietly. "And they're watching you as a possible victim, not a criminal."

  "This may be normal to you, but I'm not accustomed to being watched – to having everything I do considered, analyzed and digested," she retorted, barely hanging on to her control. She didn't know how much longer she could tolerate this. Having Paul in the house – close enough that she remembered his deceit and, because of it, too far away to touch.

  "I told you this would be the rough part," Paul answered. "The waiting is never easy."

  She met his gaze, her own tortured feelings relentlessly assaulting her. "But this isn't the rough part."

  Her meaning vibrated between them.

  He took a step forward. "Katherine…"

  Shaking her head, she retreated. "I don't know how long I can keep this up. I've had enough of pretense."

  Paul flinched at the remark, but she found no satisfaction in the jab. She could see the pain in his face, the remorse, even the guilt. But her own regret, guilt and sense of betrayal couldn't let her forget – or allow her to let him forget.

  "Katherine, it really isn't wise to stand in front of the window," he answered, his voice devoid of the emotion that had passed over his face. "You're making yourself an easy target."

  She whirled around angrily. "I thought you said your CIA buddies would protect us."

  He closed the distance between them in a few rapid strides. "I didn't say they could make you invincible. You have to use your common sense."

  Katherine's throat closed and she felt the sting of unshed tears. "I'm not sure I have any left." She paused, her lips trembling. "In fact, I'm not sure I ever had any."

  Paul reached for her, his hand brushing the soft curls by her cheek. "Oh, Katherine."

  For a moment she closed her eyes to the truth, accepting the strength in his touch. But reality quickly returned. Shaking off his hand, she stepped back, needing to hurt him in equal measure. "I don't intend to put on a display for your friends."

  Visibly wounded by her words, Paul also withdrew. "Don't take unnecessary chances. You won't help yourself or Dustin by becoming a target."

  Katherine watched him leave, her emotions fraying further. Knowing he was right, knowing that was never the issue, she retreated from the window. Despite his deception, she still felt guilty for the unwarranted taunts she'd just made. He hadn't intended on a display. She knew that. But she wanted to strike back, to wound him as much as she had been wounded.

  Suddenly she had a vision of Matthew's irrepressible grin. And just as suddenly, she knew that Paul's pain was equally deep. Now that she knew they were twins, she could see that each possessed the other's missing qualities. To have shared that bond and then lost it must cause great emptiness. An emptiness relieved only by guilt, she surmised. The guilt of knowing Matthew had died in his place.

  Yet she couldn't forgive him. Although logically Katherine understood why Paul had undertaken the deception, she still didn't understand why he hadn't told her the truth earlier. She could easily think of numerous opportunities he'd had. Yet he hadn't taken a single one. Paul said he'd waited because of his feelings for her. But shouldn't those feelings have demanded the truth?

  She couldn't prevent herself from glancing out the window one more time. How long would it take to spring this trap? Regardless, their days were numbered. And once she said goodbye, would she really know the man to whom she bade farewell? Or was that an act, too?

  * * *

  Paul pulled into the driveway of Combined Catering, then drove around to the back, wanting to use the more private entrance. He didn't need to look in his rearview mirror to know he was being followed. Accustomed to the procedure, he was neither reassured nor annoyed by the constant shadow. It was necessary, and most of the time, the practice worked. He had enough faith in his fellow agents to believe they would protect Katherine and Dustin. That was his foremost concern. But he also knew there were chinks in even the most formidable armor. For that reason, Paul intended to make sure the Falgettis had plenty of access to him when he was alone.

  Normally he wouldn't have returned to the office after an event, preferring to wait until the following day to bring in the cash receipts. But this was an ideal opportunity to be a lone target for the Falgettis.

  The other employees had brought back the dishes, supplies and remaining food. The darkened kitchens were orderly and clean. The staff was good, he knew, and loyal to Katherine. It was something he should have acknowledged earlier; perhaps then, he wouldn't have backed himself into such an impossible corner. Apparently his life was to be based on nothing but remorse.

  A quick survey told him the building was empty, which should have been an easy assumption. But with the Falgettis' chilling history, nothing could be assumed.

  Easing into the creaky chair in his makeshift office, Paul couldn't withhold a sigh. What if he had taken an entirely different approach to his brother's disappearance? Suppose he had gone to Katherine with what he knew and enlisted her aid. Would they be closer to nailing Matthew's killers? And would there have been a different resolution? Or would he still be walking away from her?

  Realizing he would never know, Paul reached for the drawer handle. As he glanced down, he paused.

  A bit of paper stuck up slightly at the edge of the drawer. Frowning, he knew nothing had been out of place before. Instincts engaged, he cautiously eased the drawer open, watching for a trip wire. But the drawer slipped open without a hitch. Still, Paul was suspicious.

  The paper that had protruded belonged in the file folder behind the one containing the cash envelope. His brows drew together as he examined the remainder of the drawer. Everything else was in place.

  Then he pulled out the cash envelope. Although most clients paid by check and some by credit card or account, some occasionally paid the bill in cash. And often functions opted for a cash bar, allowing guests who wished to drink to pay for the privilege. So at times there was very little in the envelope. At other times it contained a considerable sum. Paul hadn't changed the practice of one weekly deposit. It had seemed sufficient.

  Picking up the cash envelope, Paul realized he hadn't been wise in continuing the practice. This week, the cash intake included a complete wedding reception. And the last time he had handled the envelope, it had had a significant heft from the large amount of cash. A heft that was now missing.

  Usually he and Katherine were the only ones to handle the cash. Several times when he had prepared the deposit, there had been more cash in the envelope than he'd anticipated. He hadn't thought about it, knowing Katherine added receipts to the envelope, as well.

  Painfully Paul remembered hanging on to his suspicions about Katherine based on the missing money. But he had come around to John's way of thinking, believing that if she was taking money, it would be in the form of checks, not cash. He also remembered John had suggested that perhaps someone in their employ was the thief. So much for loyally, he thought, as a burning anger started growing.

  His sense of justice extended beyond Matthew to Katherine. If one of the employees had been stealing cash from the business, leaving a trail that pointed to her, he intended to find the thief. But this time he wasn't going to exclude Katherine from his investigation. She knew these people best. No one else was more qualified to say which one couldn't be trusted.

  * * *

  "None of them," Katherine repeated, clearly appalled. "I trust the people who work for me. No one's given me a reason not to."

  He admired her loyalty, even though her naiveté was frustrating. "I know you like everyone. But that's not pertinent—"

  "Since when?" she interrupted. "It seems to me their character is the issue."

  "Not everyone is what they appear," he said.

  "I'm painfully aware of that," she r
esponded dryly.

  Paul flushed at the implied insult. "Not as aware as you should be. You're right about one thing – I'm not what I appeared to be. Think long and hard before you determine the same for your employees."

  Her gaze met and held his. "So you want me to look at them as I looked at you?"

  The implication was obvious, but now wasn't the time to tackle that one. "See past the surface," he replied, wondering if she ever had with him. If not, then perhaps to her he was only a pale copy of his fun-loving brother.

  "The surface?" she echoed.

  "Do any of them have a pressing need for money? Anyone with a gambling problem or a family crisis or an unexpected debt? Has anyone seemed preoccupied or acted uncharacteristically?"

  Katherine frowned. "Not really. I suppose most people could use a little more cash, but no one has come to me for a loan lately."

  "Has anyone done that in the past?"

  She nodded. "Sure. Chefs aren't generally known for their business acumen. But they always paid us back. A few times it took a little longer than expected, but nothing unreasonable. Just an extra pay period or so later."

  Puzzled, Paul stared at her. "I didn't see any paperwork or anything on the books to reflect employee loans."

  She shrugged. "It didn't seem necessary. Our business is like family. You don't steal from family."

  How like her, Paul realized, to float loans without even a scrap of paper. Yet her trust hadn't been foolish – until now. He hated to remind her of that, but it was necessary. "Someone has."

  Obviously dismayed, she dropped her head, her chin nearly touching her chest. "Maybe you're confused about the cash envelope. I can't remember from one time to the next how much money's in it."

  Paul hadn't wanted to reveal the crux of his suspicions, but she was leaving him no choice. "There's been a steady drain from the company, Katherine. I can't be certain when it began, but it's been continuing since I started examining the books."

  Katherine's head whipped up. Her eyes met his and he could see she'd grasped the implication. "So that's why you thought I had such an interest in money. You thought I was the one stealing it!"

  "I didn't know who was stealing," Paul admitted. "But I did know the thefts were taking place."

  "And why not suspect me?" she concluded accurately. "After all, what's a little theft to a woman who'd plot to murder her husband for money?"

  "I didn't say that," Paul responded, knowing it was a futile defense.

  "You didn't have to," she said tightly.

  Staring into her eyes, Paul didn't see the anger he expected. Instead, her beautiful violet eyes were filled with sadness. Overwhelming incredible sadness.

  "Katherine, I didn't know you then."

  "And now?" she asked quietly, her voice devoid of hope.

  "Now I know what a fool I've been, but I don't suppose that changes anything."

  She shook her head sadly. "There was a point when you could have reversed what you'd begun, but you still weren't sure. You looked at the figures in the books, instead of what was in your heart. Love isn't black and white. It's not even gray. It's a burst of colors that can't be contained in neat categories. And you were still trying to categorize. It never occurred to you that I might not fit into one of your compartments." Once again her eyes, as she lifted them to meet his, resembled great bruises. "Apparently it never occurred to you, either, that Matthew might have chosen well. Did you have so little faith in him, too?"

  Paul felt the double punch of her words. Was she right? He'd assumed Matthew had again made a poor choice. Now, knowing Katherine, Paul realized how very well his brother had chosen. Matthew could have searched the world over and never found a woman more warm, giving and passionate.

  With a sinking sensation, Paul knew this realization was hopelessly late. And all the regret in the world wouldn't change that. It only pushed them closer to goodbye.

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  «^»

  The night was warm, interrupted by ocean breezes that tantalized with promises of cool relief. The employees of Lincoln Savings and Loan didn't seem to mind the heat as they filled the patio of the reception area for their annual company party.

  Katherine was grateful for the relaxed pace of the function. With all the strain, it was difficult enough to manage the easy jobs. She glanced around and her gaze rested on Rod Dennison, who was tending bar. The client had requested a cash bar, which was fairly typical of most company parties.

  It had occurred to her, after Paul had revealed the missing cash, that Rod could be a suspect, since he was their newest employee. Katherine had never completely shaken her initial impression of him, although she'd never discovered anything concrete to support the feeling. And a very vulnerable Jessica still needed his attention, now more than before.

  Katherine frowned, thinking of what she hadn't told Paul. Alice, one of the cooks, had an ailing mother who was draining most of her finances. Alice had been forced to hire day help to watch her mother, and Katherine knew that had strained her budget to breaking point. She found it difficult to suspect Alice, but she also knew that in desperate situations, people often acted uncharacteristically. But she wasn't ready to confide that to Paul. Alice couldn't take the additional pressure of an investigation right now.

  Stubbornly Katherine set her chin. If Paul could keep his secrets for months on end, she could keep a few of her own. Such as how Carter was always broke, despite two significant raises. Again her gaze rested on Rod. Was he just too smooth? Or something worse?

  "Think it's him?" Paul asked, appearing beside her, holding a tray of fresh fruit that he added to the buffet.

  Trying not to let his presence rattle her, she shrugged casually. "He does have access to cash."

  "He's on my list, too," Paul admitted. "But the night I discovered the missing cash, he'd given me a stuffed bag of money from the evening's bar proceeds. Instead of taking the risk of stealing from the office, why didn't he just lift some of the bar money?"

  "To throw you off the scent?" Katherine suggested.

  "Maybe. But there also weren't any signs of a break-in at the building. Whoever took the money had to do it during business hours when the doors were unlocked. For the most part that eliminates Rod."

  Katherine sighed. "You're right. He rarely comes to the building – he meets us at the functions. That limits his access."

  "Any other ideas?" Paul asked.

  "I told you I trust my employees," she replied defensively.

  "Katherine, someone is taking money. It's not easy to suspect people you're fond of—"

  "I'm not used to suspecting anybody," she retorted, realizing that if she had, she might not be in so much pain now. "I suppose it's time I changed."

  "I'd rather you didn't," he said, surprising her. "I think you're perfect just the way you are."

  She felt her heart hitch; wishing she could trust his words. "I used to believe this was a kind world. Not anymore."

  Paul's gaze probed hers. "For that I'm sorry. Perhaps you'll find a reason to believe it is again."

  Katherine remained somber. "I don't think so. It's time for me to put aside all my foolish notions. Do you know that I used to believe in lucky pennies and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, even in four-leaf clovers? Well, no more."

  "I'd hate to think I took all that away from you," Paul replied, his voice husky with unspoken emotion.

  Katherine wondered if there should be a cutoff for regret. Meeting Paul's eyes, she saw the pain, glimpsed the remorse. And knew that for the moment it was time for compassion. "Didn't you tell me that we're supposed to be behaving normally?"

  Distracted, he blinked. "Yes."

  "Then we should end this serious discussion. It doesn't blend with the party."

  "And that's important," Paul agreed, taking her lead. "To be really convincing, I think we should have at least one dance."

  Katherine couldn't reply. Instantly she thought of her yearning to b
e in his arms again. To whirl around the dance floor and then part again as strangers seemed impossibly cruel. "I don't know."

  Paul held out his hand. "For appearances?"

  For many reasons, not one of them being appearances, she accepted his outstretched hand. The music was silky and slow. It defined the texture of the night, much like the rich scent of slow-blooming magnolias, and the moon that dipped precariously low as though it, too, was tempted by the earthbound.

  Then she was in his arms. Paul's touch was at once both familiar and newly exciting. Closing her eyes to the emotions assaulting her, Katherine followed his lead, their bodies fitting easily, moving easily.

  She tried to stifle the yearning, biting down on a cry of rightness. It would be easy to voice the words that would make everything all right, to accept the unacceptable. But she was silent – unable to forgive, unable to step away.

  Her blood stirred. Unlike the languid night, it ran hot and unchecked. Despite the arguments of her mind, her body responded to his. She should be repulsed, Katherine thought desperately, inching even closer to him. For all that was wrong, it seemed amazingly right to be in his arms. How could that be? How could his touch inflame like no other?

  She felt the warmth of his breath on her neck, creating a shiver that ran the length of her body, then settled deep inside, doing dangerous things to her pulse.

  The music ended. For a long moment they didn't move. Couples passed by, leaving the dance floor. Finally Katherine and Paul pulled apart and walked inside.

  Feeling bereft, Katherine allowed Paul to guide her, his hand at the small of her back. They passed through the doorway to the main ballroom and Katherine struggled to make a nonchalant remark, but nothing emerged. Thinking of escape, she turned toward Paul – but suddenly his arms were around her, yanking her off her feet.

  They hit the floor, hard, at the same time as a resounding crash. Dazed and stunned, Katherine stared first at Paul, then just a few feet away to the shattered remains of the ballroom chandelier.