by Beverly Bird
They rode the elevator up in silence then the ding sounded at the fourth floor and the doors slid open again. Fox’s reflexes were fast when they had to be, but he couldn’t stop her. Tara shoved past him with a strangled sound and ran into the big fourth floor room. Fox stared, stunned. The ruby was on the floor.
And so was the silver-haired man. One glance told Fox he was dead. There was a neat, black hole in his forehead.
“Stay back,” a cop ordered harshly, drawing his own gun. “Everybody stay back.”
Tara barely heard the man. Her blood was singing in her ears with a pitched, painful sound. She lunged forward anyway and grabbed the ruby. “It’s mine,” she whispered. “The Rose is mine.”
Then she picked up the stone. And she knew, in that very first heartbeat when her fingers closed around it, that it wasn’t her Rose.
From her earliest childhood, Letitia had taken it out of its velvet bag and placed it in her hands. It had always been warm. It had been alive. It had had a soul as real as the red tears in its depths. She remembered the way it had felt when she’d picked it up off Stephen’s floor the night he’d been killed. Then, too, it had pulsed at her touch.
This rock was hard and cold.
Tara felt a wad of tears gather at the back of her throat, and then—damn it, damn it—they spilled from her eyes. The disappointment was crushing. She couldn’t get air.
“It’s a forgery,” she moaned.
The cop herded her back to the door as the rest of the cops poured into the room. “That explains a lot,” he said. “The dead guy is Robin Duguay. He’s fairly notorious in these parts. He’s a collector. He would have known that what your Acosta was trying to pass off to him was a counterfeit. It looks like Acosta didn’t take that very well.”
Fox nodded. “Well, the guy in black didn’t kill Duguay. He was in the stairwell with us when I heard the shot.”
“The next question is…where has Mr. Acosta gotten to?” The officer took a radio from his belt and spoke into it briefly. Then he handed it to Fox. “We’ll put out an APB but we’ll need a description.”
Fox took the radio. “You’ve got it.”
“We haven’t picked up the other guy yet, either, the one in black,” the cop said. “You might want to give us some details on him also.”
This, Fox thought, was a fine kettle of fish. But then, the case had been an odd one since he’d watched a stunning woman with long black hair slip out the back door of Carmen’s home.
Fox caught Tara’s hand in his as they walked back to the car two long hours later. “Darlin’, I’m sorry.”
His words, his understanding, made her stumble. She forced herself to shrug though the movement felt brittle. “I’m not the first person to chase down a wild goose. I won’t be the last.”
Such bravado, he thought, his own heart breaking for her. “The goose lost some feathers,” he said quietly, “and it left a clear trail. We know more than we did when we got here. It hasn’t all been a loss.” He saw hope light up her eyes and he kept on. “When you went to Carmen’s home that night to buy the Rose, did you call him or did he call you?”
She seemed startled but she thought about it. “I called him as soon as the Memorandum of Decision came in from the court.”
“And he met with you willingly?”
“For Stephen? Yes, willingly enough.” Tara’s footsteps stalled.
“What if he had the phony ruby made to turn over to you in case he lost, if the court ordered him to? When that didn’t happen, I’m wondering if he planned to sell it to you anyway. You know, double his profits.”
Her heart punched. “It makes so much sense. It’s something he would do, hedging his bets. My tie to the stone is emotional. He probably figured I’d never have it authenticated.” She would have known anyway, she thought, just as she’d known tonight. “Except…” She shook her head. “Just as you said the other day, the ruby is too notorious. If he had tried to sell the real one to someone else—and what good would it have done him otherwise?—it would have made the papers. I would have wondered what was going on, how anyone could be buying the Rose when I had it.”
He touched her hair and a curl sprang up and wrapped around his finger again. “Darlin’, don’t you ever learn? Think underground. If he had two rubies, Carmen had a win-win situation going on whether he won the court fight or not.
“My guess is that he had some connection to Acosta,” he continued. “We know that now because Acosta turned up with the fake and Carmen turned up dead. My best guess says that there was some kind of confrontation between the two of them with one or both of the rubies in the center of it. Maybe Carmen tried to save his life by turning the real rock over to Acosta. Or maybe he tried to fool Acosta by giving him the fake. All I can figure is that the real one—the one you stepped on—got kicked aside in the scuffle. And Acosta fled the scene with the fake one, which he tried to sell tonight.”
“You got your killer. Acosta must have killed Stephen.” Tara hugged herself miserably. She did not have her Rose. One had not led to the other after all.
“He’s a long way from custody,” Fox said quietly. “About all I’ve got is probable cause and we don’t even know where he is. Plus, the Boston P.D. will want the first shot at him.” He started walking again, still thinking aloud. “Once Carmen was dead, there are a couple of scenarios we can play out. Maybe Acosta thought the fake ruby was the real ruby all along and he was going to sell it to Duguay in good conscience. Or maybe he realized that the one he had wasn’t real and he put that goon on you, trying to get his paws on the genuine article. That makes more sense. Either way, he was probably going to use our offer to up the price on Duguay, and if Duguay wouldn’t come up with the money then he could always fall back on our offer.”
“But why would he think I had it? It never made the papers that I was in the house that night unless…unless he stayed after he killed Stephen and saw me.”
“No,” Fox said levelly.
“No?” Something seized in the area of her chest. “Someone else?”
“I thought it was probably the killer until it started to look like he didn’t have the ruby, either.”
Tara closed her eyes briefly, weakly. “The guy in the black coat! He wasn’t in the house with me. He was outside watching me. What kind of cop are you?”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You were quick enough to jump on me! Didn’t you look for anyone else out there in Stephen’s yard?”
It was her frustration, he thought. It brought dark clouds to her eyes. “I did. He didn’t make his presence quite as obvious as you did. I never saw a trace of him.”
Tara kicked a fire hydrant. “Oh, damn it. Damn it! We still don’t know anything! Why did Acosta kill Stephen? And if Acosta took the fake Rose, where’s mine?”
They reached the car. Tara slumped against it and Fox opened the door. “What the hell?” he muttered.
Tara straightened from the car and looked at him quickly. “What’s wrong now?”
“Where’s the dog?”
“In the car.”
“She’s not in the car.”
“She has to be in the car. We locked her in.” Tara turned around and stuck her head inside. She spent fifteen, twenty, then thirty seconds looking around. She pulled out again and dropped to her knees to peer under the car.
“She’s gone,” she said shakily, standing again. “But that can’t be. She couldn’t get out of a locked car!”
Fox felt the events of the night tunneling in on him. He felt shaky. “One wouldn’t think so.”
“She didn’t tear a hole in the floor to get out.”
“She didn’t tear a hole anywhere.” The interior of his car was pristine. “The window?”
“I can’t even get my thumb through that crack! This isn’t possible,” Tara protested. Her head was swimming. “First the real Rose disappeared, now the dog. Both of them, just…just poof! What’s going on here, Fox?”
“That’
s what I want to know, lady. And this time you’re going to tell me. Where the hell is that rock?”
Tara had no more energy to scream with but shock went through her like cold electricity. Fox jolted and grabbed his gun again, but it was too late. The man who had cornered them earlier already had an arm wrapped around Tara’s throat and his own gun pressed to her temple.
He’d caught up with them again.
Chapter 18
He had a voice that sounded as though someone had taken sandpaper to it, Fox thought, and now, facing him from two feet away, the man’s breath smelled like rotten mushrooms. Fox had never doubted that it was the same guy who had terrorized Tara in the elevator.
“Put the gun down,” the man growled. “I want to see your weapon hit the concrete by the time I count to five or I’ll shoot her. One. Two—”
Fox never hesitated. He opened his fingers and let his gun fall.
“Don’t!” Tara cried. The last of the word ended on a gurgle as the man tightened his hold around her throat.
She felt the gun leave her temple. She had a moment to suck in a breath, then she saw the man’s arm extend in front of her. He had the gun aimed at Fox now.
“You,” he said to Fox, “we don’t need.”
Tara made a wailing sound of denial. No, no, no, no! She was tired of being poked and prodded with knives and of being shot at. She hadn’t been ready to die on the roof and she was damned if she was going to let Fox be shot now. She brought her hand up over her left shoulder, still clutching the ruby. She smashed it as hard as she could into the man’s face.
She hit his nose. Blood flew. She clawed free of him then she turned and heaved the ruby at his forehead. She missed, but it didn’t matter. The guy clapped a hand over his left eye where the stone had nailed him.
He took a sharp step backward. Fox put his head down and dove at him.
She’d thrown her Rose. What the hell had she still been doing with the Rose? Fox caught the man in the solar plexus and drove him to the ground. She’d thrown away her ruby. He smashed a fist down into the man’s face. The guy had never recovered from the first blow Tara had given him and he couldn’t react now.
Fox’s thoughts kept staggering. They thought it was a forgery, but what if it wasn’t?
She’d done it to save him.
“Glove compartment,” he grunted, still struggling with the guy. “There are handcuffs in my glove compartment!”
Tara scrambled for them. A moment later, he had them in his hand. He snapped them on the guy and dragged him to this feet.
Tara swayed a little as adrenaline washed out of her and her legs folded. She leaned against his car. “What did I just do?”
She looked like she was going to pass out. How much more could she take? Fox wondered. He let go of the guy. Woozy, the man fell. He caught Tara and dragged her close to his chest.
“It wasn’t the real ruby,” he said. Please, God, don’t let it have been the real one.
“It’s gone.”
“I think it hit the gutter. Someone can probably retrieve it.” If water wasn’t running through. It had snowed here last night, too, and there was some melt-off. “Hold on to me here, darlin’. I need to make a phone call.”
He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and called the Boston cops. Again.
“What the hell was she doing with the ruby?” shouted the Boston lieutenant in charge of the matter. They were at the nearest precinct. The guy in the black trenchcoat was in an interrogation room. “That thing is evidence!”
Tara flinched. “No one asked me for it, so I just kept it.” She was sitting at a desk in the detective’s squad room and Fox sat on the edge.
Fox rubbed his jaw. “Sorry,” he said to the lieutenant. “She does things like this sometimes. Now can we move on to that guy in the room over there? I’d like to ask him a few questions.”
The lieutenant was understandably miffed at the commotion they’d caused in his territory on Christmas night. “I want a call-back from Philly first. You need to be vouched for.”
“You’ve got my badge and the statements from the officers at the first scene.” Fox stood.
Tara watched him and felt something warm coast through her, bringing her back to life. The Southern charm was gone now. Here was a man who wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Can I listen in?”
“No,” both of them said simultaneously. They started in the direction of the interrogation room and Fox looked over his shoulder at her. “My way,” he reminded her.
Tara sat back in her chair again with a glare. Then she sighed and got to her feet to start pacing.
She found a coffee machine against one wall and shoveled spare change into it. In return she received something that tasted like warm bathwater. She grimaced and tossed it into a trash can, liquid and all.
She looked at the door Fox had disappeared through and out of nowhere she felt tears fill her eyes.
She pressed a hand to her mouth. For a moment, just a breath of space in time, she’d dared to dream. The Rose would be back in her possession by the end of the night. She’d have the single thing she wished for, her heart’s dearest desire.
But the Rose was gone. It was still lost to her. And the man in the interrogation room would almost surely provide them with the last answers regarding what had happened to Stephen. And then what? Fox Whittington would be gone as well. No promises. She knew what that meant now. She wasn’t three anymore.
She knew the kind of man he was. It was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him. He would always be there for her if she needed him, if she ever called on him as a friend. But she wanted more.
She wanted him to love her. It was what she would have wished for if she would have found the Rose. All her life she’d wanted someone she could believe in and now he’d come into her world. Her heart’s desire would have been that he wanted to stay there.
She’d thought she knew what loneliness was. She had never understood that it was a blade that could cut the soul wide open. Maybe, she thought, it only got that sharp after you’d been joined with someone only to lose him, to find yourself alone again.
Fox opened the interrogation room door. He had his cell phone to his ear. When he saw her, something about her expression must have betrayed her heart. He disconnected, dropped the phone on a desk, and came toward her fast. “Easy,” he said softly.
“Is it over?”
“I’m waiting for Rafe to call back, but…yes.”
“What? What did you find out?” Let him think this was all about Stephen, about the Rose, she thought desperately, because her eyes still burned with tears she refused to cry. Let him never know that her heart was breaking over him.
“This character works for a gemologist in Philadelphia,” he said. “He cut a deal with us and gave her name. But all he really knows is that she sent him to Carmen’s house the night he died to get the real ruby back and he found you there instead, creeping out the back door. They thought you took the Rose because Acosta left it behind. Rafe is going to pick up the woman in Philadelphia for questioning. Come on,” he said suddenly. “You look ready to drop. I’m taking you home.”
“Home is five hours away.” Please, she thought, let me have one more night. It was weak and needy and everything else she despised being. But she could not let him go without one last touch.
“So we’ll stay in Boston until morning.”
They found a motel two blocks from the precinct. It wasn’t the Marsdens’ apartment. It wasn’t even on a scale with hers. But they were both exhausted and when she pointed mutely to the place, Fox turned into the lot and they got a room.
The carpeting was ruby red and the bedspread was royal blue. Someone who’d really liked seascapes had had a heavy hand with the decorating. There were four separate prints on the narrow walls, all of them inducing some level of seasickness.
Tara didn’t care. She sank down on the bed and toed her shoes off. “You can’t say it’s been boring know
ing me.” She meant to joke, meant to keep it light, but her voice cracked a little.
He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “Knowing you,” he replied quietly, “has not been anything like what I expected.”
What did that mean? Tara looked at him quickly as he went into the bathroom without saying anything more.
A moment later, she heard the shower begin running, then he was back, standing in the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a towel around his waist. In the way of cheap motel rooms, there was not a great deal of the towel. All her pulse points began kicking, one after the other, a chain reaction.
“Am I supposed to get so worked up over the sight of you that I start ripping my own clothes off and jump into your arms?” But her voice was still hoarse.
He grinned. “Is it working?”
“Uh…yes. Now that you mention it.”
He laughed and held out his arms to her.
Tara stood from the bed and whipped her sweater over her head. That was as far as she got before he crossed the room and caught her. His mouth came down hard on hers. He had that delightful way, she thought, of tilting his head so she didn’t have to strain her neck back to join her mouth with his.
Always taking a care with her. She felt a new, strong urge to weep.
But not while his hands were sliding over her skin, not while his mouth moved to the swell of her breasts again, then over her collarbone. Not while he toyed with the snap at the waist of her jeans.
“How could you do that?” he murmured against her mouth. “You couldn’t know for sure that stone was fake.”
“That’s why I kept it. In case I was wrong. Fox, I really, really wanted that ruby to be real.”
“You threw it away.”
“I decided I wanted you more.”
Nothing in his life could have prepared him for what happened to him with her words. His stomach floated and found its way into his throat. His heart flipped over. That, he thought, just might make him the luckiest man alive.
“Will you stop this?” she protested when he lifted her in his arms again. This time he carried her into the bathroom.