by Judi Lind
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Keely breathed deeply in relief. That tape would surely prove an error had been made. “Where would I find Mr. Franklin?”
The woman pointed to an empty desk behind a glass partition. “That’s his office but he’s on vacation until next Wednesday.”
“Then who is the assistant manager? Somebody must be in charge around here.” Keely felt her frustration level rising with each passing second and forced herself to draw a deep, calming breath.
“Mrs. Wheeler is the assistant manager. She’s out to lunch but will be back around two.”
Keely looked at her watch with impatience. “That’s too late. I need to know right now. Surely someone else can help me.”
The teller shook her head emphatically. “No, I’m sorry, Ms. Travers. I could help you fill out the request form, but it would still have to be approved by either Mr. Franklin or Mrs. Wheeler. Besides, those tapes are stored off-site by our security consultants. It would take several days to locate the right tape and retrieve it from storage. Shall I have Mrs. Wheeler contact you later this afternoon?”
“No,” Keely replied slowly, withdrawing her gold shield from her purse. “I really need some information right now,” she said as she flipped open the thick wallet. “This is police business and I’d appreciate your cooperation.”
The teller inspected the badge carefully before returning it. “I’m sorry, Ms. Travers, but there’s simply nothing I can do. Even if you had a search warrant, I’d still have to refer you to our security department. As I said, the tapes are in their custody.”
Keely dug her notepad and pen out of her pocket. “Who handles your security?”
The teller reached beneath the counter and pulled out a dog-eared business card. “Safeguard Security Systems. In Carlsbad.”
Keely scribbled down the address and phone number with a sinking feeling. Carlsbad was forty miles away and she didn’t have time to drive out there and back. Rosie’s funeral service was scheduled for two. She barely had time to change clothes and get out to her father’s house.
And first thing in the morning she was leaving for Mexico with Noah. “I’m going out of town myself. I’ll be in touch when I return.”
“Have a nice day then,” the teller chirped brightly. “Next!”
Keely trudged out of the bank, her heart heavy with this new development. She didn’t want to believe it, but she was terribly afraid that extra money had been placed in her account by her sister. There was no other answer. Who else would have had access to her deposit slips or account number? Rosie must have gotten the cash from Sargent and put it in Keely’s account to keep Todd from finding out about it.
Even that made no sense. Had her sister honestly believed Keely wouldn’t notice when her bank balance rose by ten thousand dollars? Even the naive Rosie hadn’t been that much of an airhead. The only logical explanation was that she was going to tell Keely about the money but had been killed before she had the chance.
The question now was what was Keely going to do about that little “bonus” in her account? With Rosie implicated in Sargent’s counterfeiting scheme, Keely knew if this huge deposit was discovered, her own honesty would be questioned. And right now she had no way to prove her own innocence.
No, she thought, stuffing the telltale printout into her handbag, she wasn’t going to mention this money to a soul until she saw that videotape. This “bonus” had to be her own little secret for the next few days.
Still, as she walked to her car the money weighed on her conscience like a storm cloud, dark and ominous.
SITTING IN HIS mother’s living room and staring out the picture window, Noah felt like a caged tiger. Sargent’s death had provided the break he’d been waiting for. Noah had no doubts; there was going to be some kind of contact on that cruise ship and the actual transfer of the plates would take place in Mexico next Tuesday. He was finally going to bring down the counterfeiting ring.
Now that he had a solid lead, it was hard to sit idle. Of course, there was really nothing more he could do before boarding that cruise ship in Long Beach.
Except think.
Think was all he’d done for the past six months. He’d turned this puzzle over in his mind a thousand times and still came up with the same solution: One or more of the Travers family was involved in this mess.
But who?
He refused to accept the idea that Keely would take part in something illegal. Before Rosie’s death, Noah had cared deeply about his sister-in-law. Her death was a horrible blow, and he’d miss her eccentric personality almost as much as Todd would. Still, as much as he hated to accept the truth, she was almost surely implicated.
Even worse, he was afraid she wasn’t the only Travers involved. In fact, Noah considered the girls’ father a prime suspect for the “leak” in the police department. Until his retirement a few months before, Mike Travers’s path had crossed with Marty Sargent’s on two separate official occasions. They’d discovered his signature on two of Sargent’s arrest reports, neither of which had resulted in a conviction.
Based on that unusual circumstance, the Treasury Department had begun a stealthy yet thorough investigation into Travers’s background. Only one irregularity had been found, but in Noah’s opinion, it was a large one: Mike Travers’s savings account had a very high balance for a career police officer. Noah couldn’t help wondering where the money had come from.
And he was determined to find out—despite the sad likelihood that Keely was going to be hurt again.
A little red compact pulled into Mike Travers’s driveway next door. Noah moved the sheer curtain aside with his fingertip and watched Keely alight from the car. She’d had her hair cut, a short cheeky style very similar to the way Rosie had worn her own hair. On Rosie it had been cute, saucy. But on Keely there was a subtle difference. She looked sleek, sophisticated. Darkly elegant.
Even in her somber black suit, there was an aura of sensuality about her.
She looked good. Too damned good.
AS KEELY PULLED INTO her father’s driveway, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the house next door. A plain silver car with rental plates was parked in Dorena Bannister’s open garage.
Noah? Of course. Who else could it be?
A quick flush stole up Keely’s cheeks at the knowledge of his nearness. At least it was good for Dorena that her prodigal son had finally come home—if only for a brief visit. The youthful widow rarely left home anymore, so swamped was she in her own private grief. Keely had often wondered whether it was the death of Dorena’s husband or her son’s desertion that had trampled her heart the most.
Noah had unceremoniously left those who cared about him when he’d fled San Diego, and all of them wondered why.
When she stepped out of the car, Keely saw her father pruning his tomato plants on the side of the house. Had she expected Mike Travers to take it easy as the doctor ordered? Not a chance, she thought wryly. Open rebellion seemed to be a family trait.
He tossed her a casual glance as she approached, then he pinched off an errant sucker vine with his shears.
Shielding her eyes against the blazing sun, she crunched along the gravel path until she stood behind her father. “What are you up to, Dad?”
He slowly turned in her direction and cocked a derisive eyebrow. “What does it look like I’m doing? Any fool could see I’m pruning my tomatoes.”
Keely took no issue with her father’s gruffness. Today was not easy for any of them. While she was thinking of the best approach to take, he tossed a withered vine aside and tucked his shears in his hip pocket.
Touching him lightly on the shoulder, she asked, “Don’t you think you should be getting dressed? It’s almost time.”
Her father took off his hat and swiped his face with his forearm. “Yeah, I guess it is. Let’s go inside. I made fresh tea.”
She followed him out of the heat into the small kitchen that had changed little since her mother’s death. Mike had adde
d a dishwasher and replaced the dinette set when the old one fell apart; but essentially, this was still her mother’s kitchen and Esther Travers’s spirit permeated the atmosphere.
Mike seemed to regain his composure and patted his daughter’s shoulder. He took off his cap, then bent over the sink and dashed his face and hands with crisp, cool water before pouring their ice tea.
When he’d seated himself across the table, Keely said, “Anything new?”
Mike pushed his glass aside and trailed his finger through the moist ring it left on the table. “Nope. Your sister’s dead and I’m dying. Not a damned thing new.”
Keely blinked. “How’re you feeling, really, Pop?”
“Like the chemo might be worse than the cancer. But that’s not why you came early, is it? You came to tell me Noah Bannister is back.”
She gulped in astonishment. She’d always known the departmental grapevine was quick and sure, but, good grief, she’d only left the chief’s office an hour ago. Then she recalled the silver rental car in Dorena’s garage and realized her father must have seen Noah.
Taking several swallows of the icy beverage to give herself time to think, Keely finally said, “I, uh, guess he came back for the funeral.”
“That’s what I heard.”
He finished his tea and set the empty glass back on the table with a loud, hollow thunk. “Keely, I’ve never been much for butting into your business, but I feel I’d be shirking my duty as your father if I didn’t say something.”
“Now, Dad-”
Mike held up a hand, forestalling her objections. “Didn’t your folks teach you it was impolite to interrupt? Let me finish. All I want to say is that you’ve been nursing that wounded heart of yours too long. I know with Noah back in town it’s only natural to dredge up the past. Maybe reopen those old wounds. Keely, honey, I’m telling you I think it’s time you let go. Forgive the man.”
Tears glimmering in her eyes, she bit her lower lip. “It’s kind of hard to forgive someone who’s never even acknowledged he did you any harm. Dammit, Noah owes me an explanation.”
“Maybe he does, maybe not. Anyway, it’s ancient history. The best thing you could do for yourself is be polite but keep your distance. I’d hate to see you hurt again, honey.”
She nodded. No doubt her father was right, but it was going to be a considerable challenge to stay away from Noah when she was on a “honeymoon” with him.
Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she chose her words carefully. “I always felt like…like you kind of took his side, Dad.”
“Against you? Never. I could’ve strangled Noah Bannister for the way he took off and broke your heart.”
“But you’ve always defended him.”
Mike sighed deeply and drained his glass. “No. What I always tried to make you understand was that you were only seeing one side. I wanted you to consider there might have been things going on that Noah couldn’t tell you about.”
“What kind of things?” She frowned at her father’s deliberately vague explanation.
“Oh, just…Hell, I don’t know! I’m only saying you should let it go. It was a long time ago, honey. Things change. People change.”
She leaned forward and clasped her father’s thin, veiny hand. “I remember a certain crusty old cop telling me that a leopard isn’t likely to turn into a zebra.”
He shook his head sadly. “All I’m saying is that things aren’t always what they seem.”
She cast her father a curious glance, wondering how much he actually knew about Noah’s departure all those years ago. Before Keely could question him further, however, he lifted his glass from the table and stood up. “I’m breaking a pledge by telling you this, but there was more to those adolescent pranks of Noah’s than anybody knew. Remember, just because he was hauled into the station and suspended from high school a few times doesn’t mean the boy was guilty. That’s all I’m saying on the subject.”
She pushed away from the table and paced the small confines until she got her temper back under control. “Dad, you’re not being consistent here. If Noah wasn’t guilty, why didn’t you say something back then?”
Mike Travers shook his head decisively. “It was police business.”
Police business? That didn’t make any sense. Still, she knew she wouldn’t get any information out of her stubborn parent. But she would have some answers. At her first opportunity, Keely intended to have a long-overdue discussion with Noah Bannister.
Catching her father’s watchful eye, she murmured, “You’re right, Dad. I have to go on with my life. I can’t hate Noah forever.”
But deep in her heart Keely knew she’d never really hated Noah. In fact, she sometimes wondered if she’d ever stopped loving him.
HOLDING ON TO her father’s arm, uncertain whether for his support or her own, Keely made it through her sister’s funeral. Bracketed by her grieving father and brother-in-law, she felt somehow detached. As if the scene wasn’t real. Only a dreadful play, and soon the players would come on stage, bow and it would all be over.
But there was no curtain call. Suddenly, standing in the hot sun, she shivered, feeling as if she’d been immersed in a cold night fog. At the minister’s intoned words meant to be comforting, Keely’s eyes filled with tears as thick wet swirls of pain obscured her vision.
From a far off place, she saw her friends and co-workers gathered around the grave site. Through a roaring haze she heard her father murmur words of thanks to those who offered their condolences. Mostly, however, Keely was aware of the furtive glances being cast their way. Old friends who couldn’t quite look her in the eye.
Everyone thought Rosie’s death came as the result of criminal activities. Keely was going to prove them all wrong; she just had to.
Most especially, she had to prove Rosie’s innocence to Noah Bannister, who stood silently at his brother’s side, his granite-hard chin thrust outward as if inviting her challenge. Oh, she knew he harbored his own suspicions. As far as Keely was concerned, Noah was judging her sister using his own checkered past as a point of reference.
Finally the service ended and they were free to make their escape. After announcing that there would be a gathering at his home, Mike Travers wrapped his arm around his remaining daughter and they slowly walked to the waiting limousine.
By the time they changed cars at the funeral home and returned to Mike’s small bungalow, the house was already teeming with people. Dorena Bannister, Noah and Todd’s widowed mother, was acting as hostess, filling glasses and inviting everyone to partake in the bounty of food.
Seeing Keely and Mike enter, Dorena swiftly crossed the room. She scooted between them and hooked her arms into theirs, leading them to the dining room. “Come on, guys, let’s get you something to eat.”
The table was invisible beneath a blanket of casseroles and baked goods. Dorena pushed food at her, but the thought of eating was revolting. She shoved her food around on her plate, barely noticing when Mike and Dorena drifted away, to carry on a quiet conversation in the far corner of the crowded room.
Suddenly Keely felt a presence beside her and someone touched her shoulder. She turned, and almost melted at the warm concern in Noah’s gray-flannel eyes.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, forking a pickle from the relish dish. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Some.”
“Have you seen Todd?” He looked around the room. “He disappeared a few minutes ago.”
“It’s not my turn to watch out for Todd,” she answered, as her partner, Bob Craybill, joined them.
“Hey, partner, how’s it going?” he asked, giving her a light kiss. Nodding at Noah, he held out his hand. “You must be Todd’s brother. I see the resemblance.”
Noah shook his hand and introduced himself. While the two men conversed, Keely found herself studying Noah’s face. She didn’t see much resemblance to his younger brother. True, they had the same coloring and basic bone structure, but Todd had a boyish quality while
Noah had a rigorous, manly look that bespoke experience and sophistication. Noah Bannister had aged well; no doubt he was a very eligible bachelor in his own social circle.
A circle that no longer included Keely.
She wandered over to a group clustered around the dining room table, speaking in self-consciously hushed voices. Keely felt their guilt as she approached. Guilt because their lives were still intact.
Faye Preston, her father’s neighbor for nine years, clutched her hand and dragged her to a small love seat in the corner. “Keely, Hank and I are so sorry. I know what you must be feeling and if there’s anything we can do…”
Keely patted her hand and nodded. Faye was a good friend. She had so many good friends, she realized, yet she couldn’t lighten her load by confiding in any of them. The suspicions she was harboring about her dead sister were just too ugly, too devastating, to share.
When even Faye ran out of comforting words, she excused herself and said something about getting a bite to eat. Keely sat alone on the sofa, staring into space and wondering how she was going to endure this day—not to mention the next week with the insufferable Noah Bannister.
She’d just about reached the decision to call off the entire operation when she was distracted by a familiar voice.
“Hey, partner, why’d you run off and leave me?”
Keely swiveled her head and smiled at Bob Craybill. She reached up and took his hand, guiding him onto the love seat beside her. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to light for very long. I just keep wandering around. How about you, Bob? Haven’t had much chance to talk with you in days.”
He grimaced and drank deeply from the goblet of wine he was carrying. “I hate funerals almost as much as I hate divorces.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You might be a lot better off if you hated weddings, too!”
“You got a point.”
Bob had recently separated from his third wife, and Keely knew that beneath his gruff exterior, he was still hurting. Marriage wasn’t easy for any cop, but Bob seemed to make a career out of building relationships then destroying them. As his partner, Keely felt powerless to help him. In some ways, Bob was bent on self-destruction, but it was still painful for a friend to watch.