by Judi Lind
What did he mean, about Rosie paying “with her life”?
Had he meant that her sister’s death hadn’t been accidental?
The quickening fear in her heart wouldn’t be denied. Rosie had been murdered. But why? How?
Fighting against the surge of nausea in her throat, Keely breathed deeply, ordering control back into her trembling body. After a moment she pulled her hand from her mouth, barely aware of the throbbing pain where she’d bitten herself.
Arms clamped protectively around herself, Keely stumbled back to the kitchen and unlocked the back door. She was suffocating; she had to get some air. Rushing outside, she sagged against the trunk of her favorite jacaranda and tried to force air into her lungs. Breathe, Keely, breathe.
Slowly, she felt the flow of blessed air fill her chest. Huddled against the tree trunk, she once again tried to absorb the horrifying message. Rosie, murdered? Unable to bear the thought, Keely felt tears of despair trickle down her cheekbones.
“Keely?”
“Oh!” She jumped and spun around.
Noah Bannister’s tall, solid form stood inches behind her. Even in her distress Keely wondered how he had managed to creep up so quietly. What was he doing there in the first place?
Taking a step forward, he clasped her shoulders. “You’re trembling! What’s wrong?”
Feeling the well of tears about to spring forth, she pointed toward the house and mumbled, “My sister was killed because—” She broke off as a sob caught in her throat. She wouldn’t let Noah see her fall apart.
He stared for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice remained cool and unemotional. “Are you saying that Rosie was deliberately killed?”
Squaring her shoulders, she nodded.
With a deep, shuddering sigh, he pulled her close, nestling her damp face against his chest. His large hands stroked the top of her head, ruffling her short-cropped hair. After a moment Keely’s shock began to subside, as if she had somehow drawn strength from Noah’s calmness.
“Come on,” he whispered against her hair, “let’s go inside.”
By the time they returned to the kitchen, where Keely drank deeply from a revitalizing glass of water, she felt almost back in control. She turned to find Noah leaning against the counter, staring at her with his impenetrable smoky gaze. Keely took refuge behind the table.
“Are you all right now?”
She nodded.
“Can you start at the beginning? What makes you think Rosie was murdered?”
Murdered. The word hung suspended, like the blade of a guillotine, menacing and dreadful.
Seeing her falter, Noah moved to join her at the table and leaned over the scarred wooden top, focusing his full attention on Keely. The incredible strength of his presence filled the small kitchen. He was too near and too potent for comfort. With his nearness, she suddenly realized he’d never mentioned why he’d been prowling around her yard in the first place.
“Keely?” he prodded.
“Oh! It was really dreadful. First Dad, then Bob Craybill. And…oh, I don’t mean them. It was the third call—” She stopped abruptly, unable to continue. Noah’s close scrutiny only intensified the strain on her already frayed nerves.
Noah had known Keely Travers most of his life. True, he hadn’t seen her for almost ten years, but she couldn’t have changed this much. She’d always been confident to the point of foolhardiness; now she seemed hesitant and way too vulnerable. Something had frightened her, badly frightened her.
Suddenly an acrid odor assailed his nose and Noah pointed toward the stove. “What are you burning over there? That pot’s turning red.”
Keely whirled around. Damn! She’d forgotten all about the water she’d put on for her pasta before she listened to her messages. Noah hadn’t been exaggerating; the pan was completely empty and red hot.
Grabbing oven mitts, she raced to the stove and yanked the pot off the burner. She dropped it into the sink and turned on the water, which enveloped it in a haze of hissing steam. The burnt pan was the final straw. Too much had happened in too short a period and Keely’s ability to cope abandoned her.
She stood there, steam and spray hitting her face until Noah came up behind her and shut off the tap.
Guiding her by the shoulders, he led her to the table and gently pushed her into a chair. Sitting down across from her again, he said quietly, “You seem pretty strung out. I know Rosie’s death is certainly part of it, but this afternoon you seemed as if you were handling it. So what’s happened since then? What’s got you so spooked?”
Keely looked up, her face pale and haunted. She reached across the table and clasped his hand tightly, the intensity in her gaze compelling him to take her seriously. “My sister’s death was no accident, Noah. There’s no doubt in my mind that it had something to do with this counterfeiting scheme.”
“You said that outside, but why haven’t you mentioned it before? What makes you believe the crash wasn’t an accident?”
Keely raked her fingers through her shaggy black bob. “Tonight I received a phone call. He said he had a…a message for me.”
He frowned. “What kind of message?”
Keely tersely repeated the coldly whispered speech. She had no fear of leaving anything out; the hateful words had been burned into her brain like a cattle brand.
Noah stared at her for a long time, as if gauging her objectivity. “And you didn’t recognize the voice?”
“No. Only that I’m sure it was male. I’ve thought of everyone I know and can’t get a match. Yet…yet it sounded familiar. Almost as if the caller was trying to disguise his voice. Talking through a scarf or something.”
He gave her a curious look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She pushed back her chair and eyed him balefully. “Just because I had a shock doesn’t mean I’m ready for a rubber room. Of course I’m okay. Sort of.”
“Sorry. No slur intended.”
“Then stop patronizing me.”
Ignoring her accusation, he drummed his fingertips on the tabletop for a few seconds. “I don’t think we can write this off as a crank call.”
Keely nodded. “I know. There was something horribly…sincere about the way he uttered that threat. I’ve never heard such a cold-blooded message in my life, and after working vice for two years, believe me, I’ve heard a lot!”
“Maybe. But, trust me, working vice in a laid-back city like San Diego is a far cry from—”
She leapt to her feet. “If you’re trying to tell me that my professional experience can’t equal what you’ve learned in the big, bad city, then let me tell you something, Mr. Hotshot Bannister. I—”
He held up his hands to stem the flow of her words. “That isn’t what I meant at all, Keely, so stop trying to put words in my mouth.”
She crossed her arms and deliberately fastened her gaze on her empty water glass.
“Look,” Noah continued, after a long, tension-filled pause. “I know we’ve got a lot of unresolved history, but we’ve also got a tough week coming up. Since we’re going to be in such close proximity, how about we call a truce until this case is over. Deal?” He reached across the table, extending his hand.
Keely knew he was right. But she didn’t know if she could put the past aside as easily as Noah. Of course, he’d left her with the broken heart—not the other way around. Still, she prided herself on being a law-enforcement professional and she wasn’t going to give him any reason to say otherwise. If he could bury the past, then so would she.
“Deal.” She accepted his handshake but couldn’t stop herself from putting a little extra force in her grasp.
Instead of responding to the enthusiasm of her handshake, he picked up the thread of their earlier conversation. “So that’s everything that’s happened, right? You haven’t left anything out?”
In reply she shrugged her shoulders. What she hadn’t revealed were her own doubts. Why was Noah spearheading this investigation? Surely someone else in his d
epartment could have handled the assignment. He must have known how unsettling his presence would be.
He’d hinted to Chief Kapinski that there was a leak in the San Diego PD. But what if that leak was higher up? Maybe in the Treasury Department itself? What if Noah Bannister had returned to his hometown to protect his cover?
As soon as he arrived, Keely had received a threatening phone call. A mere coincidence? Maybe, but who else knew of her involvement? Who else was afraid she would be a threat to the counterfeiters?
There was one question she couldn’t ignore any longer. “Why were you in my yard earlier? Why did you come over in the first place?”
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fastened on the ceiling. “Two reasons. First, your dad sent me. He said I was to bring you to his place for dinner. My mom cooked a ham and there’s all those leftovers from the wake.”
Keely blinked in disbelief. Surely Mike would realize how painful it would be for Keely to spend the evening with Noah, as if they were all one big happy family.
And Noah. Had he taken leave of his senses? Did he really believe that ten years could be swept aside without a word of explanation or apology?
Slowly, Keely rose to her feet. “Thanks for coming, Noah. I appreciate your help.”
He rubbed his fingers through the enticing darkness along his jawline and shook his head. “I’m worried about your caller. He might show up to give you the message in person.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to show him my badge and ask him to leave,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Ignoring her tone, he continued, “If you can spare a blanket and pillow, I can camp out on the sofa.”
Anger started burbling in her veins again. So Mr. Macho didn’t think she was capable of taking care of herself? By treating her like a helpless victim, he was impugning her skills as a seasoned police officer. “Good idea, Noah. If my caller shows up, you can show him your badge. Maybe it’s shinier than mine and will scare him more. Please tell my father I couldn’t make dinner.”
Still resting comfortably with his long legs propped on the edge of the table, his chair tilted on its two back legs, Noah raised his gaze to meet hers. “What’s the matter, Keely? Too proud to break bread with me?”
Clasping the back of her own chair until her fingers were white with the effort, she forced a firmness into her voice that didn’t match the wobbly sensation in her stomach. “Quite frankly, Noah, I’d rather break bread with the devil than share a meal with you.”
Slowly rising to his feet, he tucked his fingertips into the back pockets of his snug jeans. Offering a brief, rare flash of his dimpled grin, he said, “Then I’d say our honeymoon should be quite interesting. The idea of lazing around on a cruise ship for the next week wasn’t too exciting. Now I’m kind of looking forward to those long nights in our stateroom.”
Those same long nights she dreaded like the plague.
Noah cocked his head and stared into her eyes. “I really don’t like the idea of your being alone tonight. Please let me stay.”
Keely’s chin jutted upward. “In addition to four years of self-defense training, I have at my disposal a telephone, a police baton, a canister of mace and a stun gun. I also have two handguns and three rifles in the house. Thanks for the offer all the same, but I think I can manage.”
As he sauntered to the back door, he said over his shoulder, “Suit yourself. By the way, you never did ask me about reason number two.”
“Number two?”
“Yeah, my other reason for coming over here tonight.”
“So what is it?” she asked, wishing he would hurry up and leave.
He stopped and dug in the pocket of his jeans. “To give you this. I figured if we’re going to be married for a week, you’d need it.” He slipped a tiny object into her palm and closed her fingers around it.
Slowly unfolding her fingers, she stared in astonishment at the small golden circle. “It—it’s a wedding ring.”
“My grandmother’s. She gave it to me back when it looked as if you and I were—Anyway, she always wanted you to have it, so it’s yours.”
She looked up, locking gazes with this man who both troubled and delighted her so. “Noah, I can’t accept this. It wouldn’t be right.”
He shrugged. “If you don’t want it, give it to charity, sell it, throw it away. I don’t care. I just thought that a married woman would wear a ring of some kind.”
She slipped the gold band on her ring finger. It fit as if it had been custom-designed for her. “It’s lovely, Noah. Thank you.”
With an arch of his eyebrows, he nodded and opened the back door. “Be sure and lock the door behind me. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my lovely bride.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, Keely snapped the front-door dead bolt into place and turned off the overhead light in the foyer. She was so tired, so utterly exhausted, she considered grabbing an afghan out of the closet and camping out on the sofa rather than face that flight of stairs. But the thought of her own comfy bed was too alluring.
Besides, she needed to hoard all the quality sleep she could garner. Noah was picking her up early in the morning for the two-plus-hour drive to the dock at Long Beach. And she still had to pack, which meant getting up at least an hour earlier.
She trudged up the steps, ruing whatever foolish notion had made her agree to this madcap idea in the first place. Faking a honeymoon with Noah—absurd. What had she been thinking?
In the bathroom she gave her face a quick rinse and scrubbed her teeth. Looking in the mirror, she was startled to see the image that greeted her. The dark circles beneath her eyes were incongruous with the short, sassy hairdo.
As she smoothed on a layer of cold cream, she prayed that Noah was wrong and that the call had only been a sick prank. Nothing to worry about.
After all, if Rosie had been an innocent bystander, as Keely believed, no one had any reason to harm her. And she desperately clung to her faith in her sister’s innocence.
A few minutes later she climbed into bed, pulled the lightweight cotton spread up over her shoulders and willed sleep to claim her. But her mind was too busy, sorting and reliving fragments of the day, most of them involving Noah.
Keely turned over and plumped her pillow. Sleep, think about sleep, she chided herself. But the blessed comfort of slumber continued to elude her.
It was in the dark, eerie hours well past midnight, and Keely was still tossing and twisting in her bed when the phone beside her shrilled.
Her first thought was her father. The cancer and its treatments had already taken a terrible toll on his strength. Had the stress of losing his youngest daughter pushed Pop out of remission?
With a fearful hand, Keely picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Keely Travers?”
Cold chills washed up her spine at the deep, raspy voice. The same vaguely familiar voice that had called earlier. Hoping her alarm didn’t echo in her voice, she said sharply, “Who are you? What do you want?”
His reply was a throaty chuckle. “I like you, Keely, so I thought I’d make sure you understood the importance of my first message. Isn’t it funny, Detective, how deaths seem to come in threes? Since there’s already been two, I’d be very careful if I were you. Very careful.”
Before she could find her voice, the line was disconnected.
Shaken by the sound of that malevolent voice, she dropped the receiver and eased out of bed. Keely crossed the room and took her service revolver from its holster.
She tiptoed back and laid the gun on her bedside table and climbed beneath the covers, feeling only slightly more secure with her weapon close at hand.
Despite the caller’s attempt to disguise his voice, the cadence of his speech, the very manner in which he formed his sentences sounded familiar. Too familiar. Yet she couldn’t place it.
Keely bit her lip, knowing deep in her heart the caller wasn’t a crank, or even a stranger. He was somebody she knew and maybe even truste
d.
And he’d threatened to kill her.
Chapter Five
“Look,” Noah said, casting a sidelong glance at Keely, who was sitting huddled against the passenger door, “I think we ought to use this time driving to Long Beach to clear the air between us.”
Keely’s chin lifted and her jaw tightened. “Frankly, I don’t have the least interest in discussing the past.”
“Come on, Keely. I never should have left like I did without saying a word. I’ve regretted that for years. I should have at least said goodbye.”
She sighed, deeply and heavily. “Okay, fine. You’re forgiven. Can we forget the ancient history now?”
“What are you so hot about?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “I just think our time could be better spent figuring out a plan for once we’re on the ship. What exactly are we looking for—or whom? How are we going to know our quarry if we stumble over them? And what do we do about it?”
“Keely, quit changing the subject. We need to—”
She wheeled around in her seat and faced him. “There is no ‘we,’ Noah! There hasn’t been in ten years. We had a brief high school romance. It’s over. Life goes on. If your conscience won’t leave you alone, I’m sorry, but we all have our little regrets. Now, can we use this time to lay out the groundwork for this investigation?”
Noah rapped the steering wheel with his palm and gritted his teeth. Keely had always known how to push his buttons, and it was obvious that time hadn’t diminished her insight. She knew it would bug him to leave this matter unresolved.
What Keely didn’t understand was that his conscience wasn’t bothering him, although her own conscience should be throbbing like hell. She was the one who had been responsible for the disintegration of their relationship, not him. It was her lack of trust, her hurled accusations, that had pierced his heart like a sword thrust. That was why he’d fled San Diego to spend his college years living with a cousin in San Francisco. Not once, not a single time did she attempt to contact him.
He knew because eventually he’d weakened and told his mother to let Keely know where he was—if she asked. Apparently she never did.