by Sandra Brown
Dodge set a white box on the desk. "What I like about small towns, they always have a doughnut shop where they're made fresh every morning."
"The Donut Hole," Andy said.
"Help yourself."
"Thanks." Eagerly the deputy raised the lid and surveyed the selection.
"Don't thank me," Dodge said. "Wasn't my idea. Ski sent me to pick up that evidence on Starks he got last night. Since you're stuck here while everybody else is out, he thought you deserved a treat."
Andy, frowning, licked strawberry frosting off his fingers. "I just talked to Ski. He didn't say anything--"
"How old's that coffee?"
Andy glanced over at the stained coffeemaker sitting on a table against the far wall. "Uh, an hour or two, I think."
Dodge grinned. "Then it should be just about right." Holding a blueberry cake doughnut in his mouth, he went over to the coffeemaker and filled a foam cup, then added two packets of sugar. Looking over at Andy, who hadn't moved, he asked, "Got that stuff for me?"
Andy looked unsure. "Ski's on his way out to the motel to question the owner again."
"That's right. He wants to confront her with that evidence."
"He ... I'm sorry, Mr. Hanley, but when I talked to Ski ... wasn't but a couple of minutes before you got here ... he--"
"He didn't say anything over the phone about it, did he?"
"No, that's why--"
"Whew, good," Dodge said, pretending to be vastly relieved. "The man's got a lot on his mind. I thought he might've slipped."
"Ski? Slipped?"
"You know, slip of the tongue. Tired as he is--I don't think he's slept since Friday night--he might have forgot that he was holding that evidence in abeyance."
"Abeyance?"
"You know, from the media."
"Media?"
"The radio station, son. Where've you been? Ski's got the local station broadcasting bulletins about Oren Starks every ten minutes or so."
"I know that, but--"
"Well, the media can be useful to us, no question. Puts Joe Q. Public on the alert. But we don't want the evidence we've got on Starks broadcast to every yahoo in East Texas, do we?"
"No, sir, but--"
"And Starks is listening to the radio, too. You can bet on it, son. Ski doesn't want him to know the goods we got last night."
The young man's eyes brightened. "So when he's caught, we can use those photos of Ms. Malone to trip him up."
Dodge's stomach dropped. It took every deception skill he possessed to look happy as he slapped the young deputy on the shoulder and said heartily, "There you go." He stuffed the remainder of the doughnut into his mouth and checked his wristwatch. "Ski put me on a deadline."
Andy got up and disappeared into a cubbyhole of an office, emerging a few seconds later with a Ziploc bag with a manila folder inside. "You gotta sign--"
Dodge snatched the plastic bag from him. "Ski said not to stand on ceremony. No time for it today."
Dodge thanked him and, with the evidence bag tucked under his arm, got the hell out of there.
The desired nap didn't pan out as Berry had hoped.
She had deserted the scene of the kiss with a cowardice equaling Ski's, fleeing the kitchen and leaving Dodge and her mother without an explanation. Upstairs, she showered, slid naked between the cool sheets, closed her burning eyes, and willed her mind to shut down and allow her body to fall asleep.
But neither her mind nor her body cooperated. Thoughts of Ski Nyland persisted. Images of them in sexual scenarios flitted through her mind, making her body restless, actually feverish in places impossible to ignore, places where she wanted to feel his eyes and hands and mouth on her.
Considering the tragedy that had taken place the night before, her lust seemed particularly ill-timed. Disgusted with herself, she threw off the covers, got up, and dressed.
When she went downstairs, she found her mother seated at the dining table, sorting through her MLS directory, making notes, cell phone within reach. "You're working?" Berry asked.
Caroline removed her reading glasses. "It's Sunday. People house-shop on Sundays. I've delegated scheduled showings to other agents, but I'm checking just to make sure all my bases are covered."
"You should try and sleep for a while."
"Waste of time."
"Well I know," Berry admitted with chagrin. "Where's Dodge?"
"I have no idea. He said he didn't have time for breakfast after all, that he needed to follow a hunch. He left almost as abruptly as Ski did."
"Hmm." Berry hoped the topic of Ski would end there. But her mother was too intuitive.
"What happened between you?" she asked. "When Dodge and I came in, we could practically smell the ozone. Were you in the middle of an argument, or ... something else?" Just then her cell phone jingled, saving Berry from having to answer. Caroline checked the caller ID. "It's my office."
"Take your call. I'm off."
"Where are you going?"
"It's Sunday. Day of atonement."
Twenty minutes after leaving the lake house, she was standing outside Ben Lofland's hospital room. She bolstered herself for whatever might come of this visit and tapped lightly on the door. Amanda Lofland opened it. When she saw Berry, her expression turned petulant and hostile.
Berry didn't give her an opportunity to speak first. "I'd like to see Ben."
"What for?"
"To apologize for his getting shot."
Startled by the blunt admission, Amanda regarded Berry with mistrust but then stepped aside and allowed her to enter the room. Ben was awake, half sitting up with pillows behind his back.
Berry smiled as she approached the bed. "You're looking a lot better than you were the last time I saw you."
"I feel worse," he grumbled. "I was unconscious when you last saw me, and wasn't feeling a thing."
Amanda went to stand opposite Berry on the other side of the bed, her expression sour.
Berry asked Ben, "Is the pain bad?"
"Only when I breathe."
"Don't the drugs help?"
"Put it this way, I'd hate to be without them."
She said softly, "I tremble when I think how much worse it could have been."
"Yeah. That's occurred to me--to us--too." He reached for Amanda's hand and squeezed it. Husband and wife smiled at each other, although Amanda's smile was somewhat strained.
"I blame myself for underestimating Oren's mental state," Berry said.
"Who'd have thought he could do something so crazy?"
"I was forewarned," Berry admitted. "I'd seen him lose it completely."
"Before Friday night?"
"Yes. But only once. I thought it was an isolated incident, a reactive outburst. Obviously I misjudged." She took a deep breath. "That's why I saw no harm in phoning him."
Ben's pale face registered his surprise. "You phoned him? When?"
"Thursday afternoon."
Still gaping at her, he said, "Had you lost your mind?"
"It was a mistake. I see that now, but I had said things to him that I regretted and wanted to apologize for. I also felt he should know the project he'd worked on was being completed and that it had turned out well. I felt that we--that I--owed him that."
Ben wet his lips. His gaze shifted several times between Berry and his wife, finally landing on Berry. "I wish you'd consulted me first."
"So do I. If I had, you might have talked me out of calling him, and none of this would have happened."
"I cannot believe you," Amanda muttered. "This is so all your fault."
Berry had acknowledged as much, but she reacted defensively to Amanda's indictment. "I thought Oren would thank me for the call, and that would be the end of it. But apparently the only aspect of our conversation he heard was that Ben and I would be spending the day together. I'm terribly, terribly sorry."
"You've got a lot of reasons to be sorry."
"That's true, Amanda. But adultery isn't one of them. There's been not
hing except friendship between Ben and me for a very long time, since before he even met you."
"I've told her that," he said. "She believes me."
Berry digested that, then, holding the other woman's judgmental glare, she said, "But you don't believe me?"
"I believe that Ben was faithful to me and his marriage vows. But I don't trust that you sent for him with only the campaign in mind. You left Houston, your daily office routine, your work, which by all accounts you thrive on. You left your friends, your social life, and came here to the boondocks.
"Last week you got bored and restless, so you invented a reason for Ben to come here and spend the day, and then the night, with you. You knew he would come because that campaign is so important to both your careers. But I think that was just the bait you used to lure him here. You needed some amusement, a diversion, a break from the humdrum of rural life. You needed sex, and you chose my husband to provide it."
"You're wrong," Berry said with emphasis. "I didn't lure Ben to the lake house for any prurient purpose." She paused for several beats, then added, "But I might have a few months ago."
The admission shocked them. Berry was shocked by it herself, but she continued. "Before I came to Merritt, if I had deemed it professionally beneficial or expedient to sleep with Ben, more than likely I would have devised a way to do so."
Ben was still staring at her, slack-jawed. Amanda looked smug and wrathful at the same time. "So you admit it."
"I admit that my priorities were out of whack," Berry said. "In order to move up the ladder at Delray, I was doing things I didn't like. To the point where I could no longer stand myself. I got out of Houston to avoid Oren, yes. But I also came here to get a new perspective. I'm as ambitious as ever. I still want to reach the top of my trade. I'm just no longer willing to sell my soul for it."
She gave Ben a long, measured look, which he avoided by staring at the tent in the covers formed by his toes at the foot of the hospital bed.
Neither of the Loflands had accepted her apology, at least not out loud. They, especially Amanda, would probably continue to harbor resentment against her, and she couldn't really blame them. Ben had come close to losing his life.
However, short of groveling, she could do nothing more to make reparations, and she wouldn't further humble herself to these two, who were too ungracious to accept her apology.
"I'm going to Houston tonight, so I can be at the office the first thing in the morning to present the campaign on schedule."
Amanda's whole body jerked. "Without Ben?"
"He'll get equal credit."
"Oh, I'll bet."
"I'll see to it that he does, Amanda. I promise you."
The woman dismissed the value of Berry's promise with a haughty sniff.
Berry looked down at Ben. "I'll do right by you, Ben. You'll receive equal credit."
He bobbed his head. "Sure. Thanks."
Berry had hoped for a better outcome. She was disappointed with the note on which the visit was ending, but she'd said what she had come to say. The couple remained mute with animosity. Without another word, she left them.
Out in the corridor, a hospital worker wearing a hairnet and green scrubs was pushing a rattling metal cart stacked with lunch trays. She fell into step beside Berry. "You're Ms. Malone, aren't you?"
"That's right."
"Your friend is going to be fine."
"Yes. He seems to be improving."
She hurried on, but the staff member kept pace. "Shame about that Coldare boy. My son played baseball with him."
"It was tragic."
"That guy who shot him..." She tsked. "He needs to be caught. And soon."
"I couldn't agree more." Having reached the elevator bank, Berry punched the Down button.
The woman pushed the rattling cart past her. "The reward ought to help."
Berry looked after her with puzzlement. "Wait. There's a reward? Since when?"
Over her shoulder the woman said, "I heard it on the radio about a half hour ago. Your mother put up the money."
CHAPTER
17
WASTE OF MONEY IF YOU ASK ME."
"Well, I didn't."
Caroline's calm retort served to make Dodge edgier, if that was possible. Every time he lit up a cigarette, she frowned in silent disapproval, which robbed him of the pleasure of smoking it, which was creating a drastic shortfall in his minimum daily requirement of nicotine. He figured he was running at least a quart low. His system was craving it. His skin was itching from the inside. His piss factor was high.
But they were in her car, so even if he wanted to defy her objections and smoke, he couldn't. Soon as they got to where they were going, though, he'd smoke one down to the filter, and if she didn't like it, that was just too damn bad.
He'd volunteered to drive because that at least kept his hands busy. "Is there only one Walmart in town?"
"Yes. Do you need directions?"
"Nope. I spotted it yesterday."
"Before or after your chat with Grace?"
It pleased him that his conversation with the bartender still rankled Caroline, but he took it no further than to shoot her a wicked grin. "Twenty-five grand?" he said in reference to the reward she had offered the sheriff's office. "They'll have every nearsighted redneck in southeast Texas playing I Spy with Oren Starks."
"I'm sure Ski will have trained personnel filtering out the crank calls that come into the hotline."
"For all that'll help," he said under his breath. "The task force set up a hotline for information on the bank robber. Know what we got?"
"Reports of a Russian submarine in the shipping channel, UFO sightings, the Second Coming, a pack of rabid wolves running amok in the medical district, and a woman who called nightly offering free sex to whoever was interested."
"I told you that already?"
"Thirty-one years ago, you ranted about it whenever you got frustrated over the case."
"Then you must've heard it a lot."
"At least a thousand times."
"Huh."
"I'm sure Ski expects to get a number of kooks calling in," she said, "but he might also get a useful tip. Besides, putting up the reward made me feel like I'm contributing to Oren Starks's capture, rather than sitting around and doing nothing."
Dodge mumbled something.
Caroline looked at him. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Something about money. What did you say?"
"I said you won't miss the pocket change."
"You said more than that."
"I left out the expletives."
"Why were you using expletives?"
"Would you rather I'd've repeated them to you?"
"Why were you using expletives in regard to my money?"
He recognized her tone. She wasn't going to let the matter drop, which was fine with him, because her financial status had been eating at him, and he'd just as soon air his grievances.
"You wouldn't know a financial problem if it bit you in the butt, because you've never had one." Seeing her angry expression, he added snidely, "Well, have you?"
"I've been fortunate."
"I'll say. Fortunate enough to marry the rich, successful boss." Because he was feeling particularly fractious, he'd pushed, and he knew immediately he'd pushed too far.
Coldly she said, "Don't you dare criticize me for marrying Jim."
"I didn't."
"Not in so many words, but it was implied."
"You're hearing implications that aren't there because you're supersensitive on the subject of your marriage."
"I have no reason to be supersensitive on the subject."
"No?"
"No. I had a good marriage that lasted for twenty-six years. Up till the day Jim died, we were happy together."
"Congratulations."
His sarcasm didn't escape her. "You wish I'd been unhappy?"
Raising his voice, he said, "I wish you'd been happy with me."
"Whose
fault is it that I wasn't?" she fired back.
He swore. Neither said anything for a while, then he asked, "How'd Malone die?"
She took so long to answer, he thought she might refuse to. Finally she said, "He had a stroke. Sitting at his desk in his office. It left him in a coma. He died two days later without ever waking up, which was actually a blessing. The neurologist told me that Jim had sustained extensive brain damage."
Dodge drove in ponderous silence. Then, "So you loved the guy."
"Yes, Dodge, I did. Mostly I loved him for loving me and Berry. She was almost a year old when Jim asked me to marry him. He'd been a confirmed bachelor for forty years but was willing to take on a wife and baby."
"He wanted you. You had a baby." Dodge gave an eloquent shrug.
"He didn't view Berry as a sacrifice he had to make in order to marry me. He accepted her without explanation or qualification. He loved her dearly and reared her as his own. Which was good, since he and I never had any children together."
"Why not?"
"No reason. Just one of those things. It never happened. We didn't let it become an issue. Both of us were very involved in expanding the business. We worked long and hard. And we were satisfied with the daughter we had."
Either his nicotine deficiency or this discussion about another man loving and rearing his daughter was making his chest hurt. But Dodge couldn't stop giving voice to the questions that had bedeviled him for three decades. "What kind of kid was Berry? Was she happy?"
Caroline looked across at him and smiled. "Very. Completely. She was exuberant. Smart. Precocious. Athletic. Competitive. Willful at times, but not bratty."
"Stubborn like you."
"Cunning like you."
"Did she have your redhead's temper?"
"I don't have a redhead's temper."
He laughed at her tart response, then she joined him. His laughter was the first to falter. "Did you ever tell her?"
"What?"
"Do I have to spell it out, Caroline?"
She turned her head away to gaze through the windshield. She was doing that thing with her hands, clasping and unclasping them, a habit familiar to him. She did that whenever she was organizing her thoughts, particularly distressing ones.