by Rita Herron
AFTER SHE LEFT the studio, Sydney walked to the rental place and picked up the small sedan she’d be driving until she heard more about the status of her Honda. Tension knotted her muscles. Had the police found the gun yet? Would they be at her door when she got home, ready to interrogate her further? Or worse, arrest her?
By the time she finally arrived home, she was jumpy and had a headache. With Doug’s betrayal on her mind, she shuffled through a box filled with his belongings she’d found hidden in the back of their closet. After talking to Steve Wallace, she had to stop living in denial. As much as she’d wanted to believe Doug’s murder had been a simple robbery attempt, deep down she’d always suspected another motive. Maybe something in this box would provide her with some answers.
She sorted through papers, a stack of bank-account statements, several notepads filled with information on start-up companies, a manila envelope containing disks. Wedged between package wrapping, she found a passport. Before their marriage had fallen apart, she and Doug had discussed taking a trip to Europe. Had he already obtained a visa? Had he planned to go without her?
She opened the passport and gasped at the picture. Instead of Doug’s sandy brown hair and clean-shaven face, a mustache and thick red beard covered his face. But his eyes were undeniably the same dark shade of muddy brown. Her hands trembled. A driver’s license fell from where it had been tucked inside the pages of the passport. The driver’s license bore the same photograph. A wave of nausea crawled through her. Underneath both pictures Doug had used a different name—Doug Black.
Stunned, she searched further and discovered an airplane ticket with the same name. A one-way ticket to Brazil—dated the day Doug had died.
So Doug had planned to leave the country as Doug Black? And he’d intended to go alone? The questions and little incidents that had bothered her during the last few months of their marriage snowballed in her mind. And now the missing licensing agreement? What in the world had her late husband been involved in?
Her pulse racing, Sydney booted up the computer and popped in the first disk. Scanning the files, she discovered folders filled with financial statements. Doug had several Swiss bank accounts and an account in Brazil. Each held a sizable amount of money. He’d also opened an account in Charleston, which wouldn’t have surprised her since he worked there and had commuted from Beaufort daily. But he had separate accounts in two different banks in Beaufort. Odd. “What were you up to, Doug?” she whispered, shocked at his duplicity.
After mulling over the possibilities, she inserted the second disk. Notes and files pertaining to his work composed the directory. She studied the data, but couldn’t determine whether or not it was related to Norvek. Deciding she’d have to let Steve figure it out, she made a backup copy of the disk, then put the copy and the one containing the financial information back in the box.
With the first disk tucked in her purse and her nerves frazzled, she drove to Steve’s office. Inside, she walked unsteadily into the elevator, her mind still reeling with shock. Did Steve Wallace have any knowledge of the fake passport and ID? And the plane ticket? Her earlier suspicions mounted. She had to be careful about how much she revealed to Steve. What if she said something to incriminate herself? And if Steve had killed Doug...
The elevator doors swished opened and people filed out. She sighed in relief, grateful to escape the claustrophobic space. Inhaling a calming breath, she adjusted the lapels of her linen jacket and squared her shoulders as she walked through the textured doors of the pharmaceutical company.
Peggy, Steve’s secretary, greeted her. “The phone’s been ringing off the hook today—the news about the delay has everyone in a state.” As if to confirm her words, the telephone immediately trilled. Peggy placed the caller on hold and showed her into Steve’s office.
“Come on in,” Steve said. Expensive cherry furniture filled the office, which came complete with its own stocked wet bar and sitting area. Black leather sofas flanked an Italian-marble fireplace and two nude Oriental statues graced the mantel.
“Coffee, juice?” Steve offered.
“No, nothing,” Sydney said, knowing anything she drank would upset her already tense stomach.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, then settled on the leather sofa, gesturing for Sydney to do likewise.
She did, forcing herself to relax. “I brought a file, but I’m not sure it’s the most current one.” She handed Steve the disk, then scooted to the edge of the leather seat. “Can you tell me something, Steve?”
“I don’t know. Try me.”
“Was Doug planning to go away on business before he died?”
Steve shook his head. “No. There was no need. Our marketing distributor and consultants handle the overseas work. Doug set up meetings in the States.”
“I see.”
“Tell me why you asked.”
Why had Steve automatically assumed she meant Doug might be traveling overseas? He could just as easily have been traveling within the States. “I’m trying to figure out if what you said could be true,” she replied. “You believe Doug sold the agreement out from under you?”
Steve’s momentarily silence answered her question. “Maybe the file will tell us what we need to know.”
A sick feeling ballooned in her stomach. “Who knew about the deal besides the people in the company?”
“Exactly my point” The lines of Steve’s face grew taut around his eyes as he frowned. “I knew you were distraught over Doug’s death, so I didn’t come to you immediately, but we think Doug spread his idea to generate interest and auctioned it to the highest bidder.”
Steve shrugged, his anger building. “Several companies would have loved to have laid their hands on that product.”
Sydney picked at the hem of her jacket. “You really think Doug would cheat you?” He had several Swiss bank accounts, she reminded herself silently. What if it was true?
Steve’s voice lost all its warmth. “Possibly. Millions of dollars were at stake. And Doug liked to make money.”
The passport, the fake ID, the one-way ticket to South America—it all added up. Did Steve know about those? If she told him, would he use it against Doug? Even worse, could Steve be right? Could her former husband be guilty of such a thing? And could his business be the reason he was murdered?
“I haven’t disclosed this to the public yet,” Steve said. “At this point we don’t have proof. Plus, the publicity might hurt us.”
“So...”
Steve reached for her hand and covered it with his other hand. “If I were you, I wouldn’t mention this to anyone. We’ve promised our patrons the greatest weight-loss product in the country and somehow we’re going to deliver.”
“And you’re not going to involve the police?”
“Not at this point, although I have spoken with an attorney.”
Sydney pulled her hand away and squeezed the sofa edge.
“I suggest you don’t mention it, either,” Steve added. “On the chance we’re wrong, you don’t want to destroy your husband’s good name, do you?”
Sydney shook her head, her mind spinning. Part of what Steve said made perfect sense, yet she still felt confused. If they really thought Doug had cheated them, wouldn’t they want the police to handle it?
But if Steve had killed Doug...
COLLIN WENT TO BED with one question on his mind—was Sydney an innocent woman or a murderer?
The next morning he awoke with the sheets tangled around his bare legs, his body rock hard, the image of Sydney naked beneath him still fresh in his memory. He’d dreamed about her again. Feeling frustrated and disoriented, he stumbled into the shower and turned on the cold water, letting the spray absorb the heat from his body. Why in the world was he dreaming about making love to a woman he barely knew?
Because for the past year, he’d been without a woman. After a year of celibacy, any man would react this way to an attractive woman like Sydney. But the dream had seemed so real, as if they had
actually been together.
Like his visions.
He soaped his body and lathered his hair, then rinsed himself and stepped from the shower. Knotting a towel around his hips, he walked into the bedroom. The room had been decorated in period pieces—the Azalea room, the owners of the bed-and-breakfast called it. It was the kind of room a woman would love, the four-poster bed the perfect cocoon for making love, the sunken antique tub ideal for sharing a luxurious bubble bath and sipping champagne.
The anesthesia from his surgery must have affected his brain, he thought in disgust. He’d never in his entire thirty-five years taken a bubble bath. Or wanted to. But the image of Sydney’s skin shimmering with moisture was enough to create a fantasy in any man’s mind.
He fought off the images. He had to investigate her, use her to solve a crime. Prove he hadn’t gone soft. That he could go back to his job. Instead of crawling into bed with her, he might have to arrest her and put her in jail.
He glanced at the clock and grimaced. Ten o’clock. He was definitely out of shape. At one time, he’d been able to go nonstop without sleep for days, but since the shooting, he’d had to learn to pace himself. Right now, he needed food and coffee. And to find out more about Green.
He walked to the Plantation Café, inhaling the salty air carried on the morning breeze. Decorated with a magnolia-leaf wallpaper and filled with white wicker furniture, the café oozed small-town charm. He felt as out of place as an elephant in a rose garden. But the magnificent view counteracted the feminine decor. The outdoor porch overlooked the marina. Ships sailed past, a shrimp boat chugged out to sea, a small cruise ship filled with tourists cast off from the marina—God, he’d missed seeing all those things.
He drank a pot of coffee and skimmed the Beaufort Gazette, grateful he could read the paper himself. Another small pleasure he used to take for granted. Local news featured a recent price rise for shrimp, a local arts-and-crafts show. He fished through the other stories until his gaze fell on an article about health care.
All the nutritionists and health clubs were clamoring over a weight-loss drink to be released in July by a company associated with Doug Green. However, the company, Norvek Pharmaceuticals, had delayed the introduction of the drink due to Green’s death. He turned the page to finish the story and paused in surprise when he saw the photograph underlying the story. A picture of Sydney standing next to her husband.
He stared at Doug’s picture, an uneasiness splintering through him. The fair-haired man had his arm draped casually around Sydney’s shoulders. She looked radiant. Much different from the woeful woman he’d seen in the graveyard. And not suspicious and wary as she’d acted in her studio. He zeroed in on the signet ring on the man’s right hand. Identical to the one he’d seen in his vision.
He fell back in his chair as reality knocked the air from his lungs. He really had been Green in his vision. For several minutes, he sat, stunned with disbelief, his mind unable to fathom the impossible. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, and his heart pounded in his ears. Dragging in a breath, he sipped some water to calm himself. He had to call Darber. And this time Darber had better listen and give him an explanation.
If it was true, if he really was an eyewitness to Doug’s murder, he had to come forward.
He rubbed his temples with his thumbs, a headache threatening. Who the hell would believe him? He didn’t know if he believed it himself. Besides, he hadn’t actually seen the killer’s face.
No, he needed a strategy. The last person anyone in the town would want to talk to was a cop, especially one babbling a crazy story like his. But if he told Sydney about the transplant, he could say he’d come to repay her husband for the gift of his renewed eyesight. She’d view him as a friend, and he’d glean more information from her. Of course, he’d have to ignore his attraction to her.
And if he discovered she was the killer? He’d just have to deal with that, too.
SYDNEY STARED at the man sitting at the table and almost bolted. But if she left, she’d never find out if he had something to do with Doug’s murder. What if he knew Steve and the two of them had conspired to kill Doug? She’d found Doug’s body. Maybe he thought she’d seen him the night of the murder.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to move toward him. “Thanks for ordering the coffee,” she said, slipping into the seat across from him.
Collin snapped the paper closed, her soft Southern drawl jolting him from his disturbing thoughts. “I didn’t think you were going to show.”
Sydney’s stomach fluttered as he took in her appearance. Her sleeveless white shell top, navy wraparound skirt and sandals were meant for comfort, but he was looking at her bare legs with an appreciation that surprised her, a male appreciation that made her blood flow hot. She fanned her face, grateful for the ocean breeze. “I almost backed out.”
“I’m glad you came. We have a lot to talk about.”
She thumbed her silverware, then spread her napkin in her lap.
“I don’t mean to make you nervous,” Collin said.
Sydney shrugged, running her fingers through her hair. “The last few weeks have been difficult—”
“Since your husband died.”
“Yes.” Sydney twisted her hands in her lap, thankful that the waiter interrupted and told them about the buffet. She took her time filling her plate with the spicy food, omelets, breads and shrimp grits. Why, she didn’t know. Her stomach was so twisted in knots, she didn’t think she could eat a bite.
Collin devoured the heaping portions on his plate while Sydney picked at hers, raking the items around on the china. When the tension became unbearable, she sipped her orange juice and spoke up. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
A shadow darkened part of his face, but she thought a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Charleston. Not really that far.”
“Tell me how you knew Doug. Did you do business together?”
“In a way. I’m interested in his research.”
“Are you an investor?”
“Possibly.”
He was lying. Sydney didn’t know why he was lying, but she could tell by the way he avoided eye contact that he wasn’t telling her everything. Plus, he kept winding his pasta noodles around his spoon, only pretending interest in his food.
“Doug and I never actually met, but I’m familiar with some of his companies.” Collin paused, regarding her thoughtfully. “You said you had to work this afternoon. Do you always schedule Sunday appointments?”
“No. There’s a local arts-and-craft fair today. The paper’s featuring a special section on the kids’ activities during the festival, so I’m taking photos.”
“You and Doug didn’t have children of your own?”
Surprised at his question, the pain of Doug’s betrayal blindsided her. “We wanted a family, but it didn’t work out that way.”
“Not everyone’s meant for marriage and family, Sydney.”
The compassion in his voice startled her. “I take it you’re speaking for yourself.”
He made a noncommittal sound, his gray eyes gazing past her at the sidewalk where a young mother pushed a baby stroller.
Then the moment was lost and Collin deftly changed the subject. “So, how did you meet Doug?”
Sydney studied his handsome features, wondering if he could possibly be as deceitful as Doug. “It was a fluke meeting. I was at the beach, barefoot, walking along taking photographs. I glanced up and saw this man watching me.” The memory flashed into her mind with bittersweet-ness. “I sat down on one of the jetties and he joined me. We started talking and...” Sydney shrugged as a blush heated her neck.
“Love at first sight, huh?”
Sydney laughed softly. “Not exactly. I thought he seemed arrogant and too sure of himself.” And now I know why. I should have listened to my first instincts.
“But Doug was persistent?”
“Yes. He could be charming, kept telling me I was—” Sydney broke off
suddenly, embarrassed at the silly memory. Especially in light of what she knew about Doug now. Every word had probably been a lie.
“You are beautiful,” Collin said quietly.
He brushed his knuckle over the top of her hand and Sydney shifted, a sliver of awareness riveting through her.
“Dessert? More coffee?” the waiter offered.
Sydney withdrew her hand and patted her mouth with the linen napkin, declining. Collin accepted more coffee, and she made small talk about the town, suggested a few places he should visit, hoping he would shed some light on the reason he wanted to see her.
“Sydney?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for coming.” He covered her hand with his and an exhilarating warmth curled low in her belly. His bedroom eyes seemed to be searching her out, waiting for a reaction. If she hadn’t sensed he had an ulterior motive for questioning her, she might be drawn into their bottomless depths, might be tempted to wipe that tiny bit of Hollandaise sauce from his lower lip. And she might be tempted to follow up on the passionate promises in his voice.
But he wasn’t being honest with her. She didn’t know why or what his real purpose was, but he had secrets. And she would never again get involved with someone who would deceive her. She was still dealing with the lies Doug had dished out. Suddenly the need to find out Collin’s real purpose in Beaufort faded in comparison to the compelling need to escape from Collin. He was dangerous. If Steve was a killer, this man might be, too.
“I hope you enjoy your vacation,” Sydney said, abruptly rising to her feet.
“I’d like to see you again while I’m here, Sydney,” Collin said in a low voice.
His husky murmur beat a path over her frayed nerve endings. Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with Doug. Maybe he simply wanted a relationship, friendship...sex.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Cash. Besides the fact that I’m not ready for any personal involvement right now, you’ve asked me dozens of questions about myself and my husband, yet you’ve failed to tell me anything about yourself or how you knew Doug. In fact, you seem to avoid the subject, as if you’re hiding something.”