by Joanna Wayne
The short ride to the bistro seemed endless.
Once they were inside, the maître d’s welcome was officious as he showed them to a private room and a white-linen-covered table. A bottle of wine was open, two crystal stems already filled with the rich purple liquid.
“I never drink when I’m working,” she said.
“Not a problem,” Georgio assured her as he held out her chair. “It’s just that our time is so limited, I ordered ahead. François has prepared a few special treats.”
“I’m sure they will be delicious, but right now food is the least of my concerns,” she said, cutting short his irrelevant verbiage. “I’m too nervous to wait any longer to hear what you learned about Cornell.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “I hate to upset you, but I think you should be aware of what’s going on.”
“Which is?”
“Two of my dancers at the Passion Pit called me this morning, both of them very upset over being informally questioned by two homicide detectives last night.”
The tightness in Faith’s chest relaxed a bit. One of the detectives was no doubt Travis, following up on what he’d learned about Angela Pointer.
“Exactly what about the visit upset them?”
“From the questions they were asked, they think Angela Pointer, one of my former employees, may have been murdered.”
“Did the detectives say that?”
“Not directly.”
“Then why would they assume she’s been murdered?”
“All I know is that both of my employees got that same impression.”
Dread vibrated through Faith. Travis had definitely not insinuated that with her. “Was there any mention of Cornell?”
Georgio looked down before making eye contact. Concern was etched into every line of his face.
“I’m afraid so. I hate telling you this, Faith. And remember, we’re just going on the assumptions made by two ladies who were questioned. But it sounds to me as if the police are looking to pin Angela’s murder on your son.”
Fear and anger collided inside Faith with such sickening force she was afraid she might pass out. Georgio was wrong. He had to be wrong. Travis was trying to find Cornell, not convict him.
François interrupted the damning conversation to greet Georgio and personally serve an appetizer of champagne-truffle mousse pâté and a promise of more culinary delights to follow.
Faith struggled to pull herself together. She had to stay focused, had to concentrate on the facts.
“What was said to make them reach such a bizarre conclusion?”
“It was pretty clear from the leading questions the detectives asked, and I’m afraid the answers the ladies gave them didn’t help Cornell’s case.”
“What did they say?”
“The truth, so you can’t blame them.”
“What truth?”
“That Angela was being stalked by someone she described as being just a kid with overactive hormones. She said he’d followed her home on several occasions and had somehow gotten her email address. He was sending her notes saying he loved her and that they were meant to be together, that sort of thing.”
“That doesn’t sound like Cornell,” Faith said. And it was definitely not the way Travis had described the email communication. “Did Angela mention Cornell’s name to them?”
“If she did, they didn’t remember.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t they go to the police with that information when Angela went missing?”
“Because Angela called me and told me there was a family emergency and she was moving back to West Texas. I told the others, and none of us suspected anything different.”
“Cornell would never stalk anyone, much less harm them. I know that. I know my son.” Faith would not use the word murder, could not let herself think it.
This couldn’t be happening. Travis had come to her at the reception and offered to help find Cornell. He’d told her she could trust him. Had it all been a ruse to get her to help him find her son, only to put him behind bars?
She’d played right into his hands. Given him Cornell’s computer for a forensic analysis. For all she knew, he’d even lied to her about what he’d found on it.
She pushed back from the table. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Only that I want to help you find your son and clear his name.”
“Why? You don’t know him. You don’t know me.”
“But what I do know of you, I like. You’re a sensitive woman concerned about your son. I respect that. And I don’t trust the cops. Never have. That’s why I insisted you not tell them that you’ve talked to me. Believe me, they’ll discredit me and all my intentions. And they’ll make my work in locating Cornell even more difficult. You can trust me.”
Trust. She wasn’t sure she’d trust anyone ever again. Not if Cornell was a suspect in a young woman’s murder. Could it be possible that he knew that? Was that the reason he was afraid to come home?
Alone. Afraid. And innocent. Cornell would never hurt anyone. Never. She’d stake her life on that.
The waiter walked in and set a bowl of lobster bisque in front of each of them.
Faith pushed hers away and stood. She couldn’t sit here another minute without going mad. She grabbed her handbag from the back of her chair. “I have to go.”
“You should try to eat something.”
“I can’t eat. Really, I have to go. I need to be alone to think.”
“Whatever you say. I’ll call for my driver.”
“No. I don’t want a driver. I’ll walk back. It’s not far and I need the fresh air.”
“If you insist. I’ll call you when I get back to town in a few days, but in the meantime, don’t talk to the cops, and if you hear from Cornell, phone me at once.”
All she could manage was a nod. She bumped into the maître d’ as she rushed from the private room, mumbled an apology and kept going.
Barely aware of the traffic or the warmth from the sun seeping through her blouse, she almost ran the few blocks back to her office. Once there, she stared at the doors, but couldn’t make herself go inside. She kept walking, not stopping until she reached a nearby coffee shop.
She ordered an espresso, took it to a back table and put the cup to her lips and sipped. The burn of heat and bitterness washed into her empty stomach.
She’d finished the coffee before her mind cleared enough that she knew what she had to do. Still, her hands shook as she punched Travis’s cell number into her phone.
She would not be used as a pawn by Detective Travis Dalton. She’d demand he tell her the truth.
And to think she’d been worried she was falling hard for the traitorous cowboy cop.
* * *
DAZED TO THE POINT she could barely function, Faith managed to stumble through the one-o’clock meeting before she gave up and took the rest of the day off. She’d thought she’d been through a lot, with concerns for Cornell’s health and then the terror of his sudden disappearance.
Nothing had prepared her for this. Cornell, a suspect in a murder case. On top of it all, she felt betrayed. A fool for taking a homicide detective at his word.
Please come home, Cornell. We can get through this together the way we always have.
Why hadn’t she said that in the few seconds he’d been on the phone?
Faith closed the garage door and stepped into her mudroom. She hesitated by the back door as a disturbing sensation swept through her.
Something was different than when she’d left this morning. Nothing obvious, just a feeling. No. A faint but unfamiliar odor. She looked around. Everything was in place. Nothing appeared to be touched.
She definitely had to add paranoia to her growing list of problems.
Still, she scanned the area cautiously as she walked back to her bedroom and kicked off her shoes. She checked her landline phone for messages. There were none, meaning not only that Travis hadn’t called back on that number, but that her prayers for a call from Cornell had not been answered.
She changed into a pair of cropped jeans and a bright pink T-shirt, then walked barefoot to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. She stopped in her tracks when the soles of her feet felt something gritty.
Her shattered nerves reacted with a new wave of apprehension. She was certain she hadn’t spilled anything this morning.
Impulsively, she walked over and pulled a sharp chef’s knife from the wooden block on the countertop. Not that she’d ever used a knife as a weapon before. Not that she’d ever used a weapon, for that matter.
She dropped to her knees for a closer look. The few grains of gritty substance were easier to feel than to see. She’d probably tracked in whatever it was herself when she’d stepped outside for the morning newspaper.
Her cell phone rang, jolting her back to reality from paranoiaville. She grabbed the phone from her pocket and checked the caller ID. Joni. Never had she needed to hear the voice of an old friend more. An old friend who didn’t need to be saddled with Faith’s problems on her honeymoon.
Faith took a deep breath and faked a normalcy to her tone. “Hello, honeymooner. Don’t you have better things to do than call me?”
“Have to come up for air occasionally. What are you doing home this time of day?”
“What makes you think I’m home? You called me on my cell phone.”
“I know, but I called your office first. Melanie said you’d left work early. That’s not like you.”
Faith swallowed hard. “I had a headache.” Even a white lie didn’t come easy, especially to Joni.
“Leif just got off the phone with Travis,” her friend said.
The statement sounded like an indictment. Joni clearly knew more than Faith had anticipated. “Good. Nice that brothers keep in touch.”
“Travis is worried about you, Faith.”
So worried he hadn’t bothered to call her back. “Did he call Leif just to tell him that?”
“No. Leif called him. He thinks Travis should visit the Dry Gulch Ranch and at least have a conversation with R.J. while he’s still lucid.”
“How did I get into that conversation?”
“Travis just said you were dealing with a lot right now and he thought it might be a good idea if I called you.”
“He told you about Angela Pointer, didn’t he?”
“A little,” Joni admitted. “I know it was hard to face that Cornell had a life he kept secret from you, but I’m sure there are lots of teenage guys who don’t tell their mothers everything.”
“I know, but Cornell... I mean, we were so close. He was a good kid, always.”
“I know. Travis is going to find him and get to the bottom of things. When he does, you and Cornell will be close again. Whatever went wrong, you can work through it.”
Travis, the hero. Faith could take it no longer. “Travis’s interest in Cornell goes a lot deeper than just bringing him home safely.”
“What are you talking about?”
The accusations against the callous detective spilled straight from Faith’s heart. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She left nothing out, from the computer analysis to her talk with Georgio.
By the time Faith stopped for breath, her voice was as shaky as her insides.
“Are you telling me that you’d believe what that flesh-and drug-peddling rat Georgio had to tell you over what Travis says?”
“It’s not that I trust Georgio,” Faith admitted. “But how would he know that Travis was even at the Passion Pit last night unless he’d talked to the dancers who were questioned? His information came from them. Angela was their friend. They’d have no reason to lie.”
“None that you know of. I don’t know who knows what, Faith. Neither do you at this point. But I know my husband, and he knows his brother. If he says you can trust Travis to help you find Cornell, you can.”
“And I know my son,” Faith argued. “He didn’t kill anyone. He couldn’t.”
“Then you don’t have anything to worry about on that score. Tell Travis exactly what you told me, including Georgio’s part in all of this. Travis will have a reasonable explanation. Give him a chance.”
“Travis doesn’t even want me talking to Georgio.”
“Because he’s a dangerous snake in the grass. Already he’s poisoning your mind. You can’t play Travis and Georgio against each other. Think this through, Faith. Trust Travis completely. He wants to help and he can help, the same way Leif saved my life.”
She wanted to. More than anything, Faith wanted to trust Travis, but she would not throw her son to the lions. “I don’t think I can do that, Joni.”
“Then I’m coming home tonight to talk some sense into you.”
“Don’t you dare. A honeymoon is a onetime thing.”
“Not for Leif and me. Our love grows deeper by the day.”
The doorbell rang. “Someone’s at the door,” Faith said. “I need to go, but promise me you won’t come rushing back to Texas.”
“Then give Travis a chance to explain everything. Trust him.”
“I’ll listen to what he has to say.” That was all she could promise.
She broke the connection as she padded though the house to the door.
She peeked through the peephole.
Travis stood there, a few feet away so that she saw his full six-feet-plus, imposing frame. A six-pack of beer dangled from his right hand as if he was expecting this to be a social call. The dark lock of hair that fell over his forehead made him look almost boyish.
But the jeans, the cowboy boots, a light blue shirt opened at the neck and an unbuttoned rust-colored sport coat swinging from his shoulder left no doubt that he was all man.
Her stomach fluttered, but this time she wouldn’t be influenced by the traitorous sizzle of awareness he ignited in spite of everything she’d heard.
She swung open the door. “Come in, Travis.”
“Sorry I missed your call. I was in a meeting with the chief of police and the mayor.”
“I realize you’re a very dedicated homicide detective.”
“Busy, anyway. I tried to reach you at the office, but they said you’d left, so I took a chance on finding you here.”
“Fine. We need to talk.”
And this time she’d be asking the questions.
Chapter Nine
Travis had no idea what had set Faith off, but she was definitely in dragon-lady mode. Hopefully, it was something to do with work and not with Cornell.
He held up the six-pack. “Join me in a beer?”
“No, thank you, but you go ahead.”
“Mind if I put the rest in your fridge?”
“Help yourself. I’ll be on the deck.”
He joined her a few minutes later, cold beer in hand. She was sitting in one of the outdoor chairs, legs crossed, her right one kicking like crazy. Her toenails were painted hot-pink. The cropped jeans showed off her terrific calves.
Travis took a sip of beer and then leaned his backside against the deck railing next to a pot of blooming pansies.
She stopped swinging her leg and shot him an accusing stare. “When did you decide to go after Cornell as a murder suspect?”
The bitter accusation caught him off guard. He set the beer down on the railing. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“No pretense, Travis. Just answer the question. Was it before Joni’s wedding? Was that why you pretended to be so interested in helping me?”
He picked up his beer and drained at least
a third of the bottle while he tried to figure out was this sudden outbreak was all about. “I didn’t pretend anything that night. It’s not like I forced you to dance with me.” Though he had coaxed.
“Then why trick me into turning over Cornell’s computer so you could search for evidence to connect him to Angela Pointer?”
“Trick you?” He finished the beer and stepped in closer. “You wanted your son found. You were eager for me to see what was on his computer. And for the record, Angela was never even reported as missing and there’s no indication she’s dead. I don’t know how you came up with the wild idea I was investigating her murder.”
Faith’s mouth drew so tight her luscious lips practically disappeared. “It makes sense. You’re an overworked homicide detective, yet you take on a missing-person case the Dallas P.D. already said didn’t indicate foul play. Why would you take on a missing-person case?”
Damn good question.
He let the truth rumble around in his head. Because he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind after seeing her the very first time in the Passion Pit.
Because she’d turned him on like a brick oven when they danced to a belly-rubbing ballad at Leif’s wedding.
All of which he was seriously starting to regret. He struggled for an answer that stayed close to the truth.
“You seemed convinced that your son didn’t leave of his own accord, Faith. I’m a good judge of character. I believed you, which is more than you’re giving me credit for right now. So let’s get a few things straight.”
“I just want the truth.”
“And you’re going to get it. I’m a cop, a damn good one. I don’t pin murders on people. I discover evidence, not manufacture it, and I don’t like comments that suggest otherwise.
“I didn’t even know that Angela Pointer existed until I read the computer analysis. No one had ever reported her as missing, so there was no investigation into her whereabouts. If I find out she was murdered here in Dallas, you can bet that I or one of the other homicide detectives will do everything we can to find out who killed her.
“But you’re right on one count. I have plenty to keep me busy and I don’t push my help on women who don’t want it. If you don’t trust me, we need to break ties right now.”