by Loyd, Sandy
“Pouting?” He rolled his eyes. “Nice try. You know damn well why I’m surprised you’re calling.”
“Yes, I got that. Guess I’m particularly adept at surprising you.”
“Understatement if ever I heard one.”
“Who knew you were a lawyer with scruples? You have to admit my offer was an interesting one, and you were tempted. I saw it in your eyes.”
“Let’s not go there.” He snorted. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“It would’ve been worth it,” she purred, and tossed out a throaty laugh. “After all, a night with me in lieu of my fees seemed quite reasonable.”
“They’ve got a name for that. Did you call to bring it up again, or do you have a purpose?”
Another throaty laugh shot through the phone, irritating him. Claws raking over a metal roof would have been an improvement.
“I do have a purpose. I realized too late I insulted you with my offer, but you said if I ever needed your criminal services, you’d reciprocate. I’m calling in the favor.”
“What is it?” Jason sighed and rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. He didn’t need this shit right now. But he still needed Crystal Grayson. Big time. At least until his divorce was final.
She went above and beyond. Worked her butt off to make sure he shared custody of his two daughters, who were now his life. In an attempt to punish him for having the audacity to require fidelity in his marriage, his soon-to-be ex-wife had threatened to call Seattle home and take his two girls as far away from South Florida as possible. Crystal had effectively stopped not only Elise’s attempt to leave the area, but also her attempt to beggar him as well.
“I’m retaining you for my sister.”
“You have a sister?” He tried to keep the surprise out of his words.
Somehow Jason had never imagined the viperous divorce attorney as a normal person with a family, but he surmised even serial killers had family members somewhere who loved them, so why shouldn’t Crystal?
“She’s my twin. Identical, in fact.”
“There are two of you?” Jason swore under his breath. “God help us.”
“Real funny! But seriously, I got a call from her best friend. She thinks Claire’s in trouble. I don’t know what to think, which is why I called you to check it out.”
“Claire?”
He reached for the knob on the nightstand and pulled, but the antique drawer stuck. He’d have to work on that, he thought, yanking harder and almost knocking over the picture of Chloe and Amelia. As he righted it, his gaze hit the chaos of stacked backer board and bags of mortar scattered near his bathroom. He had a full day planned to tear up some ugly green linoleum. Hopefully, talking to Claire wouldn’t take long.
He grabbed a pen and paper from the now-open drawer and began writing.
“What’s her full name?” he asked. “And give me any pertinent information.”
“Claire Carter.” Crystal rattled off her sister’s phone number. “She and her husband were out on their sailboat last night, celebrating. She woke up this morning and found blood all over the place. He’s missing, and she has no memory of what happened.”
“How convenient.”
“No. The dickhead most likely cut himself shaving for a girlfriend who picked him up after Claire passed out.”
“They sound like a charming couple.”
“It’s not what you think. She’s the good twin, nothing like me.”
He didn’t miss Crystal’s twinge of irritation his comment evoked, but couldn’t stop from adding, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“She’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol,” Crystal went on, ignoring his taunt. “Also, she has a blind spot when it comes to her bastard husband. Knowing Carl like I do, I’m sure he took advantage of both. Look, personal issues aside, I’m worried. My gut instinct tells me something’s not right. If my sister needs a criminal attorney, I want the best. You said it yourself many times, everyone’s entitled to the best defense possible.”
He couldn’t argue with her logic, he thought, as she relayed more details. Cliché or not, he believed in truth, justice, and the American way, and valued integrity above all else. But having a good lawyer sometimes made all the difference in navigating the justice system.
“Gwen says Claire’s disoriented and doesn’t know what to do. Do you think you can help her?”
“The authorities need to be notified.”
“She’s already called 911.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to her. But that’s all I can do unless she’s charged with a crime. They may suspect foul play, especially with the blood. Might get ugly.”
“Which is why I was hoping you could drive down and scope things out.” She hesitated a heartbeat. “You’re a sailor, right? I’d go myself but I hate boats, and I’m the last person my sister will listen to when it comes to Carl.”
“You want me to drive to Key Largo?” He was unable to keep the shock out of the question, and his voice rose ten decibels. “From Boca Raton? Are you nuts? That’s a four-hour round trip.” What was the woman thinking?
“I understand it’s asking a lot, but I’m really worried,” came her anxious reply. “Carl’s done something; I just know it. Claire needs an objective viewpoint. I’m betting there’s no foul play, at least none involving my sister. She’s too nice, too soft. Too goody-two-shoes.”
Yeah, he mentally snorted. He’d heard it all before. Too many times. It was unlikely this Claire Carter was so lily white. Not after taking into account what he knew about Crystal. He’d bet a week’s pay the two sisters were alike, leaves on the same tree. They were probably very similar in nature, especially when they shared the same genes and probably had the same upbringing.
Jason remained quiet as a gnawing feeling grew in his gut. He shouldn’t get involved in any mess connected with the conniving woman. But he did owe Crystal, and his ex had the girls this week. Eyeing his master bath, he decided he could forgo a day of labor.
“I’ll do it,” he blew out on a resigned sigh. “Then consider my debt paid.”
Jason said his good-byes and punched in Claire Carter’s number, wondering if she’d stabbed her husband in a drunken rampage and woke with convenient amnesia. After listening to Crystal’s description of all the blood, not to mention that the guy sounded like a jerk, he had his doubts about the twin’s innocence. He’d defended numerous clients who’d done plenty worse for less motivation.
“Why me, Lord?” he murmured to himself as a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Mrs. Carter? My name is Jason Roberts. Crystal said you might need my help.”
“Oh, thank God. I don’t know what to do.”
Her genuine dismay set him back a bit. Jason hadn’t expected the utter anguish in her voice. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, the soft sound elicited some kind of recognition.
Yeah, right. Recognition of guilt.
“Calm down,” he said in a soothing voice as he shook off the cynical thoughts. “I’m here to help. Crystal gave me a rundown, but I’d like to hear your version of what happened last night.”
“That’s the problem. I woke up covered in blood, and I don’t remember much.”
“Okay, then we’ll start with what you do remember.”
Jason took notes as he listened, stopping her from time to time to ask clarifying questions. Once he had all the specifics, they agreed she’d pick him up at the marina.
While writing down her directions, he said, “I’m driving from Boca, so it’ll take me a couple of hours.”
She murmured her thanks, and he added, “Outside of briefly explaining to the authorities what happened, don’t answer any questions without me being present. Understand?”
A good offense was a criminal attorney’s first rule of thumb for providing a good defense, if needed. Until he scoped out the situation as promised, she was vulnerable to law enforcement and their intimidation tactics.
“Yes. I understand.”
<
br /> “I’ll call you when I get close to the marina.”
After he hung up, he rose from the four-poster bed and wove his way around stacks of backer board and boxes of tiles for his ongoing house renovation while slipping out of his boxers. He yanked off his T-shirt and rifled through the bureau for fresh underwear, and grabbed Dockers and a sports shirt from the spacious walk-in closet that used to be a small bedroom.
Contemplating Claire Carter’s story, he headed for the bathroom and turned on the shower before he stepped under the hot water. As warmth seeped into his bones, his mind spun.
What was it about her eerie voice that drew him? He discarded the thought, refusing to believe something so ludicrous. The circumstances surrounding the woman’s situation intrigued him, not the other, and were definitely worth a trip. If anything, he figured he wouldn’t be bored.
Hell, Jason thought while soaping up, he could handle the win-win scenario. He’d clear his debt with the annoying divorce attorney and be entertained in the process.
Chapter 2
Claire frowned as Deputy Snyder of the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office and his entourage of latex-glove-wearing men departed by boat, leaving abject silence in their wake. Obviously, they thought she’d done something to Carl.
For over two hours, the officers had treated her as if she were public enemy number one as they swarmed the boat to take pictures, fingerprints, and samples. After bagging her blouse and champagne flutes, they had scrutinized the clear waters within viewing distance of the sloop—in search of a body, she assumed. Other Coast Guard boats were still out searching but with no luck so far.
Claire was sure if they could have arrested her, they would have. Of course, being lawyered-up, as Snyder had called it, didn’t sit well with any of Monroe County’s finest, but it seemed to get them off her back for the moment. They’d agreed to meet at the sheriff’s office once Crystal’s lawyer friend made it to Key Largo from Boca Raton.
Sweat trickled off Claire’s brow as she sat under the Bimini top’s shade, thankful her sister had sent someone, but wishing the guy would hurry. Relief overwhelmed her when her cell phone chimed. She lunged for it.
“Mrs. Carter?”
She smiled wanly at the caller’s formality, recognizing the lawyer’s voice. “Please call me Claire.”
“Okay, Claire,” he said. “I’m a few miles from the marina. Can you meet me?”
“Of course. I appreciate your coming so quickly. The authorities just left. But they aren’t doing enough to find him.” No, they were too busy trying to prove she was guilty of killing him.
“Investigations take time.”
“I see.” Although she didn’t see, she tried to shrug it off but couldn’t. “What if someone kidnapped him?”
“Is there evidence of a struggle?”
Her glance swept the deck. “No.” There was no sign of anything unusual but dried blood. The sinking anxiety in the pit of her stomach dug in deeper.
“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with the authorities, if need be.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “I’m ten minutes away from the marina, give or take a few. I’ll see you then.” She disconnected the call and pocketed the phone while heading for the inflatable tied on at the stern.
It took two yanks on the rip cord to start the outboard motor. Claire put it into gear and steered toward the marina. In a matter of seconds, the inflatable skimmed across the water at ten to fifteen knots.
Nearing the wooden structure, Claire spied a raven-haired man who could only be the attorney, Jason Roberts. He sat on the dock with his attention on the water. When he noticed her approach, he jumped up, appearing much taller and more imposing than a moment ago.
He waited till she got close enough, and caught the line she threw. She ignored his silent appraisal.
“You look just like Crystal,” he said seconds later, after running the line around the cleat. He pulled the small inflatable even with the dock, and handed the line back to her to hold the small craft steady.
“I’m not sure whether to be offended or thrilled by your remark, Mr. Roberts.” She regarded him warily, thankful for the bit of protection her sunglasses provided.
“Jason.” He offered her a ready smile. At her questioning glance, he said, “Since you asked me to call you Claire, it’s only fair you call me Jason.” She nodded, and he added, “And as for my remark . . .” He shrugged. “Just an observation. I don’t know why it surprised me. She mentioned something about you two being twins.”
“Yes. Identical,” Claire said softly, peering into his sunglass-covered gaze and holding it unflinchingly. “Imagine that.”
Her biggest worry was finding Carl. Why should it matter what an obvious close friend of her sister’s thought, and why did she find it disturbing? After all, she and Crystal were mirror images. She’d dealt with reactions like his for as long as she could remember.
Claire took Jason’s outstretched hand, one that deceptively appeared to be a greeting because he didn’t release hers. Instead, he used the hold to steady himself and climbed on board.
She ignored the hemmed-in sensation his presence elicited, revved the motor, and jammed it into gear while pulling the line off the dock and tossing it aside. In minutes, she maneuvered the small craft toward the open sea.
When she caught sight of the sailboat, Claire heaved a relieved sigh. His silent scrutiny was more unsettling, unnerving in an uncomfortable way. Though Carl could make her feel sexy with just a look, this man’s gaze seemed to go deeper and see more.
When they neared the boat, she cut the motor and grabbed the stern. The instant he stepped aboard, she could finally inhale naturally.
He reached for the lines. Claire noticed how he secured them in that precise way, completely at ease around boats. So different from Carl, who hated sailing and balked at doing even the simplest tasks properly.
Once the lines were tied, she stood, and her gaze fell on his outstretched hand. Reluctantly, she took hold and focused on climbing onto the boat, forcing herself to breathe despite the contact. The moment he released her hand, she turned away, hoping he couldn’t tell how his touch affected her. She needn’t have worried.
His interest was absorbed elsewhere. He took his sunglasses off and stuck them in his pocket. An intense indigo gaze swept the deck before he headed below.
She followed. “I got the impression the police think I’m somehow responsible.” In the darker space, she took off her unneeded sunglasses. “They left without saying much.”
“That’s not unusual.” He smiled. “They’re naturally suspicious, especially of spouses.”
She observed his careful examination of the cabin. “What do you think?”
“There’s a definite heavy trail and pooling, but no splattering. No footprints.” A moment later, his steadfast gaze landed on her, seeking verification. “And you said you had blood matted in your hair and on your clothes?”
She nodded.
“Hmm. Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” When he didn’t answer, simply crouched and studied the floor more closely, her curiosity grew. “Well?” she finally asked, unable to hold the question inside.
“The blood spots are awfully consistent, and then they just stop. Too much blood to be a nosebleed. They almost appear to be planted.”
“Planted?” Her eyes narrowed. She’d overheard the officers mention the same thing.
He glanced back at her. “When someone’s bleeding from a serious wound, they tend to panic. Blood splatters everywhere, and the pattern is haphazard. It doesn’t just end, and it’s usually smeared. I’ve seen enough crime-scene photos. Of course, maybe he didn’t panic and staunched the flow with a towel using pressure.” His brows lifted a curious inch. “Find any blood-saturated towels lying around?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t stab him.”
Why had she blurted that? her desperation made her wonder. Who was she trying to convince more, the attorney or
herself?
“I never said you did,” he replied offhandedly, his interest returning to the teak flooring.
“But you were thinking it, weren’t you?” And why she asked that stupid question, she had no clue, but somehow a lot rode on his answer.
Jason stopped his perusal and caught her gaze. His intelligent blue eyes were unreadable, but she could tell by their intensity that his mind was spinning.
“I won’t lie and say I don’t have doubts.” He snorted and shook his head. “I mean, you’re Crystal’s twin.”
She smiled. “How well do you know Crystal?”
“Well enough,” he said with a grunt. “But now, I’m not so sure about anything.” His attention roamed the full length of the salon. “Tell me about your marriage.” There was no mistaking the gentle command.
“My marriage?” She groaned, wishing her head would stop pounding. Of course he’d ask. “Do I have to tell you?”
He nodded. “If I’m representing you, I need to know everything, no matter how trivial. My job’s defending, not judging.”
“It’s a usual marriage with the usual problems,” she said evasively, not wanting to get too personal with a lawyer Crystal had sent, especially when it involved Carl. No way she could trust him completely. “Besides, I don’t need defending as much as I need someone to take Carl’s disappearance seriously.”
“What kind of problems?” he asked, ignoring her comment.
She sighed and rubbed her temples, easing the steady pain. “Our divorce would have been final a few months ago.” Her sister knew, so she felt safe enough revealing that much. “But before I signed the final papers, he begged me for another chance, even agreed to counseling.” She’d owed Carl that much if he was willing. “Of course, Crystal had called me a fool for thinking that way.”
“Would your husband have any reason to skip?”
“Skip?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would he skip?” she asked through clenched teeth. Her hand curled into a fist until her nails dug in to the point of pain. “He begged for another chance. We were working through our problems. Things were great between us.” Or at least, she thought they were. She inhaled deeply and released her fingers, forcing herself to relax. “In fact, this weekend was a celebration.” She’d desperately hoped to prove Crystal wrong about Carl.