by Cassie Miles
“Mickey might be useful. If he knows all about my disappearance, he might have details that would jog my memory.”
“Bad idea,” he said.
“Why?”
“The power of suggestion. He might feed you some bull that would get you thinking along the wrong line. He could divert your memory from the truth.”
“Well, I’m not doing very well on my own. The only thing I could recall for Detective Clauson was about Wayne’s car. And that was wrong.” Kate was willing to grab at any straw. Plus, she needed to know more about the missing diamonds. “I want to talk to this guy.”
“I’d rather invite a rattlesnake to tea,” he grumbled. “If you really want to do this, go for it.”
“Fine.” She waved to Mickey, and the reporter trotted obediently toward them.
“Here’s the deal,” Kate said to him. “I’ll talk to you if you promise not to print anything until I give the okay.”
“Nothing? Not even one little sidebar article?”
“Not one word.”
“Agreed,” Mickey said. “We’ll save it all for the book.”
Liam scoffed. “As if you can trust him.”
She suspected that Liam’s assessment was correct; Mickey the reporter would sell her out to the highest bidder without blinking twice. “Another thing,” she said. “No more sneaking around and spying. You almost got yourself shot tonight.”
“Fine. And how will I contact you?”
“I’ll give you my cell phone number,” she said.
“Great,” he said. That should keep him happy, and she could control contact on her cell.
Using her key, Kate opened the back door to her house and disengaged the alarm system. In the kitchen, she noted that her African violets had survived her absence. Everything seemed wonderfully tidy. She’d have to give the weekly cleaning lady a massive tip.
For a moment, she reveled in the joy of being surrounded by decor she’d chosen herself. The gold-streaked granite countertop. The earth-toned plates and cups displayed on open shelving. She took down a blue-tinted glass and filled it with water from the refrigerator. “Liam, Mickey, help yourselves.”
Strolling through the open dining room, she smiled at the antler chandelier that hung above her table. Her mother called the pointy tines a hazard, but Kate loved the sheer, rustic goofiness of the light fixture.
In the living room were her books, her paintings, her souvenirs arranged on glass shelves. Though she’d won dozens of athletic trophies, there was only one she displayed—a small gold cup for the father-daughter relay at an RMS picnic. Kate sank into her favorite armchair, upholstered in lavender, and propped her feet on the ottoman that also served as a coffee table. Now, she felt like she was truly home.
And she couldn’t help noticing that Liam fit in very nicely. His blue denim work shirt blended with the greens and purples of the sofa. His hazel eyes seemed darker. His sandy hair was the color of light oak. She liked having him here with her. A cool, masculine presence. Solid. Strong.
Mickey was the opposite. He jostled around the room like a puppet on a string. His gaze darted, no doubt recording a mental image that he could use in his proposed bestseller. A book? Kate thought not. She didn’t want her life splayed across paperback pages or dribbled through the tabloids. She needed to be careful about what she said to this reporter.
Liam’s low voice rumbled. “Sit, Mickey.”
“Yeah, right. Okay.” He perched on the edge of a chair and turned to Liam. “So, who are you? What’s your connection with Kate?”
“He found me,” Kate said. “Liam does volunteer work for CCC. He took some aerial photos and located the place where I was camping.”
“This is even better than I thought.” The reporter quivered with excitement. Again he raised his hands to frame a headline. “RMS Heiress Rescued by Pilot Stud.”
“Don’t even think about writing that story,” Liam said.
“Come on, man. You’re a macho mountain guy. I’m seeing something bigger than a book. A movie of the week. You could be played by a young Harrison Ford type.”
Liam turned to Kate. “Can I throw him out now?”
“Not yet.” She focused her gaze upon the scrawny, obnoxious little Mickey. “I want you to tell me every detail you’ve learned about my disappearance.”
“Why? You were there. You ought to know.”
“There are a couple of things,” she said, “that I can’t quite remember.”
“Like what?”
“A lot of things.”
He gaped, slack-jawed. His eyes widened as he figured out what she was saying. Then, his hands flew up to frame yet another headline. “Amnesia!”
“If you do that again,” Liam said calmly, “I’ll break both your thumbs.”
“Got it,” he said. “Okay, you want details. Here goes.”
Kate leaned back and listened while Mickey gave a thorough description of Wayne Silverman, who could easily be lumped into the category of guys who were ba sically no good. A lazy, no-talent lawyer on the verge of losing the job he got through nepotism, Wayne maltreated his secretary, lived above his means and carried a lot of debt.
Preparing for his camping trip with Kate, he had strolled into an RMS store, identified himself and gotten top-of-the-line supplies for free.
“Despicable,” Kate said. But she was grateful that Wayne had been an equipment snob. That gear had made her stay in the mountains a lot more comfortable.
“He told the clerk that he was going away for a week,” Mickey said. “But, according to your mother’s schedule—which I got from her social secretary—you were supposed to be back by Monday.”
Apparently, Wayne had plans he hadn’t shared with her. What other surprises were on his agenda? “Did he tell the clerk his destination?”
“Sorry,” Mickey said.
“When did he depart from his town house?” she asked. “And what was he driving?”
“According to a neighbor, Wayne left around lunchtime on Friday. And he must have taken the Ford Explorer because that’s the only car he owns.”
“But you don’t know for sure,” she said. “I mean, he might have used a rental. Or borrowed an off-road vehicle from a friend.”
“Is this important?” Mickey asked.
Liam cleared his throat. “Slow down, Kate. You don’t have to tell him everything.”
Though she would have loved verification that her memory of driving Wayne’s car was correct, she agreed with Liam. This was a topic for another time. “Okay, Mickey, I have one more question and then—”
“Wait a minute! What about my questions? Like where have you been for the past twenty-eight days? Did you go to a spa? You look like you’ve lost a lot of weight.”
“I was in the mountains,” she said. “Wilderness camping.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“What did you eat?”
“There were MREs in the backpack and I foraged. My dad taught me how to live off the land.”
The little reporter was so excited that he was literally bouncing up and down in his chair. His hands flashed up for another headline. Then, he glanced at Liam and folded his arms across his chest. “Your story gets better and better, Kate. I think we’re talking feature film here. Maybe starring Goldie Hawn’s daughter.”
“I have a question for you,” Liam said. “When Kate went missing, what were the reactions from her family?”
“Her mother, Elizabeth, was very stiff-upper-lip, never giving up hope. She’s a classy lady.”
“And Tom?” Liam asked.
“The stepbrother. Tom Rowe.” Mickey frowned as if he had some sage wisdom. “I knew Tom in high school. We weren’t friends or anything, but I knew who he was. One of the cool guys.”
Kate hadn’t known her stepbrother during his high school years, but it surprised her that he had been one of the “in” crowd. She’d always thought of Tom as a loner.
“Did you contact Tom?�
� Liam asked.
“I tried. He was too busy for me.”
“What about my ex, Jonathan?”
“Both Jonathan and Peter Rowe, your stepfather, played down your absence. They said you were proba bly off having fun and would turn up when you felt like it. Jonathan sure didn’t waste any time turning your disappearance to his advantage.”
“How so?” she asked.
“While you were gone, he pushed through a vote on the development of some mountain property near Cougar Creek Ski Resort. They’re already putting in roads.”
Though Kate was determined not make accusations until her memory returned, Jonathan was looking more and more suspicious. With her out of the way, he could turn RMS into a far more voracious corporation—taking big risks for big profits.
A yawn crept up her throat, and she realized how very tired she was. But there was one more issue. “Mickey, you mentioned something about my mother’s necklace.”
“I found out by accident,” he said. “I was tailing your stepfather.”
“Why?” she asked.
“You never know,” he said mysteriously. “Anyway, Peter Rowe went into a jewelry repair shop, and I followed.”
According to Mickey, Peter had taken delivery of a very impressive diamond-and-gold necklace. He and the clerk had compared it to a photograph of a piece owned by Elizabeth, then Peter had complimented the clerk on his expert work in replicating the original. When the clerk expressed a desire to see the original, Peter had said that was impossible because it was missing. “Then he corrected himself, and said it was in a bank deposit box.”
Kate knew that wasn’t true. Her mother kept all her valuables at the house in a fireproof safe in the den. Nobody but Elizabeth had the combination, except for the RMS attorneys who kept tabs on all family transactions.
If her mother had lost a diamond-and-gold necklace, was that the jewelry that had turned up in Kate’s backpack? Though the connection would be neat and tidy, it didn’t track. Her long-term memory was fairly clear. She wouldn’t have forgotten such a fabulous piece of jewelry.
“Kate?” Liam called her back from her reverie.
“Sorry,” she said, quickly rising to her feet. “I’m tired.”
He nodded. “This interview is over, Mickey.”
“But I hardly—”
“Now, Mickey.”
When Liam loomed over him, Kate grinned, remembering Mickey’s headline about the “Pilot Stud.” Liam fit that role very well.
Before he hustled the reporter out the front door, Kate gave Mickey her cell phone number. She reset the security code when the door closed behind him. “We ought to be okay tonight,” she said. “This is a fail-safe system. If anybody attempts to break in, an alarm goes off. The security company and the police are immediately alerted.”
Liam seemed to relax now that the reporter was gone. He gave her an easy grin and glanced toward the staircase. “Time for bed.”
Those three little words hung in the air between them. Though she knew he wasn’t suggesting they go to bed together, the idea presented itself inside her head, in living color. All too vividly, she imagined what it would be like to share his bed.
In his hazel eyes, she saw a glimmer of sensual warmth. Was he thinking the same thing?
She ascended the staircase slowly. If she asked Liam to come into her bedroom, would he accept her offer? Would he hold her against his chest? His lips, she thought, would be firm and demanding. Would he taste like the forest? Would his touch transport her back to her secret mountain hideaway? Did she dare make love to him?
All these questions! She’d never been so unsure of herself. During the twenty-eight days she’d lived alone, Kate must have lost her confidence.
Or, perhaps, Liam wasn’t like the other men she’d chosen.
Outside her bedroom door, Kate decided. She wasn’t ready. Not tonight.
She turned to him. “The guest bedroom is across the hall, and the bathroom should be stocked with towels.”
“Good night, Kate.”
Alone, she entered the master bedroom. After brushing her teeth and indulging her parched skin in a quick facial scrub followed by a gallon of moisturizer, she changed into a nightshirt that hung a couple of sizes too large from her skinny shoulders. None of her wardrobe was going to fit properly until she gained back some of her weight—a problem she never thought she’d have.
Kate padded across the hardwood floor to her queen-size bed. After she’d divorced Jonathan, she’d redecorated the bedroom in a simple, austere style. The duvet and curtains were pristine white against her dark cherrywood furniture. She wriggled under the covers, enjoying the sheer luxury of Egyptian-cotton sheets. Her head was cradled by a down pillow. After weeks in the wilderness, the comfort she’d taken for granted was heavenly.
Yet, Kate was wide awake.
Her ears, accustomed to the sounds of nature, heard every creak of the floorboards. The hum from the air conditioner seemed particularly loud. She even thought she could hear the faraway hiss of traffic beyond her cul-de-sac. The neighbor’s dog barked twice.
Kate flipped over to her stomach. Sleeping here should be easy. She counted backward from one hundred, concentrating on relaxation.
Still awake. Her brain leaped from topic to topic like a wayward child. The diamond necklace. Wayne Silverman’s car. The purchase of equipment at an RMS outlet. Jonathan’s development of the Cougar Creek property. The necklace, damn it.
She ought to tell Detective Clauson about the diamonds and cash she’d found in the backpack. The police could investigate. But what if they found the jewelry was stolen and she was the thief?
She’d tell Liam. Tomorrow. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, a pleasant calm settled over her. Liam.
She sighed. He was a good man, a trustworthy man. Surely, it was a kind fate that had led him to find her in the mountains. Thinking of him, she drifted toward sleep.
Hours later, in the buoyant flow of dreams, she heard his voice, low and gentle. She felt his nearness. His musky scent teased her nostrils. His hand was warm on her shoulder.
He whispered, “Wake up.”
Her eyelids opened. In the dim light of her bedroom, she saw him leaning over her. Not a dream. Liam was here and very real.
He placed a finger across his lips, signaling silence. And she nodded, responding to the urgency in his eyes. This wasn’t a playful visit. Something had gone desperately wrong.
Chapter Eight
Kate took Liam’s hand, slid out from under her white duvet and went with him, leaving her dreams behind in the faint light of her bedroom. Though her brain wasn’t yet in gear, she registered the fact that he was naked except for his black jersey boxer shorts. Lean like a distance runner, his muscles were well-defined but not bulging. Dark hair sprinkled across his chest and arrowed down his torso. In his left hand, he held the automatic pistol.
In the bathroom, he closed the door and didn’t turn on the light. The only illumination came from a window beside the double sink. He whispered, “Someone’s in the house.”
“But the alarm—”
“Shhh.” He motioned for her to be quiet. “I already called the cops. You stay here.”
When he placed the gun in her hand, her fingers reflexively tightened on the grip, and the certainty of danger came closer.
“When I leave,” he said, “lock the bathroom door. Shoot anybody who breaks in here.”
“Wait,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going after him.”
His eyes were determined. Energy radiated from his tensed muscles. He looked as fierce and primitive as an ancient warrior. Invincible.
But she didn’t want him to venture into danger. “Liam, no.”
“I’ll be okay.” He picked up an aluminum baseball bat that leaned against the bathtub. “I found this in the guest bedroom.”
Before she could offer further objection, he soundlessly opened the bathroom door and disappeared.<
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Kate locked the door, cursing the constant peril their lives had become. There was no rest. No escape. She never should have left the mountains. The hunters wouldn’t give up until she was dead.
The digital clock on the windowsill read twenty-six minutes past four o’clock, the edge of dawn. She stared at the clock as another minute passed. It seemed like an hour.
The gun in her hand weighed heavily. She was supposed to protect herself. But what about Liam? He was virtually unarmed. She remembered the crude thugs who’d attacked at his cabin. If they were downstairs with their guns, Liam wouldn’t stand a chance.
She couldn’t allow him to go after an intruder with nothing more than naked bravery and a baseball bat. Unlocking the bathroom door, she creeped through the shadows in her bedroom.
In the upstairs hallway, she flattened herself against the wall and listened. Over the hum of the air-conditioning system, she heard the downstairs floorboards creak. Though she had thought it was impossible for anyone to bypass her fail-safe alarm system, she knew that Liam had been right—someone was here.
For an instant, she considered retreating to the bathroom again. No! She’d done enough hiding. Twenty-eight days of hiding. The only way to end this threat was to face it head-on.
Walking silently on bare feet, she went to the edge of the staircase and peeked down into the small foyer that led into the living room. Through the shadows, she saw Liam crouched inside a doorway opposite the staircase. The light from the window beside the front door shone on his baseball bat.
Another figure inched forward. He was dressed in black from head to toe. His hair was covered by a black knit cap. He wore gloves. In his hand was a pistol with a long barrel—a silencer.
Unlike the vandals who’d attacked Liam’s cabin, this man knew what he was doing. He moved with cautious professional stealth across her hardwood floors. Obviously, he had taken his time in planning this assault, making sure there were no bodyguards on the lower floor of the house.
He took another step forward and lifted his chin, looking up the staircase. The dim light shone on his face. She didn’t recognize him, but his expression was something she’d never forget—cold, dispassionate cruelty. He was a killer, a hunter. And she was his prey.