by Adrianne Lee
Mac said, “One disaster averted.”
For a moment she thought he meant her. Then she realized he was talking about Will’s problem. She ran her tongue across her dry lips. “Seems like the intruder at Grant’s office was hedging his or her bet with this stunt.”
Mac stared at her mouth a long moment. Desire tingled through Tia and thickened her throat. Mac took a step back, rubbing his jaw, seeming disconcerted, as well. “It was just something else to keep me from getting the toy shipped on schedule.”
“We’ve been lucky so far.” Tia found her voice and tapped the envelope. “Now we’ve got to figure out what Grant uncovered and see if we can’t get one step ahead of our nemesis.”
“Agreed.” Mac glanced around the room as though seeing it for the first time, as though everything he knew had changed into something alien, as though he really was Grant and this was not the place he’d come to work every day for six long years. “I don’t think, however, that we can start our investigation here.”
“Where, then? Grant’s condo?”
“No. Not my house, either. I don’t know anything about surveillance work, but what if the killer tapped our phones?”
“How about my apartment?”
He thought a moment, then shook his head. “No. No good. It needs to be somewhere neutral. Someplace no one knows about.”
She racked her brain. Who did she know who had a place they could go and use the phones without worry? She thought of Molly Bowen. But she didn’t want to go to the Bowens’ and be sucked into celebrating the holidays with them. Couldn’t face the slew of unhappy memories it would rouse. The worst thing was, she couldn’t tell Molly the reason, couldn’t tell anyone. Molly had tried to help her, done her the biggest favor in her life, but it had turned out all wrong—and ever since she’d learned the truth, she hadn’t been able to look at Molly without recalling the horror.
“What’s wrong?” Mac caught her chin and lifted it gently toward him as though he might kiss her. “You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”
She started and pulled back, a nervous laugh spilling from her. “No. No, but I will if I don’t call Ginny sometime this morning.”
“Hey, maybe you could use her place?”
Tia’s cheeks warmed. “Oh, not a good idea. She’s Bud Gibson’s sister, remember? What if he’s involved in this?”
Mac blew out a frustrated breath. “There has to be someplace.”
“Look, even if the phone is tapped, Grant’s condo has a terrific security system. I can go there and start checking references right away this morning.”
“What if the phone conversations are being taped?”
She shrugged. “So. I’ll have a whole lot of information before anyone can get home to listen to the tapes. Our killer can’t be in two places at once. He or she won’t miss work—that would be totally suspicious.”
“I don’t want you doing this alone.” Mac grasped her hands, concern seeping through his strong, affectionate grip.
She forced her gaze from their locked hands, forced herself to meet his glance. “Why not?”
“It’s not safe.” Fear issued from him. “Look what happened to Grant.”
“Grant wasn’t killed at home.” She swallowed hard, knowing she was splitting hairs. But she’d realized the danger they faced yesterday, realized there was no turning back—not if they wanted Grant’s killer caught and the toy launched on time. She squeezed his hand. “I’m not particularly brave, Mac, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do whatever I could to see this thing through.”
“Then we’ll go to the condo and start in.” He released her hands, his mind made up.
She caught him by the arm. “No. You’ve got to stay here. Keep an eye on your employees, keep the ball rolling toward Friday’s shipment.”
She could see he knew it. He didn’t like it, but he knew it. “Okay. I’m probably going to have to ride herd on Will, anyway. Once I’ve made certain all departments are operating smoothly, I’ll try and have that talk with Gwen.”
She smiled. “Good luck.”
He grew serious as he dug the car keys from his pocket. He reached for her hand, pressed the keys gently into her palm, then curled her fingers around them. He held her hand a full ten seconds, then traced a finger down her cheek, gazing at her as though memorizing her face. “Be careful.”
KEEPING AN EYE on the rearview mirror, Tia drove to The Colliery restaurant in Renton. As far as she could tell, no one followed her from the plant. She parked, locking the envelope in the Porsche. Ginny’s car was in the lot. She had likely already secured a booth and ordered coffee. Ginny always arrived first. It was an obsession, one of the few things she’d ever been able to control in her life.
Before she began making calls for Mac this afternoon, Tia wanted a few answers to her own mysteries. Answers only Ginny could provide.
The restaurant had made the usual concessions to the holiday—a gaily decorated tree, cards displayed behind the hostess station and carols playing softly in the background. The diners she passed were smiling at one another, exchanging gifts and happy tales.
Tia wondered what it would be like to feel joy at this most joyous time of year. She had no traditions to miss, no warm memories of happy Christmases past. Grant’s murder had insured it would be a melancholy season forevermore.
She spotted Ginny, who was clutching a coffee mug as though trying to warm her hands. Apparently sensing her approach, Ginny glanced up at her, and her brown eyes lit up. Tia’s pulse accelerated. This was the one person in the world she did consider family. Sister and friend. She slid into the booth opposite Ginny. The air was filled with the mouth-watering aromas of cooked food and steaming coffee from the cup before her. Her stomach gurgled and Tia realized she was hungry, despite the cereal she’d eaten at the condo earlier.
Ginny frowned at her. Touched her arm. “My God, what happened to your head?”
Tia fingered her bandage self-consciously, then waved her hand dismissively as though four stitches weren’t holding her split flesh together. “Just a nasty encounter with a Christmas ornament. Long story better told on another day.”
Uncharacteristically Ginny accepted that without question. Something was definitely amiss here. She seemed distracted. Her mind elsewhere. “How is Grant?”
Though Tia should have expected it, the question caught her off guard. Heat scrambled into her cheeks. How should she answer that? Honestly? In a public restaurant where someone might overhear? Fear flickered through her, and she glanced around, half expecting one of their suspects to be peering over her shoulder. Eavesdropping.
“Tia?” Ginny’s expression held deep concern.
“Grant’s doing as well as you’d expect—under the circumstances. He’s…we’re trying to get Mac’s special Christmas toy shipped out as scheduled. It was important to Mac and G-Grant wants to see it through.”
This news seemed to startle Ginny. “Then you’ve been to Coy Toys?”
“And seen Buddy, yes.”
Ginny’s face went so pale her freckles stood out. She heaved a shuddery sigh. “I know I should have told you weeks ago. But I didn’t figure it mattered. I mean, Bud got the job on his own. All I knew at first was that he thought the world of his boss, Mac. How was I to know it was Mac Coy?”
Tia sipped her coffee. “When did you find out?”
“About a month ago.” She seemed more nervous than ever.
About the time Tia had learned her awful secret.
“I was going to tell you, but I just never found the words. I’m such a coward.”
She covered her friend’s hand with her own. Ginny had borne the onus of her three disreputable brothers most of her life. She wasn’t the enemy here. She didn’t deserve to be treated like one. “Let’s order something to eat.”
They gave their orders to the waitress, and when she was gone Ginny said, “Bud swears he’s reformed, Tia. I just don’t know whether or not to believe him.”
Tia could see she wanted to, though. And she had the odd feeling Ginny wasn’t telling all she knew. Tia recalled her own encounter with Buddy, the gun he’d wielded at Mac and her, and knew it would take more than Bud Gibson’s word to convince her he’d reformed or was trying to change. But for Ginny’s sake, she prayed her suspicions were wrong.
HALF AN HOUR LATER, with Ginny’s borrowed laptop tucked on the car seat beside her, Tia headed for the condo.
Before she started making calls, she put a disk into Ginny’s laptop and used her word-processing program to make a file for each of Mac’s department heads. Then she began calling the people listed as references in each personnel record. As she verified the background of each employee, she added those notes to her files.
Already Mac had called her three times just to check on whether or not she was safe. Tia smiled. His calls were the only bright spot in this frustrating day. She hadn’t uncovered one thing for Mac to be appalled about, to feel badly that he hadn’t checked. So why had Grant left that message on her answering machine?
She set aside Will Holden’s file and reached for Bijou Novak’s. She’d been dialing and talking and typing notes into the computer for more than three hours. Her body was stiff from sitting too long. She stood and stretched, made a trek to the kitchen for a diet soda and returned to the living room.
The day was drifting toward evening, black shadows reaching across the landscape like a blanketing fog. Lights dotted the darkness across the lake. She closed the curtains and checked the security-alarm pad. The proper lights glowed reassuringly.
She settled down again and called the first reference Bijou Novak had listed. The phone number belonged to a department store that had done business in the same location for twenty years. Personnel had no record of anyone named Bijou Novak.
Tia tried another number with the same results. By the third call excitement swelled inside her like a fire of anticipation. She couldn’t wait to talk to Mac.
As far as she could tell, before he’d hired her, Bijou Novak hadn’t existed.
A violent chirping froze her fingers on the keyboard. Five seconds passed before she realized it was Grant’s high-priced security system. The front door crashed open. Someone was in the condo with her.
Chapter Eleven
Mac’s taxi pulled to a stop halfway into the parking area by Grant’s condo. Fire trucks blocked further access. Alarm shot through him. He threw money at the cabby and jumped out. Smoke permeated the night air. He raced for Grant’s condo, his heart pumping as hard as his legs.
His first sight of the condo turned his blood icy. The charred front door hung open like a pit into hell. Every instinct he had told him it was too late, but he ran for it, anyway. “Tia!”
A burly firefighter grabbed him. “Whoa, partner. You can’t go in there.”
Mac wrenched free. Started forward again. “Tia!”
The firefighter caught him again. “You live here?”
“Yes. What happened? Where’s Tia?”
“Tia?”
“My fiancée!” Terror dried his throat. “She was here an hour ago!”
He started forward again, hauling along the burly man in heavy fire gear.
The firefighter said, “Look, buddy, an ambulance took a woman to Valley General about five minutes ago.”
Mac stopped in his tracks. His heart fell to his toes, dragging his stomach with it. He began to shake. His mind conjured up all the horrors Tia might have suffered, from major burns to smoke inhalation. He rounded on the man. “Is…is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” The guy shrugged.
Mac’s control snapped. Fury and fear gripped him. He snatched hold of the man by the front of his coat and ground out through clenched teeth, “What do you know, man?”
The firefighter peeled free of Mac’s grasp. “Looks like the Christmas tree caught fire. We should know for sure by tomorrow.”
Mac felt stunned, shock beginning to numb his brain, his body. The Christmas tree? But the lights were those low-heat ones.
“Look, buddy, the condo isn’t that bad.” The firefighter shook his head. “We kept the fire from spreading beyond the living room. Of course, with smoke and water damage…”
“Water damage? From the sprinkler system?”
“No…” The man looked at him oddly, then began gathering hoses again. “Apparently that didn’t activate.”
Didn’t activate? Mac stared at the man’s back, his mind stumbling, his limbs frozen.
“Oh, my God, Grant.” A middle-aged woman with bleached blond hair and thick glasses approached. “I’m so sorry. It was awful. Your burglar alarm went off—bleating like a lovesick ewe. I figured you’d hit the wrong button or something, but it went on and on and on.”
The alarm? His eyes widened, but he could barely focus on the woman. Tia!
“I came over to see why you hadn’t turned it off, and that’s when I saw the smoke pouring out your open door.”
The alarm? The sprinkler? The door was open? His fear for Tia tripled, stripping the lethargy from his body, his brain. Had someone broken in? “Did…did you see the young woman who was here?”
“Sorry.” The neighbor shook her head. “Too much fire and smoke to see anything. I ran home and called 911.”
“Was she hurt?”
“I don’t know.” The woman gave him a pitying look.
Mac shook himself. He had to get to the hospital. But how? He glanced around for his taxi. Gone. No! An acrid film coated his tongue: the taste of his own inadequacies. Grant would have known how to get to Tia. He never lost his cool in a crisis.
A bright spot of red glinted from the tangle of the fire trucks and hoses. The Porsche. Mac’s pulse leaped. He dashed to the car and grasped the door handle. The alarm chirped at him. Damn. It was locked.
His scalp prickled as though it were shrinking on his skull. He considered smashing a window. But the car still wouldn’t start without the key. Panic welled inside him. No. He had to think. Tia. Tia. Tia. He had to get to her. Where was that firefighter? Where was that neighbor? He gaze poked through the crowd. He couldn’t find either of them. He spun left. Then right.
A soft jangle issued from his jacket. Keys. In his pocket. Hope hurried his hand to them. Mac held the key ring toward the street lamp.
“Yes!” he shouted, finding the spare car key. Thanking God, he unlocked the car and jumped into the driver’s seat. The powerful engine hummed at his touch. “I’m coming, Tia. Hang on, baby.”
He tapped the gas. The car lurched forward. He pressed his foot down harder. The action energized him. Gave him the first sense of power he’d felt in days over his out-of-control life. He tore recklessly between fire engines, over fire hoses, past angry firefighters. He ignored them all, his only thought for the woman he loved.
The Porsche left the condo parking lot in a flash of speed.
Twenty minutes later he raced up to the information desk at Valley General Hospital. The elderly woman manning the station asked if she could help him.
He nodded, trying to catch his breath. “Tia Larken. She was brought in a while ago by ambulance.”
“I don’t have anyone by that name.” She scanned her computer. “But if you’re sure she was brought in by ambulance, perhaps she’s in emergency.”
“Of course.” He should have thought of that. He ran for the stairs, flying down them two at a time. At the emergency counter, he again asked for Tia.
“I’m right here.”
He jerked his head up at the sound of her voice. She was coming toward him. Walking on her own. Words failed him. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. The horrible dread wrapping his heart began unraveling. He tripped toward her like a little boy on Christmas morning moving toward a favorite present.
As he walked Mac couldn’t help taking inventory. No fire damage that he could see, no sign of smoke inhalation. Just some scratches on her cheeks. Nothing that looked like it wouldn’t heal in a shor
t time. Blowing out a relieved breath, he scooped her into his arms. Crushed her to him. Spun around with her, holding her close. Closer.
“I thought…I was afraid…” He put her down and leaned away. “Are you all right?”
“Other than a few scratches and some bruises,” she assured him. But her face was abnormally pale and the smudges were back beneath her eyes. She’d suffered a terrible fright. Or worse.
Guilt flattened his relief. This was his fault. He’d gotten her into this. Insisted she get involved. “I’m so sorry.”
She levered her hands against his chest and pushed away. “You’re sorry? My God, you didn’t break into the condo or set it on fire.”
Horror spread through him. His worst fears were confirmed. “Someone broke in?” He leaned close, speaking low. “Then set fire to the condo? How did you escape?”
“I went over the balcony. Landed on some full but prickly shrubs,” Tia whispered.
“Did you see who it was?”
“No. But we need to go somewhere and talk.”
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded and pulled her against his side, protecting her as best he could for the moment. But this wasn’t enough. She had to get out of this sham. Had to stay as far away from it as possible. Even though the thought of facing the rest of the week without her left him cold, he had to send her away, before she suffered serious injury.
He would do that immediately after they talked.
MAC DROVE DOWN the familiar, narrow lane around Lake Kathleen, debating the wisdom of bringing Tia here. It was a mistake. He should have gone to her apartment. They could have talked there. Then he could have told her his decision to keep her out of this mess and left. What was the matter with him?
Fog swirled around the car in ghostly waves, adding to his distress. His neck prickled, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He hadn’t been here for a week. What if the killer had gotten in? Boobytrapped it somehow?