Evening Hours

by Mary Lynn Baxter

“I refuse to believe one of my models did this to her,” Kaylee said in an unsteady voice.

  “You’d best readjust your thinking,” Sowell said bluntly. “It’s just a matter of proving which model.”

  Kaylee stared at Cutler, her insides roiling, then back at the detective. “I don’t care how much animosity was between them, none of my girls is capable of such a heinous act.”

  “Tell him what you know, Kaylee,” Cutler said in an even but firm tone. “Starting with the drugs and everything in between, including the catfight.”

  Sowell’s dark eyes drilled her. “I’m listening, ma’am.”

  Kaylee complied with Cutler’s softly spoken demand. Listening to herself relate the incidents, she realized all the models were now cast in a suspicious light, especially Jessica Riley, since she and Barbie had fought.

  Yet she didn’t believe for one second that Jessica could mortally harm Barbie or anyone else. That was something she would have to convince Cutler and the detective of.

  “The motive seems pretty clear to me,” Sowell said.

  “How’s that?” Kaylee didn’t bother to temper the censure in her voice.

  “I’m betting the catfight has something to do with the drugs.”

  “I still don’t believe it,” Kaylee said, her tone bordering on hostility. “Which means you’ll have to prove it.”

  “Trust me, I will,” Sowell said, never changing the tone of his voice.

  “Am I free to go now?” Kaylee asked. “I need to find out about Barbie.”

  The detective nodded, then stood. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Later, Sowell,” Cutler said in a clipped tone before following Kaylee out of the room.

  When they walked back into the waiting area, you could’ve heard a pin drop. Kaylee’s heart faltered. One look at Sandy, who had come up to her, told the story.

  “She…she didn’t make it, did she?” Kaylee whispered.

  “No, sweetie, she didn’t.” Sandy choked back the tears. “The doctor just came out and told us.”

  “God, no,” Kaylee cried, shaking her head violently. “Please, no.”

  “Take it easy, sweetheart,” Cutler said in an urgent voice.

  In the background Kaylee could hear weeping, deep wrenching weeping. Yet it sounded as if it was coming from somewhere else, somewhere outside this room.

  Somewhere outside herself.

  “Dammit,” Cutler cried roughly.

  She felt his strong arms around her, then nothing more.

  “Did I really sleep?”

  “Yes, you did, and I’m glad. You more than needed the rest.”

  Cutler drew her naked body against the length of his. Once again she reveled in the secure warmth that invaded her limbs. She nestled closer. He held her tighter.

  Neither spoke again for a long time.

  Yet Kaylee’s mind was no longer asleep. On awakening, she had been hit by the horror of the evening with the force of a sledgehammer. A precious young woman had been murdered in the prime of her life.

  That just couldn’t be. Only it was. Informing Barbie’s parents of their senseless loss had literally sucked all the energy out of her, leaving her weak and listless. Afterward, she knew that was what had made her black out for several minutes. When she’d come to, Cutler had taken her home and put her in bed.

  Quelling a cry of despair, Kaylee bit down on her lower lip.

  “It’s okay to cry, baby. Don’t keep it bottled up.”

  Those gentle words of encouragement were all it took. The dam inside her broke and she sobbed until she couldn’t sob anymore. All the while Cutler held her tightly.

  Once she had regained control, she whispered, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “For better or for worse. Remember?”

  “Well, this is the ‘worse.’”

  “I can handle it. It’s you I’m worried about, though I know you’re tough. You’ve already proved that.”

  Kaylee pulled back a bit and looked at him. His drawn features were shadowed in the lamplight. She realized the tragedy had taken its toll on him, too, if for no other reason than he was married to her.

  “I refuse to believe Jessica is guilty.”

  “Why don’t you let the police worry about that?”

  “I can’t. You know that. Not when the agency and the girls are my responsibility. I feel like I’m—”

  “Stop it,” Cutler ordered in a harsh tone. “Don’t you dare go down that road. No way can you be held accountable for what those girls do. It’s impossible for you, Sandy, or anyone else employed there to ride herd on them every minute.”

  “You’re right, but maybe if I’d done something about the drugs.”

  “You did. You started trying to find out who was responsible.”

  “Do you think Jessica will be arrested?”

  “I don’t know. As soon as I get to the office, I’ll see what the crime scene boys came up with.”

  “Please do, and let me know immediately.”

  “Meanwhile, you have to prepare yourself to deal with the media. When you arrive at the agency, they’ll be all over you like mosquitoes on stale water. Count on it.”

  Kaylee shuddered. He drew her closer, then said, “Things are going to be crazy for a few more days, then it’ll settle down. Someone else’s misery will usurp yours. Trust me on that.”

  She realized the cynicism she heard in his voice was his job talking. He dealt with human garbage on a day-to-day basis and was used to it.

  “I hate for you to have to worry about this…me…when you have so much going on yourself.”

  “Hey, my shoulders are wide and strong. I can handle the load. I just want you to stand down and let the legal system work.”

  “I’ll try, but I’m making no promises.”

  Cutler gave her a lopsided smile. “Now, why does that not surprise me?”

  She stared at him for the longest time, feeling as though her heart might explode with love for him. Leaning in, she kissed his lips, then whispered, “Make love to me. Please. Now.”

  “My pleasure.” He ground out the words, his lips adhering to hers in a deep hot kiss that turned her bones to mush.

  When he pulled back, she surrounded his erection with her hand and began kneading it.

  He groaned, then nudged her legs apart. She placed his penis at the entrance to her vagina.

  He entered her with a hard, swift thrust that literally took her breath. As if he sensed that, he stopped.

  “No,” she whispered, digging her nails into his back. “I want to know that I’m alive. Ride me hard.”

  He did.

  Thirty-Seven

  “That son of a bitch is just asking for it.”

  “You okay, boss?”

  Drew glared at his adviser, who was staring at him from under his overabundant eyebrows. “Do I look okay?”

  “No.”

  “I’m about to have his head on a platter.”

  “Are you sure you want to mess with Cutler McFarland?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking why he wants to mess with me?”

  “He’s the D.A., Drew.”

  “I don’t care if he’s Sir-fucking-Lancelot.” Drew’s tone spilled over with venom.

  Glen scratched his head in perplexity. “I know you have power and friends in high places, but so does he. What’s the deal with the two of you, anyway?”

  “He’s out to get me.”

  “And if we have to turn over our records, he’s liable to do just that.”

  Drew’s features contorted. “Not if you want to remain upright.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Yes,” Drew said without hesitation.

  “Ah, hell, Drew, get off your high horse. You know I’m on your side. Always have been and always will be. You’ve been good to me and my family. I’d never mess in my own playhouse.”

  “I’d hope you wouldn’t be that stupid.”

  Glen’s respon
se was a sigh.

  “How long do we have to get the records together?”

  “Two days.”

  Drew cursed.

  Glen lowered his overweight frame into a chair, then stretched his legs out in front of him. For some reason his casual stance raised Drew’s ire even higher.

  “Sit up, for chrissake,” he barked.

  Glen straightened as if he’d been shot. “Sorry.”

  “I didn’t call you in here to relax.”

  “Whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do,” Glen said in a no-nonsense tone. “If you say keep ’em, I’ll keep ’em.”

  “And get my ass hauled to jail? I don’t think so.”

  “Your attorney wouldn’t allow that.”

  “I’m not going to take that chance. Besides, there’s really nothing in the books that will incriminate me.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “It’s just the idea that the son of a bitch is trying to nail my hide to the wall.”

  “You never told me why that is, either.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that he gets nailed instead of me.”

  “Got any ideas how to bring that about?”

  “Find me something that stinks, that I can rub his nose in.”

  Glen rose. “That ought to be real easy. You know how the press is. You just gotta hint that something smells foul and they take it and run with it.”

  “I got an idea. Talk to Winston Gilmore, his opponent. Rumor has it that they don’t get along, that Gilmore has the red-ass for McFarland.”

  “I’ve heard that, as well.” Glen paused, looking thoughtful. “Think it has to do with Gilmore’s wife and McFarland. If I recollect, they had a thing going, which is probably what gave Gilmore that red-ass.” Glen grinned. “No man likes to think about his wife humping another man, especially one whose job he’s after.”

  “Exactly.” Drew eased back in his chair, feeling a surge of renewed confidence. “All the more reason we need to put our heads together with Gilmore. I know he’s not above hitting below the belt.”

  “I’ll get on it.”

  Once Glen was gone, Drew swiveled his chair so that he was looking out onto the roof deck that was littered with expensive furniture and plants. If it weren’t so blasted hot, he’d like to meander out there and sit, but his blood pressure was already elevated.

  Thanks to his son.

  Son.

  He fought the urge to puke. He’d never had paternal instincts and didn’t now. Most other men he knew would kill to claim a son like Cutler McFarland, who was good-looking, successful, charming. The list of assets could go on indefinitely.

  Truth was, he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He wanted no part of Cutler or his life. The only thing Cutler had that he was remotely interested in was Kaylee. Outside of himself, she was the only person he cared about.

  He didn’t know why she’d gotten under his skin or even how. But he actually loved her as much as he was capable of loving anyone. Maybe it was because she had always loved him without any strings attached.

  He’d been the one who had attached the strings, because he’d wanted her to need him, to want him in her life. So far, she had been the daughter he’d never had, and he didn’t want to lose that human side of himself.

  Now, however, his relationship with her was threatened—thanks to her relationship with McFarland.

  Who would have thought they would meet, much less end up married? Of all the men in Houston, Texas, how the hell had she picked Cutler?

  It was certainly one of life’s freaking unexpected turns.

  No matter, he had to deal with it. That was why he was having to walk a chalk line behind the scenes. He didn’t want Kaylee to know he was going for her husband’s jugular. Not at this point, anyway. If Cutler didn’t heel soon, though, he might have to rethink the situation.

  He couldn’t allow Cutler to take him down and his empire with him. If it meant losing or crushing Kaylee and her father in order to preserve what he deemed sacred, he’d do it.

  Maybe it wouldn’t come to that, he told himself. Maybe teaming up with Gilmore would take some of the piss and vinegar out of Cutler. If not, then he’d resort to plan B. Drew chuckled with suppressed glee.

  There was no doubt in his mind that his last resort would definitely bring McFarland to his knees.

  “Shh, Nicole, stop crying now. It’s going to be okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” the model wailed, pushing Kaylee to arm’s length. “My life’s never going to be okay, thanks to him.”

  Kaylee didn’t try to put her arms around her again, even though Nicole was trembling as if she was having a hard chill. “Sit down, child, before you fall down.”

  For once, Nicole complied without an argument.

  “Who’s him, Nicole?”

  Nicole looked up at Kaylee through the tears brimming in her eyes. “What?”

  “You said him, that your life wouldn’t be okay because of him.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did. And you’re not leaving this room until you tell me who `him’ is.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Or won’t?”

  “Both.”

  Kaylee sat beside the model on the sofa, took her hand, then spoke in a soft tone. “You can trust me. You have to know that. I only want what’s best for you.”

  “I know,” Nicole wailed again.

  “Then who’s abusing you, honey? Who’s using you as a punching bag at will?”

  Nicole lowered her head. Kaylee watched Nicole’s shoulders shake with sobs. Kaylee raised her head, fighting back her own tears. But she couldn’t afford to lose control. Something evil was happening to this young woman, and she would uncover it.

  Today.

  This minute.

  “Nicole.”

  The model raised her head, but continued to stare straight ahead. Kaylee noted the thrust of her chin, and her heart faltered. How was she going to get Nicole to confide in her? Surely there was something she could say that would turn the tide. She just hadn’t found the right combination yet.

  “He’s…he’s a powerful man.”

  Kaylee sat still, her heart hammering like crazy.

  “He’s…he’s rich, as well.” Nicole paused and took a wrenching breath.

  “Go on, honey.” Kaylee squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

  Nicole turned her big, fright-filled eyes on Kaylee. “Can you keep that promise?”

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” God, Kaylee prayed she could put her money where her mouth was, so to speak. But then Cutler’s words jumped to mind—I’m the D.A., remember?—and she felt her confidence return.

  “Nicole, tell me his name.”

  Still she hesitated.

  “Don’t back down now,” Kaylee said, trying to temper the urgency she heard in her own voice. The last thing she wanted was to spook the girl, confident she wouldn’t get a second chance.

  It was now or never.

  Nicole licked the tears off her trembling lips, then stammered, “He’s…he’s a judge.”

  Kaylee’s jaw dropped. “A judge?”

  “Yes,” Nicole cried, jumping up and pacing the floor.

  “It’s okay,” Kaylee said again, rising with the use of her cane.

  “How can you say that?” Nicole cried again. “If he finds out I told you, he’ll hurt me real bad. He told me he’d make sure I never walked down another runway.”

  “His name,” Kaylee demanded through tight lips, her anger reaching new proportions. “What’s his name?”

  “He’ll pour acid in my face.”

  Kaylee managed to stifle a horrified cry. “He’ll have to go through me first.”

  “Don’t for one minute think he couldn’t.”

  “His name, Nicole. You have to tell me.”

  “Can I whisper it?”

  “If that will make you feel better.”

  With a terro
rized look on her face, Nicole’s eyes scanned the room. “It will. I’m afraid the walls have ears.”

  Masking her own brand of terror, Kaylee went to Nicole and placed her ear close to the model’s lips. “Tell me.”

  “Mmm, darling, that was delicious.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Kaylee said, taking a bow from her position by the cabinet.

  Cutler grinned and rubbed his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted any better lasagna.”

  Kaylee gestured with a hand. “To hear you talk, you just polished off an extraordinary gourmet dinner.”

  Cutler rubbed his stomach again. “It’s not just talk, woman, it’s the truth.”

  “You’re prejudiced, but thanks anyway.”

  Cutler’s eyes darkened. “Come here.”

  “You follow me instead.” Kaylee crooked a finger.

  “Ah, ‘into the boudoir’ said the spider to the fly.”

  “No, into the sunroom.”

  Cutler’s face fell. “Oh.”

  Kaylee laughed, but then her features turned serious. “We need to talk.”

  “I know,” he said with equal seriousness.

  After she served the coffee, they sat in silence for a long while, with Kaylee basking in the fact that despite all the troubled spots in her life, she was a happily married woman. When the walls came tumbling down around her, she knew there was haven to be found in Cutler’s strong and secure arms.

  This evening for sure.

  “You’ve had a bad day, right?” Cutler asked, breaking the silence.

  “No different from yours, I’m sure.”

  Cutler let go of a harsh breath at the same time he massaged the dark stubble on his cheek.

  “If the press doesn’t leave me alone,” Kaylee said, “I’m going to take out a hit on them. Or at least one reporter.”

  Since Barbie’s death, she’d been called on a daily basis, not to mention the inciting article that had run in the paper. She couldn’t forget the television coverage either. Her life, her career, had been turned topsy-turvy, especially since no arrest had yet been made.

  Detective Sowell had interviewed all the models and employees. So far, she’d been kept in the dark, a fact she hoped to correct.