“Morning, gorgeous,” he said, greeting her with a warm smile that dimmed when she didn’t return it. “Is something wrong?” The minute he got a better look at her frozen expression and the chill in her eyes, he knew his question was answered.
The old Alex is back.
“You really had me going, Dylan,” she said in the same chilly voice he remembered. “Who knew you had such acting abilities?”
“Yeah, well, I have hidden talents,” he drawled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He kept his features bland, not revealing the pain he was feeling.
“You must have enjoyed your time here. You found out how to worm your way into my affections. Or maybe just toy with them.” Her eyes looked like shards of green glass. “But playtime is over. I’m no longer scared. I can take care of myself.”
Uncaring of his nudity, Dylan climbed out of bed. He bent down and swept up his jeans and shirt, pulling them on. Nothing in his expression indicated what he was thinking.
“I never doubted you could take care of yourself, Al,” he said flatly. “But you were in danger, and as a cop, I was making sure you were safe. That’s my job.”
“I called Detective Whitmire. It looks like they have a hit on a fingerprint they lifted from my office. That’s good enough for me. I’m returning to my work and taking back my life, which means you no longer need to be involved.” She lifted her chin.
Dylan refused to back down. “Just what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” She bit out the word, determined not to back down, either.
His eyes turned the color of storm clouds in the dead of winter as he snapped out a pithy opinion of her response. “For some reason, you’re really ticked off at me. I’d like to know why.”
“I never said I was angry at you.” Her gaze was cool. “It’s time for you to go home, Dylan. You go back to your life and I’ll return to mine.”
“Maybe you think everything is fine and dandy, but I don’t. You can’t take any chances with your safety,” he argued instead. “Having a fingerprint doesn’t mean we have the man in custody.”
She remained as still as a statue. “I won’t be taking any chances, but I don’t intend to hide out here like some frightened rabbit,” she said coolly. “I would just feel better doing it my way.”
Every word she said in her cool and precise voice pounded another nail into Dylan’s heart, which had started to crack into tiny pieces the moment he saw that the old Alex was back. He didn’t bother arguing with her. He knew better than to think she would even listen to him.
“You know what, Alex, you are lying your gorgeous head off,” he said finally. “Except this time, you’re hurting yourself. Just remember you’re not invincible.” He sat down on the bed long enough to pull on his boots. At that moment all he cared about was getting the hell out of there before he said something they’d both regret. He reached down, snatched up his duffel bag and made a beeline for the door.
“Oh, Dylan.” He stopped at her chilly tone but didn’t bother to turn around. “I’m sure you saw my accident as a fortunate chance for you, but we are still divorced. Let’s just consider these past few days as closure, shall we?”
Dylan’s jaw worked furiously as he bit back every caustic remark he would have normally made.
“I was crazy to fall in love with you again,” he muttered. “I should just go ahead and commit myself to the nearest padded room.” Still refusing to turn around, he left the room. A moment later, the front door could be heard opening and closing.
Alex stayed seated in the chair until after the front door closed. She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to the bed and sat down, curling up until she sat against the headboard. She picked up Dylan’s pillow and hugged it against her chest, burying her face in the soft cotton, inhaling his scent so she could commit it to memory. She lost track of time as she huddled there in her misery that seemed to seep into her very bones.
“I had to do it,” she whispered. “Better now than later and hurt him all that much more.” She swiped her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands.
A voice inside her head told her she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make any decisions on something as important as her future with Dylan. She had made errors during their marriage because she’d decided her career was more important. Thinking back, she had no idea why she made such illogical changes in her life instead of considering what was important and sticking with that. She feared whatever had her taking that irrational turn was still lodged in that missing piece of her memory, and she might not ever discover the entire story.
Perhaps she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life after she had been given a second chance. She’d only allowed Dylan to think she had regained her memory. She had used what she read in her file to give him the impression she remembered everything. What he didn’t know was that she took all the papers and ran them through the paper shredder. She never wanted to see them again, nor did she want to see the old Alexandra Spencer again, either.
As she sat there, she knew the best thing she did was to cut ties that could never be mended. She had told Dylan she intended to return to her old life, but she knew that wasn’t possible. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was time for her to take steps to make some important changes in her life.
“Make your choice, Alex,” she murmured, feeling the ache come back as she finally understood the meaning of the words Dylan had thrown at her years ago. She got up from the bed, went into her office and retrieved her client list, then returned to the bedroom and Dylan’s pillow. Using it as a makeshift desk, she studied the list and easily crossed off a good third of the names. She decided that first thing in the morning she would construct a letter to each explaining she was cutting back on her work and would do whatever was necessary to help them in the transition of finding a new attorney. “And this time don’t screw it up.”
As she studied the plan she’d mapped out, she felt the pain start to lessen. She was so engrossed in her task, it took a moment for her to realize her cell phone was ringing. Part of her hoped it was Dylan. Her hopes were dashed when a slightly familiar voice spoke.
“Alexandra, my dear, Garrett Merrill here. I hope you are feeling better now. Your assistant told me you have been under a doctor’s care lately. I hope it was nothing serious.”
“No, Mr. Merrill, nothing serious,” she assured her client. She glanced down at the paper in her lap and realized his was one of the names she’d marked to let go. “Is there something I can do for you?” She hoped that wasn’t the case, since she didn’t feel up to dealing with a man whose mind was faster than a computer.
“I am in Sierra Vista today checking up on my investment property. Since I was here I thought I would see if we could meet.”
Alex realized she had just been handed the perfect chance to talk to him about her plan to cut back on her practice, since he would be one of the clients she would be cutting.
“If it’s all right with you, I could see you at my office in about an hour,” she said, thinking she would need enough time to take a quick shower and pull herself together.
“That would be fine. I will meet you there.”
Alex’s tears started up again when she entered the bathroom and saw the bottle of Dylan’s aftershave sitting on the counter. She picked it up and opened it, holding it to her nose. She closed her eyes and swallowed a sob.
“I can’t hurt him anymore,” she murmured. “I should just leave the area.” But she knew she couldn’t do that just yet. But one thing she would do was draft a request that the alimony payments be stopped. She could at least spare Dylan that embarrassment.
After using what felt like a pound of concealer around and under her eyes, Alex dressed in a pair of jeans and a cotton T-shirt instead of reaching for something dressier. She decided that was another change she was making. Just because she was going into her office on her day off didn’t mean she needed to wear what she’d wear to court. Seeing it was overcast and
breezy outside, she searched the closet for a lightweight jacket.
“This needs to go to the cleaners,” she murmured, pulling out the coat she’d last worn the night she was attacked. As she started to put it back on the hanger, she felt a slight weight in one of the pockets. She dug her hand inside and pulled out a CD jewel case. Not recognizing it, she opened up the case and found no label or markings to indicate the contents. “CD,” she whispered in excitement. “This has to be it!” Since she was running late, she dropped it into her purse with the intention of checking it out when she got to her office.
Dylan stopped at his house long enough to shower and change his clothes. Standing at the washer, he pulled all his clothing out of his duffel bag, paused long enough to inhale Alex’s soft powdery scent, which still clung to his shirts, and quickly threw them in the washer to erase all trace of her.
He was furious with himself for walking out when he should have stayed and battled it out with Alex. She might have a degree in argument, but he knew his stubborn streak was just as strong as hers. One way or another, he was going to make her listen to him and he’d make sure to listen to her. He knew once things calmed down they could hash out what happened to cause their marriage to disintegrate. Because he knew Alex didn’t want to end this fledgling beginning any more than he did.
“I’m an idiot.” He poured in soap and turned on the washer. “I let her sucker me in, and man, I fell for it.” He threw his duffel bag in a corner and walked out of the laundry room.
A search of the refrigerator revealed that the contents were better off thrown out. He was too restless to stay inside but had no desire to go anywhere for some breakfast, even if his body reminded him that anger didn’t hold off hunger. Each time he thought of Alex he had to resist putting his fist through a wall.
“Give her time to cool off,” he decided. “Let her see that compromises can be made. We didn’t bother trying last time. We should be smarter now. I’m not letting that stubborn little witch throw it all away.” Making a plan helped keep his frustration at bay as he finally decided he might as well stop by Tank’s Diner for breakfast. He doubted he’d be lucky enough for Tank not to ask where Alex was.
As he picked up his truck keys he was aware his cell phone was vibrating. Hoping it was Alex, he flipped it open.
“Parker.”
“It’s Whitmire. We have the men who attacked Ms. Spencer in custody,” the detective announced.
Dylan started running to his truck. “I’m on my way.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected when he walked into the interrogation room. Certainly not a man named Leonard Hart who looked more like a bespectacled accountant than your run-of-the-mill thug. Then the man lifted his face and Dylan got a good look at his eyes.
Stone cold went through his mind. The bastard would have snapped her neck without a second thought.
“Mr. Hart, I’m Detective Parker,” he said conversationally, taking one of the chairs, turning it around and sitting down, resting his arms along the back. The moment he sat down he noticed the strong smell of cigarettes coming from the man’s clothing.
He reeked of cigarette smoke. Alex’s words came to mind.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me or are you playing the fed wannabe’s easygoing partner that I’m supposed to trust?” the man asked in a voice that was devoid of all emotion. “Ain’t gonna work.”
Dylan shrugged, determined to stick with the laid-back cop attitude even if he secretly wanted to crush the SOB under his heel. “Just trying to be polite,” he said amiably. “Too bad you missed a couple of spots when you cleaned off the luggage, then the Camry, Leonard. Or was it your buddy who slipped up?” Not by a flicker of an eyelash did the man betray his thoughts. But Dylan wouldn’t give up. “I’d say you’ve been flying under the radar for some time. You got out of the army, what, ten years ago? Not once during that time were you picked up. But we’re stubborn like that. We can’t find you in one place, we’ll look elsewhere. And now we’ve got you.”
The man’s eyes were still devoid of emotion as they swung around to stare at Dylan. “I don’t need a buddy, Detective. I don’t need to watch the bad cop/good cop routine. Do us both a favor and don’t waste your breath.” He swung back to contemplate his hands, resting on the tabletop.
“Gee, sounds like you watch a lot of Law & Order.” Dylan was determined to be nice even if it killed him. “But I think you must have missed a few episodes.” His smile wasn’t the least bit friendly. “You see, Leonard, you already saw the good cop. Now you have Alexandra Spencer’s husband.” He figured Alex would forgive him the lie if it got him the information they needed. “Yeah, the lady you’ve been terrorizing is married to a cop who doesn’t like hearing someone’s been scaring his wife. Talk about a bad idea. You screwed up more than once, and we’re going to make sure you pay for it big-time. Thanks to the charges we’ve got on you I’d say you will be going away for a very long time. You killed that old lady, Leonard,” he continued in a soft voice edged with steel. “You were the reason she died as surely as if you’d put a gun to her head. Murder carries a hefty penalty in this state.”
A whiff of cigarettes assaulted Dylan’s senses as the man faced him again.
“That’s only if I actually killed someone.”
Dylan already knew this man wasn’t going to give up information easily. What made it worse was a dangerous tingling along the back of his neck that screamed for him to hurry. He leaned forward until he invaded the other man’s personal space. He was privately gratified to see the man didn’t like it. “She died, Leonard,” he said in a low voice. “You and your buddy are going to be charged with her death. Then you trashed my wife’s office.” He tsked softly. “It doesn’t look good for you, Leonard. Not good at all. No privacy, those small cells. No freedom.”
The suspect’s lip curled. “I’ll tell you one thing. I ain’t getting paid enough to go down for everything when it wasn’t my idea to begin with. He won’t pay my legal bills.”
Dylan saw his chance and ran with it. “You’ve got a kid, Leonard. Is the boss going to take care of your son, too, or will he leave you out to hang? You’re no dummy. Do you really want to go away for years while your boss is out there living the high life?” He took a chance, since he guessed that someone with Leonard’s experience wouldn’t have come cheap.
Leonard’s face tightened. “You and I both know there’s no way in hell you can get him. He’s got way too much money and too many lawyers to go anywhere but back to his fancy house.”
“Did he tell you to try to run Alexandra Spencer down in the street that day?” Dylan snarled.
The man’s face paled. “No! That was an accident, I swear. We were told not to hurt her. The boss just wanted his stuff back. He hoped she hadn’t read anything because he said she was a good lawyer.”
“What did he want back?” Dylan demanded. “What were you looking for?”
“A CD. That’s all the boss told us,” Leonard said reluctantly. “It has all his records on it.”
“What records?” His impatience was growing as his fear level ratcheted skyward. He remembered he and Alex looking through the CDs in her briefcase but not finding anything odd there. So where was this CD?
“What do I get out of this?” The man saw his chance to strike a deal.
“I don’t make deals. That’s up to the D.A., but I’m sure he’ll be happier with you if you’re up front with us.” Dylan resisted the urge to reach across the table and throttle the little weasel.
Leonard pulled in a deep breath. “The boss runs high-class hookers. He doesn’t think we know, but his wife is my sister and she found out. She said she could hold it over him if she ever decides to divorce him. He has lots of clients overseas who like to have pretty women around. These clients will pay a lot of money for them and they don’t care if the women are willing or not. He lets everyone think he’s some high-society SOB because my sister likes all the prestige. But she’s real high mai
ntenance and so are his mistress and his girlfriend. Plus, he just likes to make a lot of money.”
“That sounds more like you thinking you can pull something over on us, Leonard, by telling us your boss traffics in white slavery. You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He pretended indifference.
Leonard made a face. “My wife took off when our kid was two, and if I go to prison my sister would take him. I don’t want that bastard anywhere near my son.”
“Then give us a name,” Dylan demanded, all patience now gone as his imagination shot out pictures of what could happen to Alex if this idiot’s boss got hold of her. “No more dancing around.”
The man took one look at Dylan’s face and shuddered. “Garrett Merrill. He’s a big client of Ms. Spencer’s.”
Dylan stood up and reached for his cell phone. He needed to call Alex. He looked at Detective Whitmire, who was smiling as he walked into the room. “He’s all yours.”
“Thanks.” But Dylan was already out the door and running down the hall as he listened to the ringing on the other end switch to voice mail. He tried her cell phone next with the same result. He muttered curses as he ran out of the building.
When Alex stepped into the lobby of her office, she noticed the reception desk was empty and a man was seated on a nearby chair. She easily guessed he was her client when he immediately rose to his feet and walked out with his hand outstretched. She noted he was clad in a tailored Italian suit and hand-sewn loafers. He arched an eyebrow at her casual clothing.
She smiled and allowed him to engulf her hand in his two in a warm clasp.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Merrill,” she lied, since she still had no clue who he truly was, other than seeing his name and the work she’d done on his behalf detailed in her files.
“I was so sorry to hear you were ill,” he said with old-fashioned courtesy. “I trust you are better now.”
“Much,” she assured him with a warm smile she discovered she had to force. She looked around the lobby and felt a hint of unease at finding it empty. “Odd, I don’t see our security guard.”
Memories After Midnight Page 20