“The party’s great, Dad,” Gerald said with enthusiasm. “And who’s this beautiful woman on your arm?” Gerald’s wide grin showed off a set of perfectly straight polished teeth. A politician’s smile, if she’d ever seen one.
“This is Veronica Miller,” Eli said, grinning.
Gerald’s smile widened. “It is a pleasure, Ms. Miller. Welcome to our home.”
Veronica smiled, a shiver slithering up her back as Gerald took her hand and kissed it. When she glanced up, she saw Detective Dawson watching her, his face impassive.
“My pleasure, too.” Veronica studied Gerald. He was handsome in a polished sort of way—smooth, soft-looking skin; neat clipped nails; small, stylish, round glasses; not a hair out of place. Still, she felt uneasy with him.
“Father says you’re new to Oakland. A tax attorney?”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “I was working in Fort Lauderdale but I decided to branch out on my own.”
“Atlanta certainly can use you.” Gerald grinned flirtatiously. “Perhaps I can show you the city sometime and we can have dinner?”
“Perhaps,” Veronica said. She noticed the detective easing near her.
Eli frowned. “I thought you didn’t have time for a social life.”
Veronica shifted and squeezed her hands around her glass at Eli’s disapproving tone. “I haven’t. But maybe sometime I will.”
“Excuse us for a minute,” Eli said, deftly guiding Gerald away.
“I’ll definitely see you later, Veronica,” Gerald said, giving her a wink.
Veronica felt a presence behind her.
“Hi,” Detective Dawson said softly. “I didn’t realize you knew the former senator.”
Veronica faced him and sipped her drink. “He’s my godfather. He was a friend of my parents.”
Dawson leveled her with a probing gaze. “So, you’re friendly with the family?”
Veronica laughed nervously. “Hardly. Eli’s kept in touch with letters and cards. I just met Gerald.” Besides, I don’t remember the others, she added silently.
“I see.” Dawson downed a swig of his champagne. “Gerald has his eyes out for you. You looking for a new boyfriend?”
“What are you talking about?” Veronica asked, her nerves on edge.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Ron?” Nathan asked.
Veronica glanced at her hands. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Listen, Veronica. I’m trying to help. But how can I investigate your story if you don’t tell me the truth?” Nathan asked. “A lover—”
“Nathan.” A woman called, flitting toward them.
Nathan frowned. “We’ll finish this discussion later.” He motioned to a woman a few years older than Veronica with dark red hair swept up in a fashionable chignon and glittery combs on both sides. “You know Tessa?”
Veronica shook her head. She knew Tessa was Eli’s daughter from a previous marriage, but they’d never met. At least not that she remembered. Tessa must be close to forty. She was wearing blue spiked heels and a royal blue dress that hugged her curves and dipped to expose her ample cleavage. She sauntered toward them, confidence radiating from her every pore. “Nice looking,” Veronica said, wondering if in spite of the age difference, the detective had dated her.
“Yes,” Dawson said in a low voice, “she is.”
Their gazes locked again. Once again the tension radiating between them was palpable.
Tessa maneuvered her way between Veronica and Nathan. “Hi, Nathan. Good to see you again.”
“You, too,” Nathan said. Veronica tensed and watched Tessa give Nathan an appreciative look.
“Hi, Tessa.” Veronica extended her hand. “I’m Veronica Miller. Your dad and I—”
“I know who you are,” Tessa said in a sweet voice. But oddly, her blue eyes reminded Veronica of cold, crystal ice chips. “My father told us you were coming. Maybe we can go shopping together some time,” Tessa suggested.
“Sure,” Veronica said, confused about the mixed signals emanating from Tessa.
Daryl Scroggins, the former police chief, joined them, introducing her to his wife. “Welcome to Oakland, Miss Miller,” the middle-aged woman said. “Eli talks about you all the time. Did you really set up your office in the converted house where your father worked?”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “It’s a lovely office and a great location.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but you’re not living in that…that other house, are you?” the woman asked, fingering a gold broach pinned to the lapel of her organdy suit.
Veronica stiffened. “You mean my parents’ house?”
“Yes,” the woman said.
Tessa’s long, red fingernails tapped up and down Detective Dawson’s sleeve. “That would be so spooky.”
“No,” Veronica said. “I’m not staying there. I have an apartment.”
“You know they never sold the place,” Scroggins commented, taking a long draw of beer.
Another elderly woman joined them. “I’ve been selling real estate around here for years. Tried for a while to sell the house, but no one would buy it.”
“’Fraid it might be haunted,” Scroggins said. “You haven’t been out there have you, Miss Miller?”
Veronica shook her head. “Not yet.”
A sudden hush fell over the crowd at her statement. It was as if a cold wind had blown into the room, absorbing all the warmth. Nathan’s expression was unreadable.
“Well…” Scroggins said. “Let me know if you decide to go. House has been sitting there empty for years. Might not be safe. We’ve had some vandalism from time to time, but old Mr. Parker who lives near there keeps an eye on the place.”
“Thank you.” Veronica shivered as images of empty, cold, dark rooms, rotten boards covered in cobwebs and scampering, hungry mice came to mind.
“I wouldn’t go out there for anything in the world,” the nosy old real estate lady said. “Spooky the way it happened. Your dad was a good attorney. Then one day—”
“Vera, let’s get another drink,” her husband said, and steered his wife away.
“Come have some finger food with me,” Tessa purred into Nathan’s ear.
“Why don’t you get us a plate?” Nathan suggested, capturing Veronica’s gaze.
Veronica swallowed, trying to block out the old woman’s words and keep her emotions at bay.
Tessa’s ruby red lips formed a perfect pout. “Okay. I’ll bring you some champagne, too,” she said. Eli’s daughter sauntered away, flirting with every man in sight. Before Veronica had a chance to speak, Eli approached with a younger version of himself. It had to be his youngest son, Sonny. He was only two years older than Veronica. Staggering slightly, he steadied himself and flashed her a grin. Veronica cringed. He appeared to be drunk. Drunk and leering.
“This is Sonny,” Eli said. “Sonny—”
“I know who this is,” Sonny said with a slight slur. “I’ve been dying to meet her all night.”
Detective Dawson’s posture straightened. The older police chief, Scroggins, engaged Eli in a conversation.
Veronica offered her hand to Sonny. He grabbed it and planted a sloppy kiss on the top. “Pleased to meet you, V.”
“It’s Veronica,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Dad said you used to live around here when you were little.”
Veronica nodded. An older couple approached, staring at her as if they’d seen a ghost. “That’s right.”
“How about you and me painting the town?” Sonny grabbed another glass of champagne from a waiter who whizzed by.
“I don’t think so,” Veronica said. “I’m busy with my new practice.”
Tessa sauntered up and handed the detective a tray of goodies. She stared at Veronica, then Sonny.
“Why not? Got to have fun sometime,” Sonny said, leaning so close Veronica could smell his strong cologne. The odor mixed with his breath and seeped into her nostrils, almost making her ill.
Sonny reached for her arm, his mouth turning down. “I’m a lot of fun.”
Veronica felt the detective watching her. He was going to interfere. She didn’t want to make a scene. “I’m really tired. I think I’m going home.” Veronica pried Sonny’s fingers away and made a hasty retreat toward Eli to say good-night, ignoring the angry look Sonny shot her. Two more couples stopped her to welcome her to town, one a potential client, the other old friends of Eli’s who remembered her parents.
“We sure were sorry to hear about them,” the thin man said sympathetically. “Mighty fine people. Your dad was a good lawyer.”
Veronica nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
“We’re glad you came back,” the woman added, patting a hand over her gray curls. “You were so little. I know you missed growing up without your folks.”
“Yes,” Veronica said. “But I had my grandmother.” And Eli’s letters, she added silently. Their conversation ended when a man walked up onto a platform and silenced the crowd. He introduced himself as Gerald’s campaign manager, then broke into a speech about Gerald. Veronica rubbed at her temple where a headache was starting to form, and headed to the door. She couldn’t get her parents out of her mind.
As she neared the door to the hallway, she was surprised to see her secretary chatting quietly in a corner with Gerald. She hadn’t realized Louise knew him. She started toward them, but changed her mind and decided she really was ready to leave.
She caught Eli and he walked her to the door. “I hope it wasn’t a strain for you to come here tonight,” Eli said.
Veronica kissed him on the cheek. “Of course not. Thanks for having me, Eli.” Then she hurried to the car, trying desperately to put her parents’ deaths out of her mind. But as she drove down the long driveway and pulled onto the highway, she thought she saw a car pull out behind her. Was someone following her?
AFTER VERONICA LEFT, Nathan quickly extricated himself from Tessa’s clutches, bade good-night to Eli and hurried to his car. He was going to find out the truth. Knowing Veronica had lied about her boyfriend had eaten at him all day. If he didn’t talk to her about it tonight, he’d never get any sleep. He’d looked over her client list, and a few names had drawn his eye as possible troublemakers. And what the hell had been going on at that party? The tension had been as thick as a desert dust storm.
He parked in front of Veronica’s apartment, surprised to see he’d beaten her home. He flipped off his lights and waited. Maybe she’d gone to a friend’s, or was driving around for a while. Seconds later her black Acura streaked by. She practically jumped from her car and tore up the path to her apartment, glancing over her shoulder as if she was looking for someone. Either something had upset her, or she was in a huge hurry.
He slammed his car door and rushed after her, determined to find out the truth if he had to drag it out of her. He caught her just as she made it to the stoop.
“Ms. Miller,” he said, grabbing her arm. She shrieked and spun around, her eyes wide with fright, her skin glowing alabaster in the harsh glow of the streetlight.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She winced and rubbed her bandaged arm.
“I’m sorry,” Nathan said. “I forgot about your injury. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her jaw clenched and shadows darkened her eyes. He instinctively knew something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume. She smelled faintly like roses.
Veronica shook her head, her keys jangling in her trembling hands. He took the keys and opened the door, and they walked into her apartment in silence. He reached for the light switch, but she flipped it on, dropped her purse and darted to her bedroom.
“Veronica, can we talk?” he called.
“In a minute.” She closed the door, effectively shutting him out.
Her voice sounded shaky. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Was she planning more lies? Maybe she was taking a pill or getting a drink to calm herself.
He studied her den, hoping to learn more about her. A simple beige leather sofa faced a natural wood entertainment unit with a small TV and stereo. Two navy wing chairs flanked a stone fireplace. The room was sleek and neat but devoid of color. Unlike most feminine rooms, it lacked fluffy pillows and tons of knickknacks. Unpacked boxes were pushed into the corner. She had a small collection of mystery novels stacked on a table and an assortment of tax-and financial-related books filled a bookcase. A big book sticking out from under a stack of magazines drew his eye. He lifted the magazine and read the title. The Psychotic Mind of a Killer. Hmm. Interesting.
Her walls were bare of pictures and he saw no photographs of family or friends anywhere. Odd. Then he remembered his apartment was similar. Was Veronica as lonely as he was?
The door squeaked open, and she came in wearing jeans and a pale pink T-shirt that molded her rounded breasts. She’d scrubbed her face free of makeup and had shed her shoes. He didn’t know why he found her being barefoot so sexy, but he did. He shifted in his seat, reminding himself of the reason for his visit. He couldn’t trust her or give in to this crazy attraction.
He decided to cut to the chase. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ron? And that you knew the senator?” He wondered why her connection to a notable figure had been absent from her file.
Veronica walked across the room, putting some distance between them. “I told you, there’s nothing to tell.”
Nathan couldn’t prevent the expletive that tore from his mouth. “Listen, Veronica, you called the police because you said someone attacked you—”
“Someone did attack me,” Veronica said, anger coloring her cheeks.
“Then you have to help me. I’m trying to find out who it is, and I don’t have time for these games.”
“I’m not the one playing games, Mr. Dawson.”
“You had a lover in Fort Lauderdale but you left out that tiny detail. You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I didn’t think it was any of your business,” Veronica snapped. “We broke up.”
“Everything about you is my business,” Nathan said, softly.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about Ron. We dated, Detective. That’s it.”
Nathan glared at her. “He wanted more?”
Veronica paused. “Yes. But I didn’t. I moved. End of story.” She exhaled. “Besides, Ron’s not dangerous.”
A long silence stretched between them. Nathan wasn’t so sure. He’d been a cop too long. A scorned lover or boyfriend could mean trouble. Men had killed for less. He would investigate Ron Cox whether Veronica believed him dangerous or not. Her earlier comment reverberated in his head. “What did you mean—you weren’t the one playing games?”
Veronica hugged her arms around her in a protective gesture. “I think someone’s trying to drive me crazy.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “First someone is trying to kill you. Now they’re trying to drive you crazy. Which is it, Veronica?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice breaking. “Maybe both.”
“Did something happen on the way over?”
Veronica hesitated, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not sure. I thought someone might have been following me, so I kept driving, but then they disappeared.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “Did you get a look at the car?”
Veronica crossed the room and peeked through the blinds. “No, it was too dark. It looked like some kind of Jeep but I couldn’t tell for sure.”
Nathan paused. He remembered her strange reaction to the music box, the animosity at the party, the conversation he’d overheard about her family. And when she’d fled the house, he’d seen the former senator’s pale face.
“Did something happen at the party you’re not telling me about?” Nathan asked.
Veronica shook her head. The doorbell rang, and she went to get it. Nathan was
right behind her.
“Who is it?” she asked, her hand on the doorknob.
“Florist delivery service,” a young male voice answered.
Nathan peeked through the blinds. When he saw the truck with the familiar flower logo on it under the streetlight, he nodded for her to open the door.
The young man was wearing a yellow paper hat with the words, Fancy Flowers, printed on the front. He held up a long white box with a yellow ribbon tied around it. “Your lucky day, er, night,” he said, grinning.
“Thank you.” Veronica took the box and smiled.
“Sure thing.” The teenager waved and almost tripped over his feet to get back to the van after Nathan handed him a sizable tip.
She carried the box to the kitchen counter. “It’s probably from Eli,” Veronica said. “A welcoming gift. He used to send me flowers for my birthday.”
Nathan followed her to the kitchen. “Let me check it first.”
Veronica glanced into his eyes. “You think—”
“I don’t know,” Nathan said. “But it’s better to be careful.”
“There isn’t a card,” she said, looking over the box.
Nathan carefully examined the package, then slowly untied the ribbon. When he lifted the lid, she gasped. He swallowed hard and glanced at her pale face. Tears pooled in the corners of her huge eyes. “Oh, my God,” Veronica whispered. “Who would do such a thing?”
Nathan gritted his teeth. The box was filled with crushed daisies, like the ones Veronica had held in the picture by her parents’ grave.
She dropped her head into her hands and shook her head back and forth, her voice desolate. “Everything was fine until I moved back here. Why is this happening to me? Why?”
Nathan heard the frustration in her voice, the fear, the agony. He couldn’t stand it any longer. The smart thing to do was not to get involved. But then again, he didn’t always do the smart thing. Sometimes he just went on gut instincts. And right now his gut instincts were screaming at him to comfort her. Ignoring the branding heat of the police badge in his breast pocket, he took her in his arms and held her while she cried.
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