Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  Gerald arched an eyebrow. “I assumed they all burned.” Gerald’s comment seemed innocent enough, but his tone indicated he was more curious than he let on.

  Of course, he could just be curious like some of the other people she’d met before—wanting to find out for themselves if she really did have amnesia. Another self-appointed shrink.

  “I have some old boxes of memorabilia,” Veronica said. “Maybe I’ll look in those.” Or perhaps the police had the files, she thought. She would ask Nathan.

  “Hmm.” Gerald chewed the thick bread. “Do you think it’s a good idea for you to pursue all this? I mean, what possible reason would you have to look into your father’s old files—the cases would all be outdated by now.”

  Veronica sipped her water and decided she’d said enough. “I suppose. Anyway, maybe I’ll talk to Eli about it. He might know.”

  A muscle tightened in Gerald’s jaw. “I doubt Father would remember. He’s getting up there in age now, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Veronica said, thinking of her own father and the years they’d missed together.

  “And Father is rather busy,” Gerald said. “Between Mother, handling his finances and overseeing my campaign, I’m not sure he has time for anything else right now.”

  Gerald’s barrage of excuses made Veronica uncomfortable. She got the distinct impression he didn’t want her bothering Eli. Maybe she wasn’t welcome into the family after all.

  “Tell you what, if I get a chance, I’ll mention it to him and let you know,” Gerald said, patting her hand in a patronizing gesture.

  She studied his easy smile, and her nerves jangled with the strange feeling Gerald was putting her off. She checked her watch. “I need to get back to the office. I have an appointment at two.”

  Gerald paid the check, and Veronica stiffened when he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the car. When he dropped her at her office, she watched him drive away and wondered about their luncheon. Once the politician, always the politician. Had she really gotten to know Gerald better or had she seen only the side he wanted her to see?

  NATHAN DROVE down the winding driveway to Barrett Pharmaceuticals. Although Veronica had insisted she had no enemies, after studying her client list, he’d noted a couple of possibilities. Wayne Barrett topped the list. The other one, a man named Paul Merino, had suffered a stroke and lay immobile in a nursing home.

  He parked his Honda in the circular drive, noting the landscape crew working on the property by the lake. Barrett had a fortune.

  But he’d lost a small fortune when Veronica had filed his taxes.

  More than likely, he hadn’t been very happy about that. Barrett was a shrewd, cutthroat businessman. He had stock in several other companies and a lawsuit for insider trading. And he’d recently filed for divorce. Had his financial loss triggered the divorce? Even if it hadn’t, it had certainly complicated matters for Barrett. Another motivation for him to harass Veronica.

  Nathan entered the modern building, scanning the various security cameras as he walked to the front desk.

  “I’d like to see Mr. Barrett, please,” Nathan said.

  A young secretary wearing a short skirt looked up at him and smiled. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  Nathan flashed his badge, almost laughing at the surprised expression on the young girl’s face. “Now, can you get me in?”

  “It’s still not possible.” The woman straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Barrett isn’t here.”

  Nathan fought the frustration building in his chest. “Do you know where he went or when he’ll be back?”

  Soft blond curls bounced around her face as she shook her head. “He’s taken an extended leave of absence.”

  A tall man wearing an impeccably fashionable suit stepped up behind the woman. “Is there a problem, Charlene?”

  The girl smiled. “This man is a detective. He’s looking for Mr. Barrett.”

  “Good.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Dwain Rogers, vice president of the company. I’m glad you’re already on the case.”

  “What do you mean?” Nathan asked.

  “I called the police as soon as I discovered the discrepancy in accounting. This weekend Barrett left with a sizable portion of the company’s money.”

  “Do you know how I can reach him?” Nathan asked. “Or do you have any idea where he might go?”

  “Not a clue,” Rogers said, frowning. “But when you find him, I want to have a word with him myself.”

  “I’ll send a team out to search the building and interview all the employees,” Nathan said. “I’d like to take a look at his office.”

  “Fine.” Rogers led the way down a plush rose carpeted hallway and into an office the size of a hotel suite. “Let me know if you need assistance.” Rogers disappeared across the hall.

  Nathan glanced around the office. It was furnished with expensive cherry wood furniture and dark green sofas. A fully stocked wet bar stood in the corner. He examined the man’s desk, skimmed the papers on top, searched through his files, then rummaged through the top drawer. Finally he pulled out a date book and studied the dates. Barrett had had several appointments with Veronica, one the day she had been attacked in her apartment, another the following day. Then he turned the page and noted red stars punctuating certain dates. What did they mean? As he closed the book, a piece of paper slipped to the floor—a familiar newsclipping about Veronica’s past. Her home address was scribbled in red ink across the top.

  He stuffed the date book in his pocket, muttered a silent curse and hurried to the car. Within seconds, he’d ordered an APB on Barrett.

  Then he decided to see if Veronica knew anything about Barrett’s disappearance. Maybe he’d been wrong to suspect she had done these things to herself. Both her prior boyfriend and Barrett had possible motives to harm her.

  And if they succeeded, he’d never forgive himself.

  AFTER VERONICA FINISHED with her last client, she released her hair from the brass clip and ran her fingers through it.

  “I’m leaving now,” Louise called out.

  “Fine, see you tomorrow.” Veronica pulled her drawer open and fished out the small photo book she kept with her at the office. She stared at the pictures of her parents, of herself as a baby in their arms, and later as a toddler. Her grandmother had made the scrapbook for her, and she’d always valued it.

  Then her gaze rested on a photo of her and her parents. She was six, wearing a ruffly church dress, standing in between her parents. Her mother wore a red dress with the pelican pin stuck high on the right side of her big white collar, and her father wore a dark suit and tie. His black hair had started to recede slightly, but he looked handsome and happy to be with her.

  Her parents had loved her. Her grandmother had told her repeatedly how much they’d cared for her, how her mother used to sing her to sleep at night and her father used to bring her treats. Why couldn’t she remember them?

  She massaged her temple, feeling the slight beginnings of a headache as she often did when she attempted to force her memory.

  “Veronica?”

  She recognized the deep husky resonance of Nathan’s voice immediately. It sounded so different from Ron’s wimpy voice, and much sexier and more masculine than Gerald’s polished speech. She closed her eyes, trying to tamp her emotions.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Veronica glanced at him in his jeans and worn shirt and knew she would never ask Ron to come for a visit. After meeting a virile man like Nathan, how could she ever consider being with a dud like Ron? Shaking off the impossible thought of a relationship with Nathan, she closed her photo book and secured it back in her desk drawer.

  His boots pounded against the hardwood floor. “I went to see Wayne Barrett today.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. Apparently he skipped town. His employees don’t know where he is.”

  Veronica massaged her forehead. “He didn�
��t leave an address?”

  “Nope. I don’t think he wants to be found.”

  “Why not?”

  “He stole some money from the company.”

  Veronica blew out a breath, then rose and glanced out the window. The sunlight was quickly fading, and dusk was beginning to settle above the willow trees outside. How could the sky be so beautiful and the world so ugly?

  “I talked to the vice president, then to my lieutenant. We put out an APB on him.” Nathan pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket. “And I found this in his desk.”

  Veronica took the note and saw her name and home address. She stared at Nathan in confusion. Then he handed her the article, and she clutched her stomach as it roiled.

  “He knew about my past.”

  “That’s right. About your parents…and your amnesia.”

  “You think he’s the one who’s been taunting me?”

  Nathan shrugged. “It’s possible. I definitely want to talk to him.”

  “When you do, ask him about my jacket. I couldn’t find it this morning, then it turned up at the office.” Veronica sighed. “And…”

  “And what, Veronica?”

  “I thought I saw someone around my apartment this morning. But then…he disappeared.”

  “Can you give me a description?”

  She shook her head. “No. He was wearing a raincoat. He had his head covered.” She hesitated, struggling to recall more details. The telephone rang, interrupting the strained silence.

  “Veronica Miller speaking.” She heard deep breathing, then a fuzzy, hard voice she didn’t recognize. Nathan must have read the distress on her face, because he punched the speakerphone button.

  “Leave the past alone,” the husky voice said.

  “Who is this?” Veronica asked. Her hands trembled as she stared at the phone, then at Nathan.

  “Someone who knows all about you. Someone who wants you out of town.”

  The phone clicked into silence. Veronica gritted her teeth. Nathan had to believe her now—he’d heard the man’s voice.

  “We’ll find out who the caller was,” Nathan said, pressing the button to show the caller’s number.

  As the phone number blinked before her, Veronica covered her mouth and gasped.

  “Veronica, do you recognize this number?”

  Veronica swallowed, her voice a choked whisper. “It’s…it’s mine.”

  Chapter Six

  She raised her fear stricken face to his. “Someone’s at my apartment.”

  Nathan cupped his hands around her arms. “Let’s go.”

  They rushed from her office. “I can drive,” Veronica said. “I don’t want to leave my car.”

  “You’re shaking too much to drive. We’ll get your car later,” Nathan said, ushering her into his Honda. He cranked the engine and raced out of the parking lot, then radioed for backup. He covered Veronica’s hand with his. “We’ll catch this bastard, don’t worry.”

  She gave him a strange look, and he realized she hadn’t expected him to believe her. She’d gone through her whole life distrusting, expecting the worst from people. As a cop he was always skeptical, but Veronica wasn’t a cop. She was a soft, beautiful, sexy woman who deserved someone to trust. He wanted the same. When he’d been flat on his back after the accident, he’d realized he didn’t want to be alone.

  But could he be that special someone to Veronica and still do his job? If he got too involved with her, would he become sloppy?

  His thoughts were so jumbled he ran through a red light. Horns blasted at him. Veronica’s raspy breath broke the silence and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. He considered using the siren, but if someone was still at her place, he didn’t want to warn them of his arrival. He wanted to catch the creep and make him pay for frightening Veronica.

  Several minutes later, he barreled into her complex and shut off his lights. The backup hadn’t arrived, but he couldn’t wait. “Stay here. I’ll come back after I check the apartment.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Be careful.”

  He nodded. “I will. We’ll get this guy.” He paused and stroked her hair. “If you hear gunshots, radio for help.”

  Her big dark eyes glistened with fear. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” Then he ran his finger along her jaw and opened the car door. Looking around cautiously, he scanned the parking lot but saw nothing suspicious. Only a couple of teenagers necking and an old man walking his dog. He hurried up the sidewalk to Veronica’s apartment and inched up the steps, his hand covering his gun, ready to draw. Darkness hovered around him, and a shadow moved. He reached for his .38 as a big dog raced from the bushes. He exhaled a harsh breath. He’d almost pulled his gun on a golden retriever.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he stopped at the door to her apartment, leaned one ear against it and listened. Nothing. He jiggled the door and it swung open, the squeaking of the rusty hinges echoing in the seemingly empty apartment. Slivers of moonlight streamed through the venetian blinds, illuminating his way as he crept inside. He scanned each corner and turned as he had the first time he’d come to her apartment. Nothing. Seconds dragged into minutes as he checked the rooms.

  Finally he made his way back to the den and turned on the light.

  Veronica stood by the phone, her hand resting on a tape recorder.

  “I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

  “I was worried.”

  He slowly moved toward her and covered her hand. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a recorder.” She sighed and looked at him with her big brown eyes. Two officers rushed in, guns drawn. Nathan held up his hand to stop them.

  “The apartment’s clean. Search the complex.” The men rushed out to follow his orders. He punched the Play button and heard the same voice that had taunted Veronica at her office. His gut clenched.

  “The tape recorder’s not mine,” she said on a whimper. “I swear it’s not mine.”

  Nathan wanted to believe her. “Let me take it in and dust it for fingerprints. We can also check the voice print.”

  Veronica nodded, her face pale. “I don’t understand why this is happening.” She turned away from him, her arms hugging her middle as if she needed to support herself. “I’m…I’m going to get some water.”

  Nathan examined the recorder to see if it could have been programmed to go off at a certain time. He didn’t find anything to indicate it had. The sound of glass shattering in the kitchen jerked his head up.

  “Oh, my God,” Veronica said in a strained voice.

  Nathan rushed into the kitchen and saw glass slivers scattered across the floor. “What is it, Veronica?” She pointed to the front of her refrigerator where someone had taped newspaper clippings of the story about her parents’ deaths. He moved forward and steadied her with his hand. “These aren’t yours?”

  “No,” she said in a heated whisper. “Of course they aren’t mine. Do you think I’d keep something like this on my refrigerator?”

  Nathan was glad to see the anger flare in her eyes; it was better than the shock and desolation he’d seen a few minutes before. “No, I don’t,” he said honestly.

  Veronica traced her thumb along the photograph of the gravestone. Her finger lingered at the headlines suggesting she might have been a child murderess. “I don’t know why someone would do this,” she said in a voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

  “I don’t, either,” he said quietly, nestling his hand under her elbow to guide her to the table. “But I intend to find out.”

  Veronica sat ramrod straight, her eyes glazed as he fixed her a cup of tea. He joined her, and they sipped in silence. “You don’t remember anything about that night?” he finally asked.

  She shook her head and pushed a strand of hair from her face. Her hair swept her shoulders, stark black against the porcelain flesh of her neck, and hung like an ebony curtain shadowing the solemn angle
s of her delicate cheekbones. “I wish I did. I’ve tried so hard to remember.”

  The other two officers appeared in the doorway. “We didn’t find anything, sir,” the youngest one said.

  Nathan nodded. “I can take it from here. You two go on, but patrol this area tonight.” The men agreed, then left. Nathan turned to Veronica.

  “Your past may not be the reason for these tauntings, but someone is certainly using them to hurt you,” Nathan said, thinking of the range of possibilities that existed.

  “My past has always controlled my life.” Veronica emptied her cup and put it in the sink. “I have to face it and bury it so I can go on.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nathan asked.

  Dodging the shattered glass on the floor, she stepped forward and faced him, determination darkening her brown eyes. “I’m going to drive out to my parents’ old home. Maybe seeing the house—where they died—will trigger my memory.”

  Nathan pushed away from the table. “You’re not going out there alone.”

  “I need to do this,” she said as she walked into the den.

  Nathan grabbed her arm and swung her around. “Veronica, you’re too upset to drive. Besides, even if you had your car, remember what Scroggins said about the place not being safe. No one’s lived in it for twenty years.”

  In a defiant act that Nathan had to admire, Veronica jutted her chin out and said courageously, “I have to go.”

  “Okay.” He released her arm and headed to the door. “But I’m going with you.”

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, hands entwined, her stomach aching, Veronica stared at the haze of oncoming headlights dotting the highway and gathered her courage. She had to face the past. It was the only way she could move on. After finding the newspaper clippings on her refrigerator, she knew the past was a clue to all the mysterious things happening to her.

  “You said the house was on Dover Drive?” Nathan asked.