Deadly Competition (Without a Trace)

by Roxanne Rustand

  She looked back at him, warmed by his encouraging smile, then took a deep breath and walked into the bank.

  There was only one other contestant waiting outside the community meeting room when Mandy walked down the hall.

  “I’m so glad to see someone else here,” the woman breathed, twisting the slim strap of her Coach handbag around her fingers. From top to bottom, she was impeccably dressed in designer labels all the way, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “They took Ms. Lenore in almost an hour ago, and you and I are the last ones. I guess I shouldn’t have come so early. I’m Holly, by the way. Holly Carson.”

  Mandy shook her delicate, white-gloved hand. “You’ll do fine in there. I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh, not me. My husband made me do this. He always says I’m his sweet Georgia peach. Maybe he thinks so, but I’m a disaster at this kind of thing.” She blushed pink. “Talking in front of people, I mean. I stammer and babble, and break into a cold sweat. I’d rather be anywhere else.”

  The benefit of not wanting to make it to the final was that it made all of this so much easier for Mandy. “What do we have to say?”

  “Well—” the young woman leaned forward with a conspiratorial air “—I understand we have to talk about why being a good mother is so important. How we help out in the community. What our priorities are. Where we want to be in five years. That sort of thing.”

  Mandy winked at her. “Well, ma’am, tell me about being a good mother…and all of that. It can’t hurt to practice, right?”

  Holly’s eyes widened. “You’re absolutely right. I—I’m afraid I’ll stumble around a bit, though.”

  “Better out here with me, then.”

  “Well…” Holly cleared her throat, then began a stilted, halting recitation of words that she’d obviously tried to memorize. At the end of ten minutes, she drew in a deep breath. “Okay?”

  “This time, forget what you practiced at home. Tell me everything straight from your heart. What you really believe.”

  Holly shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I can’t. I won’t remember everything, and I’ll look completely stupid.”

  “Just try, okay? You’re just telling a friend…not some panel of stuffy old judges.”

  This time, Holly relaxed more, and her eyes sparkled as she warmed to the subject of motherhood and community projects.

  She’d just finished when the doors opened and Lenore strode out with a businesslike demeanor. She cast a sympathetic glance at Holly. “I believe you’re next, dear. Don’t be too nervous.”

  Holly rose. “Thank you,” she whispered to Mandy before disappearing inside.

  “That was nice of you, but you’d be better off not helping out your competition.”

  Startled, Mandy turned and realized there was a partially open door behind her. Inside, Portia was sitting at a table with a calculator and a stack of papers. “I had no idea you were back there!”

  “Just keeping up with the pageant bookkeeping. I’m glad to see you on time, by the way. Punctuality is very important for the winner of this contest.”

  “I’m sure that isn’t anything I’ll have to worry about, believe me. You have some amazing entrants.” Mandy watched her run another column of numbers on the calculator. “I’m curious. There was a photographer at the event last Thursday. What happens to those photos?”

  Portia glanced up at her, a fingertip marking her place on the column. “Publicity. The local newspaper, a regional magazine. Displays at some local events. That sort of thing.”

  “So it is just local.”

  “There’s a statewide pageant honoring mothers, but we aren’t a part of that one.” Portia shrugged. “But even on our small scale, very worthy women win our pageant every year. They do wonderful things for the community, and are a true asset in our community.”

  Mandy tried to hide her relief. “I can see this contest is wonderfully run. I was just curious, since I’m so new to the area.”

  At the sound of high heels clicking on the terrazzo floor, she turned and saw Holly coming back down the hall, her face alight with a glowing smile. “You’re next.” She swooped close and gave Mandy a quick hug. “Thank you so much!”

  She continued down the hall, leaving a scent of jasmine in her wake.

  “Guess it’s my turn,” Mandy said with a sigh. “But I’d rather be in the park with Sarah and make Clint do this interview. This was his idea, after all.”

  Portia smothered a laugh at that. “I’ll let you know if the rules relax that much next year, but for now, I guess you’d better get in there and not keep those judges waiting. By the way, I forgot to mention the pageant Web site. The photographer has been taking all sort of casual photos of the entrants and there are quite a few of you. You’ll have to check it out!”

  Clint and Sarah were waiting outside by the truck when Mandy finally came out of the bank, and Sarah’s expressions of concern and anticipation made Clint laugh aloud.

  “I’m ready for dinner,” Mandy said when she reached them. She fidgeted with the strap of her purse as she carefully scanned the length of the street. “Maybe we could go home and put something easy on the grill. Wouldn’t that be nice? I could even—”

  “Whoa,” Clint interrupted, laughing. “We’re going out, remember?”

  “Did you win?” Sarah piped up, fidgeting from one foot to the other.

  “Nope.” Mandy tousled Sarah’s bangs. “The winner won’t be announced until later. But I’m sure they’ll pick the right person. They seem to be especially interested in long-term community service experience and such, and I don’t qualify in that regard.”

  Sarah’s face fell. “But you’re nice, Miss Mandy.”

  “I’ll be sure and pass that along, if I’m asked, sweetie. Really, I’m just happy about the chance to take care of you for a while.” She angled a look at Clint. “I could probably drop out now and they wouldn’t miss me at all.”

  “Will you?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I made a commitment that I ought to keep. The people staging this affair have put so much hard work into it that I wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful.” Again, she cautiously surveyed the nearly empty street. “I just didn’t realize there’d be so much publicity—much less a Web site.”

  Since coming out of the building, Clint noticed that Mandy had seemed nervous as a filly in a lightning storm, but why? Was she simply shy about all of the attention? He gave her a brief, one-armed hug around the shoulders. “Web site—the papers—maybe even local television. All the better for when you win.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You and one very young receptionist in town are the only two people in the county who mistakenly think I have the least chance. My money is on a gal named Holly, who’s as cute as a button. Or one of those two wealthy widows who despise each other, because they each seem to have a lot of people afraid to cross them.” She stilled then, and stared at a point somewhere beyond Clint’s shoulder.

  He turned and followed her line of sight, but saw nothing beyond a few pedestrians on the sidewalk and a farm truck lumbering up the street. “Something wrong?”

  “No—no, not at all. Can we go? I’m starving! How about you, Sarah, ready to eat those alligators?”

  Sarah giggled. “Alligator Bites. They’re little pieces. My daddy likes…” Her voice trailed off. “My daddy liked them. But that was ’fore he died.”

  “I’m sure we’ll like them, too,” Mandy said smoothly. “So let’s get in the car, okay? I can’t wait to see what those things look like.”

  Clint lifted Sarah into the backseat of his truck and buckled her into her car seat. As he slid behind the wheel, he caught Mandy staring off into the distance once again. “See someone you know?”

  “I thought so. It was probably just someone I’ve met through the pageant or at church.”

  But her voice seemed strained, and it took her three tries to fasten her seat belt. She gave a short, brittle laugh when she finally managed to click it. “Gues
s I was more nervous over that interview than I thought.”

  “Maybe.” Clint let the truck idle for a couple of minutes before finally pulling out of his parking space. “Though I sort of doubt that’s it. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. Believe it or not, you can trust me, Mandy. And if you’re in some kind of trouble, I’d like to help.”

  Dean felt his rage build. There she was, still parading around the town of Loomis with that man and his daughter. Living with him in front of the entire town like the harlot she’d probably always been.

  Katherine had thought she could waltz out of his life and shame him in front of every last one of his friends. And for what—to live in this backwater town?

  He spat in disgust.

  A minute ago, she’d stared across the park in his direction and he’d melted into the shadows. Surprising how much pleasure his little cat-and-mouse game was giving him.

  Was she growing afraid?

  Had she sensed just how close he’d been?

  He frowned, watching her climb into that man’s pickup. There was something different about her. Something beyond the plain brown hair and lack of makeup.

  An air of happiness. Freedom.

  She’d trans formed back into the unattainable, carefree rich man’s daughter—the one who never would’ve given him the time of day until he stepped into her life and took over when she needed him.

  And now she was with someone else—which meant she’d probably been seeing other men behind his back all along. Sleeping around. Dean’s rage exploded into a conflagration that burned through his gut and threatened to consume him.

  Maybe she’d even been with some of his fellow officers, and they were all laughing at him because he’d been such a gullible fool.

  She was a liar to the bone.

  Clenching his fists until his nails drew blood on his palms, he paced back and forth, trying to clear his racing thoughts so he could plan his next move without the interference of emotion or conscience.

  He’d been drawn to her pretty face and her daddy’s money long before he’d ever dared speak to her, but he knew if she hadn’t been distraught over her father’s death, she would have looked at him like dirt on the bottom of her shoes.

  Until this moment, he’d still imagined taking her home. Making sure she married him so she couldn’t run again, so they could live happily ever after—as long as she obeyed.

  But of course, that was out of the question now. It wasn’t him that wasn’t worthy—it was her.

  It was time to teach her a final lesson that she richly deserved…just as he’d taught that woman in Salina, and the one in Peoria. His blood quickened as he relived the last moments of their sorry lives.

  He’d let Katherine worry a little longer. Give her a chance to regret how she’d destroyed his love, while he planned his final, perfect move.

  And then she was going to die.

  FIFTEEN

  The restaurant didn’t look like anything more than a simple family-owned place from the outside, with the rustic unfinished wood siding silvered by the years and just a few cars in the parking lot. Which was fine, because small and quiet seemed infinitely safer to Mandy.

  But once she stepped in the front door, Mandy blinked at the kaleidoscope of colors that burst with energy at every turn. The interior was aglow in vibrant Mardi Gras glitter and beads, with bright masks on the walls and festive décor that carried into the bathrooms and out onto a screened, covered porch, where the waitress led them to a candlelit table.

  The menu offered an equally dizzying array of regional Cajun and Creole foods that made it nearly impossible to choose.

  She looked up and found Clint watching her over the top of his menu, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “What?”

  “I just think it’s sorta cute, watching your serious expression while you try to decide. We can always come back again, you know. And I promise you that you can’t go wrong.” He winked at Sarah. “Of course, I already know what you want.”

  “Bites!” She twisted in her chair and cast a longing look at the tanks of lobsters at one end of the porch.

  “You can go over there if you don’t go any farther. Promise?”

  Nodding vigorously, the child scampered over to the tank and pressed her face against the glass.

  Clint chuckled. “She’ll be entertained until her food comes.”

  A waitress in black from head to toe swept up to their table. “All set?”

  Mandy shook her head. “I think I’d like Clint to do the ordering. I don’t even know where to begin.”

  He ordered platters of crawfish and oysters and tender, lightly breaded gator, with family-style bowls of pungent jambalaya and shrimp remoulades, adding a couple of sweet teas and a milk for Sarah.

  Mandy stared at him wide-eyed after the waitress left. “You must have a very big appetite tonight.”

  He toyed with his fork, his eyes on Sarah. “The leftovers will be just as wonderful tomorrow.”

  The candle flame danced in a fitful breeze, casting highlights and shadows across Clint’s rugged jaw. She watched him from under her lashes and wished for the hundredth time that she could linger here forever.

  “This is lovely,” she murmured, savoring a bite of succulent shrimp that seemed to appear almost instantly. “And I never would have realized this place existed if I’d only seen the outside of the building.”

  He grinned. “Local secret. Actually, these places abound down here. Louisiana cuisine is the best.”

  After Sarah polished off her po’boy sandwich from the kid’s menu, Clint ordered an amazing praline bread pudding with custard sauce for them to share. The intimacy of that simple act, even though they were hardly alone, warmed Mandy’s heart.

  All through dinner, Clint was witty and charming, skillfully keeping Sarah entertained while managing to continue a more adult conversation as well.

  Yet Mandy also sensed a reserve that hadn’t been there before. A niggling doubt that showed in his eyes every time he looked at her…as if he were turning over each word she spoke, looking for hidden clues.

  The loss of his easy camaraderie hurt. But what could she say? That she was seeing people in the shadows who didn’t exist? That she was edgy about a threat that had yet to materialize? That she had hidden a past from him that she was too afraid to reveal?

  Paranoia had to be an undesirable quality in a nanny…and jeopardizing her final week of pay—and the friendship she’d found, at least for now—was hardly a wise move.

  On Wednesday, Clint went out to check on two crews working on remodeling projects in town, then settled down at the office to work on some new-construction bids. By five o’clock he’d drawn up two new formal bids and caught up with the stack of paperwork that his secretary left on his desk each day.

  He sighed and pushed away from his desk, impatient to go home, when his gaze fell on the calendar. Wednesday, May 10—and he hadn’t been back to the pawnshop in almost two weeks. After a quick call home to let Mandy and Sarah know he’d be late, he drove into town and parked in front of the darkened pawnshop.

  The doors and windows were all locked securely, leaving the air musty and dank inside. He flipped on all of the light switches as he carefully surveyed the shop, checked on everything up in the apartment, then made his way back to Earl’s office.

  No one had been in here since Deputy Bertrand dusted for prints. There had been no matches in IAFIS, the national fingerprint and criminal history registry.

  So Earl’s killer either wasn’t in the system or had worn gloves when he entered the shop on the night of the murder, and again if he’d come back to raid the files. Which left the entire case right where it had started—with nothing.

  Sarah’s fear of strangers with red hair had gradually waned, and that was yet another frustrating element in the case. Had she seen someone suspicious? Someone with red hair whom she somehow associated with the murder? And who was the “bad man” she’d seen with Earl? Months
of gentle counseling hadn’t yet resolved that, either.

  Lord, what are we missing here? I could really, really use some help.

  Clint sank into Earl’s desk chair and slowly spun it around. Eventually, he’d need to inventory the boxes of merchandise stacked to the ceilings. Look at listing some of it on eBay, or perhaps hire an auction house to dispose of the shop’s contents, so the money could be put away into Sarah’s college fund.

  The thought filled him with deep sadness over the grim possibilities those actions would represent. If Leah didn’t ever come home, he’d have no choice. If he waited too long, the rent on the property would cut deeply into Sarah’s future.

  And what would that future be like, if she had to grow up knowing that her father’s killer was never caught and that her own mother had abandoned her and was the prime suspect?

  The FBI team had been through the office with a fine-toothed comb. There was little chance that he’d ever be able to turn up anything that they’d missed. Still, he felt a familiar tug at his heart, and he idly cast around for a box or something—anything—else he hadn’t yet examined.

  A cardboard box in the far corner stuffed haphazardly with old hardcover books caught his eye. Yellowed pages, dated mystery covers. Authors he’d never heard of and would likely never read. But still…

  He brought the box to the desk and pulled out one book after another, holding each one upside down and riffling through the pages, sneezing at the clouds of dust.

  They were hardly the sort of property Earl usually accepted. That must be why they caught Clint’s eye. But perhaps he’d had a hidden soft spot in his heart, and this was from a hard-luck case. Or maybe the books had been a garage sale find of Leah’s, and she’d found no place to store them in their cramped apartment. She’d been an avid reader all her life.

  From the bottom of the box he lifted out the last book, one with a ripped book jacket depicting a cruise ship, a man in a porkpie hat and an impossibly curvy 1940s “dame” with curls of smoke rising from the cigarette she held. He turned the pages quickly and nearly tossed it onto the stack with the others.