“Humph,” Cook snorted sarcastically. “That’s not the way I see it.”
“Hattie, you know I love you, but you’d better hush, or I’m going to lock you in the pantry.”
“You’d have a hell of a time doin’ that, sonny,” Cook warned as she headed back to the gas range. “I may be gettin’ a little age on me, but I can still put up a good fight. What you need to do is leave Christina alone and let her do her job.”
Leave her alone. Maybe that was his whole problem right there, Lex thought grimly. He didn’t want to leave the woman alone. He couldn’t. When he tried to imagine himself moving on to other women, other interests, all he could see was a blank hole. Last night, when she’d returned from her trip to San Antonio, something had happened to him. He couldn’t explain it or understand it. He’d wanted to find her ready to fall into his arms. That hadn’t happened. She’d seemed even more resolute about not making love to him. And then, when she’d talked about her parents and children, about all the things she’d missed and longed for, he’d felt scales peeling from his eyes. Suddenly, he was viewing all his past relationships in a new light, and all the things he’d thought he would never want or care about had taken on new significance.
“Hattie,” he said quietly, “last night we showed you Dad’s journal. You read it. You know what happened. Lawrence is a killer.”
Returning to the table, the old woman patted his back. “Lex, your daddy died a hero, and Christina will soon make sure that everyone knows it. I love her for that. And so should you.”
Love Christina? Is that what this anguish inside him was? Is that why he was frightened out of his mind to let her get near Lawrence? Is that why he couldn’t bear to think of this ranch without her on it? If all of this meant he was in love, then love was making him more miserable than he’d ever been in his life.
An hour later, as gray light was straining to get through the limbs of the live oaks shading the front yard, Lex followed Christina onto the front porch. The only thing she was carrying was a small beige handbag. Inside it was a pocketbook with identification, credit cards and a small amount of cash. The handbag also held a single tube of lipstick, a compact, a cell phone and a loaded snub-nosed .38 revolver.
“When do you expect to be back?” he asked as she paused on the top step.
“This evening. Hopefully before dark. If I can find Lawrence at home, this little tête-à-tête shouldn’t take long.” She looked at him, and the stark longing on his face made her want to fling her arms around his neck, to assure him that she would return safely. But what good would that do? she asked herself. It would only send him mixed signals, and every time she touched the man she lost a little more of her heart. If she didn’t wind this case up and leave the ranch soon, there would be little of her heart to drag back to San Antonio.
“Christina, last night—I’m sorry I questioned your plans to nab Lawrence. You’re the professional. And I was letting my personal feelings get in the way of everything else.”
Even though the early morning temperature was past seventy, she felt the urge to shiver. She’d never expected him to utter such words to her, especially right now, and it shook the ground beneath her.
Swallowing, she glanced across the lawn to where one of the yellow curs was stretched out beneath the shade of a live oak. The dog appeared to be dead tired from rounding up cattle the day before, but if Matt or Lex was to whistle at him, he’d be up in a flash and ready to go. In many ways, Christina felt just like the cur. A word, a touch, a look from Lex made her long to please him, to give him anything and everything. Yes, she loved him. But she was determined not to fall in the hopeless trap she’d found herself in with Mike. She wasn’t going to live on half-baked promises.
Glancing back at him, she tried to keep all emotion from her face. “And just what are your feelings, Lex?”
He moved forward, and her heart quivered as his fingertips came to rest beneath her cheek. “I think we need to talk about that, Christina. Tonight, when you come home.”
Come home. If only he knew how much those two words meant to her. If only he meant them in the true sense of the word, she thought longingly. Her heart would sing loud enough to be heard in heaven.
“Yes,” she said lowly, “we’ll talk.” Before she’d left Olivia’s office, the other woman had pressed Christina to tell Lex that she’d fallen in love with him. Maybe her friend was right. Maybe it was time to let him see exactly what he was doing to her, and then she could see for herself if he really cared.
Her eyes closed against the emotions bombarding her, and she felt his lips pressing first against her forehead and finally against her lips.
“Be very careful,” he whispered.
The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, so she simply nodded and hurried off the steps before he could see the tears welling in her eyes.
By mid-morning, after checking at Lawrence Carter’s office and being told the man wasn’t there, Christina was pulling into the elaborate drive circling the front of his house. To most regular folks, the place would be considered a mansion. Even so, the estate wasn’t nearly as elaborate or stately as Red’s or Harve’s, and she wondered if the nervous little guy had deliberately kept his lifestyle modest so as not to draw attention to himself.
The front entrance was flanked by two tall Norwegian firs. As Christina punched the doorbell, she turned her back to the double doors and peered carefully around her. The neighborhood was extremely quiet, without so much as a bark of a dog to interrupt the twitter of birds perched on an ornate birdbath adorning the front lawn. Lawrence Carter lived in a very upscale area of the city, she thought grimly, and all at the expense of Paul Saddler’s life.
“Yes? May I help you?”
Christina turned toward the young maid. “I’m here to see Mr. Carter. And before you tell me he isn’t home, I know better. So you go tell your boss that I have some interesting information for him.”
With a startled look, the maid said, “Yes, ma’am. Just a moment, please.”
Leaving Christina standing on the porch, the maid hurried away, and then less than a minute later, a soft voice sounded behind her.
“Good morning. You were asking for me?”
Christina turned to see Lawrence had partially opened the glass door to stand on the threshold. His sparse hair was a drab ash-brown and plastered carefully to one side of his head. He was dressed all in polyester, as though his wardrobe was still stuck in the eighties. The brown slacks and yellow printed shirt looked hot enough to roast a pig.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter. I’m Christina Logan. I’ve been hired by Geraldine Saddler to look into her late husband’s death. I’d appreciate it if you could answer a few questions I have. I promise not to keep you long.” She glanced at her wristwatch as though she were in a great hurry. “I have a meeting across town, so I can’t dally, anyway.”
Faint annoyance registered on his thin face. “I…really don’t have time.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder. “My wife and I are getting ready for a little vacation.”
“Oooh,” Christina drawled pleadingly. “Couldn’t you give me just five minutes? Red and Harve have already been so helpful in this matter. I’m certain your memory will be even better than theirs.” Plastering a smile on her face, she stepped closer. “You don’t have to invite me in. If you prefer, we can talk right here.”
Clearing his throat, he quickly shut the door behind him and hurried her off the concrete porch. “Uh—let’s go around to the side of the house,” he suggested. “I really don’t want my wife to hear this.”
“I’m sure,” Christina said under her breath.
She followed Lawrence along a cobblestone path until they reached a grouping of wrought-iron furniture sitting in the shade of a Cyprus tree. She’d promised Lex not to meet the man in private, but here on the lawn could hardly be called that. Especially when the wife was most likely watching from a nearby window and would clearly burst out of the house if she
saw her husband physically attacking a woman.
Christina casually took a seat on one of the chairs, but the older man didn’t appear to be interested in sitting. Instead, he stood a few steps away from her, his arms folded protectively against his scrawny chest.
“I’ll be honest, Ms. Logan. My wife told me you’d asked to speak to me, and Harve already told me that you’d been around asking questions. Frankly, I don’t get it. Everyone, even the police, knows that Paul’s death was a terrible accident.”
“Well, I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Carter. Geraldine has never been satisfied with the police’s theory. And some information has come to light that proves her suspicions right.” She crossed her legs and smoothed her fingers down her calf. Lawrence Carter might be a nerd, but he was still a man, and she wanted him distracted. She wanted him to be totally off guard when she gave him the news. “And I thought you’d be interested in hearing it.”
His eyes narrowed shrewdly, yet the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his skinny neck said she’d rattled his nerves.
“Information,” he repeated slowly. “You mean—about Paul’s death?”
“I’m not calling it a simple death, Mr. Carter. I’m calling it murder.”
If she’d slapped the man on both sides of the face, she couldn’t have shocked him more. The blood drained from his skin, leaving his face the color of a sick mushroom. His jaws flopped as though they’d suddenly become unhinged.
“Murder?” he finally echoed. A nervous titter rushed past his colorless lips. “You must be mistaken, Ms. Logan. Paul wasn’t murdered. The autopsy proved that.”
With a catlike smile, Christina shook her head. “No, the autopsy proved that Paul drowned. But I’ve discovered why he drowned and I have the evidence to prove it.”
She’d say one thing for him: the skittish little man did a quick job of gathering his composure. He smiled faintly and pleated his hands in front of him, as though he had all the time in the world to discuss the matter.
“If you have all that, why come to me?”
She tapped the air with the toe of her high heel. “Well actually, I’m not here to get your recollection of that day Paul was killed. I already know how it all happened. Paul drowned because he was unable to swim and save himself. You made certain of that when you gave him succinylcholine to make his muscles useless. In that condition, it was easy to nudge him overboard while the other two men weren’t looking. And with just enough of the muscle relaxant in Paul’s system, he’d never be able to swim. Never be able to take the facts of your insider trading to the police.”
The man’s sharp features hardened. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t leave any—”
She didn’t hide her loathing as she stared at him, waiting for him to hang himself. “Go on, Carter. You were about to say you didn’t leave evidence? If you want to take the chance that I’m bluffing, then by all means go ahead. But Geraldine has it safely tucked away, just waiting to hand it over to the DA. Unless…you’re interested in making a deal.”
To her surprise, the man marched toward her, his eyes filled with a menacing light. She discreetly opened the latch on her handbag and prayed he would decide to play it cool with her.
“What sort of deal?” he asked gruffly.
The question was a complete admission of guilt, but Christina wasn’t surprised by it. She was just thankful her plan was working.
“Geraldine actually wanted you to rot away in prison, but I convinced her that was too easy. A man like you values his money far more than his freedom. So she’s decided she’ll sell you the evidence for the neat little sum of twelve million. One million for each year she’s had to live without her husband.”
The scrawny man’s eyes began to bulge, and Christina realized he was struggling to keep from gagging.
“That’s blackmail! And there’s nothing you could have on paper that could incriminate me!”
Christina enjoyed giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. “Who said anything about it being on paper?”
His narrow eyes cut across her face, and then his gaze turned to the house behind them. Whether he was thinking about the luxurious digs or the loud wife inside was impossible for Christina to guess.
“I don’t have twelve million dollars,” he muttered.
“You work for a bank. You can get it.”
Spluttering, he jerked his gaze back to her. “That sort of money is difficult to get. It might take weeks, even months!”
“Geraldine doesn’t have that long to wait. We’re giving you two days.”
Pure venom was etched upon the man’s face. “The woman doesn’t need money! I’ve never had a fraction of what she’s got!”
Rising to her feet, Christina said, “It’s not the money she wants. It’s retribution. And this is her way of getting it.” She pulled a card from her handbag and handed it to him. “Here’s the time and place we’ll make the exchange. Red Road Inn—it’s just off I-10. Make sure you’re there no later than three-thirty, or we’re going straight to the police.”
He read the information on the card, then jerked his attention back to her. “This is a busy truck stop! Are you crazy?”
“What sort of meeting place would you prefer? A quiet, dark alley? We’re not the crazy ones here, Mr. Carter.”
With that, she swished past him and began to walk toward the front of the house, where she’d left her car. Before she’d taken five steps, he caught up to her.
“Does anyone else know about this?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Has Geraldine told her family?”
Christina summoned all the acting ability she possessed. “Your questions are getting stupid—especially for a supposedly smart man like you. Do you think she’d want her family to know she’s committing blackmail? No. Only she and I know, and that’s the way things will stay. Once we turn the evidence over to you, that will be the end of this. You’ll be out of Geraldine’s hair, and we’ll be out of yours. Deal?”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yeah. It’s a deal.”
Later that night at the Sandbur, Cook served Christina and Lex a special dinner of shrimp jambalaya, along with an assortment of fresh seafood. The mini feast was meant to be a small celebration for uncovering the truth about Paul’s death. But Lex hardly appeared to be in a celebratory mood.
Throughout the meal, he remained quiet and only picked at the food on his plate. God knew, he had plenty on his mind, Christina thought. He’d already expressed his concern over the plan she’d hatched to allow the police to catch Lawrence red-handed. But a part of her wondered if his sober demeanor might have something to do with the talk he’d requested that morning. He’d seemed so serious when he’d said they needed to talk. Was he going to tell her he’d lost interest?
He could have sex with most any woman he wanted. He doesn’t need to wait around on you.
That little voice inside her head had pestered her throughout the drive back from San Antonio and was still gnawing at the back of her mind, making it impossible to think about little else.
Maybe she’d been wrong all along by putting a halt to their physical relationship. Their night together in Corpus had rocked her, transported her to the closest thing she’d ever experienced to heaven on earth. But even more than that, she’d felt a connection to Lex that superseded anything she’d ever imagined. She didn’t want to lose that. Lose him. Yet she didn’t want to let herself slip into a relationship that might never go further than the bedroom.
The two of them had just finished dinner and were retiring to the living room when Lex’s sister Mercedes stopped by to discuss the progress they’d made on Paul’s case. While she and her brother talked, Christina excused herself, stepped out on the front porch, and made a phone call to Geraldine to let her in on the plans she’d made with the authorities in San Antonio to attempt to catch Lawrence. Geraldine was eager to have the man convicted and put behind bars, but she was also concerned about Christina’s welfare.
She reassure
d Lex’s mother as best she could and ended the call just as brother and sister emerged from the house.
The pretty blonde walked over to where Christina was sitting on a wicker love seat.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said, “for what you’ve done for our family. It was very hard for me to hear that my father was murdered. Especially by that creepy Lawrence. But at least we know the truth now.”
Christina smiled gently at Lex’s sister. “It’s not completely over yet, Mercedes. But I promise I’ll do everything I can to help convict the man.”
“I wish I could be more help,” Mercedes said as her hand slid protectively to her belly, “but I’ve not exactly been feeling up to par here lately.”
Rising from her seat, Christina gave the woman’s shoulders an affectionate hug. “You shouldn’t worry about that for one minute. The important thing is to take care of yourself and your baby. Besides,” she added impishly, “Lex has made a great Dr. Watson.”
Mercedes turned an affection grin on her brother. “Lex is a man of many talents—when he wants to be. You should get him to tell you about riding broncs on the college rodeo team. He was a wild man in those days.”
“Mercedes!” he scolded lightly. “Christina doesn’t want to hear about that.”
Laughing now, the woman stepped off the porch. “I’m heading home. Gabe will be worried if I don’t show up soon.”
She waved goodbye, then climbed in a black pickup truck and drove away.
Once she was gone, Christina sank back onto the love seat. “I like your sister very much. I wish I could’ve gotten to know her under better circumstances,” she said.
Lex strolled across the porch and took a seat beside her. When he reached for her hand, Christina felt the gentle touch all the way to her heart, forcing her to bend her head to hide the emotion on her face.
“I like my sister, too, but I’ve been counting the minutes until we could be alone,” he said quietly. “I was so relieved when I saw you return to the house this afternoon. I kept having this awful vision of Lawrence trying to harm you.”
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