Tangled Threat (Mills & Boon Heroes)

by Heather Graham

  “Are you pimping me out?” she asked him.

  “Never,” Flannery said. “But maybe he’ll respond more easily to you on many levels.”

  “You mean that you doubt that he takes me seriously,” Rachel said.

  “Rachel, Rachel, you have a chip on your shoulder,” he told her.

  Brock groaned slightly.

  Rachel looked at Brock and he shrugged. “You never know.”

  “Yes, Rachel, I’m pimping you out—whatever works,” Flannery told her. “He might still think of you as the teenager who spent summers at the resort, instead of the whip-smart detective you are now. You might catch him off guard.”

  She grinned. “Okay, just so I know what I’m doing.”

  “Let’s get lunch,” Flannery said. “Oh, and feel free to flirt with your old beau, if need be. I’m sure you’ve got enough wiles to go around.”

  Rachel paused before they reached the house, looking at Brock. “Maybe Brock could get Maura on that one,” she said.

  “Maura is a civilian,” he said, hoping he hadn’t snapped out the words.

  “Yes, but...” Rachel hesitated, glancing at Flannery, who nodded. “Everyone around here always had kind of a thing for Maura. I know that I’d be with Nils—and see him look after her longingly, even though she was a summer hire. And I’d see Glass looking at her, too, and I even think that Francine Renault was hard on her because the others seemed so crazy about her. If she could just draw Nils into conversation—with us around, of course, and see where that leads.”

  “We do remember that we are professionals, that we play by the book,” Flannery said. “But come on, Brock, what led you to law enforcement was the knowledge that you had instincts along with drive. What made me follow your career as you moved on was...well, hell, like I said. You obviously have the instincts for it. Sometimes lines get a little blurred. I am not suggesting that we really use Maura—I’m just suggesting that she could help us chat some of these people up—with one of us right there.”

  Brock stared at the two of them. He didn’t agree, and he didn’t disagree. He was surprised by Rachel’s words, but he’d been mostly oblivious to others back then. He shouldn’t have been surprised by Michael Flannery’s passion; he’d always known that Flannery was like a dog with a bone on this case.

  Brock would never use Maura. Never.

  But on the other hand she was in there interacting with all the persons of interest right now.

  Twelve years ago, Maura had been with him; he had been with her. No room for doubt, and certainly, they had never thought to mistrust each other.

  Now she had grown into an admirable professional—and a courteous and caring human being. And she was with him once again, although he reminded himself that they had been together just a night. There had been no promises. In the end, whether there was or wasn’t a future for them didn’t matter in the least. She was a civilian, and that was that.

  He raised a finger in an unintentional scold. “She’s never alone—never, ever, alone with any of them. With Fred Bentley, either of the Hartford brothers or Donald Glass.”

  “Right,” Flannery said.

  At his side, Rachel nodded grimly. He turned and they followed him.

  “I’m starving,” Rachel murmured as they entered the lobby and tempting aromas subtly made their way out and around them from the restaurant.

  “Yeah, it’s lunchtime,” Flannery said.

  “I’ll join you soon,” Brock told them. He headed to the desk; there was a clerk there he hadn’t seen before.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?” he asked.

  “You’re new,” Brock said.

  “I am, sir.”

  “What happened to the young lady who was working?”

  “I don’t know, sir, and I don’t know which young lady you might mean. Mr. Bentley gives us our schedules, sir. I’m doing split shifts, morning and night now, if I can be of assistance.”

  “Yes, I understand Angie Parsons is doing some filming here at the resort today. Can you direct me to where they’re working now?”

  “They’re in the library, but they don’t wish to be disturbed, sir. Sir!”

  Brock turned and headed for the library.

  “Sir! I shouldn’t have told you. They don’t want to be disturbed. Please, I have just been hired on—sir!”

  Brock paused to turn back. “It’s all right. I’m FBI,” he said.

  His being FBI didn’t really mean a damned thing in this scenario. But he felt he had to say something reassuring to the clerk.

  He went through the lobby and down the hallway that led to the library, in back of the café.

  The door was closed.

  There was a sign on it that clearly said Do Not Disturb.

  Well, he was disturbed himself, so he was going to do some disturbing. He knocked on the door.

  To his surprise, it opened immediately.

  Marie Glass stood before him, bringing a finger to her lips. He nodded. She closed the door behind him.

  Angie was holding the camera. He had arrived just before they were to begin a segment. While she loved being the director and videographer, Maura was also a natural before the camera. She smiled right into the lens and said that she was in her favorite area of the resort—the library. She was with Donald Glass, who kept the library stocked, not just here, but at all of his properties, and that he bought and developed places specifically because of unique or colorful histories.

  “A true taste of life, the good, the bad and the evil,” Maura said, smiling.

  “Exactly, for such is life, indeed, and history can be nothing less,” Glass said.

  Maura knew what she was doing; Glass had been interviewed so many times in his rich life that he was apparently well aware of a good ending.

  “Cut! Perfect!” Angie said. “Marie, what do you think?”

  Marie smiled—her usual smile. One that maintained her dignity—and gave away nothing of her real thoughts. “Excellent. If we can just do an opening at the entry...perhaps have Fred giving the guests a welcome along with Angie.” She turned and looked at Brock. “Oh, would you like to appear in a video, Brock? This was once a home away from home for you.”

  “No, thank you—though I would enjoy watching,” he said. He looked at Maura, who was looking at him then, too. He couldn’t read what she was thinking, but she had that look in her eyes that indicated there were things she had to say—but to him alone.

  He glanced at Marie. “Not sure my bosses now would like it,” he explained.

  “Well, we can finish up then,” Marie said. “Donald, dear, would you like to find Fred? He has been our general manager now for over fifteen years. He should be shown greeting Angie.”

  “Good thinking, my dear,” Glass told his wife. “Meet you out front.”

  Donald left. Brock smiled, excused himself and hurried after Glass.

  “Sir!”

  Glass stopped and turned around with surprise. “Oh, Brock, yes, what can I do for you?” He frowned. “Have you learned anything? I caught a ‘breaking news flash’ about thirty minutes ago. More remains have been discovered, but those over south of Gainesville. It wasn’t... Did they find one of the missing girls?”

  He seemed truly concerned.

  “No, sir. Whoever they found has been missing much longer. They don’t have an ID yet.”

  “You never know if that’s true, or if it’s what the media was told to say.”

  “It’s true. They have no identity on the remains yet. Indulge my concern for a moment—there was a young woman working at the front desk here. She might have been just on nights, and I may be a bit overly cautious, but I noticed you have a new hire on the desk.”

  “We do?”

  He appeared genuinely surprised. “You’d have to ask Fred about that.
I must admit, I don’t concern myself much with the clerks. I worry more about the restaurants and our entertainment staff. But Fred will be able to tell you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you seen Fred?”

  “No, I haven’t, but—”

  “He’s probably at lunch. I’ll take a look in the restaurant. Excuse me.”

  Brock watched him as he went on by. The man was polite to him—always had been. But he couldn’t imagine that dozens of reports were all false—the man evidently had an eye for women and an appetite for affairs.

  Did he leave for tours of his other properties because he just needed to work alone, or because he needed space for casual affairs?

  Or maybe he didn’t really leave every time he said that he was doing so, or go exactly when and where he said that he was going.

  Power and money.

  Maybe Glass lured young women with those assets.

  Brock hurried out front.

  Maura wasn’t alone. She was with Marie Glass and Angie, and they were standing in broad daylight.

  He was still anxious to be with her.

  More anxious to hear what it was she might have to say to him alone.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T THAT her work was hard, but Maura was weary—ready to be done.

  Most of the videos had gone very smoothly.

  Angie spoke spontaneously, and they had needed no more than three takes on any one scene that day. Maura had known what she’d wanted to say—she truly loved any library, especially one as focused and unique as the library at the Frampton Ranch and Resort.

  And still, she was tired.

  The idea made her smile. She was happy to be tired—because she was happy that she hadn’t spent much of the previous night sleeping.

  She didn’t want to be overly tired that night, though!

  Brock appeared on the steps of the porch before Donald Glass got there. He had an easy smile as he joined them and waited for Donald to appear with Fred Bentley.

  “The Devil’s Millhopper! Sounds like a place I have to see!” Angie said, smiling and looking at Brock.

  He shrugged. “It’s geographically fascinating—and has great displays on how our earth is always changing, how the elements and organic matter often combine to make things like sinkholes and other phenomena work. Sure—I love it out there.” He laughed. “I love our mermaids, too. Weeki Wachee Springs and Weeki Wachee State Park. Absolutely beautiful—crystal clear water.”

  “Mermaids, eh?”

  “Mermaids,” he agreed politely and turned away; Glass was coming down the steps with Bentley. The stocky manager was beaming.

  “I get to be in a video!” he announced.

  “You do,” Angie said.

  “With the famous Angie Parsons,” Fred said. He paused, frowning. “Or with our beautiful Maura—which is fine, too. Love our beautiful Maura.”

  Maura smiled. “No, sir—thank you for the compliment. You get to be with our famous and beautiful Angie.”

  “What do I say?” Fred asked.

  Maura already knew exactly where she wanted them to stand for the afternoon light—and how she wanted them walking up the steps to the porch and the entry for the finale of the little segment.

  “If you could give a welcome to the Frampton Ranch and Resort—and tell us how you’ve been here for fifteen years,” Maura said. “Naturally, in your own words, and you can add in any bit of history you like.”

  She probably should have expected that something would go badly.

  First, Fred froze and mumbled.

  Maura smiled and coaxed him.

  Then he went blank.

  Then he forgot to follow Angie up the stairs at the end.

  He apologized and said that he should be fired—from the video, not the property. He tried to laugh.

  Maura encouraged him one more time, and they were able to get a decent video.

  Brock stood nearby through the whole painful process, as did Donald and Marie. The owners—the married pair—did not stand next to each other.

  Nor did they speak with each other.

  And when they were done, Marie thanked Angie and Maura, bade the others good-afternoon and said that she was heading out for some shopping.

  Donald thanked everyone and said that he’d be in his office.

  Fred thanked Angie—then Maura.

  “I was horrible. You fixed me. I guess that’s what a good director does. Anyway, back to work for me. See you.”

  He lifted a hand and started up the steps.

  “Fred,” Brock said, calling him back.

  “Yeah?”

  “I noticed you have a new hire on the front desk.”

  “I do,” Fred Bentley told him. “Remember when I was night clerk—well, I don’t like being night clerk. Heidi didn’t show up at all—and didn’t call with an excuse. That’s grounds for dismissal, and everyone knows it, so I left a message telling her not to come back.”

  “You never spoke with her?” Brock asked.

  Bentley frowned. “No, I got her voice mail. She must have heard it. She never came back in.”

  “What’s Heidi’s last name and where does she live?”

  “Heidi Juniper. She lives between here and Gainesville,” Bentley told him. His frown deepened. “You don’t think that—”

  “I’ll need her address and contact information,” Brock said. “We’ll just make sure that Heidi is irresponsible—and not among the missing.”

  “Of course, of course, I’ll get it for you right away,” Bentley told him.

  When Fred was gone, Angie turned to Brock, repeating Bentley’s concern. “You don’t really think—”

  “I don’t know. I think we’ll just check on her, that’s all,” Brock said. He looked at the two of them. “Lunch?”

  “Are they still serving lunch?” Maura asked. “They do close for an hour, I think, between lunch and dinner.”

  “I bet they’ll serve us,” Angie said. She smiled broadly. “Oh, I do love it when people feel that they owe you.”

  She started up the steps. Maura was glad; she wanted a few minutes with Brock alone.

  She believed that she’d have all night, but she needed a moment now.

  But Angie stopped, looked back and sighed impatiently. “Come on! Let’s not push our luck too hard, okay? I want them to keep owing me.”

  She was waiting.

  No chance to talk.

  Maura started up the stairs to the porch, grateful, at least, that Brock was with her.

  Grateful, in fact, that he was simply in the world—and in her part of the world once again.

  Chapter Seven

  Brock saw that Michael Flannery and Rachel Lawrence were still in the restaurant when he arrived—they had taken a four top, expecting him to join them.

  They hadn’t expected Maura and Angie, but Michael quickly grabbed another chair and beckoned them all on over.

  Angie was happy to greet them both, offering to film some of the campfire fun again with them in it. She hadn’t quite figured out that law enforcement officers didn’t often want their faces on video that went around to the masses—especially when they worked in plain clothes.

  Both politely turned her down.

  “I feel like a terrible person,” Angie said. “I mean, I’d seen the news. I knew that women had been kidnapped and one had been found dead...or her remains had been found. I just didn’t associate it with worrying about the central and northern areas of Florida. And the state has a huge population... Not that having a huge population makes terrible things any better, but statistically, they are bound to happen. I had no idea that the FBI and the FDLE would be staked out at the resort. But I can’t tell you how glad I am. Though we did finish here today. And we went to St. Augustine yesterd
ay. I want to see this Devil’s Millhopper—the big sinkhole. But I’m not sure if Nils can go right away, and he did say that he wanted to.”

  Nils must have been close; as if summoned, he was suddenly behind Angie’s chair. “While you’re waiting to go to the Devil’s Millhopper, there’s some other cool stuff for Maura’s cameras not far from here. Cassadaga—it’s a spiritualist community, and the hotel there and a few other areas are said to be haunted. There’s a tavern in Rockledge that’s haunted, a theater in Tampa... It goes on and on. We can find you all manner of places.”

  “You need permits for some of them, advance arrangements and all,” Maura reminded him.

  Nils grinned. “Well, there’s more here, too. Hey, I know what we have—and near here! Caves. Yes, believe it or not, bunches of caves in Florida. Up in Marianna, but closer to us—not really far at all—Dames Cave. It’s in Withlacoochee State Park, but...outside the state park, on the city edge, there’s an area that’s not part of any park system. Not sure who owns the land but you can trek through that area and find all kinds of caves.”

  Maura glanced at Brock; he knew from that look that she definitely didn’t want to go off exploring caves alone with Angie.

  “Caves! Cool—haunted caves? Weird caves?” Angie asked.

  “Oh, yes, there’s an area called Satan’s Playground. Not in a state park, and not official in any way. I know that Maura and Brock know it—they used to love to go off exploring when they were working here and they had a day off,” Nils said. He smiled at Angie. “I’d truly love to explore the Devil’s Millhopper with you, if you don’t mind waiting.”

  Angie leaned toward him, smiling. “I don’t mind at all. We’d intended to spend several days here.”

  Nils nodded, apparently smitten; they might have been a match made in heaven.

  “Well, hey, Nils, can we still get lunch?” Maura asked.

  “No,” he said. “But yes, for you. Order quickly, if you don’t mind. Chef saw you come in and he said that you’re going to help make him more famous, so he’ll wait. But he did have a few hours off before dinner, so...”