by Molly Liholm
Abigail Milton of Sedona, Arizona.
The last communication from Kelly until she’d shown up at the hospital four months later had been a postcard she had mailed to their mother from the Grand Canyon. His reporter’s instincts humming, Adam had spent the next day investigating Abby’s letter.
First, he’d had to translate Abby’s free-flowing statements to what she actually suspected. It turned out that she had read his column for years, believing he was a supporter of the underdog. She even acknowledged that occasionally he showed that big business had a conscience, that he could listen to both sides of the argument, and that was why she was sending him her suspicions. She didn’t trust the security of computers, Abigail had continued, which was why she was writing him by mail. It was still difficult to tamper with the U.S. Postal Service, she asserted.
The letter was dated three months previously. When Adam checked the envelope, he discovered Abby had forgotten to include the correct amount of postage and the missive had taken a long and leisurely route to him. It might be illegal to tamper with the mail, as Abby had claimed, but a stamp helped, he’d muttered to himself.
Too caught up by the excitement of a clue that could lead to what had happened to his sister, he hadn’t paid attention to Abigail’s warning against using computers. No, he’d used his home computer to connect to his paper’s main frame and check the two names and dates Abby had sent him: Justin Stone, October 10, and Philip Black, November 15. To his shock and growing excitement, Adam discovered that what Abby claimed was true. While both men existed according to birth certificates, school records and social security numbers, Abby had challenged him to go further and he had. The men had credit cards—platinum, with long billing records—reports on medical tests and lots of other documentation. Adam decided he needed to check minor details and found neither man had ever donated blood, held a library card or, most importantly, been sent an envelope from Ed McMahon declaring they could already be a winner in the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
The direct-mail connection was Adam’s best test as to the real identity of a person. If Jason Stone or Philip Black had existed before the dates Abby supplied, then Publishers Clearinghouse would have found them—from credit card mailing lists or magazine subscriptions—and they would be in the sweepstakes system.
Since they weren’t, they were fakes. Elaborate computer forgeries. Fake American identities including citizenship.
Extremely valuable.
That was the scam some very clever person was running out of Sedona, Arizona. What Abigail Milton had somehow stumbled across while playing on her computer. Moreover, Adam was convinced that her having sent her suspicions to him wasn’t a coincidence. She’d known he’d be interested because of Kelly. Only Abigail was off on a retreat, and Adam had been chasing dead ends ever since he’d caught the first flight out of LaGuardia to Phoenix, Arizona.
Stupidly, he’d ignored Abby’s cautions. Whoever had been clever enough to create a program that could make these false identities had set a number of flags into the program as well. While Adam hurriedly checked one database after another, he must have tripped an early warning signal the criminal had encoded to alert him if someone got too curious about the new identities. Clearly, Adam had been traced. Discovering what airline flight he would be taking into Phoenix, Arizona, had been easy for the computer genius.
As a result he’d promptly been ambushed.
And then he’d met Meg, which for him was even more dangerous.
He brought himself back to the present, to his first clue. He remembered the ring on Kelly’s finger as he’d held her hand through the long nights. The same design that Freddie had made for Meg.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Meg exclaimed, putting the ring on her finger. Composed of silver with turquoise and garnet, the ring gave grace to her elegant hand. “It’s exactly the colors of the rocks here in Sedona. I love it, Freddie.” She hugged him, and Adam had to restrain himself from pulling her out of the man’s arms. He didn’t know if Freddie was the one who had hurt his sister, but there was clearly a connection. Meg opened her wallet, handed Freddie her credit card, and he rang through the transaction as Adam tried to figure out exactly what this clue meant.
He wished he could throw Freddie against the wall and choke the truth out of him. Instead he followed Meg out of the store, plotting his course of action.
And analyzing the course of events he had set into action by using his real name. The townspeople knew him as Meg’s ex-fiancé, Adam Smith. The forgers knew him as the journalist Adam Smith. Without really considering the consequences, but wanting to flush out his quarry, he had announced his existence. Now all he had to do was wait for them to come after him—again. Only this time he would be ready.
And he was looking forward to breaking every one of Freddie’s fingers.
5
BREAKING EVERY ONE of Freddie’s fingers might be too good for him, Adam decided, as Freddie droned on and on about stocks at the investors’ club meeting, a regular event on Wednesday evenings at The Gateway. With surprising ease, Meg had cleared out a corner of the shop—the display units were on rollers—and put out a dozen chairs and a table for coffee and food.
“Everyone brings something,” she had said, a smile playing along her lips, “so you won’t have to trust my cooking. Although I’ve really become quite a culinary expert since moving to Sedona. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Adam had refused to eat anything that Meg had cooked since he’d regained consciousness. He planned to keep it that way.
Last night, after a full day of meeting Sedona’s businesspeople, he had claimed fatigue and disappeared into the bedroom Meg had fixed up for him. He’d wanted a chance to think without the distraction of her presence. Or thinking about three kisses. Today, he’d tackled Abby’s computer, but she had set up a good password system and he’d been left frustrated. He’d been forced to abandon the process, wishing that he’d taken one of the computer security cracking courses the army and his newspaper had offered. Instead, he’d walked around town again and then helped Meg in the shop in the afternoon. Local residents had developed a sudden need for items from The Gateway, obviously wanting the chance to observe Adam Smith, the scoundrel who’d abandoned Meg at the altar. Surprisingly, he’d had fun. Meg was easy to work with and possessed a quick wit. They’d turned the spinning of their misbegotten romance into quite a tale, each trying to out do the other.
“Cookie?” Rachel asked, dressed for the meeting in a pink flowing skirt and matching blouse. She fluttered among the guests, offering refreshments and gossiping with a skill and ferocity that Adam had to admire. He would have to cultivate her acquaintance better, for she could fill him in on a lot of what was going on in pretty, peaceful Sedona. She was the one, after all, who had referred to Meg and Reid as lovers. Adam speculated that if he hadn’t broken into The Gateway and set Meg’s heart all aflutter, Reid and Meg might actually be lovers by now.
He banished the irritation he felt at the idea of Meg in another man’s bed and took several more of the amazing chocolate-cookie wonders. Rachel might be handing them out, but his stomach recognized Michelle’s handiwork. He winked at Michelle, but she ignored him. A dark-haired man in his early thirties standing next to her, dressed in black jeans and a black vest decorated with Indian petroglyph figures, eyed Adam suspiciously when he did so.
Freddie finally sat down to sporadic applause from the fifteen members of the Sedona Wednesday Night Investment Club—apparently a splinter group from the Sedona Tuesday Evening Investment Club—and Adam quickly made his way over to Michelle.
As he approached, the younger man leaned close to Michelle. “Some more coffee?” he asked her. “I blended a dark roast especially for you.”
Michelle took the coffee without smiling at the man. Her eyebrows rose in surprise when she saw Adam. “Mr. Smith, I didn’t think our little investment club would hold any interest for a financial reporter like yourself.”
&nbs
p; Adam flashed his best smile, but knew he hadn’t weakened Michelle’s defenses. “How could I do anything except enjoy myself in a room filled with so many charming ladies?” He turned to the man, who was now scowling at him, and extended his hand. “How do you do?” he said, and tried not to wince as the man crushed his fingers in response. He’d shaken hands with a lot of teamsters, yet it was the residents of quiet, pretty little Sedona who were threatening to destroy his grip. “I’m Adam Smith.”
The other man immediately relaxed his death grip. “Jason Stavropoulos. So, you’re Meg’s ex-fiancé,” he said, obivously no longer viewing Adam as a threat. “You’re all the town has been talking about since Monday.”
Which was exactly how Adam had planned it. He wanted the whole damn state of Arizona to know he was alive and investigating. What he didn’t want was for the criminals to know he was waiting for Abby, but for them to worry about what he knew. If the bad guys were worried, they might panic and do something stupid—and lead him right to them.
“You were the main topic of conversation at my restaurant from breakfast through after-dinner drinks.”
“I suppose my past relationship with Meg could be seen as interesting.” He took a sip of the excellent coffee as he continued to study the unusual pair. Jason had the striking olive features of his Greek heritage. Slim but strongly built, he was almost as tall as Adam’s own six-two. Would he be the kind of man Kelly would be attracted to? Adam acknowledged that Jason could very well have drawn his sister’s interest, but at the present, he was making eyes at Michelle. But that didn’t mean anything. Jason’s attraction to Michelle could be a cover.
Adam knew that finding the man who had been Kelly’s lover would lead him straight to whoever had threatened her life—and to the forgers. Unfortunately, with so many flakes in Sedona, the list of suitable men was long.
A flake was just the kind of man his sister had a penchant for falling in love with. After the accident, Kelly might not have remembered what had happened to her, but he knew that she’d begun to regain her memory after a couple of weeks. But she’d refused to say anything about where she’d been, who she’d been with or how she’d been hurt.
As a result, Adam knew without a doubt that Kelly was in love with the wrong kind of man. It was her pattern. When she’d reacted strongly to Abby’s letter, he knew he’d finally found a lead. And when he’d read what Abby suspected, he’d been very afraid that Kelly was involved. Abigail Milton claimed she had written to him because she had read his column, but no matter how big a fan she was, there were hundreds of good journalists in the country. No, Abigail had picked him because of his connection to Kelly.
When Meg wasn’t with him, he’d shown Kelly’s picture around Sedona, and a couple of people had recognized her as a girl they’d seen once or twice in town several months ago. No one could remember where she’d lived, however. The coffee shop woman had remembered that Kelly liked spending time at The Gateway, so Adam knew he was on the right path.
Once again he considered Jason, wondering if he was the man for whom Kelly was willing to sacrifice her life.
“You must bring Meg to my restaurant for dinner. I could make a reservation for tomorrow,” Jason offered, sounding friendly, as if he’d remembered that Adam was in romantic pursuit of Meg.
Adam was about to ask Jason about his restaurant when he smelled roses. Meg slipped her arm through his. She whispered into his ear as if they were sharing lovers’ secrets, and for a second, all he was aware of was her soft breath against his skin. Her scent enticed him, causing a curious fluttering in his stomach. “Watch it, Jason is jealous of anyone who spends too much time with Michelle,” she breathed against his ear.
He turned his head to say he was aware of Jason’s jealousy, then realized his lips were only a fraction of an inch away from her mouth. She leaned against him gently, solicitous of his injuries. He only had to move forward a touch and he would taste her. And convince everyone in the room that he really was Meg’s ex-lover, determined to win her back.
Adam moved forward, but Meg stepped back to let another member into their little circle. “Freddie, that was a wonderful talk,” she exclaimed as the man weaseled his way next to her. When she smiled warmly at Freddie, Adam put his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.
Meg wiggled a little in protest, but he didn’t loosen his hold. He rather liked the way she wiggled against him. He refused to consider how annoyed he felt at not being able to kiss her.
Continuing to ignore him, Meg turned her attention to Freddie. “Tomorrow night we’re having dinner with the Logans. At the ranch.”
“Oh, my,” Freddie said in amused tones. “Adam and Reid together. That should be interesting. I can’t wait.” When Meg looked puzzled, he added, “I’ll be there, too. The beautiful Gloria asked me personally.”
Adam glowered at the jeweler and then looked at Jason, who nodded in sympathy.
But Freddie wasn’t about to be stopped so easily. He fixed his attention on Adam. “What did you think of my little talk? I’ll value your expert opinion. I believe Meg said you were a business writer. Would I have heard of your paper?”
Adam decided to ignore the veiled slur regarding his credentials. He was a good writer, damn good. Plus he’d been successful very quickly, winning a couple of awards while working for a Philadelphia paper before moving on to writing his own column for one of the world’s most prestigious ones. As a result, he didn’t need to play one-upmanship games. “I found your topic interesting, but bioengineering stocks are a bigger gamble than the lottery.”
“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Many investors who thought they understood bioengineering have regretted their foolishness.” Freddie ruffled his plumage and Adam decided to give him a little room to maneuver in hopes that he’d trip himself up. Adam needed to find out more about this man; he couldn’t base all of his suspicions on the ring or on the proprietal way Freddie looked at Meg. Indeed, if Freddie was innocent, he and Meg would make the perfect couple. Two fruitcakes.
Over Adam’s dead body.
“The stock you recommended, however, is one of the best,” Adam admitted.
Freddie preened. He brushed back his silvery locks and puffed up his chest. “Thank you. I am known as something of an authority in our little community.”
“How do you know so much about Lab Janzen? The small company is obscure—I believe it only listed on the exchange two months ago.”
Freddie’s lips curled in a condescending smile. “In my other life I was a scientist. Like many people here in Sedona, I was quite an authority before I decided to abandon the rat race for a truer way to live. I still keep up-to-date with the scientific journals, however.” He smirked. Adam was sure that if the man had a mustache he would have twirled it. Freddie continued, determined to one-up Adam. “Where did you say I can find your column?”
“I didn’t, but you may have read the paper. The New York Times.”
Freddie spluttered over his drink. Jason smiled. Even Michelle’s lips twitched in what Adam believed might be a small sign of pleasure. He felt Meg grow curiously still next to him. She looked at his expression of pleased satisfaction and then muttered something about being in the wrong company and excused herself.
He was puzzled by her reaction, but at the moment he needed to question Jason. “Magnificent woman, isn’t she?” Jason asked as Adam watched Meg escape to the kitchen. What in the blazes was wrong with her? It was as if she found the truth about him to be disconcerting. “Yes,” he agreed absently, and then realized that Jason was watching Michelle leave them and join Rachel at the food table.
Adam nodded in her direction. “She doesn’t give you much encouragement.”
Jason shrugged, turning his attention to Adam, but periodically darting a glance at Michelle. “Not in public. But then nothing worth winning is easy.”
“Sometimes the price of love can be too high,” Adam said, and then wished he’
d kept his mouth shut. He was supposed to be investigating, not offering advice to the lovelorn. Clearly, kookiness was catching. “What brought you to Sedona?”
“Michelle.” Jason’s face glowed as he talked about his lady love. “I had a restaurant in California but wasn’t very happy. So my girlfriend at the time and I took a driving vacation through Arizona. As soon as we entered the town limits I knew I wanted to sell my California restaurant and open one here. Then I met Michelle. Right away—it was like the earth shifted on its axis and for the first time I could see really clearly—I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Now all I have to do is convince her.”
Surprised at how easily Jason talked about his feelings—but then he was a former Californian—Adam asked, “Why is Michelle so resistant?”
“She thinks I’m too young for her. That I’ll break her heart.” Jason’s gaze strayed after Michelle, who was talking to Freddie.
Adam studied the younger man. “None of the obstacles worry you?” He meant the decade separating their ages, their clearly different temperaments and outlook on life.
Jason returned his attention to Adam. “None of that matters. Not when it’s true love.” Then he flushed under his olive complexion and shrugged. “You’ll have to forgive my extravagance. It’s my Greek heritage. We believe that when you’ve met the woman of your dreams, you can’t let any obstacle stop you.”
Jason excused himself to follow Michelle, and Adam found himself silently wishing the young man good luck. Adam would have to be careful not to stay in Sedona too long or he’d turn into a touchy-feely emotional wreck himself.
In his investigations so far, he’d learned that Rachel and Michelle operated a small hotel that included a sophisticated conference center. The entrepreneurial pair attracted a lot of business groups conducting corporate retreats, both from northeastern companies looking to escape the weather and California entertainment executives wanting to commune with the vortexes.