Cernak returned the sketch to Nathan. “Circulate this within the department,” he snapped. “But one word of this leaks to the press, and it’s your ass.”
Courtney slid onto a stool and propped an elbow on the bar. She glanced around the room, then let her gaze settle on the bartender, who had been watching her since she’d stepped into the Lariat Lounge.
He placed a napkin in front of her and gave her a long, lingering look that she recognized. He was going to hit on her if one of the patrons here didn’t beat him to it. “What can I do for you?”
“Cape Cod.” She smiled. “With a twist, please.”
While he made the drink, she let her gaze comb the room, picking up details she’d never noticed before because she’d been too busy noticing David. About a dozen small, candlelit tables filled the floor in front of the stage. There was seating along the sides, too, a series of rectangular tables positioned in front of a leather bench seat tucked against the wall. A handful of couples sat there now, talking in low voices and sipping cocktails. Most of the men looked like wealthy business travelers. Most of the women looked like arm candy.
“Here you go.”
Courtney turned to the bartender and shifted her shoulders strategically to make sure she had his attention. For tonight she’d chosen a black baby-doll dress with spaghetti straps.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him. He had the tall-dark-and-handsome thing going, and he knew it, too. “I used to come here all the time, but I don’t remember you. Are you new here?”
“Three years.” He didn’t smile, but he gave her that slow, appraising look.
She held out her hand. “I’m Courtney.”
He shook it. “Jason.”
She stirred her drink with the slender red straw and took a sip. She turned her head slightly and gazed out at the tables as several more couples arrived and settled into chairs. “You guys are pretty busy tonight.”
“It’s the singer.” He nodded toward the microphone set up on stage next to a gleaming black piano. “Lucinda Mason. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”
“I don’t keep up with the music scene.”
A cocktail waitress appeared at the other end of the bar. “Just a sec.” Jason winked at Courtney and walked over to fill the order. While he was gone, Courtney took her purse from her lap and placed it on the bar beside her drink. She unzipped the bronze leather clutch, which matched her sling backs, and pulled out a clipped photograph.
Jason took care of a few customers and then made his way back and slid a bowl of cashews in front of her.
“Listen, Jason, I’m trying to find someone.” She tapped a red fingernail on the newspaper photo of Eve Caldwell. “You ever seen her in here before?”
He glanced down at the picture. “Sure.”
“Guess this is my lucky night. When did you last see her?”
“She was around a lot for a while. Haven’t seen her lately, though.”
“Who was she with?”
He propped his hip against the counter and cocked his head to the side. “Same guy as you.”
CHAPTER 10
Courtney’s breath caught. “Are you sure?”
“He’s a lawyer, right? Rich big shot. Lousy tipper.”
“That’s him.”
“I haven’t seen him around lately.” He nodded at the photograph. “Her either.”
That’s because they’re dead.
Courtney tried to keep her smile in place as she tucked the clipping back into her purse. “You ever see either of them here with anyone else?”
“Besides you? No.”
Courtney sipped her drink, and for a few moments they traded sultry looks. Another waitress approached, and he went off to fill an order.
Courtney pivoted her stool to face the stage. No sign of the singer yet, but the room had filled in. Many of the men had that sly look about them that told Courtney they were here with someone they shouldn’t be. How had she missed it before? How had she sat here, in this very bar, and not realized she was being played by a cheap-tipping lawyer in a three-thousand-dollar suit? Just thinking about it made her chest burn. And then all that burning anger was replaced with fear as she glanced around the bar and realized two of the people who used to come here were dead now. And maybe there were more.
What was the connection between this hotel and these deaths? Was David the connection? Was she? She turned her attention back to the bar, but continued to watch people come and go in the mirror behind the liquor bottles.
Jason cleared her glass away and filled a new one with ice. He spent a few moments mixing Grey Goose and cranberry juice, and she wondered whether he’d remembered her brand from months ago, or whether it was just a lucky guess. He seemed to have a sharp memory.
He placed the drink in front of her and leaned a palm on the bar. “So I take it you’re mad at your boyfriend.”
“You’re observant.”
He leaned closer. “I could help you forget about him, if you want.”
She gazed up at him, and couldn’t help but smile. It had been six months, but she hadn’t lost her touch. She could make an attractive man want her. But the only man she wanted to want her at this particular moment was immune to her.
Or he pretended to be, at least.
“That’s very tempting.” She took a twenty out of her purse and placed it beside her untouched drink. “I’ll have to let you know.”
He spotted her immediately. She was standing beside the valet guy and showing him something from her purse. Will pulled up to the valet stand, thrust the Suburban into park, and got out.
“’Scuse us.” He took her arm and towed her away from the college kid who stood there, gaping.
“What the hell, Will?”
He jerked the passenger door open. “Get in.”
She shoved her little purse under her arm and fisted a hand on her hip. “Excuse me? Did you just haul me across the sidewalk? Are you freaking crazy?”
“Get in,” he repeated.
“No.”
He stepped closer and glared down at her with his full-on, no-holds-barred death stare, and she didn’t even flinch, damn it. “I’m warning you, Courtney. I’m in a bad mood, and I’ve got no patience for games right now. Get your butt in the car.”
She waited a beat, staring at him. Then miraculously, she obeyed.
He closed her door and went around to the driver’s side. “I thought I told you to stay at your sister’s.”
“I’m not under house arrest. I can go wherever I want.”
“Hey, did it ever occur to you that you’re not investigating this case? The police are? And maybe it’s not smart to run around town asking questions like you’re Nancy Drew?”
She opened up a little makeup mirror and reapplied her lipstick. Her mouth was fire engine red tonight. But he should think of it as a Stop sign.
She finished with the lipstick and shoved it back in her purse. “Maybe if you guys would solve the case, I wouldn’t have to investigate for you. And maybe you should be grateful I’m helping you instead of complaining.”
He shook his head and looked away. Then he started the Suburban and left the Randolph behind them. It was after nine. He was going on two days without sleep and twelve hours without fuel, and now he had Courtney to deal with before he could catch up on either.
“How’d you find me, anyway?”
He thought about telling her he’d developed a source at the hotel, that the female desk clerk he’d interviewed had agreed to call him if she ever saw Beatrice Morris, or any other women associated with Alvin. But Courtney didn’t need to know all that.
“I’m keeping tabs on you,” he told her. “And someone else most likely is, too. You said you were going to be careful.”
“I am. But I’m also being practical. Did you know David was seeing a woman named Eve Caldwell?”
“No,” he said, marginally interested now. “Who is she?”
“A thirty-two-year-old real estate agent. Gradu
ate of UT. Where are we going?”
“To your sister’s.”
“I don’t want to go there. Take a left at this stoplight.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something.”
“No, why don’t you want to go to your sister’s?”
She shot him an annoyed look, and he thought she was going to dodge the question. “I’m not comfortable there,” she said, surprising him.
“She’s your sister.”
“She’s also engaged. Three’s a crowd, okay? We’re turning here.”
He pulled up to the intersection and sighed. He didn’t have time for this. And whatever it was, it was probably a bad idea.
“It’s relevant to the case,” she said. “I swear.”
He looked at her, all shiny and enticing on his torn vinyl upholstery. Then he put on the turn signal. “I’ve lived in countries where you could get arrested for that outfit. You might want to think about keeping a lower profile.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gimme a break.”
“I’m not kidding.” He eyed her legs. The dress was too short. And those shoes—
She crossed her legs, and he glanced up to find her looking at him. He shifted his attention back to the road, and the light turned green.
“Where are we going?”
“Highway 360,” she said, “south of the bridge.”
“Who’d you talk to at the Randolph?”
“Lots of people,” she said. “Both the bartender and the valet remember David and this woman Eve.”
“Okay, so he was a womanizer. So what?”
“So she’s dead.”
Will gritted his teeth. He flicked a glance at her. “Since when?”
“Last Tuesday.”
Will followed the curvy road through the hills of west Austin. He kept a lookout for deer in his peripheral vision. He also kept lookout for a tail, but they weren’t being followed.
“How’d she die?” he asked. “APD’s not working an Eve Caldwell case.”
“It was a ‘cycling accident,’ according to the paper. But I don’t believe that.”
“Where was the accident?”
“I’ll show you. Turn right at the next light.”
Will maneuvered into the turn lane, not happy about the pain in his skull. He’d had a low-grade headache for days now, and he knew it was from his certainty that Courtney was in the middle of something lethal.
And he needed to figure out what it was, soon.
“So,” she said, “you’re new to Austin, right?”
“Three weeks.”
“Then you probably don’t know this, but we’re getting on one of the most scenic bike routes in town, called Capital of Texas Highway. Very popular with the yellow-shirt set, especially in the spring. Everything’s blanketed with bluebonnets.”
It was too dark to admire the landscape, but through a dip in the hills, Will caught a glimpse of the downtown skyline, dominated by the capitol dome and the UT clock tower. The road cut a deep, curving path through the limestone, and Will slowed as it sloped downward.
“Just up here,” Courtney said. “Stop before the exit.”
Will pulled onto the paved shoulder and rolled to a stop. Even at this late hour, he saw the reflectors of a few bikers on the opposite side of the divided highway.
Courtney pushed open her door and hopped out. Will did the same. She made her way down the incline, and Will’s shoes crunched on the gravel as he followed her. The Suburban headlights threw their long, black shadows over the asphalt.
Courtney stopped and looked around for a moment. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The cross. This is where she went off the road.” She picked her way down the grassy slope, away from the headlight beams. Will pulled a penlight from his pocket and illuminated a white cross surrounded by fresh bouquets of yellow and white flowers. “According to the accident investigators, she was riding early in the morning. There were no witnesses, but they think she hit this hill, lost control of the bike, and skidded off into the ravine there. She wasn’t wearing a helmet.”
Will peered over the ledge into the darkened gully lined with rocks. “That could do it.”
“Except that her friends don’t believe it.”
“What?”
“That she’d go out without a helmet.”
A fresh wave of annoyance washed over him. “When did you talk to her friends?”
“At her memorial service. It was this afternoon.”
“You went to her funeral and interviewed her friends?” He took her elbow and turned her to face him.”
“I think she was murdered. I think she was killed and dumped in that ravine. Or maybe she was driven off the road—”
“Goddamn it, you’re not an investigator!”
She glanced down at his grip on her arm, and he dropped it.
“Eve never went out without a helmet,” she persisted. “And then the day she does, she has a fatal crash? It’s too coincidental. I mean, look at that!” She gestured toward the gully. “It’s got to be fifty feet from the highway. How did she end up there? She was an experienced cyclist. The road was dry. She never should have lost control, and she never should have been out there without a helmet.”
“Courtney—”
“She was seeing David the same time I was, back in January. I remember noticing her at the Randolph and get ting jealous. I thought she had a thing for him. And then she was killed the day after he was.” She turned to look at the makeshift memorial. She looked so sad standing there. And she hadn’t even known this woman.
“You know, I hadn’t been to a funeral since my dad died.” Her voice was quiet. “Now I’ve been to two in one week.”
He reached out to touch her before he could help himself. She glanced up at him.
“Let’s go,” he said, turning away.
He trudged back to the truck and heard her footsteps behind him. He pulled open her door.
“What should we do now?”
“We aren’t doing anything.” He nudged her inside. “You’re going to your sister’s, and I’m going to check out this lead.”
After a second night on Fiona’s sofa, Courtney officially needed a chiropractor. The closest thing her budget would allow was the massage therapist at Bella Donna, and she resolved to hit her up for a free neck rub during one of her breaks today. Kneading her shoulder, Courtney made her way into the kitchen, where Jack sat at the breakfast table.
“Hi.”
He looked up from his newspaper. In a white button-down and black slacks, he looked too conservative for her artistic sister. But then, Fiona and Jack had been a case of opposites attract.
“Coffee’s strong,” he said, and Courtney realized she must look like crap. She needed to spend some extra time with her mirror today.
She got down a mug and poured some coffee. “Fiona’s gone already?”
“Six a.m.,” he said. “Convenience-store holdup.”
“Don’t they have security cameras?”
Jack got up to refill his coffee, and Courtney added cream to hers. “This one wasn’t working, apparently.”
Courtney dropped into a chair and eyed her future brother-in-law across the kitchen. She’d never had a brother. Or a father, really. The only male role model in her life had been her granddad. She wondered what it would be like to have a normal family.
“Fiona’s worried about you,” he said over his coffee mug.
“I know.”
“I’m worried about you, too.”
She sighed.
“What would you think about taking a vacation for a few weeks? Maybe visit some of your friends back in California? Or go check out the coast? Padre Island’s only a five-hour drive.”
“That’s a nice idea, but I can’t afford the travel or the time off.”
“Fiona and I want to pay for it.”
A lump rose up in her throat. Jack and Fiona didn’t have money to spare, either. All the
ir savings had gone into their house and their upcoming wedding.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I couldn’t do that. And anyway, I shouldn’t. The police told me to stay in town.”
Jack set his coffee aside. “I’ve been doing some poking around.”
“Me, too.”
He gave her a stern look. “This thing is complex, involv ing multiple actors and multiple incidents. That means it’s expensive. Someone burglarized your house. Someone routed messages to your computer. Someone planted a witness in the park, and possibly at the Randolph Hotel, to implicate you in this. Someone tried to commit a double murder. Someone else drove that person to the scene. And now there’s this missing professor, who Nathan thinks is connected to your case. Do you see what I’m getting at here?”
“I’m in the middle of something awful. Thanks, I caught that.” Courtney took a deep breath, no longer interested in telling him about Eve Caldwell.
“At first, we were just worried about you getting charged. Now we’re worried about you getting hurt.”
“So am I.”
Jack gazed at her with his gray-blue eyes. He looked concerned. Brotherly. Courtney’s stomach twisted, as she realized this was new for her. She’d mostly dealt with men as lovers or enemies, not friends or family.
“I know you think Fiona worries too much, but it’s because she loves you.”
“I know.” Courtney stood up now and patted Jack’s shoulder. “And I’m being careful. I promise.”
“Running around investigating this thing isn’t being careful.”
Gwen Stefani sang out from the kitchen counter, and Courtney welcomed the interruption. She crossed the tile floor and reached for her cell phone. It was Will’s number.
“Hello?”
“What time do you need to be at work?”
She checked the clock on the microwave. “About an hour. Why?”
“I’m coming to get you.”
Two weeks ago, she’d been a loner, and now she was surrounded by protective alpha males. “You don’t need to do that. I can catch the bus.”
“Give me forty minutes. And wait inside.”
He clicked off, and Courtney dropped the phone back in her purse.
Whisper of Warning Page 13