Dark and Deadly

by Jeanne Adams

  “I understand,” Torie said. She hated the thought that Dev had been hurt, and she hoped he would go home, and out of the line of fire.

  “Do you understand this ain’t your fault?”

  “What?” Torie was startled by the comment. “How do you mean?”

  “Someone got a powerful mad on, hatin’ mad. But it ain’t you—it’s that man you nearly hitched yourself to. Remember what GoodMama told you?”

  “That gold was more powerful than affection.”

  “Still the case. But that hate’s spillin’ onto you. You look there, at that man. And watch for falling glass. I keep seeing falling glass. Not just this moment, but soon.”

  When she hung up with GoodMama, she hurried to the table to write everything down. Talking with the old woman was mesmerizing—you couldn’t write things down while you were talking to her because she’d ask if you were listening or paying attention. But Torie knew she’d better get it down fast, because so far GoodMama had never been wrong.

  “Did Granny WooWoo have some information?”

  “Hush,” Torie chided, scribbling away.

  Before she could finish, a squealing whoop, whoop, whoop filled the air, along with a disembodied voice.

  “This is not a drill. This is a fire alarm. Please exit the building immediately.” Whoop, whoop, whoop.

  Chapter Seven

  “What the hell?” Paul growled. He snatched files from the table and from his desk, threw them in a drawer, and locked it. “Come on. We have to get out.”

  Paul was tugging on her arm, hauling her up and toward the door.

  “But, but…” Torie was aghast. GoodMama said she had some time.

  “It’s probably nothing. We’ve had a couple of these recently, but you can’t take a chance.”

  They hurried out of the office to join others hurrying through the suite of offices and out to the stairs. On the street, after a long descent, Torie, Paul, and other people from the building milled around, waiting for the firemen to give an all clear.

  Martha scurried up, her sharp features set in disapproving lines.

  “What is it?” Paul asked.

  “Melvin Jr.,” she whispered. “He said he was just checking to see that you were out, but I was helping Elsa get Mister Pratt Sr. down the stairs and saw him coming out of our offices.”

  “Really?” Paul frowned.

  As they watched, Melvin Jr. pushed through the crowd to Paul’s side. “Paul, I wanted to…” He noted Torie’s presence, and his eyes widened. “Well, hello, Torie.”

  He held out a hand and Torie shook it, then let go as quickly as she could. Melvin, Todd, and Paul had all been in law school together, and in the same fraternity. Once Todd left the country, Melvin had asked Torie out several times.

  She’d declined. He was just…unpleasant.

  “Hello, Melvin. How are you?”

  He smiled and motioned to indicate the crowd on the sidewalk. “I’ve been better. This is certainly not the way I’d expected to meet you again. I trust you’ve been well?”

  “As well as can be expected, yes.”

  Melvin looked surprised for a moment, then seemed to remember she’d had troubles. “Oh, I’m sorry. I did hear about your house. And Todd, of course. My apologies. And my sympathy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Melvin, I understand you were in my office?” Paul went right to the heart of the matter.

  “Yes, I thought I saw someone in there. There was someone coming out of your office as I came out of the stairwell, and I yelled and he ran. I don’t think anything was taken, but I can’t be sure. I was coming to tell you before I found the police.”

  Melvin pivoted and scanned the crowd. “There, there’s an officer. Let’s go over. My father’s over there as well. Good.”

  Torie and Paul exchanged glances behind Melvin’s back.

  “Do you believe him?” Torie whispered.

  Paul simply shook his head in the negative.

  They walked up in time to hear Melvin Sr. saying, “Yes, and my son saw someone coming out of one of our partner’s offices.”

  Melvin Jr. froze in his tracks. Torie almost plowed into his back. Paul’s hands steadied her, but she felt a tremble in them.

  “Whose office would that be, Mister Pratt?” the officer asked.

  “Ah, there he is. Thank you, Melvin, for fetching Paul for me.” The older man had a wheeze to his voice, and coughed a bit. “Excuse me, I don’t usually take the stairs, much less in haste.” He coughed again, more vigorously this time. “Paul, you need to talk to the officer, and let him go into your office with you when we get the all clear. Melvin here says he surprised someone coming out of your suite.”

  “So, Mister, uh…”

  “Jameson. Paul Jameson.”

  “You’re a partner here at Pratt and Legend?”

  “He is. Just got the promotion this morning, so he’s not used to it yet,” Pratt Sr. interjected. “Missed the meeting, Jameson. You could’ve gotten the news firsthand, otherwise…” The old man shot him a sly smile before he began coughing again.

  “Sir, do you want to see the EMTs?” Torie moved to his side. She was concerned about how pale he was. Her father had gotten wheezy, coughed that way when his heart was acting up. “Perhaps just a whiff of oxygen will help you clear up that shortness of breath.”

  The cop didn’t wait to hear the old man’s answer, and Torie was glad of it. He tucked his notes away and hustled over to the waiting ambulance. The loitering EMTs snatched up some gear and came over.

  “I’m fine, really,” the senior lawyer complained.

  “Sir,” Torie said firmly, “you don’t want your family to worry.” She refused to look at Melvin Jr. “And,” she lowered her voice, “if you let them give you oxygen now, you’ll probably be able to walk back into the building. If you don’t, they’ll insist you go to the hospital.”

  The old man harrumphed and muttered, but he talked to the EMTs and allowed them to fit an oxygen mask over his face. His color cleared immediately and he began to breathe easily.

  The older man gave Torie an appraising glance, and then, to her surprise, winked.

  She smiled at him and looked away so she wouldn’t laugh. It felt good to laugh. Heaven knew she hadn’t had much reason for humor over the last few weeks.

  “It’s clear, gentlemen.” A fire captain came over to give them the news. “We found where the alarm had been pulled.”

  “Damn pranksters,” Pratt Sr. declared, pulling off the oxygen mask and carefully standing up. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said to the EMTs as he passed the mask back to them. One of the EMTs spoke quietly to him and he nodded, shooting a glance at Torie as he did. “I’ll do that. Thank you,” she heard him say.

  “Now, let’s get back in the building and use the elevator this time.”

  On their way into the building, Torie and Paul exchanged glances. “Are you going to call Tibbet?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  In Paul’s area, the officer asked him to look around, without touching anything, to assess if anything was missing. “Officer, you may want to contact Detective Tibbet. My client,” he said as he indicated Torie, “has had considerable difficulties in the last few weeks, and this might be another attempt to scare or intimidate her.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll contact the detective.”

  Torie was watching Paul. He was a good poker player, she was sure. Nothing showed on his face as he scanned the desk, the table where they’d been working, and the credenza behind his desk.

  “Everything seems to be here,” he said finally.

  “But not at my desk,” Martha said, coming in from the assistant’s area. “My PDA is missing.”

  “Could you have taken it with you, or knocked it over in your haste to leave?” the officer asked.

  Martha froze him with a look. “Absolutely not, young man. It was in a locked desk drawer, hooked to the charging station. It was deliberate.”

&nb
sp; The young officer blushed, but got busy calling Tibbet. Once done with that, he also summoned the crime scene techs, at Tibbet’s request.

  Martha’s phone rang and she picked it up. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at both Torie and Paul, but she concluded the call quickly. “Mister Jameson, if we could speak in private for a moment?”

  “Certainly. If you’ll excuse us?”

  Torie watched them, but could discern nothing from their body language. Although she’d slept well, she was beginning to fade. It was lunchtime, and she’d not eaten anything.

  “Let’s go,” Paul said, taking her arm to ease her around the arriving officers. “Tibbet can come over to O’Briens if he wants to see us.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re getting lunch. You’re too pale, your hands are shaking, and I’m starving.”

  “Wait a sec,” Torie said, remembering her shopping. “Missus Prinz,” she said to Martha, “would you mind checking the items I left with you?”

  Martha’s lips tightened, but she turned to the nearly invisible closet door in the paneling. Opening it up, she gasped.

  “No. No argument,” Paul insisted as they left the building at the end of the day. They’d spent the afternoon with the police going over what had happened to Torie’s things. The shredded garments from Martha’s closet were now in Tibbet’s hands. They’d been notified that they could pick up the few undamaged clothes from the Suites, since they were ready to release the room as a crime scene. According to Tibbet, there wasn’t much left, so Torie would have to go shopping again.

  “Until we can find you a new bodyguard, you aren’t going anywhere alone, much less staying alone. I’d rather have you in my guest room than have both of us staying at some characterless hotel. We’ll pick up your remaining things and head to my place.”

  “Paul, I don’t want to stay with you. I can call Pam,” Torie began. “And what about the bodyguard from this morning?”

  Paul glared at her. “I thought Pam was your best friend.”

  “She is.” Torie’s whole body bespoke insult.

  “Then don’t get her hurt, dead, her house burned down, or anything else. The same reasons you had when you insisted on staying at the Hilton still apply.”

  “I don’t think…” she stopped, and Paul nodded.

  “Yes, you do. You think the same thing I do. Whoever this is, whatever it’s about, it’s directed at you.” Paul ushered her into his car. Once he got in, he continued the thought. “Better to be with me, someone who knows what’s up and can, hopefully help. Besides, the bodyguard from this morning could only work today. He has another gig, but he was able to cover you while you were out of my sight.”

  Torie frowned into the darkening day. She spoke very little until they had picked up her meager things at the hotel and were driving toward his house.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either, Paul.”

  He laughed. “Oh, come on. Wouldn’t it just be justice for something to happen to me? After all, I’m sure you’ve wished me dead or to the devil at least a hundred times since we met.”

  “No,” she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” She turned in the seat to look at him. Since the light was red, he turned to her, grinning.

  “Oh, right. How better to get back at me?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not the way I work. Never has been.”

  “Right,” he smirked, and drove on.

  Her cell phone rang. Digging it out of her purse, she answered it.

  “Hi, Pam.”

  “You’ve got to come, quick,” Pam was panting the words. “It’s the package. There’s been a problem. You gotta come.”

  Torie looked at Paul. Crap. He’d never understand. Closing her eyes, she wondered why she cared. What did it matter what he thought of her? He’d made his decision a long, long time ago.

  “Turn around, Paul. We’ve got to go to Germantown.”

  “What?” Paul snapped.

  “It’s a matter of life or death. I’m not kidding.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Life or death in Germantown? It’s a suburb.”

  “Pam and my cousin Dev are there. Yes. It’s for real.”

  “I’m calling Tibbet,” Paul said as he made a squealing U-turn and headed for the interstate.

  “No,” Torie screeched and snatched his phone away. “This isn’t about that. It’s something else. But we have to go.”

  “We’re on our way, Pam,” she said, cutting off Pam’s stream of chatter. “Can’t talk.”

  Slapping the phone closed, she grabbed the armrest as Paul whipped the car onto a side street, screeching to a halt at the curb.

  “What the hell is going on?” Paul demanded.

  “Pam and I had a little side incident, the day my house burned down. The, um, package, we delivered is really fragile, and…”

  “Torie, if you don’t speak English and tell me what the hell you and Pam did, I’m turning the car around and calling Tibbet.”

  “You can’t. Really. Just trust me.”

  “Trust you?” His incredulity crushed her heart. “I can’t believe you said that to me, of all people.”

  Her nerves, frayed to the point of breaking so many times over the past few weeks, finally gave way. The scream started low and rose until she let loose a howl worthy of a banshee.

  Paul recoiled in reaction and she poked a finger into his bicep.

  “I want you to shut the hell up. Trust. What the hell do you know about trust? I trusted you, you bastard. You’re the one who told Todd, not me, and I’m supposed to trust you? Ohhhh, no. Then you go from helping me get away, asking me out, being that way with me, to shouting at me afterward? Telling people we were a one-date wonder? Then complain when, after six months, six months, that I’m dating your friend?”

  She sat back into her seat with a whump, sat for all of two seconds, then fired up again. “I think you should be really watching who you ask to trust you, buddy. I’ve never been anything…” she shouted, turning back. She felt as if she could shoot fire from her fingertips, she was so mad, as she poked his arm again. “Anything but honest and truthful with you. You’re the one who betrayed my trust. So suck it up, Jameson. If you want to protect me, fine. I’m going to help my friend since she asked, and has never, ever broken the bonds of friendship. So let’s go. Drive.” When he didn’t put it in gear, she put her hand on the latch and picked up her purse. “Trust me on this, Paul, if nothing else. If I have to get out of this car and call a cab, I will.”

  Paul sat for several heartbeats more, just looking at her. His dark eyes betrayed turbulent emotions, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. Her own outburst had her so wound up, so shaken, that she didn’t really want to know.

  “Damn it, Paul,” she began, pulling the latch.

  He slammed his hand down on the locking mechanism.

  “I’m driving.”

  The silence was fat and thick with unspoken pain, with memories and bitter words from long ago rising to shake off the dust of time, to bite again. Torie sank into her seat. She’d gotten her way, but at what cost? Her resolve to never speak of those days again, her decision to not go there, was blown.

  They pulled into the neighborhood; Torie gave terse directions to get them to Carlos’s house. There were three cars in the driveway. Carlos’s low-slung Jaguar was first, then Pam’s SUV, then what looked like a rental car.

  Paul pulled to the curb behind the rental. Torie got out before Paul could cut the engine.

  “Where is he?” Torie called as Pam hurried out the door.

  “Who?” Paul was quick to follow. “Where is who?”

  “More like what, I think,” a male voice drawled from inside. “Come in here, cher cousine and ’splain all this to your Dev, eh?”

  She felt Paul jerk in reaction to Dev’s voice, but she didn’t have time to think about that. She whipped open the door and ran inside.
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br />   “Dev.” She hugged him tightly, but carefully. “You’re out of the hospital. Are you okay? Are you—”

  He laughed and hugged her back as he interrupted her. “Hold on, little cuz. You go too fast. I’m fine. I mend quick, and I’d been better if I’d’a remembered GoodMama’s warning to me. She tol’ me not to go see you, to jus’ call.”

  Torie caught her breath. “Oh, Dev.”

  “Yeah, call me a horse’s ass. Might as well.” He grinned a bright, wry grin. “She did, and a whole lot more.”

  “She told me to watch out for fire, but I didn’t have time.”

  “I know.” Dev’s smile faded. “I’m sorry ’bout that.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “No, but…”

  “Yeah. I get it.”

  “Besides, it’s had some benefits.” Dev turned his dazzling smile toward Pam. “I got to meet this lovely friend of yours.”

  Torie looked at Pam’s face and her heart sank. Pam was hooked. Damn. On Dev of all people. This was so not good.

  Paul cleared his throat.

  “Oh, sorry. Paul, this is my cousin from New Orleans, Devereaux Chance, also known as Dev. And you remember Pam, don’t you?”

  “Your cousin?” Paul asked, looking relieved about something. “Pleased to meet you. I heard you were hurt.”

  “Dev was cut up pretty badly,” Pam volunteered. “But he’s healed with amazing speed.” Torie saw the sly twist to her smile, just before Pam dropped her gaze. Crap, they were sleeping together. Pam never slept with anyone, she just dangled the lure and the men followed her anywhere.

  The fact that she had actually slept with…no, she could not think about Dev in bed with her best friend. It was just…wrong. Not to do it, just for her to be thinking about it.

  Cripes. There was that image again, popping into her head. Nope. Not going there.

  Meanwhile, the two men were shaking hands.