"Thanks for the use of the car," Daniel said as he stepped in through the back door.
Sarah saw that he was wearing casual slacks and a pullover. "Where's the suit?" She'd decided to give him a chance to tell her about Jenkins.
"I'm officially suspended." He shrugged, but it didn't hide his worry. "I called in and Gottard said I was suspended for not reporting back from duty."
"Did you tell them you'd been kidnapped?"
Daniel shook his head. "I'm not sure how that fits into the puzzle, Sarah. I'm afraid to tell anyone anything."
"Are you afraid to tell me you've been talking to Joshua Jenkins?" She looked up at him, blue eyes sparking with an anger that was upon her suddenly.
"I didn't see any point in telling you that." Daniel knew she was enraged.
"Well, I don't see any point in lying for you anymore. I just wanted to tell you to your face. I'm calling the police and reporting Cody's death. I'm going to tell them everything."
"Sarah— "
"It won't do any good to try and talk me out of it. I hate liars, Daniel, and a lie of omission is just as damning as an outright lie in my book."
"I didn't tell you because I knew it would upset you."
"Great." She tossed a dish towel into the sink. "You lied to me to protect me from my own emotions. That's a good one. Isn't that sort of like the bank robber who took the money so the tellers wouldn't be tempted?"
"Sarah, it isn't like that. I asked Jenkins about your father."
"And that's the one area I asked you not to meddle in." Sarah picked up the cake and strode past him to the car. With great care, she placed it on the backseat. "I'm going to the party, Daniel. Alone. I'm going to report this mess, even if I have to take the coward's way out and report it anonymously."
"If you do this, there's a chance I could get in serious trouble."
"Maybe you need to get in serious trouble. My uncle said that you were a renegade, a troublemaker who broke the rules to suit his own purposes. I didn't want to believe that." Sarah felt the tears building. "So I ignored him. Now I'm partially responsible for a man's death. That's what I get for not listening to my uncle." She pushed past him and went back into the kitchen, bringing out the trays of cupcakes.
"What uncle?" Daniel let the question slip before he thought of the consequences.
"Oh, right. You know my background. I don't have any blood uncles. But I do have an adopted one." She was even angrier than before.
"Who is this man?"
"None of your damn business, Daniel. Now you'd better stay out of my way." Three trips later she had everything loaded. Daniel stood helplessly and watched. She wouldn't allow him to assist her.
"Sarah, if you'll let me explain, I know I can make you understand. I wasn't doing anything wrong."
"Maybe not in your books, but in mine you're nothing but a convenient liar. Stay out of my life, Daniel. Every shred of trust I had for you is gone." She finally looked at him, taking in the handsome face and the big shoulders. She had begun to develop feelings for him. Now she was going to pay the price for allowing anyone inside her private world. When would she learn that bitter lesson— she couldn't be hurt if she didn't let anyone in.
"I'll call you this evening."
"You can call until the cows come home, Daniel. I won't be here to answer it."
"Where are you going?"
Sarah picked up the cat and put him in the car, along with a bag she'd packed earlier. "That's none of your business. I'm telling you, though, tonight I'm going to call the police. That will give you six or seven hours to do whatever you have to do."
Frustration, anger, and concern for Sarah were all mixed together as Daniel watched her drive away. Lucky for him he'd had his flats repaired and the car delivered to Sarah's shop. He waited until she'd turned left out of the alley, and then he ran for his car and followed her.
She might be mad at him now, but he was a trained agent. He could follow her without getting caught.
Two hours later he was hiding in a hedge on the lush lawn of the U.S. senator from Georgia. The party was a smashing success, and the bronco birthday cake had just been cut. Daniel toted up the cost of the party— at least a couple of grand, what with the trained ponies fitted out in silver saddles and the actors dressed as cowboys and cowgirls who were playing with the seven-year-olds.
There had been a staged gunfight and a roping exhibit. Not to mention the cowboy with the guitar who sang a few cow-poke songs and then "Happy Birthday." The entire extravagant affair had been wonderfully coordinated, and Sarah had taken care of all the food. Now the kids were stuffing their faces with ice cream, cake and a million other goodies.
Shrill laughter rang out as the children ate and played, but Daniel's gaze was focused on Sarah. She was packing up her things and putting them in the car. And that black cat was sitting on the passenger seat as if he knew what was happening.
After a few brief words with several of the grown-ups, Sarah got into her car. She was finished. Daniel made a dash for his car, pulling around to the service entrance so that he could wait for Sarah to come around. In less than a minute, she did, and he pulled into traffic after her, aware that she was headed due east, away from the city. And she was in a hurry.
When the dark sedan pulled in after her, Daniel didn't realize at first that the car was following Sarah. It was only after several turns that he knew she'd picked up an additional tail. He eased up as close as he dared to the car, feeling a sudden thud of acknowledgment as he realized it was the same car he'd seen parked on her street. He'd recognize the mud-covered car tag anywhere.
Chapter Nine
"What's wrong with you?" Sarah asked the black cat as they pulled into the shadow of Vincent Minton's beach house. It was a beautiful building, constructed of natural wood and glass, built on pilings against the chance of floods. In the rear of the house, stairs led to a wraparound porch, and the front of the house faced Chesapeake Bay with a view that increased the value of the property ten times over. Uncle Vince had inherited the house from his grandfather, who'd received the property from his own grandfather. Through the years, it had been improved and modernized, but it had never lost the rustic appeal that Sarah loved. She stared up at the darkened house, ignoring the cat as he continued to look out the rear window of the car, giving an occasional low growl.
"This isn't exactly the city, I know, but I think you can adjust to a little peace and quiet for a night or two. It'll do you good." Sarah stroked the cat's head. "It might even make you realize that you enjoy living with me. You might want to stay around a little more than you do."
"Meow." Familiar rubbed hard against her hand, then hopped to the ground and started up the stairs.
"Eager little rascal, aren't you?" Sarah was relieved to see the cat so adaptable. She'd had some concern about bringing him, but she couldn't leave him in the city with no one to look out for him. And to be honest, she wanted his company. She'd been so busy all afternoon that she kept Daniel's betrayal tamped down. Now, though, she was going to have to call in and report what she knew about Cody Pruett's death. And no matter how hard she tried, she hadn't been able to avoid thinking about that.
Strange, though, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't know a lot. She wasn't even certain how Cody had died. Daniel had checked the body, but he'd forced her from the room before she'd seen any wound or indication of how Cody had met his death. When she called, what was she going to tell the police? The truth was, she wasn't even certain the lab tech was dead. She'd taken Daniel's word for it— and she'd discovered exactly how good Daniel's word was.
"Meow!"
Familiar was at the top of the stairs demanding entry into the house. He shifted from the door to a lookout position back down the long, winding drive. Normally Sarah loved the solitude that several heavily wooded acres gave the house, but this time she couldn't help the slight shiver that passed through her. It was a long driveway, and the trees and undergrowth h
ad been left thick and unkempt. For privacy.
Sarah pulled the key from her purse and opened the door, tossing her overnight bag in behind Familiar. Just to be on the safe side, she scanned the driveway, then walked around the deck to check the boat dock. The motorboat that Uncle Vince used to explore the bay was hanging from the lift in the boathouse and there was no other boat in sight. She was completely alone.
* * *
SO THIS IS UNC'S PAD on the bay. Nice digs. Very private, very solitary, very expensive. I just wonder if the car that's been following us is one of Unc's hired protectors, the hardheaded Agent Dubonet, or the black sedan from the beauty salon. All I can say is that I'm glad Eleanor and Peter left this morning for a three-day trip to New York. They assumed, wrongly of course, that I would remain in the house. Magdelene, that dear, kindly woman, is supposed to look in on me. I hope I don't worry her too much, but I don't see how I can make it home tonight. All in all, it's been a rather hectic day.
I enjoyed the party. All those young bipeds shrieking and stumbling after the ponies. I'm telling you, those ponies deserve a tolerance award. Young humans have to be taught that animals feel pain, and let me tell you, some of those youngsters were pulling tails and poking those ponies. I'm afraid it would have been "To the moon, Alice" for a few of them if I had been a pony.
The only person of any real interest was Lucinda Watts. She must be in her fifties now, but she's a looker. Ever since I've lived in Washington, I've heard her name bandied about by those who want to appear to be part of the inner circle. Lucinda's parties are legendary, as is her past. Even Eleanor knows the gossip that Lucinda was once a stripper on the Gulf Coast and that she's closely linked with a former vice president. As in, romantically linked. Well, whatever exercise she does to keep her figure, it works. She looked great.
Now, let's explore this joint. Master bedroom and bath upstairs. Guest bedroom and bath, upstairs. Kitchen and den, complete with a cozy fireplace, downstairs. Sensible and easy. I like this. But what are we going to do for two days? We have a mystery to solve back in Washington. Maybe I can convince Dolly to pack up early. I'm not exactly the kind of cat to lounge around and watch television all evening. I need to be where the action is.
Uncle Vince's taste in magazines is interesting. Here's one on architecture, another on medical advances, one on interior design, and one on history. And, what's this? A family photo album. It might be interesting to see this Jean-Claude. Every time Unc mentions his name, Sarah cringes. He must have been a real pain in the old butt when they were growing up.
Here's Unc, with his arm around a handsome woman. She looks French or Italian with that nose. Dark hair, dark eyes, very striking woman. I wonder…I never hear any reference to Auntie Minton. We know there was one, a` la Jean-Claude. But what happened to her? Divorce or death? That's an interesting question.
Now here's the little tyke. A very handsome young boy. The clothes are a little too much. He looks like a store window mannequin, but that's not enough to make Sarah dislike him. But there is something about the smile. Sort of thin-lipped, if I do say so myself. Maybe I'm just looking for a reason to dislike him, since Dolly is so against him.
Now who is this? A very tall man with…yes, that's a gun on his hip. And I think the edge of a badge hidden by a little girl's head. Yep, it's Dolly, and that must be her father, Cal Covington. I like the way he's holding her on his lap, sort of looking at the top of her head and not at the camera. And there's the mother, next page. Mora. She looks like Marilyn Monroe. Now I know where Dolly gets her looks. What a classic face! And that blond hair done up like Tippi Hedron in The Birds. Very chic. She doesn't look so unhappy here. She's actually smiling. Life can certainly throw a few hard curves.
Now here's Unc and Daddy. They're both tall, but Dad's a little taller. They look like they've shared a lot together. There's a warm friendship there. Oops, here comes Dolly. Maybe I should put this away. Or maybe it would be more interesting to see what she does.
* * *
"OH, FAMILIAR." Sarah reached for the album and drew it over to her lap. She stroked the cat. "That's my family." She stared at the page, and then traced the outline of her father's face. "He was a good man, Familiar. He didn't do anything wrong. No matter what anyone says."
The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Sarah slam the album shut. No one was expected. No one knew she was at Idlewild.
A key slid in the lock, and the door swung open. Sarah felt her stomach drop.
"Hello, Sarah." The tall man's dark eyes took in her unhappy expression. "I hate to intrude on your solitude, but Father made me promise that I'd check on you."
"Jean-Claude." Sarah stood. "It's been a long time."
"And I get the feeling you'd prefer that it was even longer." He waved away her denials. "I was horrible to you when we were youngsters. I know there's no way to make you believe I've grown up, except to show you. And I have grown up." He noticed the cat. "I didn't realize you'd brought a pet with you. I hope it doesn't have any fleas."
"Sorry." Sarah couldn't even make it sound convincing. "Uncle Vince said I could bring the cat." She took in the sight of her adoptive cousin. He was tall, a little too thin, but muscular, like a runner. With his dark hair and eyes and skin, handsome didn't begin to do him justice. But he also seemed ill-at-ease. He kept looking around the room as if he expected to see someone else.
"Yes, he could never deny you anything, could he?" Jean-Claude's dark eyes were impossible to read. "So, what were you planning for the evening? Perhaps we could go to dinner. There are some wonderful places nearby, and I know you must be sick and tired of cooking."
"Not really." Sarah saw her hopes to call the authorities slipping away. She couldn't possibly make the call with Jean-Claude there.
"Father tells me you've become quite the success. How did your party go? Was Lucinda there?"
"Yes, but I hardly had a chance to notice. She's been at the last several functions I've catered." Sarah had never thought about it, but Lucinda Watts had been present at all of the entertainments. In contrast to her reputation as a party girl, Lucinda had been quiet, reserved, and conservatively dressed. A big change from her youthful days when she'd been the hottest attraction along the Gulf Coast strip. She'd known Sarah's father— a friendship of sorts. Sarah had sometimes suspected that Lucinda was throwing some chef business her way.
"Lucinda is a fascinating woman," Jean-Claude said as he took a seat in a chair across the coffee table from Familiar. "It wasn't that long ago she was jumping out of birthday cakes at parties. Now she's one of the most significant hostesses in the city, or so Father says."
"Yes, so I've heard." Sarah found it difficult to talk with Jean-Claude. There was an edge to his voice at any mention of his father. Almost an anger.
"Father wanted to tell you, but…" His smile was genuine as he handed her a slip of paper from his inner coat pocket. "She's going to hire you for a big bash next week. She asked me to give you these instructions and dates." He handed her a slip of paper from his inner coat pocket.
"Did your father put this together?" Sarah was delighted.
Jean-Claude tensed. "Lucinda was enthralled with the cake and ice cream. So perfect for the senator. Subtle yet eclectic. I believe those were her words." Jean-Claude's accent was more foreign than his father's, a reflection of his recent years in Paris.
"I'm glad I impressed her." Sarah felt as if she were talking to a stranger. Not once had Jean-Claude mentioned his work or his interests or himself.
"Sarah, in all of the years we've known each other, our families have teased us, saying we would marry."
Sarah was at a loss. "I'm sure you find that as uncomfortable as I do."
Jean-Claude lifted his eyebrows. "To be honest, I don't. We have a common background. If Mother had lived, she would have viewed you as a daughter."
"But…"
"But what?" He leaned closer. There was a measure of desperation in his face.
"Just beca
use our families know each other doesn't make this a match made in heaven." Jean-Claude was making her very uncomfortable. Paris had not smoothed the rough edges of his behavior.
"Your mother would be very relieved. She's worried about you. About your future, about the fact that you seem to prefer to live alone."
"And how do you know these things?" This time Sarah was definitely interested. She couldn't believe Mora was spilling her guts to Jean-Claude.
"Our parents are close, chérie."
The endearment that sounded so natural on Uncle Vince's lips was much more intimate coming from Jean-Claude. Sarah inched closer to Familiar, who obligingly sprawled across her lap.
"Jean-Claude, you've been living in Paris and have traveled around the world. Surely you've met women you've felt some true affection for. You don't really know me. You just have a tiny shard of memory of a little girl."
He shrugged, a gesture as foreign as his accent. "One thing I've learned in my travels is that affection grows between two people who share the same goals. Besides, we have the past, chérie. And the future is treacherous." He must have realized how intense he had become, because he smiled and he leaned back. "As you say, I've been away. For most of my life I've been at boarding school or in Europe. Since I've come home, I've learned many things, especially about my father's business. You have no one to guide you since your father is dead." His expression was unreadable. "I would protect you."
"Do you remember my father? Do you remember how he spanked you for biting me?" Sarah felt the need to goad Jean-Claude. His talk about marriage was positively giving her the creeps.
"I remember Cal. He was a wonderful father. An honorable man who was destroyed by forces outside his control." He sighed. "Let me get us some wine. I see by the tears in your eyes that I have finally touched you. We have much together, even though it was long ago."
He disappeared into the kitchen, and Sarah got a grip on her emotions. Jean-Claude had grown up. He seemed to have developed a sense of himself and others that he'd lacked as a young boy. But there was something else going on with him, too. Something she didn't understand at all.
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