“I’m not giving up, not entirely. But I am being practical. Everything that’s happened so far has been an incremental increase in violence. That pattern, coupled with Tad’s body turning up, leads to no doubt that it’s too late to find Vanessa.”
She shifted in his arms, and pressed her face into the comfort of his chest. The move was involuntary, and an enormous departure for her. The more he offered, the more she uncharacteristically accepted. It was a softening, an opening to the possibility of them as true partners that she wouldn’t even have thought possible of herself a month ago. And it was more wonderful than she could’ve imagined.
Mark rested his cheek on the top of her head. “When did you decide you were too late?”
“Part of me knew and accepted it before Ralph Paxton finished bringing me up to speed. If a missing person isn’t found in the first forty-eight hours, the chance they’re still alive drastically decreases. It was days before we knew Vanessa was missing. I’ve quoted those statistics dozens of times. I’ve almost always seen them borne out.”
“And we’ll catch the sick bastard responsible. That’s all you can do for her now.”
Her eyes were dry and clear as she pushed back. “The fact you’re willing to help, to put your life on the line for a woman you’ve never met, speaks volumes about your character and the kind of man you are. Most of all, it means more to me than I can ever begin to say.”
“People’s lives are at stake. You don’t have to say anything.”
She held up a hand to put distance back between them. “But I still can’t agree to turn my life completely inside out.”
Mark shoved his hands through his hair in frustration. “God, Annabelle, why do you fight this? Why do you deny this pull we have to each other?”
“I don’t. I can’t deny it. I can’t explain it, and to be honest, right now, I can’t deal with it. It’s too much, too soon, with too many other major things to deal with….Vanessa, Jonathan, not to mention being shot at myself. I’m not anywhere close to clear headed. It isn’t fair to you to make any decisions under this kind of duress.” She stroked his cheek slowly, tenderly. “I’m not saying yes, Mark, but I’m not saying no either. Which is huge for me.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “Okay. You have a point. As long as your answer isn’t a flat out no, I can work with it. For the record, I still think you’re stubbornly letting your head take the lead when all I asked for was the answer in your heart. You can have a pass for today, but I’m going to ask again. Probably every day, until I wear you down completely.”
“Ooh, something to look forward to,” Annabelle said with a smile. Because no matter the circumstances, Mark always found a way to make her smile.
“Thought you’d appreciate me laying it all out for you. I don’t give up, especially when I know I’m right. Get used to it.”
“Now who’s the one lacking in the romance department?” she teased. “You’ve got to know I don’t respond well to orders.”
“Not an order—a fact.”
“In the world of journalism, we call it splitting hairs.”
“Before you get all technical on me, where do we go from here?”
Annabelle pursed her lips. “As I understand it, you’re going to harangue me every day until I give in and admit we’re the next Antony and Cleopatra.”
Another tug of those thick, black curls that she loved to twine around her fingers. “Not what I meant. And try to find a better legendary couple to compare us to—those two didn’t end up so well. I’m already fighting an uphill battle for you. I don’t need historical tragedies exerting any undue influence.”
“Duly noted,” she said solemnly.
“I meant the investigation plan. Do we head home and start reading? Do we involve experts like Tad’s friend?”
Annabelle loved that he’d segued so quickly from romance right back into the thick of it. This man truly got her. “Strangely enough, this is getting a little easier every time I say it. We need some serious teamwork. One of us skims the book while the other cross references on the Internet any promising names we come across.”
“I volunteer for the hands-on part. Good chance I’ll recognize at least some of the names. May have been a while back, but I still remember a chunk of my Confederate history. Memorizing the script for the carriage tour probably stuck a few more names in my head. Can’t waste the entire afternoon on a Varina Howell type goose chase just because your schooling has some shocking gaps when it comes to the heroes of the Confederacy.”
“I thought we declared a truce on the whole North/South derision,” she protested.
“I’ve got a buddy from San Diego who can name all of the California missions in order to this day. His third grade teacher made him memorize the list in order, and it stuck. Bet he doesn’t know who Varina Howell is, either.”
She laughed and squeezed his hand. “You always know how to charm a smile out of me.”
The jangle of Mark’s phone made them both start, the fragile peace shattered. He angled the phone so Annabelle could hear.
“Hello?”
“What a surprise – you’re still alive,” came the dry voice on the other end.
“Ashby?”
“And you remember my name. I was starting to wonder.”
Annabelle glanced at her watch and sucked in a breath. She cringed at the time, and showed it to Mark.
“I didn’t call and check in with you.”
“Not trying to be your mom, but yeah, a phone call at the prearranged time would’ve been nice. Might’ve kept Jillian here from climbing the walls, pestering me to call you every five minutes for the last hour. I told her you were fine, but I was kind of starting to doubt it myself.”
“Ashby, I’m sorry. If the situation was reversed, I’d be tearing you a new one. I know I screwed up.”
“Normally I wouldn’t care, but there’s a crazy son of a bitch running around trying to kill people right now, and I think you and your woman are at the top of his list.”
“I get it. Everything okay at your end?”
Ashby grunted. “No one’s tried to shoot at us or poison us, but I wouldn’t say it’s okay. Total chaos here. Worse since Jillian’s mom showed up. They’re having a knockdown, drag out fight right now. I figured calling you was a good reason to get the hell out of there.”
“Want us to swing by?”
“Only if you bring a bag of subs with you. It’s lunchtime, and I don’t see Jillian taking a break anytime soon. We’ve been at it since dawn and I’m starved.”
“Deal. It’ll be our peace offering. We’re leaving right now. See you in a few.”
Mark barely closed his phone before Annabelle snatched it from him.
“Hopefully Jonathan’s asleep and hasn’t looked at a clock recently. Otherwise I’m in as big trouble as you are.”
They got back in the car and sped toward downtown. Annabelle called the nurses’ station and verified her brother had slept all morning. She left a message, grateful to have dodged a well-deserved reprimand. The way she and Mark had acted was completely irresponsible. If she’d been officially on assignment, her producer would’ve had her head for something this stupid. In the last ten minutes Mark had successfully shoved all her concerns, apprehension and overall trepidation about the two of them into a tiny, well hidden corner of her mind. But Ashby’s matter-of-fact rebuke opened the door on the locked room. Little swirls of doubt poked back into her brain. By the time they arrived at the sub shop she couldn’t contain herself any longer.
“This proves my point.”
“This? A well-made hoagie?” Mark said playfully.
“This is no joking matter. Jillian and Ashby were worried sick about us. I’m lucky Jonathan was too doped up to notice we never checked in with him. And why did it happen? Why were we so thoughtless?”
“Let me guess—not a rhetorical question?”
Annabelle plowed ahead. “Because we were too wrapped up in our own relationship
drama to keep track of the big picture.”
“Relationship drama? We’re not in a soap opera.” Mark got out of the car and hurried into the deli. She dogged his heels, not ready to let the topic drop.
“Call it what you like. This is not the time to deal with this—us—whatever this is.”
“Enough is enough. There is no way I’m rehashing this conversation, minutes after finishing it for the first time.” He took her elbow and steered her out of the line, behind a towering display of chips. “You’re right. Now is the time to order the biggest, messiest hoagie on the menu. While you decide which one you want to tackle, we’ll stand here quietly. Maybe hold hands, but that’s it. We will not disturb the nice people in line with the minor meltdown you seem hell bent on having.”
Annabelle wasn’t appeased. “But…”
“Guess there’s only one way left to close that mouth of yours.” Mark leaned down and kissed her, kissed the fight right out of her. He dipped her backwards over his arm and kissed her senseless until the other customers began laughing and applauding. “No backsliding. We made good progress today. Don’t you dare write that off. One of the all-time great philosophers said it best: ‘Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.’ ”
His plan to shut her up worked. Her knees were a little bit wobbly but her impending panic attack was completely derailed. She crinkled her nose, good humor restored. “Funny, that doesn’t sound like Socrates or Aristotle. Who said it?”
“John Lennon. And if you say a single disparaging word about him, I’ll make you walk all the way to the mansion, even with a crazed psycho killer on the loose. Some things are sacred.”
Not being slow-witted, Annabelle wisely kept her comments to herself. After all, a good relationship required a few kernels of dissension to keep things interesting. And she hadn’t yet told him about her passion for musical theatre. Discovering each other’s quirks was supposed to be the fun part, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“What the hell can-of-worms did you open down there?”
Annabelle stared at Mark’s phone in amazement. Wanderlust Magazine blinked on the caller ID, so Annabelle could hazard a guess as to who belonged to the loud, spluttering voice on the other end. “Ralph? How did you get this number?”
“I called your phone and left about a dozen messages, none of which you returned. Worked me up pretty good. Didn’t know if I should be mad at you or start with another round of funeral arrangements. Then my assistant said any phone in your vicinity has about as much chance as chum in a shark tank, so I played the odds and called your hotel. Lady who runs the place said I could reach you at this number, or at the hospital downtown. Let me tell you, I didn’t get a good feeling when I heard that.”
Annabelle was swift to put his mind at ease. “I’m fine. It’s my brother who’s in the hospital.”
“Your brother? What the hell are you doing with your brother? I didn’t send you down there for a family vacation, Carlyle!”
“Jonathan’s a computer expert. He came down to help out with a lead.”
“Since when do you let anyone help you with a lead? Then you’d have to split credit. What’s going on?”
Luckily, the cool-headed, rational side of her brain kicked in an instant before she lashed back a retort. Ralph had been under an enormous amount of pressure lately. He had every right to snap. And he did have a point.
Before this trip, Annabelle fanatically pursued every angle, every lead by herself. But it wasn’t to hoard the accolades. She couldn’t leave anything to chance. Not this time, though. Maybe it was being so tired of it all, so close to burnout. Maybe it was the genuinely special people she’d encountered here. Whatever the reason, she’d changed course, and didn’t regret it for a second.
Annabelle took a deep breath and chose her words with care. “I’m, uh, using a different approach. And Jonathan’s in the hospital because he was poisoned by whoever killed your brother-in-law.” She didn’t mention the attack was intended for her. No need to get the man even more worked up.
Ralph let loose a steady stream of invectives. “Never meant for anyone else to get tangled up in this. Is he okay? Does he need anything? We can fly him back here and set him up with the best doctors in the city.”
“They have perfectly good doctors here in Charleston. He’ll be fine. But I appreciate the offer.”
“Still could’ve checked your voice mail,” he groused.
“My phone’s at the bottom of a river. Don’t ask. Now, I didn’t mean to worry you, Ralph, but you knew I’d report back when I had something solid. Why were you compelled to track me down this time?”
“Because somebody tracked me down!” he thundered into her ear.
“Ralph, you’re not making any sense.” Annabelle rolled her eyes and mouthed an apology to her friends for the prolonged interruption. All four of them were sprawled on the parquet floor in the ballroom. Jillian waved off the apology and began to tidy the remnants of their lunch.
“Our personnel department got a call after we spoke the last time. My assistant was trying to steal donuts from their break room, or I wouldn’t have known about it. Good thing I’ve got a sweet tooth.”
“Ralph, who called?”
“A woman. She knew you were in Charleston, writing for Wanderlust. Wanted to check your qualifications. Be sure you weren’t trying to do some sleazy exposé on her city. Claimed she was from the mayor’s office. Then she asked for your phone number to set up a proper interview. What have you done to get the attention of the mayor’s office?”
“I’m not quite sure how to answer that.”
“Did you go with the cover story we discussed? A puff piece on the top ten tourist spots? Because if you did, the mayor should be thrilled at the free publicity.”
“It’s what I’ve been telling people. Mrs. Haley was so excited she told every woman’s club in the city. My cover is rock solid, and definitely out there.”
“The last thing I need is to get in a pissing contest with the mayor of Charleston. I keep plenty busy as it is. Something put you on their radar. What did you do?”
A thought occurred to her. “What was the name of the woman who called?”
“Do you want to meet with her?”
“No, I’m playing a hunch. Mostly that she doesn’t really work for the mayor. Who was it?” She heard him shuffle through some papers on his desk.
“Varina Howell. Mean anything to you?”
Annabelle wasn’t sure how to answer, or rather where to begin. She heard the silent snick of another puzzle piece sliding into place. Too bad she still couldn’t quite make out what picture the pieces connected. “You could say the name rings a bell.”
“What do you know about this woman? And more importantly, how’d you manage to put her noise out of joint?” Ralph demanded.
“It would take too long to explain. Let me assure you, though, that the woman who called does not work for the mayor’s office. Varina Howell isn’t her real name. You have nothing to worry about.”
“You sure about that? Because if the mayor’s office calls me again…”
Annabelle swallowed her frustration. The man was like a bear nursing a wounded paw. She didn’t have the time or the patience to smooth his ruffled feathers. Corporate politics was never her strong suit.
“Ralph, I don’t know how to be any clearer. Wanderlust still has its sterling reputation. The phone call was nothing more than a test balloon floated in desperation. I’ll call you soon.” She hung up before he had a chance to protest.
“Interesting sounding call,” Jillian said blandly.
“A bit.” Annabelle quickly filled them in on the details of her conversation with Ralph.
Ashby shook his head in amazement. “Even though Varina Howell’s name kept popping up, I wasn’t convinced we were looking for a woman until right now. And before you gather the lynch mob, it doesn’t mean I’m anti-feminist. I’m just surprised.”
“
Still picture women as dainty flowers, with barely the strength to lift a teacup, waiting for a big, strong man to rescue them?” teased Jillian.
“Not exactly. Gentler, kinder, nurturing maybe.” Ashby ran a hand down the length of Jillian’s back in a quick caress. The move did not escape the notice of Annabelle, who raised an eyebrow at Mark as she jerked her chin in Ashby’s direction. His head swung in time to catch both her look and the tail end of Ashby’s gesture.
Did he even realize what he’d done? Jillian was frozen in place with a look of confusion. Chances were he’d reacted instinctively, with no intent of reopening that particular can of worms.
Ashby continued, oblivious to the interplay around him. “To balance out men’s rough edges. I know full well both of you ladies could kick some butt if necessary. Feels reassuring, considering our situation. But yeah, right off the top it’s hard for me to picture a woman going all homicidal crazy.”
“While it’s true women can be as dangerous as men, this doesn’t prove we’re looking for a woman.” Annabelle held up a finger, considering. “Or, to be more specific, only a woman. She could be working with someone. This in no way rules out Nathaniel Bellamy. It could be his wife, cousin, aunt, mother—who knows?”
“Too bad your brother’s still down for the count. We could use someone who knows their way around a computer to narrow those possibilities down.”
“Not a problem.” Mark pushed himself to his feet. “I can get started as soon as we get back to my place.” Silence greeted his announcement. He answered it with a snort of disgust. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. Annabelle’s excused, due to being new to the group, but Ashby? Jilly? You guys know I do this for a living, right? I research things.” He drew the words out slowly.
“Not like this. I mean, I’m not saying you’re completely incompetent,” Jillian stammered, flustered. “But you told me you once spent three weeks working on a single sentence. We don’t have that kind of time.”
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