She lifted her gaze and was met with startled eyes.
“Ver.” He stepped back. “I shouldn’t have.” Fists formed at his sides. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was fighting it, and I gave in.”
Her fingers touched her swollen lips. “You were fighting kissing me?”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You said that already.” And each time she felt it. Was she that vulgar to him? So repulsive he had to fight against kissing her, holding her? The grave look returned to his eyes. The same weighty stare she’d seen in Millie’s apartment. The dumb case. “Is it the captain? Do you think he wouldn’t approve?”
“No.” His eyebrows drew together as if he was surprised by her question. “It has nothing to do with him. Listen, I—”
“Is it Phyllis?”
His head jerked back. “How do you know about her?” The lips that had been on hers only a moment ago were tightened at the corners in a scowl.
“You called her name that night I checked on you in your room.”
He said nothing, his gaze harder than granite.
“So you do have a dame.” The words swirled in her head, stinging the backs of her eyes. No, she would not let him see her cry. “You lied to me.”
“No.” He exhaled loudly, frustration coating his features. “Okay, yes. I did lie but that was—”
“Stop. Just stop. I thought you were different. Honorable, even.” Fierce currents of emotion surged beneath her words. Could he hear the sob in her voice? Mick had done in less than two weeks what Carson hadn’t accomplished in years—penetrated her defenses. Shame on her for allowing Mick to get that close. “When were you gonna confess about your woman? After you bed down with me?” She straightened her shoulders. “Sorry, Sarge, I’m through with men takin’ advantage. Better luck on your next racket.”
Despite his throbbing temple and definite rise and fall of his chest, the man stood stoic. As if he had no intention of denying her accusations.
“That whole protective charm had nothing to do with your work and everything to do with a primal nature that’s disgusting. Insulting. You’re just like all the others. Nothing but a—”
“She’s dead.”
“What?”
His throat worked to swallow. “Phyllis. My former fiancée. She’s dead.”
Oh. Her heart shivered at the anguish in his tone.
Was that why he’d had nightmares? The reason he’d sworn off matrimony? His fiancée—someone he was to pledge the rest of his life to—had been ripped from his hands. A piece of her bruised heart ached for him. “What happened?”
The sun ducked behind the clouds, casting an ashen shadow on his taut face. “It’s not something to discuss in the streets. I can’t—”
“Then how about this one? You pretended to never have been involved with anyone. Why’d you lie?”
His hand cupped the back of his neck, eyes troubled as if talking of this woman pained him physically. Maybe it did. “I couldn’t. Couldn’t speak of it.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed. “And, Ver, I’d never take advantage of you. If my goal was to seduce you, I wouldn’t have pulled away from your kiss.”
As if she needed the reminder. Okay, maybe he didn’t have vulgar intentions. Perhaps the reasons for his actions stemmed from her not measuring up to his dead fiancée. The woman probably had more class in her pinky finger than Vera had in her entire being. “You didn’t have to fib, you know.” She caught the way he avoided her stare. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “Another time. Not here.”
“Never mind.” She struggled to keep her chin level in spite of the tug from her heavy heart. “I can’t trust your words, anyway.”
“I had to say what I did at the time. Because I didn’t want you to …” He pulled a hand through his hair, tousling it. “I didn’t want you to entertain, well … be interested in me. Last thing we needed—”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Sarge.” Her stomach soured. “I’m not interested.” Not anymore. “Tell ya what, let’s go back to the day at my apartment. Okay, Sergeant Dinelo? Go ahead and call me Miss Pembroke. I don’t mind now.”
“But I do. Listen, Vera—”
“Miss Pembroke.”
“Vera.” His tone emphatic. “Let me finish.”
“I heard enough. Just drop me off at the nearest pawnshop, and we can part ways.”
He reached for her but stopped, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “We’re driving back to Pittsburgh, and I’m not letting you out of my sight. Your life is still in danger.”
Her heart was in danger. A lump of beating mush around him. No more. “I’ll do my part pertainin’ to the case, but that’s all.”
A cold silence stretched between them as they walked back to the truck.
CHAPTER 29
Vera sank into Captain Harpshire’s chair, eyes pricking with tears. She’d fallen in love. Fallen so hard her heart was black and blue.
She traced her bottom lip with her finger, his kiss still lingering in her mind, mocking her. It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds, but it branded her memory, unyielding. She released a frustrated laugh. Why torture herself? Mick didn’t care about her. He was still in love with Phyllis.
A light knock sounded.
Her heart pounded. Don’t be Mick. Please don’t be Mick. She straightened, wiping the tears in one swift motion.
“Why, hello, Miss Pembroke.” The captain backed into the office, his hands full of papers and folders. “Got to look over these later.” He dropped them on top of a cluttered filing cabinet. “I hope you weren’t waiting long?”
Mick had dumped her here ten minutes ago, and every second stung.
“I’m all right, Pops.”
The older man pulled up a stool.
Oops. Probably shouldn’t be parked on the head honcho’s throne. “I’m sorry. This one’s yours.”
“No, that chair’s reserved for pretty young women. Go right ahead and sit there.” His smile matched Lacey’s, the right side of his mouth hitching up slightly higher.
“So tell me, Miss Pembroke, what did you say to my sister to make her so enamored with you? I’ve talked to her three times in the past few days, and the conversation is centered around you.”
“I miss her.” Now more than ever.
The city hall’s clock chimed from across the street. Five o’clock.
“She misses you too. You have to make a trip to visit her again.” He glanced at the door and then to her. “Sergeant Dinelo told me some boys you knew arrived at the cabin yesterday.”
Was that only yesterday? Seemed like forever ago. “Yeah, Angelo from the club.”
The old man nodded. “Good thing you got away. There’s a search out for him. Did you recognize anyone else?”
“No. I only saw Angelo. Mick might have seen others.” But he hadn’t mentioned it to her. Though she wouldn’t be surprised. Mick’d had a habit of withholding valuable information. See, that was why she never trusted. Sooner or later, even the good ones failed you.
“I sent a few guys over there and, of course, relayed everything to the Kerrville police department. It’s good to work together, especially since that occurred in their jurisdiction.”
Vera filled the silence with the clicking of her nails against the wooden armrest. Chatting seemed more of a struggle during wounded moments like this.
“Got good news for you.” Pops tilted his head. “My men brought your belongings back.”
She perked up. Oh, to be in a fresh change of clothes. This dress was marked for the burn barrel. She was going to need a chisel to chip it off.
“What’s left for me to do here?” Maybe she could escape before Mick came around again.
His gaze turned thoughtful. “Not much. The developers are processing that negative you found in that doll’s belly. Ace told me the story. That was some great sleuthing.”
“Thanks.”
“What did you think of the negative?”
She shrugged. “Not much. It’s the pressroom at the Journal. Doesn’t solve anything.”
“We’ll see.” The captain grabbed his mug off his desk and took a swig. “Ace should be here any minute to pick you up. You don’t mind staying with him until this whole thing blows over? He’s my best man. Trustworthy and honorable.”
Staying with him? At his place? “I do mind.”
His eyebrows spiked.
“I’d prefer to be on my own.” She had no money. No place to stay. Wasn’t looking fabulous, either, but her heart’s survival depended on steering clear of Mick Dinelo.
He allowed a few seconds of silence before saying, “It’s not a good idea, sugar.”
Sugar. Now he definitely sounded like Lacey. She gathered all the self-assurance she could from her fatigued disposition. “I’m a big girl.” Fail. Her voice shook, and it pulled his intent stare.
“Have you been crying? What’s going on here?” He set his coffee on a stack of papers and pushed the door closed with his foot. “Did Ace try anything inappropriate?”
“No.” Had the air thickened? She tugged her collar. “I just … I need to start thinkin’ of how I’m goin’ to get back into life.”
“I see.” He stretched the latter word to two syllables.
Didn’t he believe her?
He slid his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, looking Vera square in the eye. “And it doesn’t bother you that there are armed and dangerous men hunting you?”
His words sent shivers up her spine like a cold day in January. But still … “God’s my protector.” Never mind she only knew a few Bible verses and one hymn. Or the fact she’d hadn’t stepped foot in a church since she was a kid. God would still look after her, right?
His nose twitched like a rabbit’s. “I can’t argue with God, but I can ask you to reconsider.”
“No dice, Captain.” Now for the kicker. “Not sure how to ask this, but—”
“You need some money?”
Was mind-reading a skill requirement for a police captain? Because this man had it down good. And as for Pops coming straight to the point, couldn’t ask for more than that.
“Unless you want to buy this bracelet”—she wiggled her adorned wrist in front the captain—“for, say, a grand or so.”
“That’s more than I got on me.” He laughed and put his hands on his chest. “Going to pawn it?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know of any shops open this late. So I need to borrow only a little until I can get there. It would be a loan.” She held up a finger. “One I’m goin’ to pay back. I wouldn’t dream of swindling a police captain.” Aware her words could be taken absurdly wrong, she blinked with her most innocent expression. “Or swindle anyone, for that matter.”
He pulled his billfold from his desk drawer. “No rush, Miss Pembroke.” He pushed a wad of bills into her hand. “I’m still hoping you’ll change your mind. That’s a dangerous bunch out there.”
Vera shook her head. “Thank you, Captain. You and your sister are tops.” She had money and no Mick. Things were getting less complicated by the minute. “Now, where’s my stuff?”
“Hold on for a moment.” Pops stood when she did. “What are you planning for accommodations?”
“Well, I’m not goin’ to the William Penn, if that’s what you’re askin’. I’m thinkin’—”
“Go to Willow Courts.”
Her brows scrunched. “But those are apartments.” Expensive ones too. “I ain’t signing a lease.” She’d only need a day or two of lodging. Serious decisions stretched before her. New York didn’t seem as appealing anymore. Where else could she go?
“I know the landlady. She’ll put you up for however long you need.” He winked at her. “She owes me a favor.”
She could see right through that. “Goin’ to keep tabs on me, Pops?”
“It’s nice over there. And going to extend those dollars in your hand.” He shrugged. “As for the tabs, Miss Pembroke, I am relying on you to check in with—”
“You.” She patted his shoulder like Lacey would. “I promise to keep in touch with you, Captain.” Not Mick. Better start the withdrawal feelings now and get it over with.
“Fair enough.” He held out his hand and Vera shook it. “Here’s my direct line.” He took a card from his pocket and scribbled on it. “Pops is trusting you.”
“I promise.” She gave a half-hearted smile.
“Your bags are at the dispatcher’s desk.”
With a tight nod, she marched out the door. Was it possible to snatch her stuff and sneak out before Mick saw her?
“Hundley just told me the Steubenville letter turned up missing?” The tightness which had huddled in Mick’s chest only intensified since the somber ride back to Pittsburgh. “How could a critical piece of evidence disappear?” He felt like banging his head against the office doorframe.
The captain looked up from writing his reports. Frustration and something resembling concern bunched in his eyes. “I’ve been looking into it.” The captain waved him in. “Shut the door behind you, Ace.”
Mick took a step in and did as his superior said. “Arthur Cavenhalt typed that letter.”
Aged, dull eyes brightened. “Any proof?”
“No. Just a hunch.” Maybe more than that, but the vanishing of the letter couldn’t have happened at a worse time. “Millie Walters told me that Cavenhalt borrowed her typewriter and then the next morning took a bus to Steubenville. Time frame coincides with our dates.”
The captain bounced the end of his pen on his chin, gaze distant. “Why would Cavenhalt tip us off if he intended to weasel dough out of Kelly?”
Mick smirked at the captain’s intentional choice of words. Weasel dough, a Vera expression. He pushed off the wall, restlessness inching through him. He had to talk to her soon. Get this all cleared up. “Maybe Cavenhalt tried to work both angles. Did anyone snap a photo of that letter?”
The captain’s scowl deepened. “Yes, it’s missing as well.”
Mick couldn’t control his darting glances. Papers stacked on the filing cabinet, on the captain’s desk, and peeking out of drawers. It’d be too easy to lose a sheet of paper and a couple photos. “At least we know what it said.” May want to check into the Kelly Club. Overpriced gin isn’t all they’re selling. Maybe he should’ve told Vera about what the letter said. She might have been able to help.
Someone rapped on the door.
Mick cracked it open. Officer Hundley stood on the other side, envelope in hand.
“From the development room?” Mick pulled the door open.
Officer Hundley nodded. “Sure is.” He passed it to Mick and headed down the hall.
A slice of anticipation swirled in his chest. This could be the moment it all ended. He and Vera could put this case behind them and … then what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The eagerness he felt a moment ago slid into a groan. “Here they are, sir.”
Mick pulled the prints from inside the envelope and placed them on top of the captain’s desk. “Take a look. This is not the Journal’s pressroom.” Mick was certain. He’d been there numerous times, and nothing matched with what he looked at here. The gazette had smooth white walls throughout, but this photograph depicted dark wood panels.
“That certainly is an engraving machine.” The captain leaned in, eyes squinting. “What’s this right here?” He pointed with his fountain pen.
“Looks like a metal door.” Baffling. A plate-cutter and a metal door. Just like a puzzle, it had to piece together somehow.
“Does the Kelly Club have metal doors, Ace?”
“Not a one.” He’d inspected that place after Cavenhalt’s death. If that door was there, he’d have known it. “Let’s show it to Vera. Maybe it’s from Kelly’s house.”
Hopefully, she’d been given enough time to cool down. She hadn’t spoken to him the entire drive back from East Liverpool, cuddling up to the shaky door of Hewitt’s tr
uck, her eyes glossy and complexion pale. And it’d been all his fault. His lips shouldn’t have claimed hers. It had been brief, but so were earthquakes. And her kiss resembled one, his heart the epicenter, the tremors coursing through every part of him, causing shifts in him that he hadn’t been prepared for.
“She’s gone, son.”
His heart bottomed out, collapsing. “What? Captain, did you just say—”
“Vera’s gone.”
“Excuse me, sir.” His pulse sped and his legs soon matched pace. He jogged out the office, gaze scrutinizing each hall.
“You won’t catch her.” The captain’s voice called from behind, halting Mick’s steps. “She’s been gone about thirty minutes.”
His breath came in jagged, his heart raging against his ribs. A hand clapped on his shoulder.
“Back into my office. We’re going to have a chat.”
She’d left. All alone. He forced the steps into the boss’ room, fighting the urge to chase after her trail. If she’d even left one. He stomped a foot on the metal stool. “Why? Did she say why?”
“I believe it has something to do with you.” The captain reclined into his leather chair and kicked out his feet. “Now, my boy, fill me in on what’s going on between you and Miss Pembroke.”
He cleared his throat. “What makes you think that?”
“Don’t let these cheaters on my face deceive you into thinking I can’t see.” The captain chuckled. “Because what I saw today was a beautiful young lady with a sore heart.”
He’d been charged with protecting her, obsessed over keeping her safe, and ended up being the one injuring her. A sickening feeling twisted his gut. “I didn’t mean to, sir.”
“Didn’t mean to what, Ace?” He pulled in his feet and leaned toward Mick, one brow spiked almost to his hairline.
“No sir. It’s not what you’re thinking. No foolish business of any kind.” He held up both hands. “I didn’t mean to give her reason to think that we, she and I, could have a future together.” He eyed the door. Every fiber in his being pulled at him, demanded that he search for her. It took all his restraint to keep him stationary. Breathe. Pittsburgh was a big city.
The Red Canary Page 22