Just a Whisper Away
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“They had to release him, Abbie. They couldn’t hold him any longer. Detectives Powell and Rush searched his apartment from top to bottom and found nothing to link him to the shooting or the greeting card you received.”
Abbie’s heart raced. She’d been dreading this, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t expected it. “I guess that means they didn’t find Maryanne Richards’s gold cross and chain, either.”
“No.”
“Is he still under surveillance?” Since the trial had ended, Powell and Rush, the officers who’d originally arrested him, had blatantly dogged Danny Long’s steps, hoping he’d do something to justify locking him up again. They’d yanked him in for lineups on every peeping, rape and homicide case in the past four weeks. And Danny had smiled sweetly through all of it.
“Yes, he’s still being watched. I understand that at the moment, he’s tucked away in his apartment.” A hint of discomfort entered his tone. “Unfortunately, Mr. Long’s new attorney has threatened the city with a harassment suit if Powell and Rush don’t back off, so your friends in the department will be watching him from a distance now.”
When she didn’t reply, Stuart seemed to read her mind. “Abbie, you’re safe where you are, and getting him off the street has become a priority with many officers who respect what you—” he halted abruptly, then finished cautiously “—what you might have done.”
Abbie sighed, guilt joining her anxiety. Stuart knew she’d done it, but he’d never asked because he also knew she wouldn’t lie to him. To admit her sin, and have him do nothing would put him in a grave position with the bar. “Please thank them for me,” she murmured.
“I already have—for both of us. I want that sick animal behind bars as badly as you do.”
Abbie doubted that. Stuart was the dearest, most supportive man she’d ever known. But he wasn’t being stalked by a disturbed twenty-three-year-old in a red baseball cap who’d raped and murdered, and he hadn’t been the target of sniper fire. She had—two nights ago, outside her apartment, on the same day she’d received the pretty musical greeting card with the cheery—and chilling—sentiment. Can’t wait to see you again.
They weren’t the exact words her client had used as he left the courtroom a free man, but they were close enough to stop her heart. Danny’s blond hair, glassy blue gaze and saccharine smile coalesced in Abbie’s mind, and gooseflesh prickled over every square inch of her.
Stuart’s voice gentled. “Have you heard from Collin?”
She nearly laughed. “Stuart, he didn’t have time for me when we were married. Why would he contact me now?”
“Simple courtesy?” he returned, obviously annoyed. “He lives and works here in the city, so he’s aware you’ve had trouble.”
“Believe me,” she said truthfully, “I’m not losing sleep over Collin’s lack of courtesy.” Tires crunched in the circular driveway below. Moving to her bedroom window, Abbie peered down and saw headlights approach. “Stuart, I need to say good-night now. My dad and his fiancée just came home, and I’d rather not be discussing this when they come inside.”
“You haven’t told them?”
“I haven’t told anyone—especially them. I didn’t see any reason to put a damper on their wedding or their honeymoon cruise, especially since they aren’t at risk. My dad can be impossible, but he loves me in his own way. If he knew there’d been an attempt on my life, he’d cancel the cruise and sit on me until the danger had passed—even though he and Miriam have been looking forward to this for months.”
Stuart’s tone held a hint of reproach. “As a father and grandfather myself, I don’t believe he should be kept in the dark. But, of course, that’s your prerogative. Now…try to enjoy this time with your family, stay there where you’re safe and trust that we’ll handle things on this end.”
“I’ll try. Good night. And thank you for being such a good friend.”
“You’re very welcome, my girl,” he murmured, then hung up.
Abbie closed her phone and returned it to the charger, a shiver racking her as her mind overflowed with thoughts of courtrooms and juries and friendships and bullets… And then, finally, Jace. She’d thought often about how a meeting between them would go if they ever spoke again. But in her imagination, she’d always made sure it went well. Tonight…tonight had hurt.
There was nothing she could do about the situation in L.A. but wait and hope. But maybe she could do something about this fourteen-year-old mess.
Really? a small voice inquired. Or do you just want to see him again? You’re still thinking about that kiss.
“Shut up,” she muttered. She had enough to deal with right now without hoping for more than an uneasy truce. And it would be uneasy. He wasn’t the type to forgive and forget fourteen years of resentment at the drop of an apology.
There was a light knock at her door, followed by her father’s low voice. Though it was gruff, she heard a faint softening in it. “Abbie? Miriam’s putting a pot of decaf on. If you like, you can join us downstairs for coffee and dessert.”
They’d just had dessert at the country club, but earlier, Miriam had mentioned buying petits fours so they’d have something to nibble after the gala.
Abbie crossed the oak floor and opened the door. After more courtroom confrontations than she could count, she did her best to avoid them in her personal life, and tonight was no exception. Besides, this was the closest her father was ever going to come to an apology.
He was still in costume but, wigless now, his thinning salt-and-pepper hair stuck to his scalp.
“Coffee, huh?” she said.
“Yes, some damn thing called chocolate-raspberry truffle. If you’re game, she’s grinding the beans now.”
Abbie worked up a smile she didn’t feel, determined to salvage at least part of the night. Determined to put Danny Long out of her mind. “Of course, I’m game. I live in the nutcase capital of the world. Just give me a minute to jump into sweats, and I’ll be down.”
Grinning, Danny clicked on the light beside his unmade sleeper sofa and turned up the volume on his thirteen-inch TV—just in case the cops sitting at the end of the street felt like ignoring the order to keep their distance. Then he slipped his black hoodie over his T-shirt, pulled the hood over his hair and slung the strap of his crammed duffel bag across his chest.
He crossed to the rear window in his second floor efficiency apartment.
It was dark now, but the moon was high. Luckily, the only people in his neighborhood who went out after eleven o’clock were the druggies and the hookers who worked the streets. Raising the window, Danny eased himself through the opening, stepped onto the sloping back porch roof, then pulled the window shut. Usually, he left it open a crack, but tonight he wouldn’t have to. He wouldn’t be coming back.
Backing off the roof, he reached into the rainspout for the plastic sandwich bag he’d taped there, stuffed it in his pocket…and dropped soundlessly to the grass below.
Then he headed for the shack where heroine addict Eddie Parker lived with his girlfriend Leticia. Last year, he’d caught Eddie shoplifting cold medicine for resale at Danny’s ex-workplace but hadn’t turned him in. Two-time loser Eddie had been so grateful he hadn’t gone to jail, he’d promised Danny the moon. He’d phoned Eddie earlier from one of the three track phones he’d bought at a discount electronics place and, big surprise, Eddie needed money again. Which worked out great for both of them because Danny needed Eddie’s crappy yellow ninety-four Olds Cutlass.
He also needed a favor and knew Eddie wouldn’t refuse.
When he got there forty minutes later, Eddie was in a bad way, chewing gum hard and talking fast as Danny clued him in behind Eddie’s whitewashed block bungalow.
Eddie swiped at the perspiration over his lip, light from inside the house illuminating his small, fidgety build. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that,” Eddie said. “When do you want me to go by your place?”
“Tomorrow—after dark. Use the side stairs. Walk around in front of the windows, turn on the TV. Then, around midnight, shut off the lights like you’re going to sleep. The unmarked cop car I told you about will be sitting at the end of the street. Don’t leave until it does—and don’t let anybody see you up close.”
Reaching into his duffel, Danny handed over one of his track phones, his red San Francisco 49ers ball cap and a box of hair bleach that would turn Eddie into a blonde. “Keep the phone with you,” he ordered. “I’ll call you the next time I need your help. Every time you do me a favor, I’ll send you one hundred dollars. But don’t go wearing the hat and showing yourself around unless I tell you to. And don’t say you did what I asked if you didn’t, because I’ll know.”
Nodding, licking his lips, Eddie took the five one hundred dollar bills Danny separated from the wad in his jeans pocket, then turned over the keys to the Olds.
“It’s all gassed up, Danny.”
“Good. One more thing. Don’t tell Leticia about this.” Then Danny remembered to smile—be charming and caring. “Hey, Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself while I’m gone, buddy.”
Two hours later, heading east on I-15, the breathless tickle in his belly became too much, and Danny pulled to the side of the road, stripped off his sweatshirt and took a roll of clear utility tape from his pack. Then he reached in his pocket for the sandwich bag. His pulse quickened as two shiny gold crosses and chains slid out and curled into his palm.
Suddenly, tears welled in his eyes, and he eased his head back against the seat. Maryanne had seemed so pure, so sweet, so perfect for him. But, like his mother and Prudence, she’d betrayed him, singing like an angel in church…then giving it up to any guy who bought her a burger and fries when the last note left her lying lips.
He stopped crying immediately and raised his chin. He’d loved her—loved her blindly, just like he’d loved Prudence—but she’d lied, and she’d gotten what she deserved. Clicking on the dome light, Danny slipped Prudence’s chain and cross around his neck and felt that excitement in his blood again. Then he reexamined the broken chain he’d torn from Maryanne’s throat. He’d fix it later, but for now…
Lifting his white T-shirt, he ripped off a section of tape, then pressed the necklace above his left nipple and sealed it to his skin. A tingle moved through him.
Yesterday, he’d found out that his lying, betraying bitch of an ex-lawyer had left town and it could be weeks until she came back. The whiner in the next cell had made a big stink when somebody else from Braddock and McMillain showed up to take his case. The whiner wanted her and only her.
Danny pulled his sweatshirt back on, then dropped the Cutlass into gear and eased out on the road again. Too bad for the whiner.
He had a few things to do first—plans to make and information to gather. But when he was through with Abbie Winslow, there wouldn’t be enough of her left over for an autopsy.
Chapter 2
At eight o’clock the next morning, skinny little Ida Fannin swept through Jace’s always open door as he was searching his desk for a file he’d misplaced. Her cheeks were cherub rosy and specks of glitter from last night’s festivities still sparkled in her curly gray hair.
“Good morning,” she sang out happily, then placed a mug of coffee beside the one already sitting on his desk. “How are you this crisp, lovely day?”
Jace stared curiously, wondering what had put the extra spring in her step this morning. Whatever it was, he needed some. He was exhausted. He’d been awake half the night thinking about things he shouldn’t give a damn about. Eventually, he’d given up on sleep and come into the office, just in time to help pull Farr Canada’s seventy-two thousand board feet of red oak out of the number three kiln and slide the next load in.
“Morning, Ida. I’m okay. Did you enjoy yourself last night?” At nearly seventy, his office manager still wore makeup, and today, pale blue eye shadow and pink lipstick picked up the colors in her polyester pantsuit.
“Oh, my, yes,” she exclaimed. “The decorations were so bright and pretty, and the music was delightful. I’m eager to see what the food bank’s take will be.”
“Same here. There’s a chance we could know by tonight’s meeting.” For the past five years—since he and Ty had bought the business—they’d reserved a company table for the annual charity ball. Jace usually passed on the event, but this year, it had benefited the food bank, and he was on the board. A lot of years had passed since his childhood in Jillie Rae’s trailer, but he still remembered what it was to go hungry.
Ida continued to grin expectantly, almost as though she were waiting for an announcement. Just before she launched into another spate of happy chirping, Jace realized what it was, and cringed inside.
“I couldn’t help noticing that your night took a better turn as you were leaving. Before that, I expected you to bolt every time someone opened a door.”
Hoping to change the subject, he rolled his chair away to check a drawer in the filing cabinet behind him. “Ida, have you seen—?”
“The Farr Canada paperwork? Yes, it’s right here in your Out tray.” By the time he’d shut the drawer and turned around, it was on his desk blotter. “They’ll be picking up their load on Tuesday.”
Smiling, he wondered again why he even bothered to double-check these things. “Anything else going on that I should know about?”
“Nope.”
But she still refused to move a happy little muscle, and he finally decided to just get the interrogation over with. “Okay, what?”
“I didn’t realize you knew Morgan Winslow’s daughter!”
Paging through the work order and documentation on drying time, he grumbled, “I don’t.”
“I see,” she bubbled gleefully. “Then you just stumbled into her last night and landed on her lips.” Ignoring the bland look he sent her, she added, “You know, I heard she married a California attorney a few years ago, but that must over now, because—”
He sighed. “Ida, I really need to look these over.”
“—because she’s waiting to see you.”
Jace jerked his head up. “What?”
“Abbie Winslow. She’s waiting in the reception area. Such a pretty thing. The coffee I brought in is for her.”
Adrenaline prickled over every bone, muscle and hair follicle Jace owned as the image of Abbie in that backless gown filled his mind, and the unexpectedly visceral sensation of kissing her again hit him like a sledgehammer.
Slowly, he unrolled the sleeves of his pale blue oxford cloth shirt, buttoned his cuffs and stood to grab his olive corduroy jacket from the back of his chair. There was no point in telling Ida that she should’ve told him sooner; she was the glue that held the place together, and did things in her own sweet time. Some days he and Ty felt like they worked for her. “Send her back, Ida.”
She gave him another of her tickled-pink looks as he walked around his desk to stand beside the door. “I’ll just do that.”
The polished pine hall beyond the door wasn’t long, but when Abbie appeared a moment later, Jace still had time for a good look. Topped by a long, snow-white knitted scarf, her knee-length black-and-gray herringbone coat hung open, and beneath it she wore black wool slacks and a pearl-gray turtleneck. Parted in the middle, her long auburn hair curved around her forehead and high cheekbones, then fell sleek and shiny on either side of her upturned collar. She looked expensive. And very beautiful.
“Hi,” she said quietly, and Jace decided she’d come bearing white doves and an olive branch.
“Hello, Abbie.” When she’d stepped inside, he closed that always open door.
“The place looks good, Jace. Bigger, more organized. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. We’re doing all right.” Even when he’d worked here as a logger, the company had been a viable business. Now, with all the improvements and newly erected kilns, Rogan was quickly becoming one of the most respected logging and lumber companies in Northwest Pennsylvania. And, thank God, profits were good. Between Ty’s talent for finding new customers, and a cherry-, oak-and maple-hungry public, they’d never had a problem meeting their mortgage payments.
But he’d bet their new skidder she wasn’t here to check out the place.
“What’s on your mind?” Her dark eyes looked a little tired, and considering the night he’d spent, Jace felt a run of satisfaction.
“You know why I’m here. That business last night was awkward.”
“If you want an apology because I used you to get to your father, you’re not going to get one. I figure we’re even now. You used me, I used you; quid pro quo.” He returned to his desk, then nodded toward the chair and the white mug on her side of it. “Have a seat if you want. The coffee’s yours. Ida brought it in.”
“Thank you, but I won’t be here long enough to drink it. I came to apologize for a very stupid thing I did well over a decade ago. I tried to explain then, but you wouldn’t hear me out.”
“Abbie, it’s been way too long to get into all of this again.”
Her soft tone nearly got to him. Nearly. “Has it? It didn’t seem that way last night. It’s time we put this thing behind us.”
Jace felt his nerves knot. He thought he had put it behind him. Then he’d seen her father’s smugly approving smile as she’d danced with an acceptable suitor, and his old outcast status had risen up and grabbed him where he lived.
“Whatever. I don’t feel the need to go into it, but if you have something to say, the floor’s yours.”
Frustration lined her face for a second, then she let it go and moistened her lips. “You know what a control freak my dad’s been since my mother died.”
He nodded, thinking that was putting it mildly.
“I needed some space from that. I know raising a daughter alone had to have been an enormous responsibility. But I was just so tired of being told what to think, what to say and who I could and couldn’t see that I had to make it clear to him that I was an adult now—and I was going to live my life in my own way.”
“So you decided to bed me in your gazebo and wait for your dad to come home.”
“No! Maybe I did coax you back to the house so he’d find us together. But not consciously, and not in the scheming, conniving way you think. I cared about you, Jace. I wouldn’t have slept with you just to spite my father. In fact, once we started making lo—” She halted before she finished the word. “Well,” she said, dropping her voice, “my father was the furthest thing from my mind.” She glanced down at the black leather gloves she held, then met his eyes again. “And, if you’ll recall, I only suggested that we take a swim.”
Yes, that’s what she’d said that night. She’d said there were spare swim trunks in the cabana—that he didn’t even have to go home to get his. Then she’d given him the tour of the picnic grotto and gazebo behind the Winslow’s fancy estate, and they’d never made it to the pool.
His intercom buzzed. Holding her gaze, Jace depressed the button. “Yes, Ida?”
“I wouldn’t have disturbed the two of you for the world, honey, but there’s a lawyer on the phone.”
“Our attorney?”
“No, one of those personal injury lawyers. It’s about the accident.”
Jace swore softly. “Get his number and tell him I’ll call him back.”
Abbie watched him break the connection, then briefly massage the tension over his eyes. “Trouble?”
“Maybe. One of our men was hurt yesterday, and it looks like he’ll be laid up for a few months. The thing is, we’re friends. It’s not like him to latch on to an ambulance chaser.”
Abbie let the reference slide. By now, she was used to snide remarks and lawyer jokes. “If you’re covering his medical expenses, and the equipment he was using wasn’t faulty, you probably don’t have much to worry ab—” She stopped herself. “Sorry, occupational hazard. You have your own attorney. It’s not my place to comment.”
“That’s right,” he said glibly, “it isn’t. God knows I wouldn’t want you to do anything unethical.” But despite his words, the implication was that she had. Fourteen years ago. And to her chagrin, it hurt.
Abbie drew a breath and let it out silently. All right, she’d tried. Now it was time to go. He still believed she’d orchestrated that awful night, but with all the turmoil in her life now, she had to take her own advice and let it go, no matter how much she wanted to resolve this. She just didn’t have the energy to fight wars on two emotional fronts.
Clearing her throat, she buttoned her coat and pulled on her gloves. “Know what?” she murmured. “I should have my head examined for coming here. Lately, everything I do with the greater good in mind backfires badly. Goodbye, Jace.”
Jace watched her open the door and walk to the front of the building. Then the illogical urge to follow her pushed him out of his chair. He still didn’t believe her story, but he could’ve treated her better.
Ida buzzed him again as he rounded his desk. He jabbed the intercom button.
“It’s that lawyer again, Jace. He wants the name of the company’s attorney. He said he doesn’t have time to sit on his hands waiting.”
“Tell him I’ll call him back in ten minutes,” he returned impatiently. “If he gets nasty, hang up on him, and if he phones again, don’t pick up. Check the caller ID before you answer.” Then he strode out to the reception area, and stood at one of their new plate-glass windows.
Outside, two six-foot-high, carved-wood grizzlies flanked the door. The wind gusted around them, picking up clouds of snow and nearly obscuring the mammoth steel buildings housing the kilns and sawmill. Then taillights flashed red in the grainy mist and Jace knew he’d missed her.
Swearing under his breath, he retraced his steps, picking up curious looks from their staff forester and a couple of guys from the mill.
“Ida,” he said, approaching her desk, “get our new friend on the phone for me, please. Then track down Ty. If he’s not at his place, he’s probably with the girl from last night.”
“Ginger.”
“Yeah, her,” he said, annoyed with Ty’s cavalier lifestyle and wondering why his equipment hadn’t fallen off yet. “I know this is his late day, but tell him I need him now. Playtime’s over.”
You’re just ticked off because it’s been six months since you got laid.
Probably, he decided, entering the rear office and dropping into his chair. But that wasn’t the reason for the clutching in his gut this morning. Then his gaze settled on that mug full of coffee, Abbie’s big doe eyes and full mouth came to mind…and he had to admit that maybe it was. He’d been a total ass, but she and her father had damn near eviscerated him that night and the pain had lasted a very long time.
Ida buzzed him. “Mr. Cleaver’s on the line.”
Cleaver. How appropriate. “Thanks,” he said, then picked up the phone and tried to be civil. “Mr. Cleaver. What can we do for you?”
An hour later, with Ty overseeing things, Jace tore out of the lot and headed for their lawyer’s office. They needed to nip this thing in the bud. He doubted Cleaver could make a suit stick because there was no way Jace could see that the company had been negligent. But the price Cleaver had named for an out-of-court settlement was robbery, and he had to know for sure. Damn lawyers.
More to the point, damn lawyer, because he couldn’t get Abbie out of his mind. Worse, every time he thought of her—disturbing as it was to admit—memories rose, his blood heated and he felt that old gut-gnawing pull again.
That night, still disturbed over her morning meeting with Jace, Abbie locked her dad’s SUV and strode quickly across the windy lot to the fire hall. After hearing Miriam mention that help was needed with the town’s annual Friends Without Families Easter dinner, Abbie had decided to attend tonight’s meeting and offer her services. She’d be back in L.A. before Easter, but she’d worked the event when she was in high school and looked forward to doing whatever she could while she was here.