By the time Marisol had pulled Deanna into her office and closed and locked the door, Deanna was able to recall everything that had happened in the hotel lobby with vivid clarity. Marisol handed her a glass and a bottle of chilled water. “If you want something stronger I’ll get it for you.”
She shook her head. “Drinking is what got me into trouble.”
Flopping down beside Deanna, Marisol held her free hand. “Tell me everything, chica.”
Deanna did, leaving nothing out. She closed her eyes when she heard the slow exhalation of her friend’s breath. “I know, you know and Bethany knows the truth. He’d admitted he didn’t even know my name until he saw the picture caption. If he’d had a tape of our tryst, then it wouldn’t have taken him seven years to find me.”
“Are you saying that he’s bluffing, Dee?”
Deanna opened her eyes, meeting Marisol’s stare. “The only thing I’m admitting is that he freaked me out, because even if I’d been hypnotized I don’t believe I would’ve been able to recall his name or face.”
“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to tell Spencer?”
“I have two options, Mari. Either I tell Spencer the truth or I lie. But I doubt if he will believe the lie because that night is stamped on his brain like a permanent tattoo.”
“Does he ever bring it up?” Marisol asked.
“It’s been years since he’s mentioned it.”
“What do you think will happen if you tell Spencer the truth about that night?”
Deanna lifted her shoulders. “Either he’ll forgive me, or we’ll split up.”
“I don’t like this, Dee. The sick bastard has your cell phone number, probably your home address, and there’s no doubt he knows where Spencer works. What if he decides to contact you again?”
“I’m not going to meet him again.”
“The man sounds deranged, Deanna. He’s probably obsessed with you, and that means he’s going to be trouble. I…” Her words stopped when she stood up. “Let me talk to someone first.”
“No, Marisol. I don’t want anyone else to know about this.”
Marisol rested her hands at her waist over a pair of slim cut jeans. “This person I trust with my life. What I tell him will stay between the three of us.” She gave Deanna a long stare. “Do you trust me?”
A silence ensued while Deanna met her best friend’s eyes. “Yes.”
“Good. Then, let me help you.”
A beat passed, and then she said, “Make the call.”
Deanna couldn’t understand any of Marisol’s conversation because she’d spoken rapid Spanish to the person on the other end of the line. She took a deep swallow of the cool water, puzzled at the turn her life had taken. Her marriage was on solid footing, her business was growing and solvent and the following year she and Spencer would try for a baby. By the time they celebrated their tenth anniversary she hoped to be a mother.
But a mysterious man, someone who’d come to her in a surreal nightmare, had reemerged to threaten all she held dear; she loved her husband and the marriage they’d worked so hard to preserve. What Richard Douglas didn’t know was that she had no intention of giving in to his demands or fleeing as if she were a frightened rabbit. Although her father had retired from the U.S. Secret Service he still knew enough insiders on the White House detail who would be willing to protect her from her would-be blackmailer.
Deanna forced herself not to dwell on what had happened earlier but on Marisol’s promise to help her. If it had been left to her she would’ve called Spencer at his office, demanding he come home because of an emergency. As well as she’d believed she knew her husband, Deanna could not predict his reaction to being told that she had cheated on him.
Either he would kiss her while professing to love her despite her breaking their wedding vows, or he would lose all semblance of control and show her the dark side of his personality. She prayed it would be the former.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Marisol’s voice broke into her thoughts. She handed her the cordless receiver. Deanna took the phone. “Hello.”
“Deanna.”
“Yes.”
“May I call you Deanna?” asked a deep male voice speaking flawless English.
“Please.”
“Deanna, I want you to listen very closely to what I’m going to tell you. Marisol told me about this pestilence that’s attempting to blackmail you. I want you to tell me everything you know about this man.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“How did he introduce himself? How tall is he? What does he look like? How old do you think he is?”
Deanna hesitated, trying to remember if he’d towered over her once he stood up. “He told me his name is Richard Douglas and he’s at least six-one or two. He has cropped salt-and-pepper hair, but his face is unlined. I estimate he’s between forty and fifty.”
“What type of hair texture does he have?”
“Even though it’s straight, it’s also coarse.”
“What about his features?”
Deanna chewed her lip. “They weren’t European. He’s a man of color, but I couldn’t determine from where because of his accent.”
“Can you identify the accent?”
She shook her head, then realized the man on the other end of the line couldn’t see her. “No. One thing I know is it isn’t Spanish.”
“Did it sound Caribbean?”
“It wasn’t any Caribbean accent I’ve ever heard.” She paused. “Now that I think back I believe it could’ve been German or Russian.” A soft chuckle came through the earpiece.
“He doesn’t look European, but his accent may be European.”
“Look…”
“You can call me John.”
“Okay, John. When Richard Douglas asked to meet with me I was under the impression he wanted to contract my services to host an event. At least that’s what he told me. I had no idea I would be blindsided by a cretin who wanted me to sleep with him or he would tell my husband about an incident that happened years ago. If he hadn’t taken me off guard I would’ve told him that my husband knew all about my indiscretion. That would’ve shut him down completely and I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”
“It didn’t happen, Deanna, so we’re going to have to deal with the fallout. What color are his eyes?”
“They are dark, probably black. He was well-dressed. In other words, his suit did not come off a department store rack.”
“What about jewelry, Deanna? Was he wearing a ring or rings, watch or earring?”
A beat passed. “He wasn’t wearing an earring, and I don’t remember any rings. He may have been wearing a watch, but I couldn’t see it because his shirt had French cuffs. Wait a minute.”
“What is it?” John asked.
“He wore cuff links. They weren’t yellow gold, so they had to be either silver, white gold or platinum.” Deanna smiled despite her dilemma. “And before you ask, they weren’t monogrammed. They were oval with a diamond chip in the center.”
“That information is very helpful. Is there anything else you remember about him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Was his shirt cuff monogrammed?”
Deanna exhaled a breath. “If it was, then I don’t remember. I don’t know if this will help, but he wore wingtips and I recognized the designer because my husband has several pair in his closet.” She gave John the name of the shoe designer.
“You just narrowed my search from searching from millions to probably less than ten thousand. There aren’t too many men willing to pay more than two thousand dollars for a pair of handmade shoes. I’m certain I will find this Richard Douglas—if that is his actual name.”
“He’d checked in to the Brandon-Phillips under that name.”
“He may not have checked in.”
“What do you mean?” Deanna asked.
“Marisol told me that you asked the desk clerk to ring his room, but he was already sitting in the lobby.”
“What aren’t you telling me, John?”
“He didn’t have to check in to the Brandon-Phillips, but uses the lobby and/or bar to conduct business. A lot of businessmen do it, and that includes the late Howard Hughes. But there’s something about Mr. Douglas that puzzles me.”
“What is it?”
“It was obvious he’d gotten a room at the hotel years ago, because he’d taken you there to rape you. Yes, Deanna, the man raped you. If you were under the influence, then he took advantage of you. The fact that you didn’t remember his face or the act bears this out. So if he comes after you again, then we can arrange for the police to arrest him for rape.”
“Do you think he’s going to contact me again?” Deanna asked. “When I answered his call, his number but not his name showed up on the display.” Reaching for her cell, she repeated the numbers to John.
“Odds are that he will call you again. And when he does I’m going to take him down. Marisol will program my number into your cell. You won’t see numbers but stars. When he contacts you again, tell him to call you back in half an hour, because you’re busy with a client. When he calls back, tell him you are willing to meet to discuss his indecent proposal. I want you to suggest a meeting at DuPont Circle, but I doubt if he’d want to be that exposed. He’ll probably want to go back to the Brandon-Phillips.”
“I’m not going to sleep with him.”
“You don’t have to. Think of him as a blind date. Try and sit in the lobby rather than in the bar and I’ll take it from there.”
Deanna felt her stomach muscles contract. “What are you going to do?”
“Deanna, I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to plan a banquet, so please don’t ask me how I catch bad guys. Don’t say anything to your husband. Go about your business as if this never happened. The less suspicion you raise, the better. Meanwhile, I’m going to talk to the guy who referred him to you to see what I come up with.”
“If word gets out that my clients are being interrogated then I might as well close down Tyson Planners and Events, Inc. completely.”
John laughed again. “Don’t worry, Deanna. I have my methods that will never compromise your company. Now, could you please give Marisol the phone?”
Deanna slumped back in the aubergine-and-lime-green silk striped settee; for the second time within an hour a man she hadn’t known had impacted her life. The man who’d identified himself as John seemed confident that he could get Richard Douglas to withdraw his threat.
Marisol took the phone, again speaking in Spanish. She ended the call, replacing the receiver in its cradle. Sitting on the corner of her desk, she met Deanna’s unflinching stare. “It’s going to be all right.”
“Are you that certain, Marisol?”
A small smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “I’m very certain. Juan—John to you—will take care of everything.”
Deanna chewed the inside of her cheek, a habit she’d worked for years to rid herself of. “What does he do?”
“I don’t know, Dee. I asked him once and the look he gave me was enough to say, If I tell you, then I’ll have to kill you, so I never asked again. I know Juan from the old neighborhood, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him and he for me. Bryce gets a little jealous whenever he comes around, but I’m not going to stop being friends with him because my husband catches an attitude because I have male friends.”
Deanna pushed a profusion of twists behind her left ear. “I keep telling myself that if I hadn’t said anything to you and Bethany about that night we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“I know you’re not talking about letting sleeping dogs lie?” Marisol asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ve shared secrets before and never have the chickens come home to roost.”
Marisol crossed one high-heeled booted foot over the other at the ankle. “What are you trying to say, Dee? That you don’t trust Bethany?”
“I’m not saying that. It’s just that I feel we shouldn’t say too much around her.”
“You know I wasn’t feeling her when we first met, but after hanging out with her this past weekend I’ve changed my opinion of her. She’s really a good mother. When we went back to her house and I got to see her and Damon together there’s no question that they’re really in love with each other.”
“Maybe I’m being overly superstitious, but I’m going to monitor what I say around her.” Deanna pushed to her feet. “After you give me John’s phone number I’m going home to take a couple of aspirins and then I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I have to drive to Reston to check out a converted barn for Senator Walters’s daughter’s sweet-sixteen party. She wants a Western theme along with the ubiquitious saloon, dance hall girls, bales of hay and a mechanical bull.”
Marisol laughed softly. “Hee-haw!”
Deanna smiled for the first time since she’d gotten up earlier that morning to see Spencer off. “A Western theme is child’s play compared to a beach party or a cruise ship. I’d planned one where the parents invited their daughter’s classmates and close friends for a spring break sweet sixteen. They sailed down to Hilton Head, checked in to a hotel and partied for the week. They were exhausted, sunburned and so quiet during the return trip that you could hear a rat piss on cotton.”
“That must have set them back a pretty penny.”
“Try two twenty-five.”
“Are you telling me they paid two hundred twenty-five thousand for a party for a sixteen-year-old?”
“I am,” Deanna confirmed.
“¡Coño! That’s tuition for four years of college plus a car.”
“It was what I call wretched excess. The kids ate lobster and caviar every night, while their parents drank champagne like water.” She sobered. “I can’t thank you enough for lending your shoulder, chica.”
Marisol waved her hand. “How many times have I cried on your shoulder? Too many to count,” she said, answering her own question. “Give me your cell and I’ll program Juan’s number. After he takes care of your parasite, he’ll ask for your phone and will delete the number.”
Deanna wanted to tell Marisol she would agree to anything short of murder to right the wrong, to undo the single act that could possibly destroy her marriage. She loved her husband unconditionally, and prayed she would be able to get out of this dilemma unscathed and with Spencer still unaware that she’d been unfaithful.