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Since he didn’t have any meetings at the office, Colt donned jeans, a collarless white T-shirt, and an off-white suit coat with canvas shoes. Most of the women he knew took slightly less than forever to get ready, but Mel would be different. Still, he knew he had some time and a song invaded his mind in the shower. He wanted to hammer out a few chords and get some lyrics written down. But as he was about to grab his guitar, he spied the sheet of “music” his dad clutched in his hand when he died, and he remembered a thought he had falling asleep the night before. The melody wasn’t familiar, but what if the letters of the notes spelled something out? A message he would understand but the killer would think of as just music and not destroy it. G-A-B-B-E-E-D. Gabbeed. If that was supposed to mean something to him, he didn’t know what it was. He was about to walk away, but another idea occurred to him. He picked up the pencil again and scratched numbers beneath each note, counting each line and space on the staff both from the top up, and then, under that, from the bottom down, substituting a number for each note. Seven numbers. Like a telephone number? He didn’t recognize it. He pocketed the piece of paper planning to do a reverse lookup later, at the office. He stared off into space. If not a phone number, a safe’s code? But Mel already knew the code at work. Did they have a safe at Lonestar? Or maybe it could be a post office box number?
What were you trying to tell me, Dad?
He caught the time on the clock.
“Shit!”
He nearly mowed over his mom on the way out of his room.
“Colton Joseph! Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Sorry, Mom.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.”
She was wearing an all-white tennis outfit with a lime green sweater tied around her neck, and a platinum blonde ponytail peeking out above the visor she wore. She was an attractive woman, her appearance more youthful than her fifty-two years. But, then again, she could afford to appear younger than her age. Her personal trainer, masseuse, stylist...and whoever else was on her personal staff, kept her trim, coiffed, and trendy. Maybe a shade too tan and a tad too skinny, but overall, the effect was that of a well-cared for, attractive woman.
“Well, I wouldn’t be up this early if Miguel wasn’t sick. I have to drive myself to my tennis lesson this morning. I’ll have to park and get all sweaty walking in from the lot. Oh, wait. They have valet service, don’t they?”
“Uhh, yeah. I think so.” He actually hadn’t a clue. “Hey, Mom. Since I have you here, is it okay if I throw a...sort of...party here Thursday?”
“Next Thursday? As in a week from tomorrow?”
“Uhh...yeah. Don’t worry,” he added hurriedly. “You won’t have to lift a finger. Melody and I have the whole thing planned. We’ve got caterers and—”
“Melody? You don’t mean Melody Hawkins, do you?”
Colt bristled at her tone. “Yes. I do mean Melody Hawkins. Why?”
She threw up a hand and huffed. “Not you, too? It’s not enough the little slut sleep with my—”
“Mother. Stop right there. I don’t want to hear you talk that way about Melody.”
She put a hand on a bony hip. “Oh, Colton. You can’t seriously be involved with that tramp.”
He ground his teeth. “Mom,” he growled.
“And it doesn’t bother you that she was sweating up the sheets with your father and your brother?”
Colt was about to counter, but her words sunk in. “She...are you trying to tell me she slept with Edward?”
“Well, I don’t think much sleeping was going on. But she was screwing the brains out of him.”
“Mom!” He never heard her talk in such a vulgar way about anyone.
“I don’t mean to be crass, honey. But that woman is nothing more than a money-grabbing whore.”
Colt’s brain was slow to come around. “She slept with Edward? I can’t believe it.”
“I’m glad to see you understand and agree with me. Get yourself out of that woman’s claws.” She tapped his arm. “You need to get yourself tested, Colton. Those groupies you sleep with are probably cleaner than her. Now I have to go.” She started to brush past him.
He grabbed her arm. “Wait.” Even if she slept with Edward, he wouldn’t listen to his mom talk about Melody in such a nasty way. His mother stared at his fingers around her bicep and up at him pointedly, leveling one of her iciest glares.
He released her. “Mom. You can’t talk that way about her.”
“I damn well can.”
His jaw tightened. “I care about her, and I’m asking you not to speak that way about her, please.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, good Lord.” She studied him. “She must excel at something to have seduced all of you men. And I know good and well what that something is.”
“That’s enough!” he roared. “If you say one more malicious word about her, I’m leaving here for good.”
“Oh, please.” She glanced at her phone. “Cut the dramatics, Colton.” She peered at him for a moment. “Well, you’re a grown man and I guess you’re entitled to play the fool. But don’t you dare bring her under my roof.” She took off down the hall.
“Mother. We need to talk about this.”
She waved a hand without turning. “I haven’t got the time.”
“Mom.” He exhaled, one hand on his hip, staring at the burgundy carpeting under his feet.
She slept with Edward and didn’t tell me? What an idiot I’ve been.
“Wait.” He took some slow, deep breaths.
Melody will explain it.
She was not the woman his mom painted her out to be. He knew it. His mom was always being vicious and theatrical.
She’ll explain it.
He swung around to follow his mom’s path and find Melody.
* * *
MELODY RUSHED OUT OF the spare bedroom. She checked her phone and they only had fifteen minutes before the caterer arrived. But as she was about to round the corner into the hall Colt’s room was on, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
Shoot. I forgot to put my lips on.
She set her purse on the table in front of the mirror and searched for her lipstick. Voices carried to her from the other hall as she applied it. She perked up when she heard her name.
“Melody? You don’t mean Melody Hawkins, do you?”
Mel knew she shouldn’t, but she shoved her lipstick into her purse and stepped closer, still hidden behind the corner of the wall.
“Not you, too? It’s not enough the little slut sleep with my—”
Colt interrupted her, but it was a long hall, and since he was facing the opposite direction, Melody only heard the deep rumble of his voice, and couldn’t make out what he was saying. Sophia Remkus’ voice had no trouble reaching her as she was practically screaming, and she had one of those voices that carried anyway. She over-articulated every syllable in a haughty manner, seeming to forget that she grew up on a dairy farm deep in the heart of Texas.
I can’t believe this. It’s like...high school all over again.
She thought she could get away from the contempt and accusations. But there was no place to hide. The rational part of her brain knew she didn’t do anything she should be sorry for, but the guilt and shame rushed back like they were never gone and swamped her. She pressed her shoulder against the wall and got as close as she dared to the opening, straining her hearing.
“Oh, Colton. You can’t seriously be involved with that tramp. Isn’t it enough she was sweating up the sheets with your father and your brother?”
She closed her eyes. She knew she would regret giving in to Edward’s pressure. But it was only a couple of dates. She’d never slept with him. Never would. She had broken it off as quickly and graciously as she could, and they remained friends. She hadn’t told Colt because, well, it was so inconsequential she didn’t even think about it. Her stomach dropped. What must he think of her?
Again, Colt responded, but she only caught snatches. “She...slept with Edward?”
“Well, I don’t think much sleeping was going on. But she was screwing the brains out of him.”
Melody rolled away, placing her back against the wall. This was a nightmare. She brought a hand to her brow.
What am I going to do?
Sophia’s words had no trouble getting to her.
“I don’t mean to be crass, honey. But that woman is nothing more than a money-grabbing whore.”
Her thoughts swam. Tears gathered behind her lids.
He’ll never...
“I’m glad to see you understand and agree with me. Get yourself out of that woman’s claws. You need to get yourself tested, Colton. Those groupies you sleep with are probably cleaner than her. Now I have to go.”
A wave of nausea hit her.
Colt believes her.
It hurt more than she thought it could. But hearing footsteps, Melody pushed off the wall. She did not want to run into Sophia. She scrambled to get to the stairs before she was spotted. In her hurry, she twisted a heel and had to grab the bannister to keep from tumbling headlong down the staircase.
Once outside the door, she steadied herself on a cold, stone column, but she was shaking. She tried to draw in a deep breath, fighting the sob wanting to escape instead.
I have to be a professional. I’m a...professional.
Then an ugly voice inside her mind that sounded a lot like Sophia Remkus countered with,
A professional what?
She continued listlessly to the courtyard. She had to pull herself together. The caterers would be here any minute.
But how could she do that when her heart was breaking in two?
Colt believed Sophia.