CHAPTER TEN

SHE WAS ON HER WAY out the door to take Tommy to school the next morning when the phone rang. Certain it would be Clarice, Annie picked it up and said, “Hey. Can I call you back from the car?”

“Ah, sure,” came a surprised male voice. Jack Corbin’s surprised male voice.

Annie froze where she stood. “Jack. I’m sorry. I was sure you were Clarice.”

“No problem. I’ve come across an interesting lead. I thought I’d drive down to North Carolina and check it out. I could use someone to ride shotgun.”

“Today?”

“Short notice, I know, but yeah. I’d planned to leave pretty much right away.”

Annie’s thoughts went in a zillion directions. This, she had not expected. But she’d offered her help in getting to the bottom of anything that might alter the future of Corbin Manufacturing. The fact that she’d spent the night dreaming about his wedding to Clarice shouldn’t affect that. “Um, sure. I’d be happy to come along. I was just taking Tommy to school. How long do you think we’ll be gone?”

“Maybe early evening?”

“I’ll need to check with Mrs. Parker then and make sure she can pick up Tommy. If I don’t call you back, that means everything is all right.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in your office parking lot. Thirty minutes?”

“See you then.”

Annie hung up and dialed Mrs. Parker’s number. The older woman assured her it would be no problem for her to fetch Tommy after school. Annie thanked her, then hurried out the front door to where Tommy was already waiting in the Tahoe. Funny thing, too, she felt as though she’d been pumped full of helium, her feet not even touching the ground.

 

ON THE WAY to Tommy’s school, Annie called the office and left a message for Peggy, her receptionist, that she wouldn’t be in today. No sooner had she put the phone down than it rang again.

“Morning,” Clarice said. “You taking Tommy?”

“Uh-huh,” Annie said, starting to tell her about her change in plans for the day, then deciding to ask about Clarice’s date first. “So tell me. How did it go?”

“Pretty good, I think. The meal was a hit.”

“Good.”

“You know men, though. Never can tell what they’re thinking.”

“I thought you might call last night.”

“It was kinda late. Didn’t want to wake you.”

Clarice always called Annie after dates. Always. The fact that she hadn’t this time meant something. What, though?

Should she tell her about going with Jack today?

She started to, then stopped. What was the point? Annie had no intention of intruding on what she now considered her sister’s territory.

So why aren’t you telling her then?

Because she might read something into it that wasn’t there.

They chit-chatted for another minute or two and then hung up, Annie wondering at her sister’s reluctance to go into the specifics of her date. Her normal pattern was to give Annie such a clear picture of events that she might have been there herself.

So what about her own normal pattern? You never keep things from Clarice! Unease swam through her. She should have told Clarice about today. Gotten it out in the open so that it wasn’t any big deal. Or maybe she should just call Jack back and tell him she couldn’t go.

Not professional.

On the assumption that his asking her had been nothing more than a continuation of Saturday’s efforts—and that was what she assumed—how could she back out now?

She would call Clarice as soon as they got back, explain how ridiculous she’d been in not telling her, and that would be that.

She did not like being off-kilter with her sister. Clarice meant the world to her, and she would never do anything to hurt her. Men might come and go for both of them, but sisters were forever.

 

CLARICE HAD JUST SAT down at her desk with a cup of coffee and a story to edit when Tim Filmore swaggered up looking as if he had a secret to sell.

Clarice raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have some stories to write, Tim?”

“How about this for one? Mayor seen leaving town with playboy factory owner.”

The words delivered the blow of a two-by-four. “Perfect if you want to go work for the National Tell-All,” she managed to answer.

“Probably pay better,” he muttered, taking his leave.

“Probably would!” she called out after him, repressing the urge to add she’d be glad to send them his résumé.

Awful thought number one followed: she was in the same boat with Tim. They were both jealous! Awful thought number two: she’d talked to Annie less than an hour ago. Why hadn’t she said anything about going somewhere with Jack?

The answer was so obvious it hurt. She hadn’t wanted Clarice to know. So why? Because she hadn’t wanted her to think it was something it wasn’t? Or because it really was?

 

DAMN IT ALL to hell. J.D. thumped the steering wheel of his red Ferarri with the heel of his right hand. He hated L.A. traffic. He’d been out here a little over a year now, and he’d spent half that time sitting on one or the other of the city’s freeways.

Didn’t these people mind spending their lives lined up like ants waiting for a picnic? He threw a glance over his shoulder at the three lanes of cars beside him even though it was barely six o’clock in the morning. Nine out of ten drivers had a cell phone stuck to their ear.

A bad mood had hung over him like a stalled thunderstorm all morning. Ever since he’d picked up his mail and found a copy of the Langor County Times with a picture of his wife on the front page all cozied up with that born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-his-mouth Jack Corbin. They were at some sort of picnic at Corbin’s factory—the one he was apparently closing down.

And the kicker?

There was Tommy looking up at Corbin like he was his father or something!

Damn if he was going to put up with another man making his son forget all about him.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a blonde in a black BMW giving him a Hey-baby stare. Chicks. This place was overrun with them. A guy could almost get his fill. And maybe he finally had. Cassie was about to drive him crazy. Certifiable.

He was getting sick of her near-daily manicure appointments and root touch-up sessions. And all she ever wanted to do was go out. This party or that club until J.D. forgot what it was like to actually eat dinner at home.

More than once in the last few days, he’d caught himself thinking about Annie and how their house had felt like a home. The house he shared with Cassie felt like a showroom where people only pretended to live. It left him with this gnawing emptiness inside that no matter how much he tried to ignore, never went away.

So maybe he’d liked the fast lane a little more than Annie had, but why couldn’t two people find something close to common ground? Some happy medium that worked for them both. Why couldn’t that be possible?

It could be. He was sure of it.

But J.D. had known Annie long enough to know there was only one way he would ever get her back.

He pulled his own cell phone from his shirt pocket, hit the directory button, scrolled down until he found the name he was searching for and pushed send.

Four rings. “Russell, Wade.”

“Mike? It’s J.D. What’re you doing answering your own phone?”

“The receptionist is on a coffee run. Didn’t think we’d ever hear from you again since you moved West on us.” Mike Russell had played high school football with J.D., and the two of them had kept in touch over the years. During his short return to Macon’s Point, they’d gotten together for pizza and beer a few times. Mike had handled his divorce from Annie so he knew the nuts and bolts of the marriage’s demise. He was a sharp guy, an Ivy League attorney who likely could have made an enviable career for himself in some big city, but had opted for moving back to his hometown. Go figure.

“So how is life in the world of make-believe?”

“Pretty good,” J.D. said.

“Been seeing you on TV. Things must be going well.”

“Can’t complain. You seen Annie lately?”

“Yeah. Saturday night, as a matter of fact. Out at Lugar’s.”

“Was Tommy with her?”

“Ah, no,” Mike said. J.D. thought about Corbin. His face got hot. “She on a date?”

“I don’t know. Kinda looked like it.”

“Who with?”

“Jack Corbin. He’s about to close down the family business. Apparently, Annie’s been trying to change his mind. Maybe she was just trying a new persuasion tactic. Looked like it might be working.” Mike laughed.

“Is that right?” J.D.’s voice was cool. The mental image of that needled at him. Corbin had been a couple years behind J.D. and Mike in school. Smart as hell if he remembered right. Seems like he’d broken a couple track records at that fancy private school he’d gone to. And his family business had been the largest employer in town. J.D.’s father had actually worked there for a while.

“Probably wasn’t what it looked like,” Mike amended, sounding uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” J.D. said while something that felt remarkably like jealousy lit up low inside him.

“So what’s up, J.D.?”

The line of traffic J.D. was snagged in moved forward a few feet. He shifted into first and revved the Ferrari engine. “I want full custody of my son. Tell me what I need to do to get it.”

 

NEITHER ANNIE NOR Jack said much the first twenty miles or so out of town. Annie felt guilty for not telling Clarice where she was going. What if she saw them? What would she think? She wouldn’t have thought anything if you’d been up-front with her about the whole thing. As soon as they got back. As soon as they got back.

“So how was last night?” she finally found the voice to ask, aiming for casual.

“Nice,” Jack said. “Food was good.”

Annie glanced down quickly. “Good.”

“Clarice told me you were the chef.”

“Oh. Well, she—”

“—told me how you started cooking when you were thirteen. No wonder you’re so good at it.”

“I—thank you.” Flustered, Annie didn’t know what else to say. At the moment, she felt like a very bad, very disloyal sister.

A few seconds of silence ticked by. “Annie?”

She looked at him, something in his tone making her heart thump. “What?”

“I’m not exactly sure why I’m telling you this, but I’m not interested in Clarice in that way. She seems like a great person, but—”

“I don’t think we should be talking about this,” Annie said, the words coming out in a torrent. “I mean, she’s my sister and—”

“I know. A good one, it seems.”

“Yes. She is.”

Confusion settled over Annie like thick fog, blocking out all sense of direction. The safest spot seemed to be keeping her feet planted right where they were. A move in either direction might mean a fall from a really steep place.

They drove on a few miles, then merged onto 220 South. “This may end up being nothing more than a wild-goose chase,” Jack said in an obvious change of subject. “I hope it isn’t a waste of your day.”

“So what’s the lead?”

“Flea markets selling product that looks just like C.M. product.”

“And you think there might be a connection between that and the missing inventory.”

A horse farm lay ahead on their right. Two youngsters romped across one of the fields in what looked like a game of tag. Annie pointed at them. “Is there anything more beautiful than that?”

“My father was always crazy about them. I think out of all this mess, the thing I’m most torn about is what to do with his two old Percherons. They’re ancient, and they’ve lived at Glenn Hall all their lives.”

“Who’s been taking care of them?”

“Essie’s niece comes by twice a day to feed them.”

“Will you sell them?”

“Can’t stand the thought of it, but I don’t know what other choice I have.”

Annie pictured the two old horses she’d spotted in the field near Jack’s house when she and Clarice had gone out to see him. Sympathy tugged at her heart. What an awful decision to have to make. And yet the very fact that he was torturing himself with it gave further indication of his nonpermanent status in Macon’s Point. Not that she had questioned it.

“You know the way you talk about your dad doesn’t sound like the two of you didn’t get along.”

“I loved who he was then. Just not who he became.” Something on his face snapped closed. Annie saw it clearly. A window through which she had seen a boy’s adoration of his father dropping shut.

Part of her wanted to pursue it. But she quelled the urge. That was personal. This trip was not personal. She did not need to know anything else personal about him.

The drive to Kernersville was close to two hours. They hit I-40 just before Greensboro and followed it another forty-five minutes or so. Conversation between the two of them was sporadic and a little awkward. Something was different this morning. Some walls in place that hadn’t been there before. A distance that felt amplified by Annie’s guilty conscience.

Jack reached for a piece of paper on top of the dash and handed it to her. “Would you mind reading those directions for me? I looked before we left, but I don’t want to waste time getting us lost.”

“Exit 208,” Annie said. “Then right on Highway 57. Two miles on left.”

“Thanks,” Jack said.

The exit came up in just a couple of minutes. They followed the directions to a warehouse.

Jack turned in, stopped in front of a loading door.

They got out, walked to the door. Jack glanced over his shoulder, then tugged on the handle at the bottom of the door. He pulled on it harder. It gave, leaving a crack a couple of inches high at the bottom.

“Would you grab that flashlight out of the side pocket on my door, Annie? I don’t want to let this drop in case it won’t come up again.”

“Sure,” she said, jogging over to get it.

“Okay, if you don’t want to do this, just say,” he said.

“What?” She did a poor job of hiding her skepticism.

“While I hold the door, could you shine the light under? See if you see anything?”

Annie glanced up at the No Trespassing sign centered in clear view on the door. Her stomach dropped a little. “You are planning on bailing me out if we get caught, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said, smiling for the first time that morning.

He let go of the door, stuck out a hand and helped her up onto the concrete platform. She lost her balance a little and teetered forward into him. Looking up she found his gaze on her, something unreadable in it. The moment held as if someone had freeze-framed them. Annie felt overheated, as if she’d just run several miles past her level of endurance.

Surely, she had never been this aware of a man. All the clichés applied, and she understood then their origin. Because she really did have sweaty palms, and breathing suddenly required concentrated effort. Hard to believe so much could be said in the span of a few seconds, but if body language could be heard out loud, theirs would have sounded like a football stadium after a winning touchdown.

They both jerked into action at the same moment, he giving the door another heft, she flicking on the flashlight and squatting down on the concrete. “That’s not going to work.” She stretched out on her stomach facedown. “I’m going to call in favors for this one.”

“The view from up here just improved.”

Annie looked up quickly, and caught the smile on his far too good-looking face. Was he flirting with her? She felt a blush start at her toes, leap its way straight up to her neck. She ducked her head back down and peered under the bottom of the door. If, big if, that remark had been flirtatious, she had no idea what to do with it. Tim’s flirting, she knew what to do with. This, she did not. Anyway, she was wrong. Surely.

“What do you see?” Was it her imagination or did his voice sound different? A little hoarse?

“Just a second.” She focused on a shadowed object just inside the door and gave her vision a few moments to adjust. “Looks like a sofa. And a bunch of other furniture. Wood pieces. Hutches and stuff.”

“See any tags on anything?”

She flicked the light around, spotted a yellow sticker on one of the pieces. “Corbin Manufacturing,” she said.

“So it’s ours.”

Annie struggled up as gracefully as a prone woman on concrete can. Jack offered her a hand, but she said, “Got it, thanks.” Then felt a little silly at the look of surprise on his face. He was just being polite, Annie. Fair enough, but she was the one whose pulse went off like a rocket every time he touched her. Better just to avoid that altogether.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That we need to get in this building.”

“As in breaking and entering?”

“Well, we’d rather not call it that. Let’s walk around, see what we see.”

Annie set off after him, at a trot really—heavens, he had a long stride! “Jack, we can’t do this. What if someone comes?”

“We’ll say we’re with the exterminating company. Someone reported bugs here?”

Annie laughed. “My exterminator drives a brown Volkswagen with a big yellow insect on top. You don’t look anything like him.”

“Glad to hear it. Come on,” he waved for her to follow, “where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I didn’t know potential felons called themselves adventurers.”

“Some of us do.”

Annie followed behind him, smiling in spite of herself. This was not how she’d imagined her day turning out when she’d gotten up this morning.

They traipsed one short side of the building. Jack headed for the regular-size door at the far corner. Gave it a tug. No luck. Annie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s try the other side,” Jack said.

“Wait,” she said, setting off after him. “There really has to be some other way to do this.”

But Jack waded on through the tall grass.

This side of the building backed up to a strip of woods, dense white pines that thinned the sunlight, but made Annie feel a little better about the two of them not being spotted. Safe for the moment, anyway.

They came to another door, this one halfway down the long side of the metal building. Jack stopped in front of it, reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a credit card, then dropped down onto one knee in front of the lock.

“You aren’t really going to open that door with a credit card, are you?”

“Thought I’d give it a try.”

“Jack!”

“There’s no one around.”

“There might be an alarm system.”

“Can you run in those shoes?”

Annie looked down at the less-than-practical two-inch heels she’d slipped on that morning on the way out the door.

“If it goes off, leave the shoes and follow me,” he said.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“We came all this way. I’d like to leave knowing more than I did when I got here.”

What in the world did a practical-minded woman like her say to a man intent on breaking into a warehouse?

It was possible, granted, that getting inside would lead him to something that might alter the future of C.M. Seemed overly optimistic, but wasn’t that the very thing she’d been fighting for these past few weeks?

“Why don’t I run back and take a look at the parking lot? Make sure no one’s pulled up.”

“Good idea,” Jack said without looking up. “In fact, why don’t you just stay up there and keep a lookout? Yell if you see anyone.”

“You look way too good at that,” Annie said, shaking her head. “I don’t even want to know how you came by that particular talent.”

“Okay. So I won’t tell you.”

Annie smiled again in spite of herself, then jogged back the way they’d come, wishing for her very comfortable Nike running shoes. Back at the front corner of the building, she tucked herself beside the gutter spout, glad for its partial concealment, then took a quick peak at the parking lot.

Still empty except for Jack’s Porsche. Whew. Sleuthing was definitely not for her. Her palms were sweaty, and her knees felt like the cartilage had been replaced with Jell-O.

She sent a glance back at the door. Jack was nowhere in sight. He’d gotten in! Adrenaline hit her in the center of her chest, spread out to fingers and toes. She glanced at her watch. Five minutes. She would give him five minutes.

Then what?

She couldn’t exactly leave.

Oh, hurry, Jack! Just hurry!

The next few minutes passed like the pouring of nearly-set concrete. Stay calm, Annie. Just a little longer, and surely he’ll be done.

She glanced at her watch 354 times—or so it seemed, anyway. Fifteen minutes, and still no sign of him! Where was he?

Another five ticked by. Okay, she was going after him. Something was obviously wrong.

She started back through the tall grass but thought she heard something and stopped. The sound was unmistakable. Tires crunching on gravel.

Annie whipped around, ran back to the front corner of the building, took a quick peek around the side, praying she wouldn’t be seen.

Someone had just pulled up beside the Porsche. A man in some kind of uniform. A security guard. He got out, circled the car, looking inside.

Annie tore off through the grass again, quelling the urge to yell for Jack. He’d left the door open. She slipped inside. The place was totally dark except for the dim light slanting through two skylights in the ceiling.

“Jack!” Her hushed voice sounded like a whisper in the enormous warehouse. She’d just have to risk it. She had to get his attention. “Jack!” she called out again, louder this time.

“Over here.”

“There’s someone here! A security guard, I think. He’s outside looking at the car.”

Lights flooded the warehouse, sudden, blinding. Annie saw spots.

“Is somebody in here?” came a voice from the front of the building.

Fear slashed through her. They were caught! Oh good heavens, they were caught!

And then Jack was beside her, grabbing her hand, a finger to his lips indicating for her to be quiet. He took her hand and pulled her along toward the door they’d come in through. Good thing, too, because she couldn’t have moved herself from that spot had her life depended on it.

Which it probably did.

They slipped through the door, Jack reaching back to let it click quietly closed behind them. And then they were running back through the grass, faster than Annie had ever run in her life—heels be damned! Amazing what they could do when summoned.

Visions of the security guard coming out the door behind them, gun in hand, had her picking up the pace. Hardly the time to be noticing such a thing, but Jack’s hand felt strong and good holding onto hers. And it was kind of nice the way he squeezed hers between his as if he’d never let go.

A few seconds, and they were back in the parking lot. “Mind if I don’t get your door this time?”

“You’re forgiven this once,” Annie said, running around the Porsche and jumping inside.

Jack turned the key, and for one heartstopping instant, Annie thought it wasn’t going to start. It did, and she slid down in the seat. “I’ll never be bad again. I’ll never be bad again.”

Jack looked over at her and laughed.

Laughed!

“Tell me what you could possibly find funny about this,” she said as he gunned the Porsche out of the parking lot, gravel and dust whirling up behind them.

“It’s not,” he said, straightening his expression into seriousness. “You’re right. Nothing humorous about it.”

Annie shot a glance back at the building. “I don’t see him.”

At the company entrance, Jack barely slowed down, sending a quick look both ways before shooting back onto the highway and flooring the car.

“Okay, so these cars do have a selling point,’ she said, flattened against her seat.

“If you need to get there fast—”

“I’m sure a big slice of their market pie must be the criminal element.”

Jack laughed again, sinking the gearshift into fifth, and it felt as if they were flying. A mile or two down the road, he let up, and the car reluctantly settled into a speed that was in agreement with the law.

“Don’t think I’m not totally disgusted with you,” she said, arms folded across her chest.

“You probably don’t want to know what I found out then?” The question held a teasing note.

“What?” So much for cool indifference.

“There’s a good bit of stuff in there that still has C.M. tags on it. But there’s a lot more, things recognizably part of the line, that have been retagged under another manufacturer’s name.”

Annie frowned. “Why?”

“That’s the question.”

“You think it’s stolen?”

“Kinda looking that way. But the trick is going to be figuring out by whom and why.”

“Would it have to be someone working inside C.M?”

“That would make the most sense. This address is listed as belonging to a legitimate customer, and it’s obviously not what it was supposed to be.”

“So maybe someone is reselling the product?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Annie’s stomach dropped. She felt suddenly sick. “Who would do something like that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someone with a grudge against the company or just plain old-fashioned greed.”

“Embezzling but with actual product instead of cash.”

“Yeah.”

“So one person or maybe a few are responsible for bleeding the company dry?”

“Could be,” Jack said.

“And yet the whole town is blaming you for it?”

“I’m not worried about that, Annie. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks about me.”

“It does,” she said, sensing in the evenness of his tone that it really did matter to him. “Of course it does. And especially when it’s not true.”

He looked at her, taking his gaze from the road for just a moment, but it was long enough for Annie to catch a glimpse of something that looked like vulnerability there. He did care. She knew it somehow. Awareness of that stirred something inside her. Unexpected, but deep and real.

Annie…you are treading in dangerous waters.

No doubt.

“So what are you going to do next?” She sat straighter in the seat, put her gaze on the countryside rolling by her window and her thoughts on what they’d just discovered.

He reached for a piece of paper on the dash. Handed it to her and said, “This was the other place I wanted to check out. Shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes from here.”

“Are you planning to use your credit card there, too?”

“We’ll stick to legal looking around at this one.”

“You’re sure?”

He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“And you really were one?”

“Honest.”