Betty had been angry before, very angry, but the level that was rising inside her right now went beyond all she’d ever known. Investigating her. Leaking information. Did he think she was completely stupid? He was making up an excuse. An excuse as to why... She refused to even remember that moment. Any moments she’d spent with him.
“I’ll explain it all at the house,” he said. “When Lane and your sisters arrive.”
“No, you’ll explain it now. What information was I supposed to have leaked?”
“None. I just questioned if you had.”
“Why?”
He huffed out a breath. “Because that’s happened to me before. A woman using her charms to get information.”
Her anger was growing. So was the hurt inside. Everything about him went back to his job. It was the only thing he ever thought about, ever cared about.
She didn’t respond to his answer because she was never going to talk to him again. Ever. The shock of hearing he’d been shanghaied had devastated her, and then hearing he was in a car, waiting for her, had elated her, but then she’d seen him. His face. How cold and...like he’d never wanted to see her again. That had been in his voice, too, when he’d asked if she was all right, in every way. She was fine, in every way, except for being mad. So mad because nothing about him, about them, had been what she’d thought. She’d thought they’d been falling in love, but he’d been investigating her! That was just too much.
More than a coincidence?
She’d like to tell him about coincidences. For instance, was it a coincidence that when she saw him her body went out of control? Was it a coincidence that she turned into someone she was not? Someone who acted without thinking. Someone who broke every rule?
None of that had ever happened to her before, yet it had, in Seattle and here.
Well, it was not going to happen this time. She knew who she was, who she would always be. And she knew who he was. An FBI agent through and through. Well, that was fine because she knew what she wanted and how to get it, and he wasn’t a part of any of that.
Except for being the father of her baby.
He’d probably have to investigate that, too. Her insides quivered. She couldn’t have him doing that.
“I’m parking here because I don’t want a car in the driveway of the house,” he said.
Betty glanced out the window, recognizing the building as one of the studios. He’d parked in the back lot, so all they had to do was run across the street.
“I’m certain no one has followed us.”
Why was he doing all this? The case was over. Burrows was caught. There couldn’t be more to it than that. Unless he was investigating... No, her sisters didn’t know about the baby.
She stepped out of the car when he opened the door, but didn’t take his hand, or look at him. Despite the anger still boiling inside her, she didn’t trust herself. When it came to him, she was like a two-headed coin tossed in the air. No matter which side it landed on, she was the one who lost. Lost all her sensibility and everything else that went along with it.
She had to fight to breathe as they entered the house. She could hear her heart pounding, feel her pulse quickening. She’d thought the pain of him being gone, of having left without even saying goodbye had been bad, but this, being in the very house where she’d abandoned all she’d known to be right and just, in order to fulfill a need that he’d put inside her, was beyond painful.
It was reality. She’d given him her heart that night. All the love she’d ever have to give, and she would never get that back. She’d walk around empty for the rest of her life.
“We’ll wait here for the others,” he said.
Her stomach fluttered as he handed her a flashlight. No, she wouldn’t walk around empty. He’d given her something for her heart. A baby. And it was hers. All hers.
She had been afraid that he might ask if there were any repercussion from that night, and was glad she’d said she was fine. Even though she knew that was wrong, against another rule. A baby wasn’t a repercussion, and she didn’t want his money.
The others arrived and Henry locked the door and then led everyone downstairs, where they could use the flashlights without worrying that someone driving past might notice a light.
Betty half listened, because in truth, she only half cared what he had to say. The other truth was that sitting on the sofa in the basement was bringing back memories.
Henry spoke about a man named Curtis Elkin, who was also an investigation agent, but had been leaking information, and whom Henry now believed had turned completely away from the agency because the man hadn’t been seen or heard from in weeks.
Lane seemed very concerned, so did Patsy, and Jane appeared frightened.
“Besides me, you are the only other person who can identify Elkin, Lane,” Henry said. “Other agents could identify him, but without proof, the Bureau can’t assign any others to chase him down.”
“You’re right,” Lane said. “And the news that I married Patsy has gone from one end of this town to the other.” He looped his arm around Patsy’s shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. “I can’t have her in that kind of danger.”
“I know,” Henry said. “That’s why I’m here. My supervisor also believes that Elkin is the mole and as soon as I prove it, the Bureau will send more agents.”
“So it’s just me and you,” Lane said.
“Yes,” Henry said. “And the cabin you’re staying at isn’t safe. That’s where they found me, knocked me out, stuffed me in a barrel, and shipped me off to Hawaii.”
Betty’s spine stiffened. “They stuffed you in a barrel?”
Henry was leaning against the door to the tunnel, arms crossed. He nodded to her, but said to Lane, “I’m concerned Elkin may go after anyone connected to you, including Patsy’s sisters.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Lane said.
“There’s no more sneaking out at night,” Henry said, looking at her.
Betty hadn’t cared about sneaking out in weeks, but Jane had, and would continue to.
Everyone in the room must have been thinking the same thing because they all looked at Jane.
She held up her arms, bent at the elbows and palms outward. “I’m all for a good time, but I’m not into danger.” Jane then asked Henry, “But you aren’t going to tell our father, are you? If he hears about this, we’ll never be able to sneak out again. Ever. Or worse. He’ll send us all away.”
When Henry looked at Betty, as if she needed to verify what Jane said, she nodded. Father would.
“I’ll start looking for Elkin tonight,” Henry said.
“I will, too,” Lane said.
“No, I will let you know when I need you. For now, Elkin doesn’t know I’m alive or—”
Betty nearly shot off the sofa. “Alive?”
Henry nodded, but finished what he’d been saying. “Or back in town, and I want to keep it that way. Lane, I need to know about any busts that happened in the past year or so, not of speakeasies, but of supply rings.”
“I can get that,” Lane said.
Henry nodded again. “Good, and—” He looked at her. “No one goes out alone. Not even to the grocery store.”
He gave a few more instructions, but again, Betty barely heard what he was saying. She was still stuck on him being alive. She’d never thought otherwise, and that made her sick. Not throwing-up sick, but an all-consuming ache.
Henry walked her and Jane to their house, and he took ahold of her hand while Jane was climbing the trellis.
“I won’t let anything happen to any of you,” he whispered, and then waited as she climbed the trellis, entered the bathroom, and shut the window.
By the time she crawled into bed, she was a pitiful mess. She couldn’t get over that someone had stuffed him in a barrel. He could have died.
He could have been dead right now.
That was the most dreadful thought, the most dreadful reality, ever. She wished she could find the anger she’d had earlier, but she couldn’t. He hadn’t been looking for an excuse. She had been. She had been trying to forget him for over three years, ever since that first kiss, but couldn’t. That kiss had opened something inside her. A part of her she hadn’t known existed, and when she’d seen him again the night of the dance-off, she’d wanted that part of her to be opened again.
He had opened it, and it had felt so good, she’d been unable to stay away. It was as if she’d been wrapped in a cocoon like a caterpillar and he’d made her feel like a butterfly, free to spread her wings and fly.
Or like a moth, drawn to a light that blinded her, made her lose her way.
Either way, seeing him again tonight confirmed one thing. She’d never be able to forget him. A person couldn’t forget about someone they cared about, and she cared about him. Cared far more than she should. Cared too much about him to be angry. Much like she’d always cared too much about her sisters to be angry with them. Even Jane and her sneaking-out plan.
She hadn’t gotten angry. She’d found a way for Jane to get what she wanted, and Patsy, for them to have fun, because that was what she’d always done. That was what she needed to do with Henry, too.
Find a way so he could catch this Elkin man.
She’d been thrilled at the idea of helping him before, giving him the list of the speakeasies, but this time, she was scared, because now she realized that every time she saw Henry, she lost a little bit more of the person she’d always been.
Surprisingly, she slept well that night, and didn’t feel queasy upon waking. After getting dressed, she checked her calendar again, counted the days. Five. Had she jumped to conclusions? She was late by five days. That could happen. And something she ate could have upset her stomach.
Oddly, those thoughts didn’t elate her, which confused her even more.
As she sat at the quiet table, eating breakfast, she pondered if what she’d always thought she’d wanted was true. Patsy had wanted to be a reporter for years, and Jane, well, Jane had wanted to be a flapper. Fashion, music, independence. That was Jane.
Betty, sighed. Why didn’t she have any dreams like that? Hers had always been to have her own family. Her own house. It would be different than this; there would be conversation and laughter.
From who? James wasn’t an awful person, but his conversations weren’t overly lively. They were boring and long.
Had she thought she wanted those things, to get married and have children, because she’d never allowed herself to think otherwise? Why? Because she’d known that was the only option she’d have, just like following Father’s rules was the only option?
She didn’t like being this confused, and as soon as Father nodded the meal was over, she began to clear the table, but stopped when a knock sounded on the front door.
Visitors at their house were few and far between, and Father’s frown said he wasn’t expecting anyone.
He rose and walked down the hall to the front door.
A moment later, Betty froze in recognition of the voice that greeted her father.
The wide-eyed look on Jane’s face said she’d recognized Henry’s voice, too.
Before Betty made it out of the dining room, Henry was following her father into his office and nodded at her before he shut the door.
He was wearing a black suit, and carrying a black hat in his hands, which made him look official. Very official.
Her insides turned cold, icy, but her hands were hot, sweating, as a thousand thoughts rushed to be the first to assault her. But there were too many, they clambered together. She didn’t know if she should run and hide, or—
“We’re doomed,” Jane whispered. “If he tells Father, we’re doomed.”
Betty couldn’t let that happen. She handed Jane the plates she’d lifted off the table right before the knock had sounded and, head up, walked down the hallway.
She didn’t knock, just opened the door and stepped in. She quivered slightly at how the look on her father’s face indicated he wasn’t impressed by her actions, but then instantly looked at Henry.
Henry gave her a slight grin while asking Father, “Is this your daughter?”
“Yes, yes, it is,” Father replied.
Henry gave her a slight nod. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Dryer. I was just informing your father that I work for the government and that we are interested in preparing a house we own for sale. It needs to be cleaned and I was informed that you clean the houses in this area prior to the new owners taking occupancy.”
Confused, she shook her head.
Henry nodded. “I would like to hire you to clean the property we are interested in putting up for sale. An abandoned house just a short distance from here.”
His nearness did what it always did, opened that part of her that was impossible for her to control. She took a deep breath and nodded, fully aware of the house he referred to and understanding this must be part of his plan to catch Elkin. “All right, when would you like me to start?”
“You have chores here at home,” Father said.
“I can still complete them,” she said, surprising herself, both by contradicting Father and by how easily she’d done it.
The tension in the air, coming from William Dryer, caused Henry to question if this was the best plan. It had been the only one he’d come up with, and because he was a man of action, always had been, he had to put it into play. He was already hot on Elkin’s tail. As soon as he’d left her backyard last night, he’d gone to work. Elkin was still in town, but had changed his profession. It appeared he’d taken over for Burrows when it came to moonshine. Burrows had started up a still near the docks, but that was only for show; in reality, the man had been plotting to steal shipments of Minnesota Thirteen, the most sought-after whiskey in the nation. Each shipload was worth its weight in gold, and an entire shipment had gone missing right before Burrows had been arrested. Yet, none of the speakeasies were lacking in their supply. Including the Rooster’s Nest, which was widely known as a major port in the supply chain of the brew.
It wasn’t the proof he needed to call in other agents, but it was enough that he had to make sure that Betty understood the seriousness of this case. He hadn’t been able to shake how distant she’d seemed last night, and knew he had to speak to her today. Shy of climbing the trellis and sneaking into her bedroom, this was the only plan he’d been able to compile.
“If you are available, I would like to show you what we’d like to have you do,” he said to Betty. “Now.”
There was still confusion in her eyes, but she nodded.
He’d expected confusion from her, even defiance, as well as disapproval from her father, but, to his surprise, within minutes, Betty was walking out the door with him.
In the short time he’d spent alone with William Dryer, both prior to Betty entering the office, and after she’d agreed to accompany him to the house and excused herself to collect her purse and hat, Henry got a distinct sense that William Dryer was hiding something. Henry also determined he’d find out exactly what.
Betty returned, and Henry guided her out the door and toward his car. “Thank you for agreeing so readily.”
“Why are you doing this? I’m assuming you truly don’t need the house cleaned.”
He opened the passenger door for her. “No, I don’t, but I did need to talk to you.”
“About the case?”
He waited until she climbed in the car before he said, “Yes.” He closed the door, walked around the car, and climbed in.
“Have you found him?”
“No, but I have made progress in learning his activities.” He started the car and backed out of the driveway. “Neither you nor your sister can go to the Rooster’s Nest.”
“You said that last night.”
Her perfume, so subtle that some might not notice it, was already playing havoc on his senses. By not doing anything more than sitting in the seat beside him, she had his pulse throbbing beneath his skin. “I need to know you understand that Elkin is a dangerous man—he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants. He could be anywhere, watching, waiting.”
“What does he look like?” she asked.
His nerves sizzled and snapped like a shorted-out electric line. “Why? Have you seen something? Someone?”
“I’m not sure, but after Patsy and Lane had left after their wedding, I was sweeping the rice off the church steps and noticed a man sitting in a car. I couldn’t see his face because the sun was shining on the widows, but I could feel him watching me, and then he drove away.”
“Do you remember what the car looked like?”
“No. It was black. That’s all I remember.”
Henry didn’t need to know more in order to confirm it had been Elkin, and that he was after Lane and possibly Betty and her sister. It was a cat-and-mouse game. Elkin would pounce sooner or later, and Henry had to be prepared to be ready for it at any time, anyplace. That was his main focus, but in the interim, he’d had another line of investigation that he wanted Betty to be involved in with him.
“Do you know Blake Owens?”
“No,” she answered. “I do know that he built a few houses for my father, before James.”
“That’s correct.” He continued to drive, past the abandoned house and the studios.
“Why?”
“Does Owens know who you are?” he asked in response. This was personal. He was going to discover all there was to know about James Bauer, so she would know exactly who she was engaged to marry. Lane had told him a small amount, that Bauer was a nice enough guy, but spineless, and Dryer had him wrapped around his finger. Lane had suggested he talk to Owens to learn more.
She shook her head. “I’m sure he doesn’t. I’ve never met him. Why?”
“I have a meeting with him this morning. Undercover, and it would be helpful for you to come with me.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to pretend that I’m interested in having him build a house, and it would be more believable if I had a wife with me.”
“A wife? What would any of that have to do with catching Elkin?”
It was a stretch, but he hoped she’d believe him. He had never done something like this before, just for his own sake, but despite how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t not care about her marrying someone else. She deserved a man who loved her, not one who was simply doing her father’s bidding. “I have to make sure that Elkin hasn’t already gotten to your father.”
“My father?”
“Yes. Your father is a rich man and we don’t know what Elkin’s ultimate goal is. We have to cover all avenues.” Guilt gurgled in his stomach at taking things this far, but it was for her own good. “I’ve suggested to Blake Owens that I’m interested in buying a home in Hollywoodland and a married couple would be more apt to do that than a single man.”
He glanced over at her, noticing how she had a hand over her mouth and was swallowing, hard, eyes closed. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
Henry slowed the car in case that was what was making her sick, because that was what she looked like, as if she was getting sick, and then pulled into the closest parking lot. He shut off the car and twisted in his seat, brushed her hair away from the side of her face.
That had been a mistake.
The smell of her perfume had been playing havoc on him, but this, touching her, was like he’d just been zapped by lightning. He’d tried not care about her, even pretended that he didn’t, pretended that he truly believed she’d somehow been involved with him being shanghaied, but it had all been a lie. The biggest lie he’d ever told himself.
He’d been so good at not caring before she came into his life. So very good. It had started at the orphanage, when other kids would talk about how their parents were going to come back for them someday. He knew his weren’t and pretended that didn’t matter to him. That he didn’t care.
Then, when he was adopted and, within months, moved into the junior college, he’d pretended he didn’t care. Didn’t care that his adoptive parents didn’t want him any more than his real parents had. Eventually, he’d gotten so good at pretending, that he had begun to truly not care.
He just couldn’t seem to reach that level with her. In fact, it appeared as if that may very well be as impossible as swimming across the ocean.
“Can I get something for you?” He glanced at the stores sharing the parking area. “There’s a grocer right over there.”
She dropped her hand away from her mouth and took a long inhale, then let it out slowly. “No, thank you, I’m fine now.”
“Did you have time to eat breakfast?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I mean yes, I had breakfast. I’m not hungry.” She managed a tentative smile. “I’m fine now, really.”
She was still pale, but no longer looked as pasty as she had a short time ago. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. What time is your meeting with Mr. Owens?”
He glanced at his watch. “In about ten minutes, but I can go later. I’ll take you home.”
“No. I’ll go with you. I’m fine. We need to find out all we can so you can catch Elkin.”
There was color in her face again. He tucked her hair behind her ear.
She grasped his wrist and pulled his hand away from her. “Truly, Henry, I’m fine. You need to start driving so we aren’t late.”
He settled back in his seat and started the car. As he drove, he had to wonder if he’d be able to salvage any of his old self once this case was over. Caring about her was so easy, and nothing had ever come easy to him before.
“I told Mr. Owens that my name was Donald Knight and that I’m moving to Los Angeles from Virginia.”
She nodded. “Is that who you told my father you are? Donald Knight?”
“No, I told him my name was John Smith.”
She grinned. “You are going to confuse yourself using so many names.”
He’d already confused himself, not by using aliases, but by meeting her. Forgetting her would be something else that would be impossible. She was too beautiful, too special. “I’m used to being two people at the same time,” he said. “You are, too, Lacy.”
She made a little humph sound. “You are right about that.”
Out of the side of his eye, he saw her remove the burgundy cloche hat and flip her head down. She then gathered her long hair together, wrapped it tightly, and then tied a white scarf high on her forehead before putting the hat back on.
He had a hard time concentrating on driving, and barely managed to make the corner in the nick of time onto the street that would take them to the address that Blake Owens had given him.
She opened her purse and, using a small compact mirror, applied lipstick, and then other makeup as he continued to drive. She also pulled out a pair of elbow-length white gloves, and put them on, as well as a pair of earbobs and a string of pearls.
By the time he’d parked the car and got a good look at her, he was amazed by how much she’d changed her appearance while he’d been driving. She’d looked pretty before, in her white-and-burgundy-striped dress, but now, with a few small changes, looked as if she could be in a fashion magazine.
Taking a second look, he shook his head. “Is that some kind of a magical purse?”
Smoothing the gloves over her wrists, up her arms, she giggled. “No.”
He nodded. If there was a chance that Blake Owens knew her, the man wouldn’t recognize her. If Henry hadn’t witnessed the transformation, he might not have recognized her himself. She looked older, more sophisticated, and, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, sexier, than she had earlier.
“Let’s go.” He opened his door. “We are already a few minutes late.”
“My name is Lucy,” she said as she grabbed the door handle. “Lucy Knight.”
“Sit tight, Lucy Knight,” he said. “I’ll get your door for you.”
While walking around the car, he took a moment to focus on his undercover role, Donald Knight, whose wife was Lucy. An amazingly beautiful woman.
He placed a hand on the small of her back as they walked into the office of Owens Construction Company, and took great pride in introducing his undercover wife, Lucy Knight.
Once settled in a chair inside Blake’s office, Henry explained that he and his wife would be moving to California within a few months and were interested in having a home built for them, in Hollywoodland.
Lifting a brow as dark as the black hair on his head, Blake asked, “Would you be interested in a different location?”
In an attempt to make their ploy look legitimate, Henry glanced at Betty. She smiled at him and shook her head.
“As you can see, we aren’t,” Henry said to Blake while reaching over and taking ahold of Betty’s hand. “Why do you ask?”
Blake ran a hand over the thin mustache covering his upper lip. “Because I can’t build a house in Hollywoodland.”
“Can’t?” Henry asked.
“Well, I’m perfectly capable of building a house anywhere, but I won’t build another one in Hollywoodland. I refuse to.”
Henry knew the man was capable of building anything, anywhere. He was the most sought-after builder in the city and Henry had only been able to acquire this meeting because he’d said he’d been referred by Lane. “Why?”
Blake leaned back in his seat. “Have you checked into the specifications of building a home in Hollywoodland?”
“We meet the financial qualifications,” Henry replied.
Blake shook his head as a flash of disgust crossed his face. “Dryer puts those right in his advertisements. William Dryer. He owns hundreds of acres that extend up into the mountains. What he doesn’t put in those ads is how he doesn’t care about building codes or safety regulations. Dryer has the builder he has working with him right now convinced those codes don’t apply to them.”
“Who is that?” Henry asked.
“James Bauer.”
Betty didn’t make a sound, but he felt her hand tremble beneath his.
Henry tightened his hold on her hand. “Is his work not up to par?”
“I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Knight.” Blake leaned forward and set his elbows on his desk. “I agreed to meet with you because Lane Cox asked me to. I’ve known Lane for years, and out of respect of our friendship, I didn’t attend his wedding because I knew William Dryer would make a point of asking me to leave.”
Henry threaded his fingers through Betty’s as her hand trembled harder.
Keeping up with the premise of being out-of-towners, Henry asked, “Oh? Dryer was at Lane’s wedding?”
Blake let out a huff. “Lane married one of Dryer’s daughters. That Dryer had grown-up daughters shocked the entire community because those of us who knew Dryer had children didn’t realize they were adults. The way Dryer talked about them led everyone to believe they were still young children.”
“How?” Henry wanted to know.
“Just different things he’d say. When I worked there, he claimed he couldn’t put any money toward roads or utilities because it took all he had to keep his children fed and clothed. He was always complaining about money, as if he’ll never have enough. Other than comments now and again, he never really said anything specific about his family.”
“When did you build houses for Dryer?”
“Three years ago.” Blake shrugged. “I did build a house out there last year, for Jack McCarney, but I built it for Jack directly. He bought the land from Dryer first.”
“Can you do that for us?”
“No, Dryer didn’t like that, and put an end to it,” Blake answered. “He won’t sell just the land. It has to be a package deal. People pick out the lot they want and the house they want. Bauer builds the house and it’s sold as one, house and land. If you ask me, Dryer is tying his own noose.” He shrugged then. “Not that too many people care.” He leaned back in his seat. “They both will when the lawsuits start hitting him.”
Betty gasped at that.
Henry gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before asking, “What lawsuits?”
“The city council has adopted many specific ordinances over the past decade, from who can keep a cow on their property to where cemeteries can be built, and everything in between. They’ve also laid down specific building requirements, of which a builder can be fined for and made to replace or repair. Bauer is building those houses with two-by-four frames. They aren’t strong enough to support houses of that size, but with over twenty thousand homes being built each year, the city can’t keep up with inspecting every build, so he’s getting away with it. The first rumble of any sizable earthquake and those houses Bauer is building are going to rattle apart, and mark my words, the people buying those houses will expect that the work is all warranted.”
The phone on Blake’s desk rang. “Sorry,” he said and picked up the phone. “Give me five minutes,” he said into the speaker. “My apologies, again,” he said to them as he hooked the phone back on its stand. “I have another appointment, but I’d highly recommend you folks look elsewhere to build a house. There is plenty of property just as nice as Hollywoodland and a different builder will build you one that will last a lifetime.” He slid a piece of paper across his desk. “These are some of the houses I’ve built, and some lots that are for sale at reasonable prices. If you care to take a look at them, we can talk again.”
Henry picked up the paper. “Thanks. This will be helpful.”
Blake stood up as Henry rose and then assisted Betty out of her chair.
“I hope I didn’t dissuade you from moving here,” Blake said. “It’s a good place to live, and, well, I just believe people should get what they pay for.”
Henry held out his hand and shook Blake’s. “We appreciate your honesty, and we’ll take a look at these properties.”
Blake held his hand out to Betty. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Knight.”
She took ahold of his hand, shook it. “You, too, Mr. Owens. Good day.”
“Good day,” Blake repeated to her, and then added, “Just give me a call when you’re ready to talk again.”
“We will,” Henry replied, guiding Betty to the door with a hand on her back. He’d be calling Blake Owens soon. Very soon. He had more questions about Bauer and held no doubt that Owens could answer them.