Chapter Ten
Tutti moved closer to hear Sam’s answer to Stuart. Hap and Illingsworth ceased talking, and Byron hovered by Zoey. The little group was tight around him; Sam was the center of attention and it made him more than a little uncomfortable. Despite the wind kicking up a bit and the party being outside, he felt suddenly claustrophobic. He’d come here searching for answers, but he, being Joe’s brother, had been elevated to some kind of quasi-celebrity status and was the one being questioned.
“Any theories?” Stuart asked.
“What else could it be?” Sam said, echoing Zoey. He wasn’t going to believe Joe had set fire to the boat himself.
“Maybe the engine caught fire,” Tutti said.
No, it was a gas fire. Deliberately changing the subject, Sam asked, “Does anyone else have a key to Joe and Jules’s house? Tutti gave me hers. I’m trying to lock things up. Make sure it’s all safe, since Jules will be there alone when she gets home. Just want to know if there’re other keys out there.”
Bette said, “We have one. We exchanged keys with Joe and Julia. Georgie watches our dogs sometimes.”
“And she damn near got her hand bitten off by that big one,” Joanie said, crossing her arms.
“Less was just playing,” Stuart assured her.
Bette was nodding and glanced across the canal where her dogs were both now standing at attention. “He . . . he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
“He’s a goddamn guard dog and he’s fucking scary!” a woman’s voice hollered furiously.
Everyone turned around to see Jackie standing belligerently by the back door, another martini in hand.
“Jesus, Jack,” Rob muttered. He went to his wife, looking pissed. When he put his hand on her shoulder she shrugged it off and walked unsteadily back inside. Rob followed her in and some of the others who had clustered around Sam backed off a bit, turning their attention elsewhere.
“She’s a mess,” Zoey muttered, burying her nose in her own wineglass.
“No more than usual,” Byron muttered. “A textbook case of why marriage doesn’t work.”
Zoey made a face, then said to Sam in a bored voice, “Byron loves any opportunity to put down marriage. Any opportunity at all. But that’s not Jackie’s problem. You know what it is?”
Sam really wanted to know about the keys, but he shrugged and waited.
Zoey glanced over to Bette and Stuart Ezra, who were talking to Joanie Bledsoe and Scott Keppler. Tutti was with them, too, though she kept fussing with her hair, as if she wasn’t into the conversation.
“Jackie’s pissed off because Stuart has no interest in her anymore. She came with money, and so that interested him for a while, but now he’s moved on to . . . Tutti.”
Byron groaned. “You’re such a bitch,” he declared.
“Oh, shut up. It’s the worst kept secret on the canal.” Zoey lifted her chin. “You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. Sam might as well, too. Right, Sam?” She turned to him. “You’re here because of your brother. You want to know what happened to him, and Tutti gave you an opportunity to meet us all. So, now you’re thinking, which one of us did it, right? Like it wasn’t just an accident, no matter what you say, and all of us are all up in each other’s business? You want to know who’s close to Joe and Julia, close enough to maybe use their boat or have a key or—”
“Jesus Christ.” Byron stomped off from her as two ducks landed on the water and the dogs across the canal started up a ruckus.
Zoey watched him leave, her jaw set. “He makes me crazy,” she said unhappily. “But I’m not wrong, am I?” she asked as Bette yelled across the canal and the dogs, surprisingly, shut up as the ducks, flapping and quacking their indignation, flew into the darkening sky.
“About Jackie? I don’t know.”
“About you, Sam.”
“I want to know what happened to my brother, yeah.”
“Was it an accident?” she persisted.
“You know, Zoey, when I find out, I’ll let you know.”
She snorted, then sent him a sideways smile. “Okay. Sorry. Sometimes I just want people to just say what they’re thinking. And in answer to your question, we don’t have a key, Byron and me. But around here with all those kids . . . Rob and Jackie’s boys, and Joanie’s girls, they’re in and out of each others’ houses all the time, y’ know. And then there’s Tutti’s kids with their damned drone,” she said disparagingly. “She says she makes them take it to the beach, but she doesn’t. They don’t listen to her. And that thing could drive us all fucking batshit, and those dogs . . . they go nuts.” She shot Less and More an unkind look though they’d stopped barking and were now just sitting and watching the party in silence. “Luckily, Tutti’s kids are only here on the weekends. But none of them would give a shit about who has whose keys.”
Sam made an executive decision and decided to be upfront with Zoey. “The first time I went into Jules and Joe’s house, there was a note on the counter. It said ‘Cardaman file.’ Like it was a reminder of something. I went in later and it was gone. Someone came in and removed it.”
“Cardaman.” Zoey frowned. “Well, couldn’t it have just fallen down or something? Got stuck somewhere?”
“That was my first thought, but I searched. It’s not there.”
“The Cardaman file,” she said again. “Huh. You should ask Hap about that. He’s the finance guy.”
“What do the Ezras do?” Sam asked, given the opportunity.
“Bette’s all into yoga and fitness and all that namaste stuff. Stuart? He’s in sales of some kind, I think. Maybe cars. Last week he was talking about the new Mercedes truck, or whatever, like he could have an orgasm over it.”
“Is he really seeing Tutti?” Sam asked.
Zoey lowered her voice. “I don’t know for sure. I was just kind of being bitchy to Byron. Ask Julia about Stuart. She never said, but I think she caught him with someone. Stuart’s kind of a horndog. But Tutti? She’s still in love with that asshole Dirk, no matter what she says. The bastard. Jackie . . . she’s another case altogether. She might’ve been with Stuart. Joanie said she saw her in Seaside with some older man, but Joanie always goes for the drama. Jackie’s problem is she drinks too much. Period.”
“Huh,” Sam said. It all sounded like just gossip, but Zoey seemed fairly tapped in to the goings-on on Fisher Canal. “How was . . . Joe and Jules’s relationship?” he asked diffidently.
“Good, I guess.” She smiled faintly. “How did that happen? I’ve always wanted to know. You were with her and then you married”—she glanced over at Martina, who was out of earshot but seemed to be watching them like a hawk—“that. And then your brother’s with Julia.”
“Things happen,” Sam said, tipping up his bottle and finishing his beer.
It was as if some silent command had been issued because everyone began moving toward the barbecue en masse. Even Jackie came back outside, with Rob Illingsworth’s hand firmly clasped around her upper arm to keep her on her feet. Sam filled his own plate with ribs, a scoop of upscale macaroni and cheese from the Ezras, and a healthy helping of Byron and Zoey’s mixed green salad, heavy with kale, dried cranberries, jicama, and sunflower seeds, and dressed with something lemony and light.
Sam had been living on fast food and diner fare for so long that it was a pleasure to have a real meal. He took his plate down to the dock, sank into one of the chairs, and just ate.
Martina came down the steps, plate in hand, mostly salad. “May I join you?”
He silently gestured to another chair. He didn’t actively dislike his ex-wife, but he wasn’t seeking out her company, either.
“I heard what Zoey said. About why you came here tonight.”
“Tutti invited me because I’m Joe’s brother and I was at the house, and she thought I’d like to meet some of the people who live on the canal, you know, get out a little bit.”
“Yeah, but you came to learn about Joe and Julia. I don’t blame you. I want to know what happened, too. So does Hap.”
Sam had questions of his own and Martina seemed to want to talk. He asked, “What’s the true financial connection between Hap and Joe? Is Cardaman somehow involved?”
“Cardaman. Ask Hap. I don’t know. I don’t think either of them had anything to do with that man. His clients are screwed.” Her face set harder. “My dad’s one of them.”
Sam said in some surprise, “Your father?”
“That’s right. Mom and Dad moved to Portland, and they’re renting a place. They have to be careful now.”
“I’m sorry. What about . . . Walter Senior?”
“Oh, Hap’s dad’s still okay. He knows how to hang on to a dollar. He’s not handing over anything to Hap, no matter what everybody says. Hap’s gotta do the dance for his father. He never paid attention to the company when he was younger. Just wanted to play football. But he got injured right away in college and that was over. Now he has to beg for every little crumb. What an idiot.”
“Huh,” Sam said.
“Oh, Hap’s an ass. He’s always been an ass. He’ll always be an ass. Why don’t you ask what’s really on your mind?”
“What’s really on my mind?” Sam wondered.
“‘Tina, why are you with Hap, if he’s such an ass?’ The answer is, I don’t know. He’s not a horrible guy and I’ve met some horrible guys. After you and I split up, I went to Seattle, and I met horrible guy after horrible guy. Now, I just want to settle down and have things be better.” She gazed at him frankly. “Wish things had worked out for you and me, sugar.”
This was definitely dangerous territory. “We weren’t good for each other,” Sam said carefully.
“I wasn’t good for you, not the other way around. And I wasn’t good for myself, either. But I’m better now.”
This new Martina worried Sam, so he simply nodded and let the subject lie. The Tina he’d met earlier in the day, the one standing beside Hap on the porch outside Joe and Jules’s house in the clingy blue dress, heels, and smart attitude. . . that was the one he recognized.
“I also overheard you tell Zoey there was a note about Cardaman that disappeared. If I were you? I’d check with the teenagers,” Martina advised. “Tutti’s boys, Sean and Devon? They popped in and out yesterday. Maybe they did it. They’re troublemakers, but then, hey, weren’t we all back in the day?”
“I thought they only came on weekends.”
“Yeah, well, I saw them on this very dock. Dirk came and picked them up, and I heard Tutti invite him to the barbecue, but of course he wouldn’t come.”
Sam had seen Tutti on her deck when he’d first gotten to Joe and Jules’s, then again later. Both times she’d been alone. “Maybe because she calls him the bastard.”
“He is the bastard,” Tina said, shivering a little at a kicky evening breeze. “He left her for somebody in his office.”
“What kind of office?”
“Chiropractor. Guess they were using the tables for more than just ‘adjustments.’”
“Zoey inferred that something might have happened between Tutti and Stuart.”
“Maybe . . .” Martina made a face. “Stuart thinks he’s all that. But rumor has it he was really with Jackie. Maybe he’s the one who drove her to drink.” She laughed shortly. “I don’t know how Bette stands it. She just kind of ignores it all and hopes it goes away, I guess. But Stuart and Tutti . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t see it, do you?”
Sam looked over to where Stuart was still talking with his wife and Scott Keppler, who was putting out a cigarette into an ashtray Tutti had set out on the deck rail. Tutti was a few feet away, looking at Stuart, but Sam wasn’t sure what her expression meant. She seemed to be thinking hard about something, but it didn’t seem like . . . lust.
“So, what about you?” Tina asked. She had moved the lettuce leaves around on her plate but he hadn’t seen her eat a bite. All she’d done was lift her wineglass to her lips. “I mean, I know this is a terrible time and all, but what are you doing? You quit the force and . . . that’s where you are?”
“That’s about it.” Sam had finished eating everything but the barbecued ribs and now picked up one of them, biting into the meat and effectively cutting off conversation . . . until some of the other Fishers decided to join them.
Hap was first down the stairs, a bottle of wine held loosely in one hand, his glass in the other. He poured himself a drink and said, “So, Sam, you’re not moving into the house?” He nodded across the canal.
“Nope,” Sam mumbled.
Stuart, Bette, and Scott Keppler followed behind with Joanie and Tutti on their heels. Rob and Jackie were still on the upper deck, and it appeared Rob was giving his wife a serious talking-to.
Hap sauntered over and refilled Tina’s nearly empty glass. “Maybe I’m talking out of turn here, Sam, but I know a thing or two about Joe’s personal finances.”
“Well, there you go. We were just talking about what your financial arrangement is with Joe,” Tina said, offering him a smile, and as he lifted the bottle, said, “Don’t be stingy.”
“Truth?” Hap poured a little more into Martina’s glass. “Mainly it’s just Summit Ridge. We’re still trying to buy those houses out of the Cardaman shit bucket. They’re all good properties.”
Sam set down his last rib, wiping his mouth with his napkin, then cleaning off his fingers. “The houses in Salchuk? The ones that Cardaman sold over and over again. I thought they were never finished.”
“They’re not,” Stuart said.
“Some are,” Hap insisted. “Nobody ever really owned ’em, so nobody ever lived in ’em. They’re just waiting there, and they’re great houses. They just need to be cleaned up, or finished. They’ve got sweet views.”
“They’ll be tied up forever in legal red tape,” Scott Keppler said dryly, and reached into his shirt pocket for a near empty pack of Winstons.
“Where’re you getting the money to finish them?” Bette asked.
Hap gave Stuart’s wife a long look, like he resented the question. “I’m in the business, Bette. This is what I do.”
Tina caught Sam’s eye and shook her head very slightly.
Tutti said, “Ah, ah, ah. I feel like you guys are going to get in a fight over money again. Let’s not do this.”
“They’re not going to be tied up forever,” Hap said to Keppler as Scott lit up. “Joe and I were both interested in saving and finishing those houses. It’s good for everybody.”
“Except the investors Cardaman screwed over,” Stuart pointed out.
“Not my problem,” Hap told him coldly.
Tina put in, “Sam said there was a note about Cardaman on the table in Joe and Julia’s house yesterday, but when he went back it wasn’t there.”
Everyone looked at Sam. He was a little irked at Martina, but he just went with it. And actually, the more people who knew it, the better. “I think someone took it from the house.”
“Georgie?” Bette suggested.
“She was still with her mother,” Sam said.
“You sure it’s not just lost?” Keppler asked. He’d walked a few steps away to keep the smoke from his cigarette out of range.
“Maybe,” Sam said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe it.
No one had anything more to say about that.
Hap put in, a bit grumpily, “Two years I’ll have those Summit Ridge houses finished and they’ll sell in the millions. Better be nice to me, Zoey, if you want the listing.”
“I’m always nice to you, Hap,” Zoey responded, but her eyes were cool.
It’s about the money. Donald had been right. Sam decided he needed to talk to his father again, hit him with the specifics of Summit Ridge. Hope that Donald was having a good day. Tomorrow. Maybe before he picked up Jules.
Keppler couldn’t let it go. “I warned Joe about Summit Ridge. Told him not to go in with you on this. Sorry, Hap, but like Cardaman, you have investors you need to do right by. That’s what I told Joe.”
“I know,” Hap said tightly.
Sam wondered what had happened between Keppler and his brother, why the lawyer and Joe had parted ways. Keppler and Hap sure didn’t seem to like each other much.
“Stop it,” Tina said, lightly slapping Hap’s arm as he’d walked over to stand right beside her. “You’ll give Sam the idea that all we do is fight, and that’s just not how it is around here. We’re all friends.”
Stuart ignored Tina and said, “A lot of people lost their shirts on those properties.”
“You talking about Summit Ridge?” Rob called down to them.
“Yes, Rob,” Tina responded in a loud, bored voice.
“Anybody need another drink?” Tutti asked.
“I’m good.” Drawing on his cigarette, Scott Keppler moved past them and back up the stairs to where Rob Illingsworth was hanging over the rail, listening to the conversation below. His wife, Jackie, was staring across the canal toward Jules and Joe’s house. Sam’s eyes followed hers and he saw a light had come on. He started, half got out of his chair, then relaxed when he realized the light was on an automatic timer.
“Sam,” Hap said. Now he was between Sam and Tina, his back to the rest of the crowd. “When are you getting together with Joe’s lawyers? People are going to be calling when they learn Joe’s . . . gone. Somebody needs to take over.”
“Not me,” Sam said.
“Joe told me he split his estate between you and Julia. That includes the house and Joe’s business. Some of these deals need to be looked at ASAP. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
“Oh, God, Hap, really?” Tina muttered, with a roll of her expressive eyes. She took another sip from her glass.
Joanie Bledsoe had moved nearer just in time to hear what Hap said. Now she asked on a half gasp, “Does Julia know?”
“That can’t be right,” Sam said. Surely his brother had left his estate to Jules. It annoyed him that Hap was blabbing about his brother’s finances in front of the Fishers, and thinking about Joe was making him feel low.
Hap urged, “Talk to the lawyers. I think Joe moved to Fairbanks and Vincent in Salchuk.”
Salchuk again. Sam was going to have to get into Joe’s office and soon. Maybe there was a key in the house somewhere. Gathering up his plate, Sam decided it was time to leave. “Did any of you see Joe’s boat leave yesterday?” he asked.
They all looked at each other and shook their heads. Bette Ezra said, “We were all probably at work except Tutti.”
“I work,” Tutti sputtered, as if Bette had specifically offended her. “I just was off yesterday. I don’t work Wednesdays.”
“So, did you see the boat leave?” Joanie asked.
“No. I had to meet Dirk to pick up the boys. He needed me to take care of them for a few hours. The sitter was sick and he knows I don’t work Wednesdays.” Tutti sounded slightly defensive. “Joe must have taken the boat while I was gone. I saw Sam around noon on Joe’s dock, when I got back. The boys were playing video games and I was outside.”
They’d all moved to the upper deck. Jackie was finger-combing her hair and looking a little closer to sober. Her gaze trailed after Stuart, who seemed oblivious.
Twilight was upon them and people were beginning to clean up the food. Tutti said, “If Julia’s coming home tomorrow, we should all make a meal for her.”
Joanie pounced on that. “I was just thinking the same thing!”
At that point all of the women started discussing what menu items to make, although Jackie, Tina, and Zoey were listening with only half an ear. A cool breeze had cropped up, blowing off the ocean and rippling the waters of the canal. Sam said his good-byes and was heading for his canoe when Scott Keppler caught up to him. In a lowered voice, he said, “Hap should have kept his trap shut about Joe’s will. Born with a silver spoon, it sure’s never kept him from talking too much.”
“Why did Joe switch to Fairbanks and Vincent?” Sam asked the lawyer.
“Well, we had a parting of the ways, and . . . I’m taking some time to do something I’ve always wanted. I’m doing some commercial fishing. Got the biggest boat on Fisher Canal. Look down there.”
Keppler pointed down the waterway to a two-story house stained dark brown with a large trawler docked behind it. Sam figured the canal must be a hell of a lot deeper than he would have credited it to accommodate the size of the boat. “Fishing’s hard, uncomplicated work, which is just what I want. Cleans the palate, if you know what I mean. But I took a page or two from your brother’s book and bought some income property. Lost the wife and the house during the downturn, but hung on to most of my savings. Joe helped me out. I’m renting the house and I got the trawler. Own a couple of small properties south of Nehalem, and the kids come and see me, so it all worked out okay.”
Sam thought about his brother, about his business, his finances, his whole life. He knew so little about him apart from the basics. He knew Joe had married Gwen and that Gwen’s child from a teen relationship that hadn’t lasted became Joe’s adopted daughter. Then, that relationship had disintegrated, though Joe was still close to Georgie. He hadn’t known much of anything else other than that Joe had married Jules, of course. He certainly hadn’t known Georgie mostly lived with Joe and Jules.
Sam drifted out of his conversation with Keppler as Martina strolled his way again, wineglass in hand, the red liquid swaying with her hips as she approached. “I think you should stay at the house with Julia,” she said. “She’s going to need help and Lord knows Georgie can’t do it.”
“Georgie’s with her mother right now.”
“Well, then, you’re the only one. It’s terrible about Joe and that’s going to be hard for Julia, too. Besides, it would be nice to have you in the neighborhood. We could use someone like you.” Was there a bit of come-on in her eyes as she looked up at him through her lashes? With Tina, you never knew.
“I’ll figure out who can stay with Julia.”
“If it was you, maybe she’d be nicer to me.”
“Jules isn’t nice to you?”
“Don’t be dense, sugar. I was married to you. She never forgave me for that.”
“She married my brother.”
“Big fucking deal. I was the girl who took you away. And when she married Joe, that about killed you, too.”
“That’s not—”
“Shut up, Sam. It’s true. You and Julia . . . Jesus. Joe knew it, too, but we all acted like it wasn’t there. You should’ve gotten over it long ago, but you didn’t, so here we are. And,” she added, when he tried to break in, “I’d normally be the last person who would tell you to stay with Jules, but these aren’t normal times. Your brother’s gone, and he was a good guy. I’m going to miss him, too.”
Sam couldn’t find anything to say to that.
“I miss you, too, Sam, but you were never really present when we were together anyway. And you weren’t with Dannella, either. Only with Julia.”
“You talk to Dannella?” Sam was taken aback. He hadn’t been aware his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend even knew each other.
“Oh, sugar.” She shook her head at him as if he were a lost cause. “I saw Dannella strolling her new baby down to the beach in Salchuk. She’s happy now. Has a husband who’s present.”
“Well, good. I’m glad.”
“Are you?” She swallowed a gulp of wine and peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Dammit, you probably are. Give everybody a hand and say how great they are while you’re running away.”
Once more Sam looked across at Jules and Joe’s house. He wondered if he’d learned anything here tonight. He was damn tired all of a sudden, and he wanted to be alone. His head was full of information and he needed to sift through it all, winnow it down, separate out anything that might aid him in his investigation, throw the rest away.
“It was good seeing you, Tina. But I gotta run.”
“Asshole,” she murmured as he climbed into his canoe, but there was a note of amusement in her voice as well.
The Illingsworths’ two boys were just arriving, having been summoned by their parents. They showed up in matching kayaks, the sleek crafts slicing easily through the waters of the canal. The boys were in the late tween stage somewhere, eleven to thirteen, and starting to fill out. About Georgie’s age, he realized.
“Sam!”
He looked around to see Joanie hurrying up to him. “You’re leaving?” she asked him, but her eyes were on the Illingsworth boys.
“I’m tired,” Sam admitted.
“Of course you are. I’m so sorry. And I’m sick at heart about Joe. You sure you can’t have another drink? That wine you brought is yummy.”
“Actually, it was from Joe and Jules. And thanks, but I gotta go.”
“You’re picking up Julia tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“Ask her about Georgie, please. I know my girls are going to want to know when she’ll be back. If she’ll be back,” she amended. “She’s really a pretty good kid.”
“Okay.”
“And be careful,” she added as an afterthought, which he didn’t know what to make of.
Sam paddled back across the canal. As he neared Joe’s dock he caught a glimpse into the house next door, the Ezras. The dogs had gone inside, probably through a dog door or one left open. Now they pushed their heads through the curtains, noses up against the glass sliding door. Upon seeing Sam, a stranger, they emitted loud, low-throated growls that could freeze the blood.
Across the canal, Bette yelled, “SHUSH!!” which this time they ignored completely.
They kept it up until Sam had entered the house and walked through, making certain everything was secure. Then he turned out the lights except for the one on its timer. After double-checking all the doors and windows, latching the one he’d climbed through before, he went out the front door, locked up, then drove back to the cabin.
* * *
He stood outside Emergency, watching through the sliding glass doors. Nothing happening tonight. No ambulances screaming in. No injured or sick would-be patients arriving. Quiet and slow.
Which wasn’t working for him. He needed the craziness and bedlam of trauma in order to sneak inside. All the other doors were locked for the night, and the way in was through Emergency.
He sat in his killing vehicle, the gray, five-year-old Honda Civic that was registered to an older man he knew who’d moved to Alaska and was, he’d learned recently, in a nursing home and at death’s door. He’d stolen a few license plates since then, making sure there was a lot of time left on the tags, and he kept the Civic parked down by the marina where there was an empty lot that had become a place you could leave your vehicle with a For Sale sign in its windshield. He always made the phone number smudged enough that it was impossible to read, and he kept the would-be price on the high side. Even so he’d had interested buyers leave him notes under the windshield, asking if he’d take a little less and leaving their phone numbers. He gathered those phone numbers for future use. He even knew the name of one potential buyer, a man named Corey who was kind enough to give his address in Seaside, just in case he might need it someday.
But tonight was a problem. He was tucked into his hoodie, his face pointed downward to make sure the cameras couldn’t capture his features, the hypodermic in his pocket. This wasn’t like killing Denny, which had been a sheer blast. That had been dangerous, sure, but no one had even missed the unlucky bastard. Tiny Tim from the bar might remember Bridget, if it ever came to that, but neither of them was a regular, like Denny had started to become, and no one knew their true names.
Should he try to get inside and take care of Julia tonight? It was dangerous. Foolhardy. The kind of thing that gave him a hard-on. She’d seen him on the boat and she could identify him, that was for sure, so he needed to make certain she was gone for good. It was crazy that he wasn’t more concerned, but then he’d heard through his sources that she might not ever remember the accident. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t in the future, but he felt lucky about the whole thing somehow.
Or maybe that was just his cock talking because he’d like nothing better than to stick it to Joe Ford’s widow. He’d always kind of had a thing for her.
But no, that was too risky. He needed to remove her. Remove the problem. That’s what Bridget wanted him to do, and she always thought she knew best.
She does know best, you asshole. You know she does.
But Julia Ford . . . mmm-mmm . . . luscious in that girl next door sort of way. She’d been in the back of his mind when he’d been eyeing those college girls. They’d been sloppy, sexy, and sweet, but dirty in a way he really liked, but he dug Julia’s strangely virginal appeal, even though he knew for a fact she’d fucked both of the Ford brothers, even more.
Sam Ford . . . He thought furiously about him for a moment. Ex-policeman, ex-husband of Martina Montgomery. . . How had that loser gotten two of the best-looking women on the whole coastline?
“He couldn’t keep ’em, though, could he?” he growled aloud.
He looked again at the black, hulking hospital with its brilliantly lit Emergency Room.
Fuck her or kill her . . . or both.... Now was the time.
He got out of the car and headed for the doors, head down.
* * *
Jules came to suddenly, fully awake. She was lying in the hospital bed, had been dozing rather than dead asleep after a hard afternoon going over and over Phoenix Delacourt’s words. She’d given the woman a file that could prove, or disprove, her husband’s involvement in financial wrongdoing, and worrying about it had worn her out. Finally, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep, but now she was awake again and full of unnamed fear.
She’d heard something, hadn’t she? It was dead quiet tonight except for the faint hum of the air ducts, the heating and cooling system holding the temperature.
There it was. Footsteps and the soft thunk of the elevator doors closing. Someone on the floor, coming her way.
Without conscious thought her fingers found the call button and she depressed it. A faint chime sounded, way down the hall. Was that her bell? Probably. But what if no one heard her?
Pulse rising, she climbed silently out of her bed and moved toward the closet, then realized that wasn’t going to work. Not enough room. Quickly and quietly she lay down on her back, feeling a twinge in her arm, a throb in her head, then she slid herself under the bed, pulling the bedcovers down on the side nearest the door, hiding herself from view, she hoped with all her heart.
Whoever it was was taking his sweet time. She pictured him peeking in rooms, checking the beds. Why she was so certain he was after her she couldn’t say. Some primal awareness that rose beyond the gray veil.
He tiptoed to her door; she sensed the light quickness. She held her breath, counting her heartbeats. Please come . . . please, please come, she silently begged the hospital staff.
If he yanked back the draping covers she would be exposed and then . . . what? She had no alternate plan.
Except screaming. Screaming for all she was worth.
He took a step inside, then a second. A moment’s assessment. She was dizzy with fear.
Then, in the hallway, another sound. Strolling footsteps making no effort to disguise themselves. Some employee working graveyard, heading down the hallway. Had that person heard her call? God, she hoped so!
The man in her room—she was pretty sure it was a man, though she had no reason to know—took a couple of steps. She envisioned him peering out the door, waiting for the employee to disappear. Her own pulse was damn near deafening her. Over its roar she heard those casual footsteps approaching, then . . . no, no, no! They were growing fainter! The person had turned down some other hallway or gone into some other room.
Oh . . . God . . . oh, God . . .
The man exhaled softly, tensely. Then to Jules’s relief he tiptoed back out. Was he leaving? Or, was he just checking to make sure he was still safe?
Her head pulsed with the stress and her shoulder ached.
Jules stayed where she was, not trusting that he’d truly moved on. Time passed.... She was nearly frozen with fear. An hour must have gone by.
Finally she dared peek around the bedclothes to realize he was gone.
* * *
Her cell phone vibrated on her nightstand in the darkness. Quickly she swept it up, holding her breath.
“Bridget?” his voice asked.
She glanced to the other side of her bed, then back to her cell where she saw the time. A little after midnight. The moon was high in the sky and a finger of moonlight slipped through the curtains, making it easy to see as she tiptoed out of the room and gently closed the door behind her. “Is it done?” she asked softly.
“Two things,” he said tightly. “One. The only way into the hospital is through Emergency, this time of night. I went in and made it without being seen, but I didn’t have the room number, only the floor.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t in any of the rooms I went into.”
“What do you mean?”
He snorted in disbelief. “What do you think I mean? She wasn’t there. Not on the fourth floor. There was one guy walking around beside the nurse’s station, and I almost shit myself when he came down the hallway. I’m probably on every fucking camera, too.”
“You were seen?” Her voice was a choked screech.
“Hoodie covered me and I kept my head down, but if that fucking orderly or nurse, or whatever the hell he was, had seen me, he would’ve thought it was weird. And there was a nurse coming, too. I had to get the hell out.”
“You promised you would take care of her!” she hissed, infuriated and scared. “You promised!”
“I know . . . but we’ve got something else anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man has another problem he wants us to take care of.”
“Oh, fuck.” She could feel herself going into the danger zone and held on to her cool with an effort. “Julia will recognize you. You’ve got to take care of her tonight!”
“I’ll take care of her when she’s at home, and anyone else who gets in the way.”
“Oh, big man.”
“Yeah, big man,” he agreed, ignoring her sarcasm.
“And what about that . . . Cardaman note Sam Ford was talking about? You took it, didn’t you?”
“Shut up and let me tell you about this new job.”
“You took it! Why? This is exactly what I’m talking about when I tell you to stop going rogue. Stick to the plan. Now you’ve made Sam Ford suspicious!”
“I didn’t know he was going to be there, did I? I just saw the note and took it, so there wasn’t any evidence left. You’re the one always bitching about loose ends!”
“Fuck you, Tom.”
“Fuck you, Bridget.”
They were both breathing hard. She wanted to reach through the phone and wring his worthless neck.
“The man’s offered an extra piece. One hundred thousand dollars in cold hard cash. No banks. No IRS. No nothing.”
“Yeah? What do you have to do for it?”
“We have to remove an obstacle. The kind we like to remove.” A smile crept into his voice.
“Who’s the mark?” she asked, unable to stop herself, then, “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, you do,” he chuckled. “It gets you going like nothing else.”
“Fuck you,” she said again, and clicked off in disgust.
But she did have that jazzy little buzz going, he was right about that. Made her want to click her fingers and dance around a little. Made her want to screw.
Still, he was becoming a big, big problem. And the Julia Ford issue was getting bigger every day, too. Julia would recognize him. And he would buckle under pressure if he was caught. Right now Julia was still in the hospital, still contained, but what about when she was back on the canal? She would recognize him, for sure. Luckily, Julia still didn’t know that Bridget was involved in the boating accident.
But goddamn, there was no telling what he would do or say if he got caught.
She couldn’t have that. Couldn’t. He was a liability that was growing bigger and bigger every day.
And he was untrustworthy. She wasn’t the only woman in his life, no matter what he said. Or, at least she hadn’t been. Didn’t matter. She was going to have to start thinking in the long term and this . . . this period of lunacy would have to end. She hated the idea of giving up the killings. There was absolutely nothing like it. Nothing. But she was into self-preservation a hell of a lot more than thrills.
Tom’s days were numbered.
She just needed to figure out how to get rid of him . . . after they got the hundred thousand.