Читать книгу Under Surveillance - Gayle Wilson - Страница 12

Although Kelly Lockett knew to the last person how many patrons crowded the ballroom of the downtown hotel, she could see almost none of them. Their faces were lost in the darkness beyond the glare of the spotlights directed at the podium. She waited a moment for the applause to die down before she lifted her hand, gesturing for silence as if she had been doing this her entire life.

Actually, she had avoided such functions like the plague. They were the kind of thing Chad loved, so she had always let him handle them. Thankfully, he had turned out to be incredibly good at it.

So good that she couldn’t hope to fill his shoes, she thought with a swell of anxiety. Then she reminded herself that trying to take her brother’s place wasn’t why she was here.

“On behalf of my brother,” she began, speaking over the remaining splatters of applause.

Before she had gotten the last word out of her mouth, the clapping began again, growing into a thunderous ovation. First the men in their tuxedos and then their elegantly gowned companions began to stand all over the huge room.

Her eyes stung at the strength and duration of their spontaneous tribute. She bit the inside of her bottom lip, determined to get through this evening without crying. So far, all her tears had been shed in private. She didn’t intend to make a public spectacle of her grief tonight.

She waited, not attempting to speak until the noise had died down again and the only sounds in the vast ballroom were of people settling back into their chairs. Her eyes had apparently adjusted to the dazzle of light because she could identify some of those seated at the nearest of the small, round tables. Their faces were turned expectantly up to the dais where she stood.

She had made a point of speaking to most of them before dinner, and as much as she dreaded it, she would mingle with the crowd again after the auction. That was another talent Chad had had. Making people feel welcome. Making them want to participate and to feel good about what they were doing.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. Whatever her own motives were for being here tonight, her brother certainly deserved their applause. “As I had started to say, on behalf of my brother, I would like to welcome you to the eighth annual Lockett Legacy Dinner and Auction. As you know, Chad was a tireless fund-raiser for a number of causes, as well as being a true philanthropist himself. This particular event, however, always held a very special place in his heart.

“For one thing, this is the only one of the many organizations to which he devoted his time and considerable energy that bears our family name. For another, the charities to which you have so generously donated each year were chosen by him personally. This foundation was Chad’s baby, and I thank you all for continuing the good works he believed in so much.”

There was another round of applause, this one more perfunctory than the last. That was all right. The first had been for her brother himself, from his friends and colleagues. To Kelly it had been the far more important response.

“As you know, this year we have a very special auction arranged for you. This, too, was Chad’s brainchild, and he worked tirelessly to acquire the items you see around the room.” She paused a moment, allowing the audience to focus once more on the glass display cases that lined the walls. “I know he would want me to again thank the donors for making these beautiful garments available, and I do. I should also remind you that because we want to raise as much money as we can tonight, we have accepted a few prebids from some very serious collectors. You’ll have plenty of opportunity, I promise, to open your checkbooks and outbid them for anything that catches your eye.”

Polite laughter followed the remark, just as the citation in parenthesis on her note cards had said it would. No one who had seen them expected those prebids to be overruled. They had been allowed only on the rarest and most valuable items of tonight’s collection, and they had come in from all over the world. Kelly, along with everyone else associated with the Legacy, had been pleasantly surprised at the amounts.

“I rather fancied the off-the-shoulder black dress that belonged to Princess Diana,” she continued, following the script she’d been given. “I even thought about breaking open my piggy bank to see if there was enough there to make a down payment.”

More polite laughter at what could only be classified as a very lame joke, given the Lockett wealth. And that, too, was okay, Kelly decided.

She had been able to relax a little as she mouthed this nonsense, and the urge to cry for how much better Chad would have done this had finally passed. All she had to do now was give the last of her professionally written introduction, and then the actual auction would begin.

Once it had, she would have a chance to catch her breath. Maybe even to grab a glass of the champagne that would be flowing freely as an inducement to bidding. There was only this one last hurdle to get past.

“Unfortunately, that one didn’t fit. A height issue,” she said. More laughter at her acknowledgement of her small statue. “Actually, since no alterations were allowed to any of the garments, the dresses our models will wear tonight are recreations of the originals you see in the cases. As is this.”

She stepped from behind the lectern and walked to the head of the raised runway that had been set up in the center of the room. She paused a moment, more to calm her nerves than to showcase the dress, although it surely deserved the spotlight.

Even though she was far more at home in jeans and a sweater, Kelly had to admit there had been something completely sensuous about slipping the flame-red evening gown over her head. With a whisper of silk, it had settled around her hips and breasts like a glove.

Behind her, the voice of the professional announcer picked up where she had left off. “As any couturier will tell you, in order to truly understand the magic of a garment, it is necessary to see it worn. Therefore, we’ve arranged a very special showing for you tonight.”

Carefully coached in the same glide the professional models would use, Kelly began her journey down the runway. The chorus of oohs that followed her was proof that her advisors had been right about the gown. Both the color and its strapless design made it a showstopper. Or in this case, a show starter.

“Miss Lockett is modeling a copy of a vintage Givenchy with matching stole. The dress was created for Audrey Hepburn, the designer’s favorite star, to wear in the film Funny Face. I’m sure you all remember the scene in which Miss Hepburn descends the stairs at the Louvre wearing this same gown.”

According to the script, at that exact moment Kelly should have reached the end of the runway, which jutted out into the middle of the room. In front of her was a series of six steps that led down to the floor of the ballroom. Just as Hepburn had in the movie, she raised her arms to shoulder height, displaying the matching red silk stole, before she started down the steps.

“I’ll tell you in confidence that there isn’t a single prebid on this one,” the smooth voice from the stage behind her went on. “We’ve saved it just for you.”

Kelly had been advised to pick out a couple of people in the crowd to smile or nod to as she descended. She had begun searching the faces around her, looking for a familiar one, when her gaze seemed to lock on a masculine profile. Its features, silhouetted against the lights from the back of the room, were clean and strong, as classically proportioned as if they had been graven on some ancient coin.

At that exact moment, the man turned his head, his eyes meeting and holding hers. She couldn’t have said what color they were. Or even what he looked like. All she knew was that he was dark—both eyes and hair. Handsome in a rugged, completely masculine kind of way. Compelling.

Obviously, she thought, relieved when her stride carried her past the table where he was sitting. Although she continued along the predestined route all the models would take, designed to let the guests have a closer look at the garments, she had to resist the urge to turn her head and glance back at him over her shoulder.

And that was totally out of character. Especially given what had been happening in her life during the last few months.

Finally, thankfully, she reached the end of her performance. Before her were the double doors that led out of the ballroom and back to anonymity, with which she was far more comfortable.

Behind her she heard the auctioneer open the bidding on the original of the Givenchy knock-off she was wearing. The next couple of hours would be someone else’s responsibility—his and the other professionals hired from one of the top New York fashion houses. And she was more than ready to hand it over.

As she met the eyes of the security guard at the door, he nodded to her. The gesture somehow reminded her of her strange reaction to the man seated at the foot of the runway steps.

Again she had to force herself not to turn around and search the crowd for him. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if she did. All she would be able to see from here was that same sea of people she had faced before. She wouldn’t be able to pick him out. And if she encountered him again…

She wouldn’t be able to recognize him, she told herself resolutely. What had just occurred had been one of those bizarre incidents that happen to everyone at one time or another. Meeting the eyes of the handsome man in the cab next to you while you waited for a red light. Or in an elevator. Or a restaurant. It was absolutely nothing of consequence.

Which was good, she thought, as she slipped through the doors and out into the hall. She couldn’t afford any distractions. Certainly not one as time-consuming as a man like that might prove to be.

IN THE END it was after two o’clock before Kelly managed her escape, slipping out of the ballroom by a back door. Chad would have teased that that was the story of her life, she acknowledged, as she stood watching the numbers flash by on the parking-deck elevator, but she refused to feel guilty. Most of the crowd had gone. She had done her duty. Paid her dues. Made nice to anyone with a checkbook. Now she was going home.

She hadn’t bothered to change out of the copy of the Givenchy she’d modeled. She would return it later.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out, pulling the red stole more closely around her shoulders. After the heat of the ballroom, the night air felt cool against her skin.

She was surprised to find there were only a handful of cars left on this level. Of course, it had been reserved for those who would come early and leave late. And it seemed that despite her remorse at slipping out early, she must be one of the last to depart.

She started across the concrete, the sound of her high-heeled sandals echoing off steel beams and cement pillars. She expected the security guard to step out of his booth in response to the noise. He didn’t, however, and as she came closer to the location, she could tell that the security box was empty.

She glanced at her watch, but it was too dark to see the hands. Maybe security had gone off duty. That was something she should probably mention to the board when they met to rehash tonight’s successes and failures. Their patrons had a right to protection, no matter how late they stayed.

Her car, which was actually Chad’s car, was parked halfway up the far ramp. Before she headed over to it, she bent her head a little to take another look into the security booth. Definitely empty.

She stopped at the bottom of the ramp. Putting one hand on the cold metal of its railing for balance, she bent her knee, pulling the strap of her sandal more securely onto her heel.

She resisted the temptation to slip the shoes off. Despite the fact that they consisted of only a couple of crossed pieces of leather, by now the sandals had begun to rub. She could imagine what walking barefoot over the rough concrete of the ramp would do to her feet, however.

She looked up to estimate the distance to her car and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a shadow moving behind or under it. A rat? Or one of the city’s feral cats? There were plenty of both in D.C., but despite her attempt to find some rational, nonthreatening explanation for what she had just seen, the hair on the back of her neck began to lift, sending a shiver down her spine.

She looked again toward the security booth, an oasis of light in the dimness of the concrete structure, and then once more toward her car. The darkness increased sharply near the top of the ramp where it was parked.

Back to the elevator, she decided without any further hesitation. This time she would do what she should have done in the first place. She would get someone to walk her out here. Whatever was waiting in the shadows up there, she wasn’t about to face it on her own.

She turned, already taking the first step in retracing her journey, when her blood froze. Lined up between her and the elevator doors were three men. Or rather three teenagers, she amended, as her eyes skated back and forth between them.

Their youth wasn’t comforting. Not given their dress and demeanor. Actually, the latter was distinctly menacing.

As if in response to some unseen signal, they began to walk toward her. All the survival reflexes kicked in, sending a rush of adrenaline through her system.

Fight or flight. A hell of a choice, given that the three of them were blocking the only viable exit.

Maybe she was wrong about what she’d seen behind her car, she thought. Maybe it had been a rat. Something other than a cohort of the teens who were now advancing on her.

She slipped the strap of her evening bag off her wrist and fumbled her car keys out of it. Then she threw the purse underhanded toward the trio. It skidded to a stop about ten feet in front of them.

If their intent were to rob her, she’d make it easy for them. Maybe the purse would give them something to occupy themselves with while she made a run up the ramp to the car.

And if another one were waiting for her there, she’d deal with that when she arrived. Those odds were still better than trying to go through these three to get to the elevator.

She thought briefly again about taking off her shoes, but the boys were advancing more quickly now. The bag she’d thrown lay halfway between them and her position.

She had no idea whether they would be sufficiently distracted by it to allow her to escape. That would probably depend on what they wanted. If she tried to run before they had gotten to it, however, they might very well ignore the purse in order to come after her.

Almost before the thought had time to form, the boy in the middle reached the evening bag. He stooped to pick it up, his eyes never leaving hers.

As she watched, he took her wallet out and opened it. He made a show of running his thumb across the money in the bill compartment. She couldn’t remember how much was there. She never carried much cash, so it couldn’t be a great deal.

Please, God, let it be enough.

Then, without bothering to remove the money, he threw both the purse and billfold to the side and took another step toward her. As soon as he did, she rounded the railing, sprinting up the ramp toward her brother’s Jag.

The sound of their boots, amplified by the low overhang, pounded against the concrete behind her. She could tell that they were gaining on her. She released the stole she had unthinkingly hung on to and used both hands to pick up the long skirt of the red dress, freeing her legs from its constraints.

As she neared her car, a figure stepped from the shadows behind it. She dodged as it appeared in her peripheral vision, heading for the far side of the ramp instead of toward the car.

She was running full-out now, but still she couldn’t avoid him. He leaped across the expanse that separated them and grabbed her upper arm, long fingernails digging into her flesh.

He jerked so hard that she stumbled against him. Unconsciously she put her hand on his chest in an attempt to regain her balance.

She was close enough now that she could smell him. Stale sweat and cigarette smoke. He put his other hand on her bare shoulder, dragging her to him so that her breasts brushed the stained T-shirt he wore.

As they did, she finally realized why they hadn’t been tempted by the purse she’d thrown them. Apparently money had nothing to do with what they were after.