Читать книгу Covert Kisses - Jane Godman - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe city of Cody, in neighboring Park County, looked a lot like the city of Stillwater. It had the same wide main street, historic buildings and backdrop of snow-capped mountains. Laurie parked the rental car and looked out at her surroundings, drawing in a deep breath to steady her nerves. In all her years of working undercover, she had never had to make emergency contact with her handler. She supposed there had to be a first time for everything. And these circumstances certainly were unusual. Grabbing the portfolio of pictures that were her cover story together with the paper bag in which she had concealed the flower arrangement, she locked up the car.
When she found the nondescript attorney’s office, she made her way up the steps at the side of the building to the second floor. Moreton, who was leaning back in his chair drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, looked startled when, after a brief knock, she walked into the tiny office he was using.
“Another ten minutes and I’d have been gone.” He indicated the clock on the wall. The arrangement was he would be there for two hours each day from 9 a.m. “How are you?”
“Exactly how did Carla die?” Laurie didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries.
“In a boating accident. You read the file.”
“That’s not what I meant. What was the specific injury that killed her?”
Moreton frowned. “It’s always been assumed she drowned.”
“Assumed? Did you actually read the autopsy report?”
“Laurie, sit down. Take a breath. What’s this all about?”
Instead of doing as he said, she produced the heart-shaped flower arrangement from the paper bag and placed it on his desk. His eyes remained on the flowers for a moment or two, before lifting to her face. His expression was blank. “That was left in my cabin while I was out last night.”
“Someone got into your cabin?” Moreton pulled a pad of paper toward him and flipped it over to a blank page. “Who else has a key?”
“We can check that out later. How they got in is not the most important thing.” Moreton waited for her to continue. “Cameron told me last night Carla had a secret admirer. Someone who sent her a heart-shaped arrangement of red roses every week.”
“And you think whoever sent it was the same person who sent these to you? And that he could have murdered Carla?” Moreton was scribbling notes, following her thought processes fast.
“You have to admit it’s a possibility.”
He remained quiet while he studied the flowers. Laurie knew that look. It meant his analytical mind was weighing every probability. But she caught a glimpse of something else in his expression. A glimmer of acute emotion that looked a lot like excitement. It was gone as soon as it appeared. And it puzzled her. Moreton didn’t do excitement. Didn’t really do emotion. Maybe it had been a long time since he’d come across such an interesting lead with the potential of opening up a whole new case.
“Okay. I agree it’s possible Carla Bryan had a stalker. There’s even a chance she was murdered by the person who was sending her these flowers, and her death was mistakenly written off as an accident. Let’s not rule anything out. The first thing I need to do is what you’ve asked, and double-check the coroner’s report. I’ll let you know the actual cause of Carla’s death.”
“We could also try to find out where these flowers came from and if any were sent to Carla from the same supplier.”
“We?” He raised a brow. “You can’t do any investigating. You are not Detective Bryan of the San Diego Police Department. She hasn’t been around for a while, remember? You are Laurie Carter, children’s storybook illustrator, here in Wyoming on vacation. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk.”
“Okay.” Laurie felt a blush tinge her cheeks. Moreton’s reminder put her firmly in her place. In this investigation, she was powerless. In reality, she didn’t exist. Even her name was fake. She actually was Amy Carter-Bryan. Her middle name was Laurie, and that was what her family called her. She was an undercover detective in the San Diego Police Department. Two years ago her department had worked alongside the FBI on a series of homicides. Laurie and Moreton had collaborated closely on that case.
When Moreton needed someone here in Wyoming to get close to Cameron Delaney, he had begun his research. Pictures of Carla had instantly made him think of the young San Diego detective he had worked with. Incredibly, further probing had unearthed the information that the two women were related. Moreton had approached Laurie’s chief with a request for her to be assigned to the Bureau for this case...and here she was.
Laurie felt obliged to ask the question that had been bothering her since the previous night. “Could Cameron Delaney be wary of me? He might have made up this whole story about the flowers as an elaborate way of scaring me off. He could have had someone plant these in my cabin, in which case, I’ve already blown the whole operation.”
Moreton considered the suggestion, his head on one side. “I checked your credentials before I recruited you. You’ve never aroused any distrust before. If Delaney wanted to get rid of you, the flowers seem like an elaborate way to do it. He doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy. But you tell me what you want to do. If you think Carla’s stalker is targeting you, or Delaney’s guard is up, don’t go back to Stillwater. Come in now.”
Laurie had been afraid of this, had actually considered not bringing the flowers to him in case he insisted on ending the operation immediately. At least he was offering her options. “Let’s not be hasty. You’ve been trying for a long time to get someone close to Delaney Transportation. I’m not there yet, but I’m the best you’ve got. I won’t take any chances with my personal safety.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then he nodded. She got the feeling she’d given him the answer he wanted. Hell, she was having a lot of feelings today. Most of them uncomfortable. “Let’s meet again tomorrow morning. By that time, I’ll have had a chance to get the information we need. We’ll take it from there. In the meantime, you have your gun with you, right?”
“Of course I do.”
Having made arrangements to return to Moreton’s office the following day, Laurie headed back to her car. She was surprised and relieved Moreton had listened to her and, having done so, had not insisted on ending the operation there and then. It was a lack of caution that was out of character with what she knew of him, but then, what did she really know of Moreton? She didn’t even know his first name. Their interactions were limited to discussions of the case, and this one felt different from any other she’d been on. So different that she was tipped off balance. She had come here certain about her role, but now there was a possible new element to be considered that was throwing everything off-kilter.
She spent the drive back to Stillwater deep in thought, much of it going over the same ground she had covered the night before. She was already convinced Carla’s death was not an accident. But, if that was the case, who had killed her and why? The only person who seemed to be in the clear was Cameron. He had a watertight alibi for the night Carla died. Hundreds of people could vouch for his presence at the political function. He was the person who had told Laurie about Carla’s secret admirer and the flowers he sent her. And, unless he had an accomplice who had carried out the task on his behalf, he had been with Laurie last night and couldn’t have left the flowers in her cabin.
She was so preoccupied she had to slam on her brakes hard to avoid a truck as it pulled across the road in front of her and into the entrance to a concealed track. The black-painted trailer bore the words “Delaney Transportation” in bold red letters across its side. A timely reminder of the real reason why I’m here. Perhaps I should complain to Cameron about the carelessness of the driver? She pulled away again, watching the truck in her rearview mirror as it disappeared along the track. Away to her right, a hill shaped like an inverted funnel caught her eye, standing out stark and unusual against the surrounding flat landscape.
Laurie’s mother had talked to her about the openness of Wyoming. The vast tracts of unoccupied country through which you could drive and drive without seeing another vehicle. Towns with their population only just creeping into double figures, spread so far apart it took forever to get from one to the other. Scenery so beautiful it hurt your heart to look at it. Traditional ranches stretching beyond the horizon in every direction. Maybe her mother had instilled a love of this land into Laurie with her stories, but it pulled at her. It was a raw, powerful, unexpected feeling, unlike anything she had experienced for any other place.
On her arrival in Stillwater, Laurie stopped for groceries. Pulling up in front of the general store, Milligan’s, she tried to recall where she had heard the name mentioned. With her finely tuned memory for detail she recalled Dino saying something about a girl called Milligan running off with an unsuitable boyfriend. Small-town life.
Laurie supposed it was like having an extended family. It was a complete contrast to her own life. She had grown up without a father and was only discovering now that she had a cousin. Who knew how many other family members she had that she was unaware of? For her whole life, it had just been her and her mom. Because she hadn’t known any differently, she had accepted their lack of family and close friends as normal. She knew, of course, that her fierce independence and determination not to rely on others stemmed from that isolation. Now, for the first time, she thought it must be kind of comforting to think everyone knew your name and watched out for you.
Laurie was the only customer, and she selected her few purchases, making her way to the single checkout. The woman behind the counter put aside the magazine she had been reading and greeted her with a listless gaze. Laurie’s eyes were drawn to the poster at the side of the checkout. It was a photograph of a pretty, smiling girl with blue eyes and long dark hair. Emblazoned across the top in bold font were the words “Have you seen this girl?” Below, in smaller lettering, were details of when and where Deanna Milligan was last seen, a plea for her to contact her mom and a cell phone number. Laurie had glimpsed a few similar posters around town, but this was the first time she had seen one up close.
An icy little worm wound its way up Laurie’s spine as she studied the picture. Although Deanna Milligan was much younger than Carla, they both had the same coloring and there were some similarities about their delicate features.
“I’m so sorry.” She nodded to the poster while the woman continued to scan her purchases. There was enough of a resemblance between this woman and the girl in the picture for Laurie to make the assumption that this was Deanna’s mom. What had Dino said her name was? Sarah Milligan, that was it.
Sarah’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “It’s the not knowing that’s so hard, you know? If she’d just get in touch, tell me where she is. I don’t understand why it had to be like this.” She withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose into it. “I mean, I didn’t like the guy she was seeing—thought he was too old for her—but running away with him? We could have worked it out.”
“So you met her boyfriend?” That didn’t fit the same secret-admirer approach as Carla. Maybe Laurie was seeing connections where none existed. Lots of girls had blue eyes and dark hair. She did herself. Things are complicated enough. Don’t go trying to make them worse.
“Once or twice. As I said, I didn’t like him. He wasn’t from around here. His name was Xavier.” Sarah spat the name out as though it was an insult. “Xavier-Quentin Fontaine. He made a big deal of making sure he used his full name. Sounds kinda French, doesn’t it? He was a charmer. All that blond hair and those baby blue eyes. Flashing his big, charming smile at every woman who came his way. Deanna was smitten. She even started lying to me. Told me she wasn’t seeing him anymore, that he’d left town. But I knew it wasn’t true. Why, he was still sending her those flowers, even though she tried to tell me they were from a secret admirer—”
“Flowers?” Laurie couldn’t help herself. She interrupted the other woman’s flow, her voice a staccato exclamation.
“Every week. Right up until the day she left home.” Laurie’s heart gave a sickening thud as she anticipated Sarah’s next words. “Fancy dark red roses in the shape of a heart.”
* * *
“Laurie!” Cameron caught up to her as she reached her car at the front of the store. “You were lost in your own world. I’ve called your name twice already.”
She turned her head, a half smile piercing her distracted expression. “Pardon?”
“Hey, are you okay?” He scanned her face, amazed at how he could have become so attuned to this woman’s moods in such a short space of time. The slight crease between those glorious blue eyes told him something was bothering her. He wanted to reach out a fingertip and smooth it away.
He had spent the previous night tossing and turning and lecturing himself on the foolishness of getting too close too fast. Getting close at all, never mind the timescales. His brain had given his body a lecture. It was choosing the familiar. Latching on to Laurie because it was easy. If he’d passed her in the street, she’d have turned his head. The fact she’d fallen unconscious into his arms had thrust her remarkable similarity to Carla right under his nose. Fate had given his sex drive a wake-up call. Her presence had acted like an injection of a performance-enhancing drug directly into his previously dormant sexual urges. It was all wrong. You want her because of how she looks, not for who she is. No woman deserves that. That was how his speech to himself had gone last night. Now she was before him again in person, and every sensible, reasonable word flew out of his head again. His body took over, shutting his brain down.
Laurie attempted a smile in response to his question. On anyone else it might have worked. Because, in the short time he’d known her, Cameron had become an expert on her expressions; he wasn’t fooled.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just talking to the store owner—” she waved a hand toward Milligan’s “—and she told me about her daughter. I guess I felt bad for her.”
He still wasn’t convinced by her reply, but he let it pass. He’d known Laurie Carter for twenty-four hours. It didn’t exactly give him the right to worry about her. Hard on the heels of that thought came a question. Does that mean I want to worry about her? Last night he hadn’t thought beyond the physical wanting. Maybe he should just put any thinking about Laurie aside for another time. Along with the urgent desire he had to draw her into his arms and kiss away that worried look.
“It was a bad business. Sarah was widowed when Deanna was a baby. She devoted her life to her daughter, but they struggled. Making ends meet was always hard, and Deanna had a few problems as she was growing up. She went off the rails when she was in her teens. Now Deanna is gone, Sarah has no one. Loneliness and stress have taken its toll on her well-being.”
“That’s obvious from the way she talks.”
Laurie opened the trunk of her car and shifted a large artist’s portfolio case to one side so she could place her groceries inside. As he helped her with the groceries, Cameron eyed the portfolio in surprise. “I thought you were on vacation.”
“You should try telling my agent about that.” She rolled her eyes. “To be fair, I decided on this vacation after I agreed to a deadline.”
“Tell me you’re not working so hard you can’t join me for dinner tonight?” The words were out before he could stop them. What happened to sensible? He’d convinced himself the logical thing would be to not ask her on the second date he’d mentioned as they parted last night. Now he was practically holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“That would be nice.”
Cameron watched as she drove away. It was probably a good thing Laurie was only here on vacation. The feelings he was developing toward her were threatening to become fairly explosive. And, while he welcomed the signs he was able to feel again, he wasn’t sure he was ready for another relationship. Particularly with someone who looked so much like Carla. He knew what other people would say.
My God, I’d say it myself if I was on the outside looking in! You are still grieving. Looking for a substitute. Yes, it’s time to move on. Just make sure you get it right. If the time is right—and it seems it is—find a short, plump blonde who bears no resemblance to Carla. Start with friendship and fun. This fierce, burning intensity can’t be the right way to go.
Now Laurie had gone, his head was back in control. He knew she wasn’t Carla. Apart from her looks, she was nothing like her. Sometime during that meal at Dino’s last night—he wasn’t quite sure when or how it had happened—he’d stopped thinking about her as the-girl-who-looked-like-Carla and started to think of her as Laurie. And he liked Laurie. A lot. Too much for his own comfort. And that bothered him almost as much as all the other stuff.
A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He swung around to face Bryce’s laughing features. “You planning on standing there all day gazing into space? Because, if not, you can buy me a coffee.”
“How come I get to do the buying?” Cameron asked as they crossed the road to The Daily Grind coffee shop.
“Why change the habit of a lifetime?” Bryce leaned on the counter as Cameron ordered. “Anyway, you owe me.”
“Vincente?” They took their drinks over to a table near the window.
“Who else?”
“What’s he done now?”
Bryce’s expression was long suffering. “Poking his nose in where it’s not wanted. When you divided up the responsibilities between us, it was clear I was to take charge of operations. Yet he insists on interfering with the distribution routes and driver’s schedules. As soon as I have them organized for the week ahead, I find out he’s changed things.”
“Why would he do that?” Cameron dragged his mind away from thoughts of Laurie and onto what Bryce was telling him with an effort. Vincente was always difficult. When they were growing up, he had always been conscious of his status as a half brother and jealous of the closeness between Cameron and Bryce. Their mother had done her best to make him feel included, but Vincente had resented Sandy Delaney. He insisted on seeing her as the woman who had usurped his mother’s place, even though his parents had been divorced for more than a year when Kane Delaney remarried. And despite the fact Giovanna Alberti—Vincente’s Italian mother had reverted to her maiden name as soon as the divorce papers were finalized—couldn’t wait to return to her home in Florence, declaring the wide-open spaces and sparse population of Wyoming stifled her spirit.
Cameron guessed that deep down Vincente blamed his father for Giovanna’s abandonment and that unhappiness had manifested itself as bitterness. It wasn’t the sort of conversation he could ever have with his half brother. They didn’t have a close enough relationship, but he sometimes wondered if Vincente recognized those emotions and regretted all those sour, wasted years.
Bryce shrugged. “You know what he’s like. He can’t help himself. How would he like it if I went into his office and started altering the company accounts?”
Cameron stifled a sigh. “You want me to speak to him?” Vincente had always been jealous of Cameron, labeling his brother their father’s favorite, and blaming Cameron for his own failings. Despite this, Cameron was the only person his stubborn, hotheaded older brother had ever listened to.
“Would you?” The frown cleared from Bryce’s brow.
“I’ll stop by the office tomorrow morning.”
* * *
While she was undercover, Laurie steered clear of the internet. Even when she wasn’t working, she adhered to a strict code of conduct. She was scrupulously careful and never did anything that left a trail. On this job, she had an encrypted laptop that she used to keep in touch with Moreton and Mike Samuels, Moreton’s boss and her only other FBI contact. Moreton assured her the security on her laptop was cast-iron. No one would be able to trace her, and only someone with specialist skills would be able to get through the firewall. Laurie powered the machine up now, tapping an impatient finger as she waited for it to start.
Xavier-Quentin Fontaine. It was hardly a common name. If Deanna Milligan was with him, it should be fairly easy to find out. Laurie started with Deanna’s social media accounts. Chillingly, they hadn’t been touched since she went missing. It could mean she didn’t want to be found, of course. But, prior to her disappearance, Deanna had been very active online, documenting every detail of her daily life from what she had for breakfast to pictures each time she changed her nail polish. It was most unusual for people to alter their habits so dramatically. And Deanna had been close to her friends and family. Even though Sarah had disliked Xavier-Quentin, there was no real reason for Deanna to completely lose touch with her mother. And it seemed odd she wouldn’t keep in touch with other people she knew.
So, on to the man himself. Laurie did an internet search for Xavier-Quentin Fontaine. What she found was even more disturbing than Deanna’s online silence. Because, if she had the right man, Xavier-Quentin had been killed in a road traffic accident in Montana two weeks before Deanna disappeared. Deanna wouldn’t have known about his death at the time she went missing because Xavier-Quentin—if it was him—had been so badly disfigured in the smash it took the authorities another week to identify him.
With a sinking feeling in her gut, Laurie studied the newspaper report that confirmed the victim’s identity. The photograph alongside the report showed a handsome, blue-eyed, blond-haired man with a charming smile. Sarah’s words came back to her. Flashing that smile... Of course Deanna could have gone looking for Xavier-Quentin, discovered he was dead and been too embarrassed to return. It seemed a far-fetched scenario.
It seemed more likely that Deanna had not left Stillwater in search of Xavier-Quentin. Sarah Milligan had assumed that he was the one sending Deanna the flowers, but he was already dead when the last arrangements were sent. Which prompted a new set of questions. Who was sending the flowers? And what did happen to Deanna Milligan?
If Laurie’s instincts were right—dear God, let me not be right—and Carla and Deanna had been stalked and then murdered by the same man, the secret admirer who sent them flowers, was it possible they were not the only ones? If the link between the two of them had been missed, it was entirely possible other connections had been overlooked. How many other local women had been sent a heart-shaped arrangement of dark red roses?
Heart pounding, Laurie started another internet search right there. Heart-shaped arrangement of dark red roses. The typed words produced a surprising variety of images. None of them looked like the ones that had been left in her cabin. None of them tied into any of the local florists listed on her laptop screen.
Picking up her cell phone, she started calling the flower stores. Her questions were the same for each. A friend of hers had been sent a heart-shaped arrangement of red roses that she’d loved. As a surprise gift she wanted to send the same arrangement, but she wasn’t sure where it had come from. Yes, the same arrangement every week. No? Okay, thanks for your time. Her calls were hampered by an annoyingly intermittent phone signal. It hadn’t happened before, and it was just typical that her cell phone connection should keep cutting out now when she was in the middle of these important calls.
None of the florists had made up the arrangement Carla had received. No one seemed to be commenting on social media about how strange it was they were receiving heart-shaped roses from a secret admirer. She didn’t know what to make of that result. Good news? That sixth sense she’d developed over years of doing this job told her it wasn’t. All it meant was if there was a link, she hadn’t found it yet.
Three hours later, and it looked like her sixth sense was right. In the last three years, five women—not including Carla and Deanna—all with dark hair and blue eyes, had disappeared from Stillwater. When she widened that search to include the whole county, the number rose to twelve. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Laurie lined up the pictures of the five women from Stillwater alongside those of Carla and Deanna on her computer screen. She swallowed hard, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone. Who was she going to call? Oddly, her first thought had been Cameron Delaney. Good thinking, Laurie. Call the criminal mastermind who might just be at the heart of this. Moreton? If she called in now, she’d be on the next flight to San Diego and would never get any answers. A glance at her phone told her she had no signal anyway. She frowned. That had been happening on and off since last night. It had to be the mountains.
She forced her attention back to the laptop screen. The resemblance between those seven girls wasn’t just a passing likeness. It was striking. Eight girls, not seven. My picture should be up there. Each had dark curls, bright blue eyes, creamy skin and a dazzling smile. This guy has a type, and I’m it. Her thoughts kept flying off at disordered tangents. Okay, focus. Carla. She was the odd one out. The others all disappeared, seemingly without a trace. Although there was still a long way to go to be sure about that, Laurie’s gut instinct was sending her some very strong messages. But Carla hadn’t disappeared; she had been killed. If Laurie was right, her death made to look like an accident. Why was that? Carla had to be the key to this. Laurie scribbled down a few notes in her unique shorthand, jotting down the names of the missing girls, locations and the dates they were last seen, together with her observations and questions. Technology was all very well, but sometimes she liked to do it the old-fashioned way.
A knock on the cabin door startled her, and she glanced around, surprised to see the light was already dropping into late afternoon. It was still too early for it to be Cameron. Quickly closing the laptop lid, she checked the window at the side of the door. When she saw who it was, she knew things must be bad.
“Moreton?” He stepped inside as soon as Laurie opened the door.
“Pack your stuff. As of now, you’re out of here.”
“Would you care to tell me why?” She couldn’t disobey an order from him, but she was sure as hell going to question it.
“You were right about Carla.” He turned the key in the lock, removed it from the door and placed it in his pocket. Gesturing to the sofa, he sat down.
Laurie joined him. “How did the police miss it?”
“It was a difficult one. She did drown, there’s no question about it. That was the cause of death. It was what happened to her before she drowned that’s the issue. The coroner documented a number of injuries that were caused immediately before her death, including—and I quote—‘a blow to the back of the head and bruising to the throat consistent with strangulation.’”
“She was murdered.” Laurie’s heart gave a sickening thud.
“Not officially. Consistent with. Those were the key words. It was the water in her lungs that killed her. The coroner’s verdict was accidental death.”
“Someone was on that boat with her. He killed her.” Laurie reached for her laptop and opened the lid, pointing to the photographs. “Each of these women has disappeared from her home in Stillwater over the last three years. Carla is the only one we know for sure has died.”
Moreton studied the screen for a few seconds, then his eyes went to Laurie’s face and lingered there. Why did she get the feeling he wasn’t surprised by what she was telling him? “There’s a lot more I need to tell you, but like I said, it’s time to go. Right now.” His voice was deadly serious. “We’ll get someone else in to investigate Delaney Transportation as soon as we can, but your safety is more important.”
She rose to her feet. “Does Mike Samuels know about this?”
Laurie had never met Samuels, Moreton’s superior in the agency, but she knew his word was final. On everything. Moreton didn’t quite meet her eyes, a fact that did nothing for her confidence. “I’ll fill you in on everything while we drive to the airport.”
Laurie nodded. If there was a serial killer on the loose and her handler was keeping secrets, she wanted out of here. “I’ll get my stuff.”
As soon as she got into the bedroom, she took her suitcase down from on top of the wardrobe and started pulling clothes out of the closet. After a minute or two, a sound from the next room caught her attention and she paused, listening intently. Moreton must have been moving around restlessly, impatient for her to be finished. Next there was a loud thud followed by silence.
“Moreton?” She tried to keep the note of panic out of her voice. There was no reply.
Was she imagining it, or could she sense a presence just outside the bedroom door? Someone listening on the other side of the wooden panels? Her supercharged perception told her she could hear heavy breathing. Then, just as she thought she might go mad with anticipation, she heard the sound of footsteps moving away. There was a pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of one of the windows being raised. She judged the sound to have come from the rear of the cabin. Quiet descended once more.
With a cold feeling of dread closing around her heart like icy fingers, Laurie moved across the bedroom. With shaking fingers, she reached into the top drawer of the bedside table. Her hand closed around her gun and she withdrew it, willing her breathing into a regular rhythm at the same time. On silent feet, she made her way to the door and opened it a crack. She couldn’t see anything. Moreton was out of the line of her vision.
Opening the door wider, Laurie gripped the gun tight and slid through the gap into the other room. The sight that greeted her almost made her heart stop beating altogether. Moreton lay on his back in front of the fire. Blood had formed a puddle around him where his throat had been cut. On his chest someone had placed a heart-shaped arrangement of red roses.
