Читать книгу Perilous Refuge - Kathleen Tailer - Страница 13

THREE

Alex put his legal pad down and paced around the hotel room as he mentally went over his to-do list. His first priority was to contact his private detective in Tallahassee to see what he had been able to find out about Chelsea. Then he needed to convince Miss Abigail to sign the original trust documents and discard the version benefitting Chelsea. After that, he’d just need to make his plane reservations to fly back to Tallahassee.

He checked his watch, surprised at how much time had already passed since he had gotten up this morning. They had been in Maui less than twenty-four hours and the jet lag had slowed him down a bit. He pulled a number out of his wallet and dialed Tony D’Angelo, his favorite private investigator. Alex had known Tony for years, and although the man was scruffy and sloppy in appearance, he was a first-rate investigator. Tony had been an investigator for the firm for over fifteen years, but he had also been the one to discover Alex’s fiancée’s deception two years ago. They had been good friends ever since.

Tony picked up on the second ring, his voice loud and gregarious. “Yo, this is Tony.”

“Hey, Tony. Sullivan here. Any news about Miss Abigail’s assistant?”

“Some, Sully, but you’re not going to like it.”

A cold heaviness settled in Alex’s stomach. “Lay it on me.”

“Well, like we suspected, Chelsea Rogers doesn’t exist. I doubt it’s her real name and she’s obviously taken pains to create a new identity. I’m also guessing that Abigail Van Buren is paying her under the table in cash, and that’s why Chelsea’s history wasn’t discovered sooner. Otherwise her lack of a legitimate social security number would have tipped us off. You need to talk to Miss Abigail about that, by the way. We don’t want the old lady arrested for failing to pay the appropriate taxes.”

“I found some new information about Chelsea while we were on the plane,” Alex offered. “She said she moved to the United States from Brazil when she was twelve years old.”

“Any idea how old she is now?”

“I don’t know. Late twenties? Early thirties?”

“Well, once we figure out her real name we can check with immigration to see if we can verify that story against the visa and passport records.”

“Any news about this violent man with lots of resources that seems to want to find her? Miss Abigail seems to think Chelsea was a victim of domestic violence.”

“None yet.” Tony paused. “I’ve started working on the Bombay blood angle you told me about, too. I can keep digging if you want me to. The question is how far do you want me to go?”

Alex shrugged to himself. Tony charged quite a fee for his services. How much did he really want to know about Chelsea Rogers? Once he talked Miss Abigail out of the crazy idea of making Chelsea her executor, the case would be closed from his standpoint. His client’s interests would have been safeguarded. But what if Chelsea continued to work for Miss Abigail and ingratiated herself even further in the elderly lady’s good graces? Or what if he couldn’t convince Miss Abigail to revert to her previous will and keep Chelsea out of it?

He ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he needed to look out for Miss Abigail. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her get taken to the cleaners by an unscrupulous con artist. “Take two more days. While you’re searching on that end, I’ll try to find out what I can from this side. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything new.”

“Can you overnight me something with her fingerprints on it? If she’s ever been printed I can find her in the system, and that might speed things up.”

Alex paused a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I’ll wait here in Hawaii until you report in, just in case you find something.” He read off the number to the hotel and his room number, then disconnected. It looked as though he would be stuck in Maui for another two days unless Tony was able to discover something sooner.

Alex laughed softly to himself. There were probably very few visitors to this lush tropical paradise that considered themselves “stuck” here—but Alex had never been the type to enjoy vacations. He liked being at work, where he could feel productive and useful. He called the firm and checked in with his brother, Ryan, then called the airline and reserved a seat home. For the next two days he would do his own research on Chelsea Rogers here in Maui to see if he could discover her secrets for himself. Between his own investigation and Tony’s, surely he would find out the truth.

* * *

Chelsea adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, then scanned the pool area once more for anyone who might be watching her. She hadn’t seen anyone acting suspicious, but the fear the note had inspired hadn’t dissipated and she was terrified that at any moment, Justin Carver or one of his minions would approach her. She glanced over at Miss Abigail who was doing a crossword puzzle under a large blue beach umbrella. The lady had been very energetic today, despite the jet lag, and they had spent the better part of the day discussing their vacation plans and making sure all of the last-minute details were covered.

Chelsea had tried to be an enthusiastic participant in the conversations, but the note had made her jumpy and she’d found it hard to concentrate. Was the note really from Justin or one of his cohorts? If so, then she should probably be running again. Justin wanted her dead, and she had no doubt he would hunt her down and try to kill her if he truly had discovered her location. But Chelsea couldn’t leave Miss Abigail, not right before her surgery—not when she couldn’t even be sure the note was connected to Justin. No, for now she’d stay put—but she’d stay on alert, too.

She opened her laptop and did a search for Justin Carver, trying to see if there was any mention of his current whereabouts in the media. She found nothing recent, so she moved on to check her email. Finally. The email from the business manager from Southside was short and succinct.

TOMORROW. SOUTHSIDE WAREHOUSE. BUILDING 149, 11 P.M.

Her heart leaped as hope swelled within her. She glanced around the pool again, then returned her attention to the screen.

A man in jeans and a blue T-shirt caught her attention and she studied him carefully as a wave of anxiety swept over her. He was the only one in the pool area that wasn’t in a bathing suit, but it was more than his clothing that made him appear suspicious. Twice he had looked in her direction with a cold and calculating expression, and he seemed to be following her with his eyes. He looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place where she had seen him before. Was he the man from the airport yesterday? The one in the Braves cap who she suspected had planted the threatening note in her purse? Her hands started shaking and she closed her laptop with a snap.

“I think it’s time to go back to the room. Don’t you think so, Miss Abigail? I’m starting to get a little too much sun.”

“Sure, darling. I think it’s about time for my favorite TV show anyway.”

The man looked in her direction a third time. Chelsea quickly got up and went to Miss Abigail’s side, then helped her gather her things just as the man started to approach them. With each step he took Chelsea’s heart seemed to beat faster and faster and her knees turned to jelly.

“So here’s where you’ve been hiding.”

The voice from behind made her jump and she nearly dropped her computer. She put her hand on her chest and took a fortifying breath as she turned and looked up at Alex Sullivan. “You scared me,” she said with an edge in her voice.

Alex raised an eyebrow and leaned closer so only she could hear him. “Really? Who did you think I was?”

Chelsea leaned back, uncomfortable. Words failed her and she found herself both unable and unwilling to explain further. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that the man in the T-shirt had passed without incident and was effectively ignoring them. Had she been wrong about him? Was he truly a threat or was the danger only a product of her overactive imagination?

“We were just heading back to our room,” Miss Abigail volunteered, giving Alex her best smile and totally unaware of Chelsea’s angst. “Care to escort a couple of beautiful ladies back to the suite?”

“I’d be honored,” Alex replied as he held out his arm. He patted Miss Abigail’s hand when she placed it on his biceps. “Do you think you might have some time later to discuss your legal documents? I wanted to go over them with you today if we could.”

“Nonsense,” Miss Abigail replied. “Today is not a day for paperwork. It’s a day to enjoy the sun and recover from that long airplane ride.”

Chelsea ignored the rest of their banter and took one last look at the man in the blue T-shirt. He had turned now and was watching them leave with a measuring eye as he sipped his soda at the bar. Slowly he reached behind him and pulled his Braves cap out of his pocket, then he put it on and smiled directly at her.

Chelsea tightened her grip on her computer, trying to mask her fear. He was following her. He was the man from the airport. No wonder he had seemed familiar. Was he working for Justin Carver? Surely if he was, he’d have made some attempt to attack her rather than just watch her. No, her secret was probably safe—for now. But who was he and what did he want? And most importantly, how could she protect herself? Indecision pulled at her and she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Although there were people all around her, she felt quite vulnerable and alone. What should she do? Where could she go to be safe?