Читать книгу Marriage To A Stranger - Kay David - Страница 10

CONLEY HUNG UP the phone and started rearranging the papers in the file spread over his mahogany desk. It was busywork and nothing more, and with an angry curse, he stood and limped to the window that covered one wall of his office. In the crystal-blue distance, the Rocky Mountains glistened, their towering peaks blanketed in a thick layer of pristine snow, dotted with patches of green firs. Filled with a sense of doom, he stared out at the stunning view.

He’d gotten the first call the day after his accident. A second one had come the day after that. By the end of the week, it was clear his mishap hadn’t escaped the notice of his investors. Suspicious and wary, it was almost as if they’d been told about the other incidents. With no options left, he’d flown to Houston that weekend and met the primaries in an elegant hotel. The gracious surroundings had done nothing to smooth their worried brows. To say they hadn’t been happy was more than an understatement.

The shit had hit the fan.

They’d given him an ultimatum: Get security and get it immediately. Call the police. Call the FBI. Call whoever it takes, but have the stalker found and stopped. And by the way, make damn sure no one hears about this, either. No one.

Conley shook his head. He couldn’t deny their logic. The tech market was shaky enough on a good day; publicity as potentially bad as this could put a spike right through the heart of Harrison’s. The whole company would go straight down the tubes. This morning—a week since his accident—he’d brought Matthew Oakley in and discussed the situation, explaining the nervous investors and their desire for security. Matthew had reacted just as Conley had known he would.

“This makes my point, Con,” he’d said. “We need to move on the glass chip. I’m telling you, it’s the best way for us to get on top. The money guys will forget about everything when they hear about this idea.”

Standing beside Conley’s desk, Matthew had worn a familiar expression—one of stubborn persistence. Quiet and self-effacing, the gifted designer understood the world of computer chips better than anyone Conley had ever known. But he was also invisible. Light-brown hair, nondescript eyes, average height and weight. When he walked into a room, no one ever saw Matthew. Even fewer listened when he talked. And so he was dismissed.

But not by Conley. He’d recognized Matthew’s intelligence instantly.

Matthew put his hands on the desk. “Let me run with it, Con. We can’t wait any longer. Somebody else will jump in there.”

They’d had this discussion too many times to count. Matthew had designed a chip—on his own—that he wanted Harrison’s to sell. But Conley wasn’t willing to go forward. There had been problems with the preliminary run and even more had been discovered in the beta testing phase. If Harrison’s delivered a product before the bugs had been worked out, the harm the company could suffer would be greater than missing the market completely.

“I can’t do that, Matthew.” Conley had shook his head. “Not now. Not yet. It’s not ready and neither is the company. You’ve still got some problems with that chip and I’m not putting Harrison’s name on it until those are solved.”

The expression on Matthew’s face had said it all. Anger, then resentment, then acceptance. “Okay,” he’d sighed. “You’re the boss. You know best.”

Right, Conley thought now.

His company and his marriage were two trains on parallel tracks, each heading toward the edge of the canyon with no bridge in sight. I’m the boss, he thought. And I know…shit.

A knock sounded on his office door. Turning painfully, his leg still sore, Conley called out and the door opened.

Theresa stood on the threshold, a notebook in her hand, her strong, distinctive perfume preceding her. She rented space downstairs, and in fact, that was how they’d met. Right after Conley had moved the company into the bigger offices several years ago, they’d literally run into each other in the hallway. When he’d learned she was an attorney they’d started talking and the relationship had followed.

“I just received the new contracts for the London deal. Is this a good time to go over them or would you rather wait until later?”

He motioned for her to come in, and she did so, closing the door behind her. Walking briskly to the conference table at one end of his office, she opened the file and spread out the papers. Conley stayed where he was, staring out the window.

After a few minutes, he realized she was waiting. “I’m sorry, Theresa,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got a lot of my mind—”

“It’s okay.” She looked as if she were debating something. Finally, she spoke. “It’s Lara, isn’t it? She told me about the divorce, Conley. I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry….”

Conley didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “She told you?”

“Yes. When I called her about the accident, she explained.”

Conley fell silent. Lara wasn’t the kind of woman who shared personal things with people, excepting Sandy, of course. Her job called for that kind of discretion but it was her nature, as well. Then it dawned on him. She’d told Theresa so she could get a referral.

“Did you tell her who to call?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you give her the name of an attorney?”

For once, Theresa looked flustered. “No— I—I didn’t do that. She didn’t ask. I—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He turned back to the window and stared out at the mountains in the distance. Their frozen peaks looked as cold and hard as his heart felt at the moment. “I think we’d better review those contracts later if you don’t mind.”

She murmured something he didn’t quite catch and a few minutes later the door opened then closed. He stayed where he was for a little bit longer, then he reached for the phone. There was no sense in putting off his decision. This was a problem that had to be resolved…and there was only one firm for a thousand miles that could handle it.

THERESA CLOSED the door softly, but stayed where she was, her fingers wrapped around the door knob. Poor Conley. He didn’t look well. Still pale and shaky from his accident, he shouldn’t have been at work. He should have been at home, sipping hot tea in front of the fireplace, taking it easy after that horrible accident. He should have been relaxing. He should have someone taking care of things for him.

Someone who loved him as he deserved.

Her hand tightened involuntarily, the cold metal hard beneath her touch.

If he’d been her husband, she wouldn’t have let him leave the house.

Forcing her fingers to relax, she released the doorknob and started down the hall toward the back stairs, her shoulders stiff with anger. Lara Harrison didn’t deserve him and she never had. She didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a man. All she cared about was herself. Anyone who’d ever met her knew how true that was. She was just like her father. Self-centered and completely oblivious to those around her.

Her heels clattering on the metal stairs, Theresa reached her office and slammed the door behind her. Dropping the files on her desk, she crossed the room and stood beside the window. Her view was the same as Conley’s. She’d planned it that way from the very beginning. When she looked out at the mountains she saw exactly what he did.

The symbolism had appealed to her.

Closing her eyes against the startling beauty of the mountains, Theresa allowed herself a tiny smile. Her mother had always told her one day her luck would change and she’d been right. Theresa had grown up on a ranch in South Texas, a hardscrabble place where she and her mom, the cook and maid on the spread, had lived in a run-down shack that froze in the winter and baked in the summers.

Her whole life had felt like a struggle that never ended, one catastrophe after another. Her father was someone she never knew. The fight for grades and a scholarship. Then law school on no funds and a dishwashing job. Nothing had been easy for Theresa. Then she’d met Conley Harrison and everything had fallen into place. And that’s when she’d understood. Conley was the key to her happiness. It sounded corny, but Theresa didn’t care. She recognized the truth when it made itself known. For years, she’d been waiting for someone to make her life right. Conley was that person.

Because she saw everything as Conley did. Not just the view, either. His business, his way of life, even what he ate. Everything about them was the same, even their hard childhoods. They were two halves of one whole, and someday soon he’d realize that.

Lara would, too.

“WE NEED TO make sure we’re clear on this.” Tapping the file on his desk with one burly finger, Ed looked past Lara to where her stepbrother sat. Larry Journay—Ed’s son by wife number three—nodded in agreement, which was exactly what he always did and what Ed expected him to do. The new client Ed was referring to, an accountant who thought his business partner was cheating him, was someone Larry would handle. “I don’t want this guy going nuts if we find out the truth. Call the Denver police and make sure he doesn’t have any priors. I’m not sure I trust what he’s telling us so far.”

Ed turned to Lara. Beneath a pair of beer-colored eyebrows, his green eyes burned with their usual intensity. “Has he sent in the retainer yet? If he hasn’t, we might want to wait….”

Lara blinked and tried to focus. She’d been listening, but most of her attention was back at the house, not on Ed’s latest potential catastrophe. The day after Conley’s accident, work had intruded before he’d even dressed, Theresa visiting him with some papers needing his signature. Lara had wanted to talk to him about the divorce, to pin him down if she could, but he’d left in a hurry. He’d phoned later from the office and told her he was going to have to take a call in the middle of the night from Baku so he was just going to sleep there, on his couch. Then he’d flown to Houston for the weekend. A meeting, he’d said.

Right.

A week had passed since the accident, but she still hadn’t been able to corner him long enough to talk about the problem. All she’d done was worry over the point Sandy had made. What would Lara do if Conley refused to give her a divorce?

“Lara?” Ed’s voice boomed with impatience. “Have we gotten this guy’s money or what?”

She answered automatically. “No. He said he was sending a check, but nothing’s come in yet.”

Ed made a sound of impatience, then continued his instructions until Stephanie, Larry’s wife, came into the office and interrupted them. Her eyes fell on Lara, her voice subdued.

“Con’s on line one. Shall I put him through to your office?” Normally bouncy and cheerful, Stephanie didn’t wait for Lara’s answer. “I can put him off,” she offered. “If you don’t want to talk to him….”

Ed had told everyone at their office Lara and Conley were divorcing, and they’d all been treating her as if someone had died.

Lara stood up. “I’ll take it in there, Steph. Put him through.”

Back at her desk, Lara took a deep breath, then picked up the phone. Conley’s tense voice answered her own edgy hello.

“I need to see you,” he said without preamble. “Do you have some time available this afternoon?”

Lara stiffened, Sandy’s warning flashing through her mind like an out of control strobe light.

“I might,” she hedged. “Is there something important we need to talk about?”

“It’s not an issue to discuss over the phone.”

“If this is about the divorce—”

“It isn’t about the divorce, Lara.” He spoke as quietly as ever, but behind the words, Lara detected something she’d never heard in Conley’s voice. Ever. She told herself she was imagining things, then he spoke again and she was sure she was right. What she heard was fear.

Before she could question him, he said, “It’s something else, a problem. I want you to bring Ed, as well. Come at three. I’ll be free by then.”

She said all right, but he’d already hung up, so she did the same, staring at the phone as if it could answer all her questions. She must have been mistaken. Conley afraid? It made no sense, none whatsoever. Whatever his faults might be, he was the toughest man she’d ever known. He’d left home at sixteen and joined the military as soon as he could. Afterward, holding down three jobs, he’d made his way through college and had still sent money home. He’d been on his own forever. Nothing could scare Conley Harrison.

But he’d definitely sounded frightened.

She wanted to give the idea more thought but she pulled herself together and went back to Ed’s office. It wasn’t worth facing his ire if she missed the rest of the meeting. She slipped inside and took her seat, and for the next hour they continued to discuss their current clients. The firm was respected in circles that counted. In fact, they had a waiting list because Ed kept the number of cases very limited. They only had three at the moment: a senator’s wife who was scared of her about-to-be-divorced husband, the eleven-year-old daughter of a corporate raider who was under a kidnapping threat, and a Wall Street firm that thought someone was about to blackmail their CEO. If Mesa took the accountant, he’d be number four and that would be it. They never handled more than four cases at a time.

At long last, Ed finished up. Larry left the room, but Lara stayed where she was. Ed looked over his half glasses at her, his eyebrows lifted.

“Conley wants a meeting,” she said. “With the two of us this afternoon. At his place.”

“A meeting? How much time will it take? I have to be at the bank before five and I’m taking Bess out tonight. What does he want?”

He was taking Bess out? Lara wondered briefly what that was all about, then she put aside the question. She’d call Bess later and find out. If Conley was lying and he did want to fight the divorce, then Lara had more important things to worry about than what her father and Bess were up to.

“I don’t know what he wants, Ed. Something about the divorce, I guess. What else could it be?”

“Then why does he need me?”

“I have no idea.”

As Lara spoke, an indescribable weariness came over her. Her life felt as if it were melting under the onslaught of heated emotions and disappointments. Ed stared at her and started to speak, but all at once Lara gathered her papers and stood. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, no matter what it was. She turned and walked out of his office.

She couldn’t handle anything more.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Conley limped around his office with a restless energy, the cord of his headset dragging along behind him. His leg was feeling better, but it still hurt some. He grimaced against the pain and concentrated on his phone call.

“Have you checked on the dip switches on lines two and four? Those com lines have to be open and clear or there might be a timing problem. If all the buses are trying to use the same path, the data’s gonna cross and everything will be scrambled.”

He waited for the translator to relay his question and cursed silently. He should be there in person! How could you fix a computer without seeing what in the hell was going on? It wasn’t just the data that was getting scrambled, he was sure. There was no way someone who didn’t know what they were doing could follow his directions.

Looking at his watch, he cursed again. Right now, Lara and Ed were probably walking into the building, and he hadn’t had a moment to think since he’d called her early this morning. He’d wanted to organize his thoughts, get his facts lined up just so, and he hadn’t had the chance.

Along with his phone problem, he’d been too busy staring at the damn roses sitting on his desk. Ellen, his secretary, had brought them in sometime midmorning. When he’d questioned her, she’d told him they’d been delivered by a courier. As always, Conley had her tracking down the florist but he was sure the people at the shop would say the same thing each florist did. The flowers had been ordered over the phone and paid for with cash mailed in advance. Sorry, they had no record of the sender.

He usually sent the bouquets immediately to the retirement home down the road, unable to stand the sight of their bloodred petals but he’d kept them this time to show Ed and Lara. The one word note lay on his desk, the four letters blinking up at him almost evilly.

Soon…

With a start, he realized the translator was talking again. He’d completely lost track. Interrupting the woman, he stopped her in midword.

“Look,” he said, “I’m not going to solve this problem like this, okay? I can’t come myself, but I’ll send someone. Tell them—”

At the other end of the line, his Azeri customer started to scream. Obviously he knew more English than Conley had assumed. “No,” the man cried. “Not someone. You. Must be you. Other person, no!”

With promises he knew might be empty, Con soothed the man as much as he could, hanging up a few minutes later. He was ripping off his headset when a tap sounded on his door. The door opened and Theresa stood on the threshold, Lara and Ed right behind her.