Читать книгу Beneath The Surface - Linda Turner, Linda Turner, Marilyn Pappano - Страница 9

When Abby stepped through her front door three hours later, however, and her dog, Buster, greeted her with a joyous bark from the backyard, she found any number of reasons not to pick up the phone and call some of the other men on her dating list. She had to look at her mail and check her answering machine and spend some time with Buster. And then, of course, she had laundry to do and dinner to cook. She’d call later, after she did the dishes and settled down for the evening….

Then she realized what she was doing and stiffened. No! she told herself, swearing softly. She wouldn’t do this. She would not act like a scared rabbit. Any bimbo could call a man. It didn’t require any brain power. All she had to do was pick up the phone and punch in the number. The sooner she got it over with, the easier it would be.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered as she pulled the list of prospective dates from the top drawer of her desk. “If it’s so easy, why are my palms sweating?”

Because you’re a coward.

She couldn’t argue with that irritating little voice in her head, especially when it was right. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she frowned down at the first name. Frank Gurenski. What kind of man was he? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. Throwing caution to the wind, she quickly punched in his phone number.

“Hello?”

Up until that moment, Abby would have sworn she was working hard at not jumping to conclusions about a person without getting to know them first. But with a single word, Frank Gurenski revealed himself to be stiff and cool and hard to get to know. Disappointed, Abby almost told him she had the wrong number, but then reasoned that he could have had a bad day. Maybe he had call waiting and she’d caught him in the middle of another phone call. A lot of people didn’t like to be interrupted.

So why would he have call waiting if he doesn’t like to be interrupted? How dumb is that?

Sternly ordering the voice in her head to behave, she grabbed on to her courage with both hands and said with forced cheerfulness, “Hi. I’m Abby Saunders. Is this Frank Gurenski?”

“Yes.”

“The Right One Dating Service gave me your name and number. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

“No. This is fine.”

Whatever reaction Abby had been expecting, it wasn’t such a total lack of interest. “Have you met anyone yet or are you still looking?”

“I’m still looking,” he retorted. “It’s not easy to find someone.”

Especially if you don’t talk, she thought, but she wisely kept that thought to herself. Instead, she waited for him to take up the conversational ball and ask something about her, but he didn’t say a word. An awkward silence fell between them, and just that easily, all Abby’s fears about dating came rushing back. Was she the problem? Did he find her uninteresting? Was that why he wasn’t asking her anything?

Oh, please! At least you’re trying. The man’s a dud. Cut it short and put yourself out of your misery.

She didn’t need to be told twice. “Well,” she said brightly, “it was nice talking to you. I really just called to chat for a while to see if we had anything in common, but I really don’t think we do. I wish you luck finding someone, though. Bye.”

Yes! Now you’re getting the hang of it! If you have to work that hard to carry on a conversation with someone, you don’t want to date him. Cut your losses and move on.

Stunned, unable to believe that she’d hung up on the man, Abby stood in the sudden silence of her kitchen and didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. In the past, she would have continued a conversation that was going nowhere simply because she would have felt guilty if she hadn’t. But not anymore, she thought, grinning. She didn’t have to waste time on someone who couldn’t string three or four words together just because she didn’t want to be alone. She had choices!

Pleased, she punched in the second name on the list. Luke Templeton. What kind of man was he? Hopefully, he could at least talk.

Fifteen minutes later, Abby was finally able to hang up, but she had little positive to say about Luke Templeton. The man could talk, all right. And talk and talk! And although he hadn’t boasted like Dennis had, he was definitely a man of strong opinions. He’d given her a laundry list on politics, religion, and money, and had given her little time to get a word in edgewise. He’d been so caught up in what he had to say that she doubted he’d even noticed when she hung up.

Amused, she wondered if Logan had run into the same type of problems with the women he’d called. Giving in to impulse, she quickly punched in his number and almost laughed aloud at her daring. Just days ago, she would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, but she truly felt as if she was getting the hang of using the dating service. She just had to keep her sense of humor and not take the situation too seriously.

“Hi. This is Logan. You missed me. Leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll call you back.”

Pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Logan’s voice on his answering machine, Abby found herself smiling. He really did have a nice voice. It was deep and husky, really sexy. Did he look as good as he sounded? she wondered, her heart thumping at the thought. Maybe one day she’d find out.

“Hi, Logan,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. “This is Abby Saunders. I just called a couple of the men on my list from the dating service and was wondering if you’d phoned anyone else. If you want to talk and share a laugh, give me a call.”

Hanging up, she headed for her room to change into her running clothes. She was the new, improved Abby, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to wait by the phone for any man to call her back. Five minutes later, she locked the door to her apartment and went for a run with Buster.

The bar had been robbed less than fifteen minutes ago. Three police cruisers and an ambulance were parked out front, and customers were standing on the sidewalk in the weak glow of a nearby streetlight as detectives interviewed the witnesses. Finding a parking place across the street, Logan recognized Tim Bradly, one of the detectives, and headed straight for him.

Surprised to see him, Tim growled, “What are you doing here, St. John? You don’t usually cover the penny-ante stuff. Must be a slow night.”

“You would know that better than I, Bradly,” he retorted with a grin. “You’re the cop.”

Tim swore good-naturedly. “Don’t give me that bull. You’ve got the same scanner I do. Half the time, you beat me to a crime scene.”

“Just doing my job,” Logan chuckled, making no apology for the fact that he had a police scanner not only at work, but in his car. Tim understood that they both had a job to do and that they were both going to do it to the best of their abilities. “According to the report on the scanner, someone was shot during an attempted armed robbery. The robber was a woman?”

He nodded grimly. “It’s not the first time we’ve had a woman running around town with a gun, demanding money, but it’s not that common. From what we can tell, she was working alone.”

Logan lifted a brow in surprise. “No kidding? She drove her own getaway car?”

“At this point, we’re not even sure she had a car. She slipped out the back door and just seemed to disappear.”

“And no one saw or heard a vehicle?”

“Most of the customers are half-lit, Logan,” he said dryly. “The bartender was the only sober one in the joint, and when the robber started spraying the place with bullets, he ducked behind the bar. By the time it was safe to come out, there was no sign of the perp.” A police helicopter approached from the west and began scanning the area. “If she had a car stashed down the block, she’s probably long gone. If she’s on foot, though, that’s another matter.”

“Let me know if she’s spotted,” Logan told him. “Mind if I interview the witnesses?”

“No, go ahead. We’re still collecting evidence inside, but we’ve finished questioning everyone.”

Thanking him, Logan began working his way through the customers who still lingered, obviously waiting for the police to finish their work so that they could go back in and resume drinking. As Tim had warned him, the customers had had a little too much to drink to know for sure what had happened, but they were all clear on one thing. The perp was a big woman with a gun.

A thought hit Logan, and he went in search of the bartender. “You must have got a good look at her when she pulled the gun out,” he told him. “What did you think of her?”

“She was big-boned and ugly as homemade soap. And she had big hair.”

Logan smiled. “You mean long hair?”

“Yeah, it was long, but it was also big. You know—like women used to wear back in the seventies.”

“Could it have been a wig?”

Considering that, the bartender shrugged. “Sure, I guess so. Though I can’t imagine why any woman would want to look like that. It wasn’t attractive at all.”

“Are you certain the perp was a woman? Could it have been a man in drag?”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Transvestites come in here occasionally. In fact, there’s a brunette who shows up sometimes who’s absolutely gorgeous. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen in my life. I think he’s really the superintendent for one of the school districts here in town. What do you want to bet he doesn’t wear a dress to work?”

Busy jotting down notes, Logan was already formulating his next question when he suddenly realized what the bartender had said. He glanced up sharply. “Wait a minute. Back up. Did you say a school superintendent is a transvestite?”

“Well, I couldn’t swear to it,” he admitted. “After all, the guy looks a lot different without the makeup and wig and everything. But I’ll bet last week’s paycheck it’s him.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He’s been in here a number of times, always dressed as a woman, and he always sits at the bar. I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. He goes by the name Elizabeth.”

Taking notes, Logan could see the headlines already. “Has he ever told you anything about himself?”

“No, but I had to go to a program at my daughter’s school one night, and the superintendent was there. The second I saw him, I knew he was Elizabeth. And he knew I knew! When he saw me, he turned his back on me.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Has he been in for a drink since then?”

The bartender shook his head. “No, but he’s not a regular. He only comes in a couple of times a month.”

Logan pulled out his business card, which contained his office and cell phone numbers. “The next time he comes in, give me a call. Okay?”

“Sure,” the man said, pocketing the card. “I don’t want to cause the guy any trouble, but I don’t want him hanging around my kid, either. I thought about calling the school board, but I didn’t figure anyone would listen to me, being as I work in a bar.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not honest,” Logan pointed out. “Or that you’re not concerned about who’s running your daughter’s school. What’s the superintendent’s name?”

When he told him, Logan said, “I’ll do some checking and see what I can find out. I doubt, though, that I’ll find anything. The school district would have done a background check before they hired him.”

“Then they didn’t do a very good one,” the bartender retorted. “It’s not like this guy was raiding his wife’s closet and parading around the house in her clothes. He’s going out in public! And if he’ll do this, what else is he doing? He works with kids, for heaven’s sake!”

Logan could understand his worries, but just because the man liked wearing female clothes didn’t mean he was a threat to the bartender’s kids or anyone else. “I’ll check it out and get back to you,” he promised. “Thanks for the lead.”

Excusing himself to question other witnesses about the robbery, Logan had to fight back a grin of anticipation. He couldn’t wait to see Nick’s face when he told him he’d gotten not one story tonight, but two. His boss would be shocked, and Logan couldn’t blame him. He’d shown little interest in work over the last year.

That was about to change, he silently acknowledged as he headed back to the office. He didn’t know what had happened to spark the change, but over the last couple of days, he’d found himself more interested in work, more interested in life. When his family heard about the change in him, they would say that he was finally getting over Faith’s death and would thank God for it, but nothing could have been further from the truth. He missed his wife more every day and had never been lonelier. Maybe he was just coming to accept the fact that he would feel that way the rest of his life.

Thankful that he had work to distract him from that thought, he grabbed his notes on the bar robbery, booted up his computer and threw himself into the story. He wasn’t one of those writers who had to sit and think and wait for the muse to strike. As a reporter, he just didn’t have time for that. The second his fingers touched the keyboard, they were flying.

Lost in his story, he didn’t realize he was no longer alone until Josh Garrison drawled, “Well, look who’s busy burning the midnight oil. Not that it’s midnight yet,” he added, “but you don’t strike me as a man who works overtime. I thought you left hours ago.”

Logan barely bit back a curse. What the devil was he doing there? Tomorrow’s deadline had come and gone, and the newspaper offices were practically deserted. Oh, Nick was still there—he always stayed after hours just in case a late story broke—but he was holed up in his office. Everyone else had either gone home or was out working on a piece for tomorrow’s deadline…which was why Logan often came in after the paper had been put to bed. The phones were silent, and he had the place to himself. Or at least he usually did.

Wanting to tell Garrison to take a long walk off a short pier, he growled, “I could say the same thing about you, Garrison. What do you want?”

He made no effort to be nice to the guy. He hadn’t liked him from day one, though he’d tried to be civil. Garrison, however, hadn’t made it easy. He made snide remarks whenever he thought he could get away with it, then smiled like a politician and said all the right things whenever Nick was around. As far as Logan was concerned, the man was nothing but a two-faced brownnoser, and he wanted nothing to do with him.

Garrison, however, seemed to enjoy goading him. Far from being offended by his curtness, he only smiled smugly. “I’m here for the same reason you are—to work. Or didn’t Nick tell you? He called me in to give me the Terry Saenz story. You do know who Saenz is, don’t you?”

Logan didn’t bother to answer. Of course he knew who Saenz was. The story had just broken an hour ago and was all over the airways. Saenz was an award-winning cop who’d taken a bullet for his partner last year when they’d been ambushed by a south-side gang. He’d nearly died from being shot in the chest. Once he recovered from his injury, he’d made it his mission in life to visit every school in town and warn the kids of the dangers of belonging to a gang.

The man was a bona fide hero—or at least he had been until he was arrested earlier in the evening for dealing drugs. According to the radio report, the shooting last year hadn’t been just a random act of violence, as first thought. Saenz had been dealing drugs to the gang member who’d shot him.

“Congratulations,” Logan told Josh sardonically. “It looks like you hit the jackpot.”

“It’s a hell of a story. You should have seen Nick—though I guess you know how gleeful he gets when a good story comes in. He’s already called down to production and told them to save room for the piece on tomorrow’s front page. And the story that broke today is only the tip of the iceberg. Once the police investigate Saenz further, there’s no telling what they’ll come up with. So you can expect to see my byline a hell of a lot over the next few months. Then there’ll be the trial, of course. You can bet that’s going to be heavily covered. I’m sure the news services will pick it up. Before this is over, I may be as well-known as you used to be.”

He was deliberately trying to rile him, but Logan didn’t even flinch. What did old man Porter’s granddaughter see in this jerk? Headlines and bylines weren’t always a testament of how well someone did his job. Granted, before Faith died, he was the one who’d gotten the top assignments and whose stories regularly made the front page, but he’d never once taunted other reporters about it. That wasn’t his way. Writing was personal for him—all he’d cared about was doing the best job he could. He didn’t keep track of what his co-workers were doing. He didn’t care because it had nothing to do with him.

In the world of print journalism, however, he knew he was the exception rather than the rule. Most reporters would do anything to get a front page story, and the competition was fierce. From what Logan had seen of Garrison so far, it was obvious the man would sell his own mother to get ahead. He thought he was hot stuff and it showed.

Idiot. Let him have the headlines and his fifteen minutes in the spotlight, Logan thought in disgust. He wasn’t worried about Garrison or threatened by him. Logan was well-known in the city and had connections at the police department and informants who called him on a regular basis. He had plenty of stories to write, stories that Garrison wouldn’t even know where to go to get.

So if the jackass expected him to be gnashing his teeth in jealousy over his big coup, he could think again.

“It sounds like you’re going to be damn busy,” he said dryly. “You’d better get started on tomorrow’s story or you’re going to have Nick breathing down your neck. If he gets it in his head that you can’t meet your deadlines, he won’t hesitate to assign someone else to the job.”

“I guess you would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?”

Disliking him more than ever, but refusing to be goaded, Logan growled, “You’re damn straight. I haven’t been as dependable as I should have been over the last year—which is why you’re here. If you don’t want to meet your replacement, I suggest you don’t miss your deadlines.”

His point made, he turned back to his computer. A few long seconds later, Garrison stalked past him to his own desk. Logan never spared him a glance. His eyes trained on his computer screen, he cleared his head of all thoughts except the facts of the bar robbery, and focused on his opening sentence. Once he had that, it was easy. His fingers again flew over the keys, and just that quickly, he was caught up in his writing.

Later, he couldn’t have said when Garrison finished his own story and left. Logan’s eyes were glued on his computer monitor. Reading over what he’d written, he was, for the most part, more than satisfied. The last paragraph needed some work, but he wasn’t worried about that. For the first time in a long time, the old edge that had been the trademark of his writing before Faith died was back. Nick would be pleased. Hell, Logan was pleased! He’d almost forgotten what it was like to write something he was proud of.

“Logan? I didn’t know you were coming back tonight.”

Glancing up from his writing, he found his sister-in-law, Samantha, walking toward him with a smile as big as Texas on her face. Amused, he had to admit that he’d always had a special place in his heart for Sam. It was through her that he’d met Faith at a high-school football game. Sam had arranged their first date without discussing it with either one of them, and when Faith died, the two of them grieved together over the woman they’d both loved. He’d helped Sam get a job in payroll at the paper several years ago, and every two weeks or so, they went out to dinner to catch up on each other’s lives. She was family and always would be.

“Hey, Sam, what are you doing here? You’re not usually around this late.”

“There was a computer glitch,” she said with a grimace. “And payroll had to go out tonight. We just finished.” Glancing at his computer, she said, “What are you working on? I thought you were done for the day.”

“I was…until I followed up on something I heard on the police scanner. I wanted to get it down on paper while the details were still fresh.”

“Are you almost done? We could go to dinner…if you don’t have any plans, of course.”

She made the suggestion casually, but there was nothing casual about the emotions churning inside her. Logan was hers—he just didn’t know it yet. She’d loved him since she was ten years old, but she was the younger sister and she’d never stood a chance once he met Faith. But Faith was dead and gone and in spite of his claims to the contrary, he wouldn’t grieve for her sister forever. There would come a time when he would decide that he didn’t want to go through the rest of his life alone.

And when he did, she intended to be there, waiting for him. Over the course of the last year, she’d played her cards carefully and she and Logan had become closer then ever. He trusted her. Once he finally got over Faith’s death, she’d do whatever she had to to make him fall in love with her. It was just a matter of time.

His gaze drifting back to his computer screen, he said absently, “No, I don’t have any plans. I was just going to go home and have a frozen pizza. Give me a minute here…” Frowning, he typed a few sentences, then quickly reread what he’d written. When he finally looked up, he smiled. “There! All done. So where do you want to go? What are you in the mood for?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug as he shut down his computer and rose to his feet. “I just didn’t want to eat alone.”

Frowning, he lifted a dark brow. “Don’t tell me—you broke up with Wyatt, didn’t you? Dammit, Sam, you two were so good together. What happened?”

She’d only been using Wyatt to try to make Logan see her as a woman. When it hadn’t worked, she’d dumped him. “He was too controlling. The longer we dated, the more he wanted to take over my life. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“No kidding? I would never have thought he was the controlling type. That’s too bad.”

Heading downstairs with her, he escorted her across the street to the Front Page Diner. Not surprisingly, the place was virtually deserted after the newspaper was put to bed. They took a corner booth and gave their orders to the waitress without having to look at the menu.

“It seems like ages since we’ve had dinner together,” Samantha said after the waitress set glasses of iced tea in front of them. “So…what have you been doing? You look great. In fact, you look better than you have in a long time. What’s going on?”

Sitting back, he grinned. “Patty and Carter signed me up for a dating service.”

“What?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I said. They were worried about me. They felt like I needed to get out in the world more.”

“Out in the world!” she said sharply. “What are they talking about? When you’re working, you go all over the city, talking to all kinds of people. If that’s not getting out, I don’t know what is.”

“They meant dating, Sam. They don’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone.”

“But you’re not going to date anyone from a dating service!” When he didn’t reply, she frowned. “You’re not, are you? You didn’t already go out with someone, did you?”

“No, of course not. Though I did call someone,” he admitted. “Patty and Carter spent a lot of money to sign me up for this and I couldn’t just let them throw that away.”

The waitress arrived with their food then, but Samantha didn’t even look at hers. Logan didn’t notice. “So?” she asked when he dug into his chicken as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” he replied. “She was nice. Believe it or not, I even asked her out.”

“I thought you said you didn’t go out with anyone.”

Even to her own ears, she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, and she wasn’t surprised when Logan’s eyes narrowed. But all he said was, “I didn’t. She turned me down.”

Startled, Samantha nearly choked on a sip of tea. “Are you serious? Why?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t anything personal. She doesn’t have a lot of confidence in herself. She just wants to talk on the phone. I’m calling her Friday.”

Samantha almost laughed. Let him talk to her. She didn’t need to fear a woman who was afraid to even go out with a guy. Talk about a loser! Logan would never be interested in a woman like that. And he was going to be hers, she silently vowed. She already knew that he cared for her. Now all she had to do was wait until he was open to loving someone again, and she would have the inside track on winning his heart. As for the loser who paid for a dating service, then was too much of a chicken to actually go out with someone, she could call someone else. Logan St. John was Sam’s. It was just a matter of time.

Smiling confidently, she relaxed and dug into her meal as heartily as he was.

From there, the conversation drifted to politics and news stories and what various family members were doing. Samantha could have sat there and talked to him all night, but not long after they both finished their meal, he called the waitress over for their bill. “I hate to break this up,” he told Samantha as he pulled out his wallet, “but it’s getting late, and I want to work on my screenplay some before I go to bed.”

“Of course,” she said, and reached for her purse.

They’d always gone dutch whenever they went out, and this time was no different. Leaving their payment on the table for the waitress to collect later, they naturally fell in step as they crossed the street to the Gazette’s employee parking lot. Twilight was falling, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. Still, Logan escorted Samantha to her car.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” she told him with twinkling eyes as she unlocked her door. “The parking lot’s well lit and your car’s only three aisles over from mine. I’m perfectly safe.”

“If you don’t like it, take it up with my mother,” he said with a grin. “She raised all of us boys to walk a lady to her car. Anyway, you can’t be too safe, so indulge me. It’s a man’s job to protect his family.”

Her smile never wavered, but deep inside, she winced. She wasn’t family dammit! Rising up on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Ever since Faith had died, she’d started kissing him on the cheek whenever they parted. And his response this time, as always, was the same. He ruffled her hair as if she were a four-year-old and growled, “Call me if you need anything.”

What she needed was for him to hold her and kiss her like she was the love of his life. Unfortunately, her dead sister still held that position.

Fighting the need to throw herself into his arms, Samantha told herself he had to feel the chemistry between them. He just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. He would, though, she promised herself grimly. She just had to give him more time.

“Let’s go to the movies next week instead of going out to dinner,” she said. “I’ll call you.”

Giving him a quick hug, she slipped into her car and drove away. Watching her disappear down the street Logan frowned. He hadn’t missed the anger in her eyes or her sharp comments. Obviously, she was more upset about breaking up with Wyatt than she’d let on. And that was a damm shame. She was a good kid, he thought affectionately. She always had been. But losing Faith had been as hard on her as it had on him. She and Faith had been best friends, and her death had left a huge hole in Sam’s life. Over the last year, she’d lost a lot of weight. And there was a sadness in her eyes that broke Logan’s heart.

He’d thought she was getting better—ever since she’d started dating Wyatt Christian, she’d seemed so happy. Logan had thought they were perfect for each other, but obviously, he’d been wrong. And that was too damn bad. She deserved someone special. Maybe he’d ask some of his friends if they knew someone she might be interested in. She’d be horrified when she found out about it, but she’d just have to live with it. That was what family was for.