Читать книгу Men Of Honour - Lori Foster - Страница 35

MOLLY STARED AT HIM, aghast. “What are you talking about? Why would anyone suspect you?”

“I’m the least-known person in this equation. And it’ll only make the police suspicious if they start digging into my history, because they won’t find much.”

“They won’t?”

“I’ve made a point to always cover my tracks.” The last thing he needed was a public profile. “It goes with the security of the job. But cops don’t like that. They see any concealment as a guilty verdict.”

Molly accepted that without question, but the authorities wouldn’t. And he didn’t want them sidetracked investigating him, instead of getting to the real instigators.

Dare put his hands on his hips and looked at her full-size bed. The bedding was displaced, her clothes dumped, but otherwise the room seemed okay. “Another problem is that the police have an uncanny knack for forewarning every real suspect. It’s the way they investigate.”

Molly pushed up from the floor. “What do you mean?” She stowed the memory device in her pocket and began picking up clothes.

“They’re upfront about everything. They have rules to follow, legal procedures to adhere to.” Someone might have gone through her things in an effort to discover her whereabouts. Had Bishop Alexander put someone up to that task? It seemed possible. “But I don’t.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The easiest way to catch people is to take them off guard. Whoever kidnapped you is a pro with connections. If they were involved in this—” he looked at a dumped dresser drawer “—they wouldn’t leave behind evidence.”

“Since my door wasn’t locked, anyone could have come in.”

Dare considered that. “Where do you keep your keys?”

“In the kitchen on a utility cabinet. I always leave my purse in there, too.” She started that way and Dare followed. The kitchen wasn’t in as bad shape as the bedroom. Her purse had been dumped on the table, and two drawers were emptied of paper and pens.

Molly looked around but didn’t find the keys anywhere. “They’re gone.”

“Anyone else have keys to your place?”

“My sister, and the landlord.”

Dare opened a few cabinets that held food and dishes, and drawers filled with silverware, pot holders and dishcloths. They were undisturbed.

That told him a lot. “Whoever went through here was looking for something specific. He wasn’t just trashing the place.”

Frowning, Molly went back into the living room and looked around, and then back into her bedroom. Dare could tell she was studying the carnage, trying to make sense of it.

She stared at her desk, rearranged some of the displaced papers. After a minute, she said, “Whoever was here went through my printed notes, and he left my computer on.”

Dare frowned. “Put the drive in the computer and see if your work is okay.”

“I was working on my book before I went outside and got grabbed. That’s the last file I had opened up.”

Standing over her, he waited as Molly organized her desk, replacing the keyboard and the mouse. She hadn’t yet put the flash drive back in before the movement brought the sleeping monitor flickering back to life. Rather than Molly’s current manuscript showing, her iCal popped up.

“That’s my calendar.” She stared at the screen. “It’s one of the programs I use most often, but I hadn’t put anything new in there for a while.”

“You didn’t have it open?”

She shook her head. “Not for … I don’t know, a few days at least.”

So, whoever had broken in had been searching her ap pointments. “Someone found it.”

“Seems so.”

Reaching around her for the mouse, Dare minimized the calendar on the screen, and behind it they found an Evite—an emailed invitation—that Molly had added to her calendar. Dare straightened and put his hands on her shoulders.

As Molly read the reminder, her shoulders tensed. “I was supposed to attend a book signing yesterday.” She twisted to see Dare. “I don’t have a current book release, but this was a special occasion to honor a local bookseller who’s retiring.”

Dare had no idea what to say to her.

She turned back to the screen. “Thank God I wasn’t the only author scheduled to be there. But I can’t imagine what everyone thought when I just didn’t show up.”

“I can’t imagine what your intruder thought, because I’m betting he was at the signing, looking for you.”

She stiffened. “That’s why the last Evite was still up on the screen.”

He rubbed her shoulders. “Whoever was here was looking for a clue to your whereabouts, but he didn’t have anything else to go on.”

“God,” she groaned. Elbow propped on the desk, she put her forehead in her hand. “I’ve probably missed a ton of promotional stuff.”

“Let’s don’t worry about that right now, okay?” Dare noticed that Molly’s other hand, resting on the desktop, was fisted, giving away her anger at being violated yet again. She understood the seriousness of this invasion and how determined someone was to find her again.

But true to her nature, she kept it together, reacting in a calm, sensible way that helped rather than hindered.

He urged her from the chair. “Let me.”

She vacated the seat without argument. “What are you going to do?”

“Just take a quick look to see when our guy was here, and any other places he might’ve gone on the computer.”

“You can do that?”

“I have some tech savvy, yeah.” Actually he had a lot more than the average person, but he didn’t consider himself a pro. “Trace is the real computer guy, but since you have a Mac, some things are pretty easy to find. Hopefully you haven’t changed your settings to delete your history each time the computer is used.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

Her lack of knowledge amazed Dare. “You work on this computer.”

Shrugging, she dismissed that little fact. “I email, surf the Net for research and write. But believe me, no one would accuse me of being a computer geek.”

Eventually, Dare decided, he’d give her a basic education on how her computer worked and what it could do. Right now it just didn’t matter. “If we know everything that the guy looked at, we’ll have a better idea about what he wanted.”

“He wanted to know my schedule.”

“Yeah, but why?” Thinking aloud, Dare said, “He couldn’t have thought to snatch you out of a book signing, right? There would be other people, and the bookstore manager. So what was his plan?”

Wrapping her arms around herself, she shuddered. “You really think he wanted to kidnap me again?”

“Right now, I don’t know what to think.” It could be that Bishop was searching for her to get a handle on things and keep her kidnapping out of the news. But why trash her place?

Dare’s attention went from her to a tiny scrap of lace and silk showing from a bundle of clothes on the floor near the desk. He reached for the panties, but Molly beat him to it.

“Not funny, Dare.” She tossed them toward her bed. “I hate it that anyone touched my stuff. I ought to just burn everything and start over.”

“Hey.” Dare pulled her down to his lap. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Somehow he’d make it true.

Rather than debate that, Molly put a hand to his jaw and leaned forward to kiss him. She kept it brief, and still he felt burned. “It helps so much that you’re here with me. Thank you.”

Dare brought her back for a hotter, deeper kiss. It was a little more satisfying, but he didn’t let it get out of hand. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

A crooked grin tipped her soft lips. “Yeah, it’s a laugh a minute around me.”

“Molly,” he admonished. “Don’t do that. Don’t minimize the situation. I’m glad that I’m with you. Hell, there’s no way I wouldn’t be.”

As if she didn’t quite believe him, she lowered her gaze. “I know you miss Tai and Sargie.”

“True, but they adore Chris. He takes good care of them, and that includes playing with them and cuddling them.” Dare leaned down to catch her gaze. “Until recently, I was gone more than I was home.”

“And now your schedule is finally freed up, and here I am, dragging you away from home again.”

It was too soon for him to tell her how she mattered to him, too soon for him to even feel that way. “No one drags me anywhere, Molly.” He tipped up her chin. “I’m here because I want to be.”

For several seconds, they stared at each other—until Molly masked her reaction of disbelief with a long sigh.

Gazing around at her bedroom, she said, “While you snoop, is it okay if I start putting some of this stuff away?”

For now, Dare gave up on convincing her of his free participation. In the end, when he refused payment, she’d know the truth. “I don’t see why not.”

She left his lap. “The sooner I get everything back to normal, the sooner it’ll feel like home to me again.”

Damn, but he admired her. Not only didn’t she fall apart, she sought ways to cope.

And that kiss … That Molly had taken the lead really turned him on. But she was right—they needed to get her life back on track. After he gathered all the clues available to him and they put her apartment back to rights, he’d have the rest of the night alone with her.

Somehow, he’d wait until then.

DARE MADE HIMSELF turn back to the computer. While Molly collected the dumped clothes into a hamper to launder, Dare searched through her computer. He looked at all activity from the day of her abduction until today.

Oddly enough, the day after Molly was taken, someone had accessed her writing files. It infuriated him to know that while she’d been held in a hovel in Tijuana, some bastard had read through her book.

There’d been no activity on her computer after that—until recently. Eyes burning, Dare looked at the dates for when several programs had been opened—including her calendar and her internet.

The day after she was taken, and then again after he’d spoken with Bishop, someone had gotten on her computer.

Sitting back in the chair, he considered the possibilities. Why the long wait between visits? And why now?

Would the same person visit twice, searching through different programs? A pro would know how risky it was to return, but then a pro would have found what he looked for on the first visit.

And if it wasn’t the same person? Had Bishop ignored Dare’s warning and sent someone of his own to investigate, maybe to check on his daughter’s welfare?

Or to cover his tracks?

Dare was mulling over possibilities while also listening to Molly move about the apartment. She’d tidied the bedroom, which was mostly dumped clothes, and was now in the living room. Though she remained in the apartment, and not that far from him, Dare didn’t like it that he couldn’t see her. Until the people responsible for hurting her were found, he wanted to keep a very close watch on her.

He was just about to check the internet links when she reappeared in the doorway. She’d removed her sweater, and her boots and socks. Barefoot, blouse untucked and the hem of her jeans dragging the floor, she stared at him.

One look at her face and Dare was out of the chair. “What is it?”

She took a shuddering breath. “A … note.” She gestured behind her with a shaking hand. “Left for me by the phone table.”

Grim, Dare put an arm around her. “Show me.”

She walked to a small, overturned table against the wall that separated her kitchen and living room. “This is where I keep my landline, where my cell phone charges and where I put my mail, my change and … everything.”

A dozen letters, several packages and boxes were dumped around the floor. “You’ve got a load of stuff there.”

“I was gone for a while, remember?”

“So, who brought the mail in?”

Her hand to her forehead, expression bleak, she pointed a stiff finger at a lone pad of paper resting atop the answering machine. “Whoever left that, I guess.”

Dare stepped over the broken landline phone to the answering machine that lay on the floor. It was unplugged, possibly broken, too, but he’d check on that in a minute.

Molly stuck close to him. “I use the landline for business calls, like with my editor and agent, or phone interviews, that sort of thing. Family almost always calls the cell. Whoever left that note knew I’d try to check my business messages, right? That’s why he specifically left it there. He didn’t want it to get lost in the rest of this mess.”

“Probably.” Written in large block letters with bold red marker was a message that Dare read aloud: “Still feel so forgiving?”

He realized that Molly shook with anger, not fear. She’d curled her hands tight, clenched her jaw and her dark eyes were burning bright.

“I take it you have an idea what that means?”

“Got a good guess, yeah.”

She looked ready to combust, so Dare said, “Let’s see if the answering machine still works, okay?”

Nodding, Molly went to her knees and reconnected the cord to the machine and then plugged it into the wall. There were some calls from her sister, inquiring after her. Her agent, her editor, left urgent calls requesting her attention. The local bookstore sounded pleasant but confused about her absence.

Then another call from Natalie. She said that she’d gotten the email, but she wanted specifics. “Why won’t you call me, damn it? I don’t get it. This is nuts. If you’re off having fun, that’s fine. I’m thrilled for you. But you can take one minute to talk, so … call me.”

Smothering in guilt, Molly groaned. “Natalie must be frantic.”

“Yeah, but what was that about an email?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Dare tugged her to her feet and together they went back to her computer. He checked the history and found her online email program had been accessed. “Mind if I take a look?”

“It’s not like I have a lot to hide at this point.” She gestured at the computer. “Have at it.”

Dare pulled up the email program and looked for received emails, but saw none. Then he looked at the sent emails, and again, nothing.

Molly frowned. “Check the trash.”

“I am.” He opened the folder for discarded mail. “Bingo.” There were three messages from her sister, one of them saying she was heading off for spring break and wanted to talk to Molly first.

“Spring break?” Dare asked.

“She’s a teacher.” Molly leaned over his shoulder and frowned at the monitor. “There’s an email from me, but I wasn’t here to send it.”

Dare opened the deleted post and together they read the succinct message. “I’ll be gone for a while. Off having some fun for a change. I’ll get in touch when I can. Love, Molly.”

Very slowly, she straightened. “It was only sent to Natalie, and it doesn’t sound at all like me.”

“Which is why your sister was worried.”

She let out a breath. “Whoever sent that knew that Natalie was the only person who would notice my absence. I mean, my agent and editor, too, but they wouldn’t panic if my family didn’t, and Natalie’s the only family who would.”

“So it’s someone who knows you.” Dare had figured that much all along. He stood and pulled her into his arms. Holding her felt right—and despite the circumstances, it stirred him, because he knew tonight was the night.

Before he did something stupid, he set her away from him. “I told you this wouldn’t be easy.”

She nodded. “I need to talk to Natalie.”

Molly’s cell phone had been in her purse, which was now missing, and her landline looked as if someone had stepped on it.

Dare pulled his cell out of his pocket. “Go ahead and call her.” Talking to her sister would give her something to think about besides the mess and the note.

“What should I say?”

He shrugged. “Tell her something came up but that you can’t go into it over the phone. Ask her to come over.” Meeting her sister in person would let him control things and afford him the opportunity to gauge her reaction to Molly’s tale. Not that he had any real reason to suspect her sister; she was the only one who’d noted Molly’s absence, as far as he could tell. But it was too soon for him to rule out anyone or anything.

Molly put in the call, but after a few seconds she covered the phone. “No answer.”

“Don’t leave a message. That’ll just confuse things.” Dare took the phone from her and closed it. “You can call her again later.”

Regret had Molly biting her lips, but she accepted his decision. “If she’s still on spring break, she could be away from her phone.”

Keeping his hands off her wasn’t an option. It seemed the more he touched her, the more he needed to. He craved the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair, her warmth and gentleness. It drew him like nothing ever had.

Trying to keep it casual with an arm around her waist, Dare led her from the bedroom. But even that affected him. He could feel her resilient flesh beneath the material of her top, the narrowness of her waist and how she fit so nicely into his side.

“What do we do now?” Molly asked.

“I want to hear about that note, but you’re pushing it today. The long trip was enough, but then to find this mess … You need to eat something, drink—”

“Dare, I’m okay,” she complained with a short laugh. “And I’m not hungry.”

He stopped with her in the kitchen. Smoothing back her hair, he studied her face. She looked pale, stressed and beautiful. “All right.” He couldn’t keep smothering her. She was too independent for that. “I’m not really hungry, either. But we might as well sit down to talk.”

She looked around at the remaining mess. “I still have so much to do.”

“We’ll get to it.” He cleared a chair and a spot on the table, then urged her to sit. “Take a few breaths, honey.”

She did a double take at the endearment. “I really am okay, you know.”

“I never doubted it.” Her inner strength never ceased to amaze him. She took one blow after another, but always rallied. It was that, as much as anything, that set her apart. “Just humor me.”

After ensuring that the carafe wasn’t broken, Dare started the coffee prep. He’d noticed where she kept things earlier when he’d checked the kitchen. “While I get this ready, why don’t you explain the gist of that note?”

She put her head in her hands. Voice muffled, she said, “It has to do with a book. The one that was so criticized.” She raised her face. “You remember what you read in the most scathing comments?”

Dare thought for a second. As he measured coffee into the basket, he recalled the dominant complaint. “You redeemed a character, right?”

Molly nodded. “In the beginning, he did some pretty awful things, mostly out of misguided emotion. He’d had a rough life, and because of that his outlook on certain things was skewed.”

“What kind of awful things?”

“He was a thief, a liar. Those sorts of things. He stole cars, credit cards. Definitely crossed the line. But while he was capable of it, he never really hurt anyone physically. Later in the book he realized his mistakes, tried to atone and the lead characters forgave him.”

The idea of forgiveness intrigued Dare—maybe because he, himself, wasn’t a very forgiving person. Cross him, and he never forgot, and he sure as hell stopped trusting. “Some readers felt duped.”

She gave one short nod. “I guess everyone doesn’t buy into second chances the way that I do.” As if she had a growing headache, Molly rubbed her temples. “I wouldn’t even make the connection, but one reader in particular sent me plenty of emails detailing different, sort-of-threatening scenarios about what it would take to push me past the point of forgiveness. She would always end the setup by asking if I’d still be forgiving if that happened to me.”

“The hell you say.” Dare took the seat beside her. “You didn’t tell me any of this.”

She dismissed that with a look. “It was bad enough that you saw those reviews. And honestly, until now, I really didn’t think that much of it. Over the years, I’ve gotten plenty of scathing letters from readers. It’s part and parcel with the job.”

“Give me an example.”

Keeping her attention on the tabletop, she thought back. “I once had this secondary character who was a father.”

Dare could feel her tension with the topic, and he hated it—but he needed details.

“After the character’s wife died, he emotionally bailed on his kids. He wasn’t there for them at all, didn’t see them through the tough times or encourage them.”

Had she drawn comparisons with her own father? From what she’d told him, he’d sure as hell neglected his daughters, especially when they needed him most: after their mother had died.

Molly folded her hands together. “He supported them financially, but that was it. I didn’t paint him as a total jerk, but neither was his self-absorbed pity written off as acceptable.”

“And?”

“A male reader was so outraged by my lack of understanding for what the character had gone through, he threatened my life.” Irritation growing, she added, “As if there’s ever any excuse for not taking care of your kids.”

“No, there’s not.” Cautious of her mood, Dare asked, “How’d he threaten you?”

“He wrote me a bunch of letters—twenty or more. All of them were angry, some more insane than the others, but his overall theme was that I needed to be shown what it was to feel real loss before I judged anyone else on their own reactions.” She made a rude sound. “I didn’t tell him that I had lost my mother, so I knew what it felt like to lose a loved one.”

“Good.” To Dare’s mind, it would never be smart to share too much of her private life with her readers. “Anything come of his threats?”

She waved it off. “Not really. I shared the letters with the local police, and they contacted a forensics team. There was some checking done. Other than telling me that the guy was back on his meds, they couldn’t say much because it would have infringed on his rights.”

Dare scowled. “Fucked-up logic, if you ask me.”

“It doesn’t matter. I never heard from him after that.” Restless, she tapped her fingertips on the tabletop. “Then there was the guy who came to every local signing, and he’d buy the same book over and over again. I don’t mean two or three copies, but like … dozens of them. I think in the end he must’ve owned forty or more copies of one title. It was downright creepy.”

Deadpan, Dare said, “He must’ve really liked the book.”

She rolled her eyes. “I finally told him that he had to stop. It was so awkward. For both of us.”

“I can imagine.” Dare took her hand. “How’d he react to that?”

“He got all flustered and stuff. I think he almost cried. But he didn’t show up at any more signings, and as far as I know, he’s never written me since then.”

“As far as you know?”

“A lot of readers send anonymous letters. They don’t sign a name or share an address.” Her lips quirked. “Especially the angry ones.”

“You say this stuff happens all the time?”

She lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I’ve gotten immune to it. I mean, I hate upsetting readers, but it’s just part of the business. What one reader loves another hates.” Her breath released in a sigh. “When that one reader kept telling me that no one would be that forgiving, I just ignored her at first.”

“Her?” Dare cocked a brow. “Do you know that it was a woman?”

“Well …” Molly frowned. “Not really, no. Her letters have all been unsigned and unaddressed, too. It’s just that most of my readers are women.”

“But not all?”

She made a face at him. “Both of the readers I already told you about were guys.”

“So let’s don’t make any assumptions, then.” The coffee machine hissed to a finish, and Dare got up to find the mugs.

Molly went to a different cabinet to retrieve powdered creamer. “I don’t even want to open my refrigerator. I’m afraid what I might find in there.”

Struck by that, Dare looked at her, then went to the fridge.

“I was kidding.”

“Might as well find out if we have anything growing.” He opened the door, but it wasn’t bad at all. “I think your lunchmeat is long gone, and I wouldn’t touch the milk or creamer. But everything else should be okay.” He closed the door again. “You keep a neat refrigerator. No leftovers.”

“Thank God.” She doctored her coffee and went back to the table. “Since it’s just me, I don’t cook much, which means there’s seldom anything left to store.”

Dare opened a few cabinets but didn’t find any snacks.

Apologetic, Molly said, “I’d offer you a cookie or something, but I have no idea what I have anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll order in dinner and if necessary shop tomorrow.”

Stirring her coffee with a spoon, Molly avoided eye contact. “How long will we be here?”

“Not sure yet.” And he wasn’t going to get trapped into trying to decide right now, either. “You know, unless you can think of someone that you’ve had a conflict with lately, your reasoning is as good as anything I can come up with.”

“A conflict?”

Dare shrugged. “Maybe someone who you’re angry at, who you won’t forgive?”

Gazes locking, the same thought occurring to them both, they said in unison, “Adrian.”

Why the hell hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Would her ex have been dumb enough to trash her apartment? Could he have known that Molly was missing?

Could he have arranged her abduction?

Molly scoffed. “No way. I mean, I can’t believe it. Not Adrian. He isn’t the type to—”

A key sounded in the lock on the front door.

Stunned, they both stared in that direction.

Stumped, Molly asked, “Who—?”

“Quiet.” Grabbing her, Dare dragged her down to the floor and behind the kitchen wall, turning off the lights as he went.

Molly’s eyes widened when she noticed the gun already in his hand.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered.

Dare pressed her back to the wall. “Stay. Put. And damn it, Molly, this time I mean it.”