Читать книгу The Eyes Of Derek Archer - Vickie York - Страница 11

When the staff vehicle finally reached the Riverfront Hotel where Susan’s car was parked, she clambered out so quickly her purse slid to the ground. Bending to pick it up, she saw Derek Archer stride through the lobby doors.

After what she’d been through, she didn’t want to talk to him, and turned away, hoping he wouldn’t follow her to her car. She didn’t want him to see her like this, flustered and scared, afraid the police might actually indict her for Brian’s murder.

He didn’t take the hint, easily catching up with her as she hurried away from him. “I hope you don’t have to go back to work, so we can finish our business.”

She looked up at his face. Taller and broader than she remembered, he let his cold blue eyes, now strangely seductive, drift from her face down to her uniform-clad breasts and back to her face again, in a sweeping, deliberate movement.

Her face flushing with unexpected heat, she almost increased her pace and told him to leave. But that would be a cop-out. His insolent glance was a conscious challenge, and Susan couldn’t ignore it, no matter how decrepit she felt. So instead she turned and faced him. “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow, Archer.”

“I don’t want to pry into your business, Susan, but I’m a good listener,” he said, buttoning his overcoat in the gathering darkness.

So he was curious about what had happened at the police station, was he? That’s what his challenge had been about. Disconcerted, she stepped off the driveway onto the sidewalk, trying to decide whether or not to tell him.

Behind those sexy eyes of his lurked a bitter cynicism that made her distrust him. After being photographed and fingerprinted at the police station, her earlier suspicions about him seemed silly. But he was still a stranger, not somebody she could discuss her personal feelings with.

“No, I’ve got to get home.” Susan started toward her car again. “I’m bone-tired. Our business will have to wait.”

He fell into step beside her. “So what’re you going to do? Go home and have a good cry?”

His abrupt, taunting words took her breath away. “Wha-what do you mean?” At the base of her throat, she felt a pulse beat as though her heart had risen from its usual place.

“Isn’t that what you were about to do? Huddle down in a corner somewhere and cry?” His iridescent blue eyes focused on her so accusingly that she shivered.

“I’m not upset,” she lied, unable to meet his gaze.

“Of course you are. The police have you scared witless. Now you’re going home and giving up, just like a world-class quitter.”

Susan could feel her eyes filling and swallowed hard, trying to force the tears away. He was right, damn him. She had planned to go home and spend the night feeling sorry for herself.

They’d reached the end of the sidewalk. He stopped and faced her. “What’d they do? Accuse you of killing your husband?”

She blinked her tears away. “How did you guess?”

“I took one look at your face when you got out of that staff car.” His eyes were no longer menacing. “I can help. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

NEXT TO SUSAN in her Firebird, Archer silently congratulated himself for forcing the truth out of her. He felt an unexpected pang of remorse that he’d made her cry, but told himself not to feel sorry for her: she’d probably killed her husband. Whatever she’d done, the knowing did nothing to lessen his lust for her. When she was around, he halfway forgot his desire for revenge.

Don’t screw up by playing around with Brian Wade’s widow, he warned himself. She’s only a resource for information to use against those dirt bags who witnessed against me. But he couldn’t rid himself of his awareness, no matter how much he concentrated on the downtown area as they drove through it.

Archer knew where she was headed. High Drive Parkway paralleled the edge of a steep drop-off to the canyon floor over one hundred feet below. The executive homes across the road sat well back from the rim, their windows looking out over miles of breathtaking scenery. On the canyon floor, a freeway snaked its way south.

Susan pulled into a turnoff. Nearby, a bench faced the hill across the canyon, now lined with scarlet in the rapidly fading light.

Archer undid his seat belt and leaned back against the passenger door, giving her plenty of room.

“Did they come right out and accuse you?” He made sure his tone was only mildly interested. She mustn’t guess he had an urgent need to know if the police had connected Brian Wade’s death to the murder of the squadron commander last year—and if they considered the middle-aged man in the newspaper picture a suspect.

“They didn’t arrest me, if that’s what you mean.” Lifting her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. “The police found the gun they say shot Brian at Cavanaugh’s Inn. It’s got a skylight and an atrium in the lobby.”

She swallowed hard, and Archer waited patiently while she got control of herself. “The weapon was buried in the dirt of a planter in the atrium. When the police questioned hotel personnel, several described a woman who looked like me. They say she was in the lobby that afternoon.”

“Several employees described this person? After two months?” Archer whistled softly. “Looks like somebody went to a lot of trouble to make sure those people remembered her, whoever she was.”

“Somebody went to even more trouble,” she said grimly.

Archer could see her mood veer sharply from despair to anger. “What?” Leaning across the car seat toward her, he caught a faint whiff of female skin and spicy lemon, and had to force himself to inch backward, away from her

Unconsciously, Susan moved toward him, maintaining the same distance between them. “That afternoon Brian was killed, somebody called me at the office, claiming to be the wife of one of my airmen. She said she was calling from a pay station along Argonne Road because she’d run out of gas. She’d left the house to get away from her husband and didn’t dare let him find her until he’d cooled off.”

Susan gave a forced smile, seeming irritated at herself for being taken in. “I should have known better than to traipse out there—her voice didn’t sound right to me. But he’s one of my best airmen, and I hated to see him end up in jail for wife beating. You can’t imagine how upset I was to telephone their house when I got home and find out she hadn’t made the call.”

He nodded slowly. “From my army days I remember how close our—” in the nick of time he remembered that a squadron was called a company in the army “—company was as a unit. Like a family.”

Her expression brightened. “Then you understand how it was.”

To his surprise, Archer found he almost believed her.

“Why wasn’t the woman’s husband—your airman—in the office with you?” he asked, caught up in her story.

“Because of the holiday,” she returned. “The squadron had Hercs—C-130s—in the air, so somebody had to be on duty in all the sections. I let my airmen off, and took the duty myself.”

She gave a hysterical little laugh. “And if all that’s not bad enough, the police say the gun they found in the atrium was registered to Brian.”

“Then you had access to it.” Archer whistled softly under his breath. Glancing at her chest he saw her expert marksman’s ribbon. He forced himself to concentrate on the decoration and not on the feminine curves underneath her uniform. The sight brought back his fantasy of the two of them entwined in an intimate embrace. He wasn’t able to let it go as easily this time.

“When I told them he kept the gun at the squadron, I’m sure they didn’t believe me,” she added.

A twinge of foreboding rippled down Archer’s spine. The mysterious telephone call, the reliable witnesses at the hotel, the late discovery of the murder weapon, its registration to her husband—her story had the touch of a well-thought-out conspiracy.

“Whoever planned this knew a lot about you and your schedule,” he remarked, reviewing her words in his mind. “I’m betting somebody’s trying to frame you.”

He heard her quick gasp. Panic glittered in her eyes.

“My God, what am I going to do?”

“You can get me to look into your husband’s death,” Archer returned quickly.

HAD SHE HEARD HIM RIGHT? Susan wondered. “What? Are you a private investigator on the side?”

When he shook his head, another lock of black hair dropped casually across his forehead. “No, but I’ve done some investigative work for my company. Since I’ve got to spend a few days here, anyway, calling on prospects, I could ask some questions, see what I can find out about your husband’s murder.”

Be careful, she warned herself, unwilling to trust him too far. He’s a good salesman, and he wants something from me. But what? In spite of her doubts, she felt herself reacting to his compelling indigo eyes, his square-cut features, the confident set of his shoulders as he sat next to her in the car.

“What makes you think you can locate Don Albright when the police don’t have a clue?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m not talking about Albright.” He studied her with curious intensity. “You’re not dealing with one man here, Susan. Too much coordination went into your husband’s murder to blame it on one individual with revenge on his mind. If one man was responsible for both murders, he had a lot of help.”

When Archer paused, Susan could see the wheels turning in his head. “There’s no other way to explain why the lights were turned off an instant before the commander was murdered last year,” he went on. “Or the fact that somebody was awfully familiar with your schedule—and your husband’s, too. They had to be to lure you away from the office at exactly the right time on a holiday when you normally wouldn’t be there.”

Susan felt herself frowning. “You might be right about accomplices being involved. But Don Albright’s behind this. I’d bet a year’s pay on it.”

The car was getting stuffy. Climbing out, she walked across the yellowed grass to the edge of the precipice. To the south, stands of fir trees circled the emerald green of a golf course beside the divided freeway. Directly below, the steep slope dropped one hundred feet to the valley.

Instantly, the blood rose to her face and the scene swam dizzily before her eyes. Looking straight down had been a mistake. Susan stumbled backward, her stomach a lump of ice. Archer appeared beside her, a large, solid presence. Acutely conscious of his tall, athletic physique, she took another step backward. Did she feel comforted or threatened by his nearness? To her dismay, she wasn’t sure.

“Vertigo?” His smooth baritone voice was both soothing and disconcerting.

She gave a shaky laugh. “It’s not a phobia. High places don’t bother me as long as I look into the distance, not straight down.” Deliberately, she forced her gaze to follow the gray ribbon of freeway south until the canyon disappeared on the horizon. Almost immediately, her stomach relaxed.

Turning, he headed toward the bench. “Let’s sit down.”

Her legs still shaky, Susan stumbled after him. When she slid onto the bench, she left plenty of space between them.

“If heights bother you, I’m surprised you brought me here.” His gaze traveled over her face and sought her eyes. Now that the sun had gone behind the opposite hill, his square-cut features were bathed in the sunset’s rosy glow. His rugged good looks made her forget her dizziness.

“That’s the first time I’ve gone to the edge,” she admitted weakly. “After what I’ve been through today, this place seemed appropriate.”

“I know what you mean about going to the edge. I’ve been there a few times myself.” Moving toward her, he thrust his arm behind her on the bench. Susan wanted to inch away, but couldn’t force herself to stir.

“Let me ask a few questions about your husband’s murder,” he suggested again. This time there was a forced urgency behind his offer, as though something valuable would be lost if she refused. “I know I can help.”

To keep herself from being influenced by his nearness, she took a deep breath. The cold, dry air tasted so fresh and clean she wished she could bring some home to her empty condo.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Your offer’s awfully generous. What’s in it for you?” As she felt the pressure of his arm against her back, an involuntary quiver coursed through her.

“I don’t like what’s happening to you,” he said. “A long time ago some people I thought were friends sold me down the river. I swore I’d get even if it was the last thing I did.”

He sounded so vengeful, she turned, searching his compelling face. With his lips pressed tightly together and deep scowl lines etched on his forehead, he looked so brutal she shivered, sensing the force of his hatred. If people he considered his friends had betrayed him, no wonder he seemed dangerous and vindictive. But the thought of a vengeful man like Archer working for her scared her. It would be like trying to control a black panther with a ribbon for a leash.

Turning back toward the opposite hill, she saw lights blink on, dotting the surrounding landscape. At her side, she felt the heat of Archer’s body, warming her through her uniform coat. She resisted the urge to move closer.

“Isn’t it funny how things turn out?” she asked, to defuse his anger. “This morning I was sure you were a con man or a swindler. Now I’m thinking about hiring you as a private investigator.” To her dismay, there was a note of unsteady laughter in her voice.

“Why did you think I was a swindler?” The thread of tension in his voice hadn’t been there before.

When Susan put her gloved hand on his arm, wanting to soften her words, a surprisingly intimate awareness surged through her. Slowly removing her hand, she forged ahead. “First, because you weren’t registered at the hotel when I checked this morning. But mainly because I had no record of your company’s insurance policy. I can’t imagine Brian having a policy with me as beneficiary and not putting it where I’d be sure to find it.”

“That does seem strange.” But Archer’s tone was matter-of-fact, as though this happened all the time. “Have you looked everywhere?”

She nodded. “Before I went to Hawaii.”

“How about safe-deposit boxes?” Dropping his arm from the back of the bench to her shoulders, he gave her a little hug. Her heart lurched into her throat. What was there about this man that made her tremble at his slightest touch? Though keenly aware of his body against hers, she didn’t move away.

“Two policies were in the safe-deposit box,” she said. “Your company’s wasn’t.”

“You only had one box?” he asked in the same cool tone.

Knowing she had to get closer or escape, Susan slid away from him, toward the end of the bench. He removed his arm from her back, leaving an empty space where he’d been.

“Why would we need more than one safe-deposit box?” In spite of herself, her voice trembled.

Turning slightly, he shrugged. “Sometimes people keep separate boxes for different types of items.”

Now she saw what he was getting at. “You mean illegal items or anything a person doesn’t want his spouse to know about?” She stared at Archer’s rugged profile. While she watched, a muscle clenched along his jaw.

“Something like that.” Frowning, he paused. “I’m not implying that your husband was hiding anything from you. I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

Much as Susan didn’t like to admit it, she’d always felt Brian was keeping something from her. A safe-deposit box was infinitely better than the woman friend she’d secretly suspected.

“Yes, it’s a possibility,” she agreed softly, rising from the bench. Archer followed her to the car.

On the way back to the hotel, he suggested dinner, but Susan declined. She intended to tear the condo apart when she got home. If Brian had a box key hidden there, she intended to find it.

“We still have the insurance policy to go over,” Archer reminded her. “And you haven’t given me the green light on my offer to help.”

“I know,” Susan murmured. “Let me sleep on it.”

When he didn’t press her, she was grateful.

Mixed feelings surged through her when he took her hand before he got out of her car at the hotel. She still didn’t trust him, but his touch felt oddly reassuring.

“Tomorrow for lunch?” His gaze held hers.

She nodded, jerking her eyes away to slow her pounding heart. “I’ll see you then.”

As she drove home, the touch of his hand and sound of his smooth baritone voice replayed in her mind. She’d known him less than eight hours and already he acted almost as interested in her as Brian had before their marriage. Why? her suspicious mind kept asking.

It must be the insurance policy, she thought. There’s something about it Archer’s not telling me.

And why hadn’t Brian told her about it? If he had had a second, secret safe-deposit box, where would he hide the key?

As soon as she got home, she searched the downstairs, then the two upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms, but found nothing.

From inside the house, she entered the garage through the front hall on the other side of the living room. Brian’s workbench was opposite the big double car door. A feeling of sadness came over Susan as she remembered Brian working there. Even before he died she’d realized he wasn’t the right man for her, but that didn’t ease her guilt and sorrow at his death.

Glancing around the area, she saw the screws and nails he kept in marked cans on a shelf above his bench. One by one she dumped the cans over, carefully replacing the contents of each before turning over another.

She found the safe-deposit key in the next-to-last can.

WHEN ARCHER RETURNED to his room after a quiet meal downstairs, the blinker on his phone was flashing. Even before he talked to the hotel operator, he knew the message was from Susan. Nobody else had any idea he was here.

He dialed her number, a little surprised at himself for remembering it. He was even more shocked when she recognized his voice.

“Thanks for calling back so soon.” She spoke eagerly, full of enthusiasm. “You were right about the second safe-deposit box. I found the key about half an hour ago.”

Archer felt himself stiffen with surprise. He hadn’t expected her to find a key—had only suggested she look as an explanation for the missing insurance policy. Since she didn’t need a copy of the policy to collect the insurance, he hadn’t dreamed she’d be so concerned about finding it.

“Good for you!” He strove to eliminate his surprise and put matter-of-fact sincerity into his voice. “I was pretty sure your husband had another box. That’s got to be where he put my company’s policy. Do you have any idea where the box is?”

“Not a clue.” Her voice dropped in volume. “All that’s on the key is a number. I suppose I’ll have to call every bank in town to find out where the box is.”

“Don’t call,” Archer said, eager to spend an afternoon with her. “We’ll go to the banks tomorrow. When we find out which one has the box, we’ll get the contents released to you since you’re his widow.”

“Will a bank release the contents? Just like that?” She sounded doubtful.

“I don’t know,” Archer lied, “but it won’t hurt to try.” He knew damned well no bank would release the contents of a safe-deposit box to anybody but a cosigner—not even a widow—without a court order. But as soon as she agreed to let him help her, she was well on her way to accepting his offer to act as her private investigator. And, if Archer played his cards right, that meant more opportunities to pump her for information and play her off against the other witnesses.

On the other end of the line, Susan warned herself to go slow. Impressed as she was with Archer—especially now that he’d been proved right about the safe-deposit box—she didn’t want to do anything impulsive.

But she dismissed the thought as being paranoid again.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll talk to Major Savage and arrange for tomorrow afternoon off. We can go to the banks then.”

“Bring along some ID, your marriage license and a copy of the death certificate.” Though his voice was solemn, Susan heard a trace of elation. Her heart gave a momentary leap, and she hugged her satin robe more tightly around herself—as if a snug robe were a coat of armor to shut out her confused feelings.

After she’d hung up, Susan shook her head, annoyed with herself. Archer wasn’t interested in her. He simply wanted to locate the missing insurance policy to prove Brian had it so she wouldn’t think he was a fraud.

His proposal to act as her private investigator was harder to figure out, she thought, drumming her fingers on the table by the phone. He didn’t impress her as a man who offered his time without a good reason. Somehow, his explanation that he wanted to help her because he’d been betrayed himself didn’t ring true. Was there something else behind his offer? For that matter, was he really an insurance agent? With her special training, she should have checked straight off.

She picked up the phone again and dialed the telephone number written on the insurance forms he’d given her. Though it was after nine at night, maybe someone was in the office to handle claims. If not, voice mail might give her some information about the company, and she could call back tomorrow.

A woman answered. “Industrial Indemnity.”

Mildly surprised at getting a person instead of an answering machine, Susan asked for Mr. Derek Archer.

“Mr. Archer will be out of town until next week. If you’ll leave your number, I’ll have him call you tomorrow.”

“You mean next week? When he gets back?” Susan felt her resistance slipping. The more she probed, the more it appeared that Archer was exactly who he said he was.

“No, ma’am. I mean tomorrow.” The woman’s voice turned patronizing. “He phones in for his messages every day. If you’ll leave your number, I guarantee he’ll return your call.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Susan said. She’d found out what she wanted to know. Derek Archer really was an agent working for the Industrial Indemnity Insurance Company.

THE CHAIR IN FRONT of Major Savage’s desk squeaked when Susan leaned forward. Crossing her ankles primly beneath her, she resisted her urge to squirm in the chair like some ten-year-old called into the principal’s office. A drop of sweat ran down her back, cold against her skin.

The major’s hooded, hawklike eyes surveyed her from across his desk. “Of course you can take this afternoon off if you need it, Susan.”

Her heart plummeted. Something must be wrong. Major Savage called people by their first names only when he felt sorry for them.

“Thank you, sir.” She started to get up.

“Before you go, there’s something we need to talk about.” He motioned her back to her chair.

Sinking down, she leaned toward him.

“I’m sorry to have to do this, Susan,” he began slowly, “but now that you’re under investigation by the police, I’m going to have to transfer you out of the intelligence office.”

Mortified, she lowered her head. “Because of my top secret clearance?”

He nodded. “I’m sure you understand why we can’t leave you there.”

“Of course.” Was that squeaky little voice hers? “I’ll help out with some of your unclassified work in the orderly room.”

His hooded eyes studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “Sergeant Philips doesn’t need any help in the orderly room.”

Heat rose in Susan’s cheeks. “Then, what?” she stammered.

He leaned back. The movement made him seem even shorter. Susan straightened to see him better.

“Colonel Tinnerman took a shine to you when he met you yesterday. He can use some help in the security police shop—he’s got some unclassified research he needs done.” His expression softened. “Quite frankly, Susan, you’ll probably be better off there than in the orderly room. If you stayed around the squadron, there’d be questions….”

“I understand,” she said, not understanding at all. There would be just as many questions if she left and wasn’t around to defend herself. Worst of all, she’d no longer have an excuse to snoop around the C-130s and talk to the air and ground crews right after the planes landed. Without that access, her covert mission was wiped out. She’d failed at Operation Macula, her first big assignment.

“Colonel Tinnerman’s on your side, Susan,” the major went on. “Maybe he can give you some helpful advice and counsel.”

“I appreciate that, sir.” All she wanted now was to escape the major’s forced sympathy and get to a phone. Her Pentagon controller had said not to call unless the matter was urgent. Getting fired from her job certainly qualified, since it meant her investigation was finished.

Opposite her, Major Savage cleared his throat. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please ask.”

She hesitated, then plunged. “There is one thing. If I could have a couple of days off before I report into Colonel…”

The major began shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I’m sorry, Susan, but Colonel Tinnerman wants you to start on his research project tomorrow morning.”

Before she could get up, the major came around his desk, his hand extended. “Thanks for your good work in the squadron, Lieutenant.”

Susan took his hand. It felt hot, dry, bony—like a claw. “When I get this mess straightened out, maybe I’ll be back.”

“Of course you will.” His smile seemed phony.

Lifting her arm in a quick salute, Susan didn’t smile back.

“WE’LL HAVE YOU reassigned immediately.” The well-modulated voice on the telephone was carefully neutral, revealing no emotion.

“You can’t do that.” Susan kept her irritation under control, her voice as neutral as the man’s she was talking to. “I just told you the police consider me a suspect in my husband’s murder. They don’t want me to leave the local area.”

In the silence that followed, the growl of an eighteen-wheeler shifting into low gear filled the air. She slid the door to the phone booth closed to block out the street noise.

“Did you do it?” the voice asked.

Heat flamed her face. How could her Pentagon controller ask a question like that? “No, of course not.” She didn’t let her humiliation show in her voice.

“Your husband might have been one of the men we’re looking for,” her controller reminded her. “Your job for us makes you appear even more guilty.” There was a subtle warning in his words. “It’s more important than ever that you keep quiet about the operation.”

“Don’t worry, I know my orders.” She’d been cautioned a dozen times that if something went wrong with her operation, she couldn’t count on the agency to come to her rescue. As far as the outside world knew, Pentagon Intelligence didn’t get involved in cases like this. After she volunteered for the program, Susan received special training so she’d know what to look for.

“We’ll leave you assigned at the base where you are for the time being,” he said. She noticed he was careful not to reveal her location over the open phone line. “Let me know if anybody’s charged in your husband’s death. Meanwhile, take yourself off the operation. Though you’ve found nothing to substantiate the rumors, there may be a connection between your search and your husband’s murder.”

“Yes, sir,” she returned automatically. But in her mind she was already planning to let Archer go ahead with his investigation. If he found out something she could report to her controller under Operation Macula, so much the better.