Authors: Patricia Paris
Simms threw him a warning glance.
"I'd better get out there before Faraday tries to follow through on his
threat. Make yourself comfortable until I get back. And Baker," he added
with a meaningful look, "
do
not
start
without me."
"You son of a bitch,"
Abby heard Gage say a moment after Simms walked out.
"Is Faraday always so hot
tempered?" Abby ignored Baker's question. "So how long have the two
of you been lovers?"
She gave him a sideways glance.
"Are you hard of hearing or just poor at following orders?"
Baker chuckled and Abby looked
away. She was more concerned about Gage than playing games with the detective.
"Just settle down." She
heard Simms command. "We're not holding her for anything. And unless
you're trying to get yourself arrested, you'll sit down, shut up, and wait
until we've finished."
Their voices lowered, and she
couldn't make out what followed. Within minutes, Detective Simms returned. He
wasn't happy.
Before either of the detectives
could ask anything else, Abby cleared her throat and said, "I don't think
I want to say anything else without a lawyer." She folded her hands on the
table. "I've answered your questions, and now if you don't mind, I'd like
to leave."
To her surprise, Detective Simms
didn't attempt to stop her. He stood up and put his notes and the diary back
into the portfolio.
"In that case, thank you for
coming in, Mrs. Carpenter. I hope we haven't inconvenienced you too much."
He picked up the recorder and tucked it under his arm. "We'll be in
touch," he said, then glanced at his partner, hitched his head toward the
door, and walked out.
~~~
"They think I killed Dick.
They think I murdered him for the money." Abby's fingers tightened,
flexing uncontrollably against the sleeve of Gage's suit jacket.
"Twelve million dollars.
He tricked me out of the
property and sold it for twelve million dollars, and I never suspected a
thing."
His mouth compressed into a tight
line as he studied her pale cheeks and read the desperation in her worried
green gaze. "Look," he said, cradling her shoulders. "I've got
my chief legal counsel making arrangements to have one of the best defense
attorneys in the country meet with us later today. Everything's going to be all
right."
Two furrows appeared between her
brows. "You hired an attorney for me?" She searched his face.
"Do I look so guilty, even to you, that you felt compelled to hire someone
to start planning my defense?"
He opened his mouth to object but
she forestalled him.
"No, it's not just that. I'd
already decided to contact an attorney on my own. I can take care of myself,
Gage. I don't need you or anyone else trying to run my life or make decisions
for me without consulting me first."
He tried not to be offended.
"I wasn't trying to preempt you," he said, keeping his tone even.
"When I heard the police brought you into the station, I was worried they
might try to arrest you. I did the first thing I thought of." He glanced
out the window of the cab as it turned onto
He heard her sigh beside him. He
closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to hold her, but her comment about
not needing him had felt like a slap. She'd said she loved him, gave herself
over to his loving with an enthusiasm that left him breathless. But he knew in
his heart she held something back, a part she would not give over, no matter
how often he reached for it.
Silence enshrouded the cab. Her
thigh brushed against his. He fought the desire to turn to her, to be the one
to reach out again. His pride wouldn't let him. How many times had he coaxed
her emotion, asked her to trust him? What the hell was so wrong with needing
him
? He felt her hand on his wrist and flinched.
"Gage," she whispered.
He turned his head in impassive
silence. "What?" he asked, his tone lacking the emotion he felt.
She bit her lip, her eyes rising
slowly to meet his. "It seems I've done it again."
"Done what?" he asked
blandly.
He wanted to kiss her until he
drove every ounce of resistance from her lovely body, and she wanted nothing
more than to lay within his arms, safe and sated in the shelter of his love.
Love
me, Abby.
"Taken my frustrations out on
you," she said. "I felt like I was on trial in there. I felt like I
couldn't defend myself. No matter what I said, they didn't seem to believe me.
I'm positive Detective Baker's already convicted me."
He ground his back teeth. She
didn't want his defense; she didn't want his concern. She wouldn't want to know
he felt like telling the cabbie to turn around and take him back to the station
so he could give Baker a complimentary nose job. He wasn't really sure what she
wanted.
"Gage," she said again,
his name sounding like a plea. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. I hate
not being able to control what's happening to me. It happened with Dick."
"I'm not Dick," he
snapped, angered by the comparison.
"No, you're not." She
wrapped her fingers around his hand. "You're nothing like him, nothing.
But when Dick's affairs were exposed, it was horrible. My life became public
property. I was put on display, scrutinized for my faults, judged, found
lacking. I hated every second of it, and I was helpless to change it."
His anger began to dissolve. He
didn't like being shut out of any part of her life, but he could understand her
need to feel as if she had some control over it.
"I'll tell Mel to cancel
whatever arrangements he's made." He pulled his cell phone from the inner
pocket of his suit jacket and flipped it open.
She stayed his hand. "You
don't have to do that. I know you weren't being manipulative. I overreacted.
That's what I was trying to say. I didn't kill Dick, but the police think I
did. The more I tried to explain the more I seemed to incriminate myself. It
was the same as before. I had no control over what they thought."
She glanced up at him. "I felt
powerless, cornered. I wanted to scream. When you said you'd made arrangements
for an attorney, I jumped on it, on you, because you were there, and I needed
something to—" Her lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
"You're sorry?" She
frowned.
"For what?"
"For being
such a selfish bastard."
He pulled her into his arms.
"Do you want to explain
that?" she asked against his chest.
"No."
She tilted her face up to look at
him. "Would you do something for me?"
"I'd sell my soul for
you."
"I didn't have anything that
drastic in mind."
He smiled for the first time since
Rachael had called to tell him Abby had been taken to the police station for
questioning. He trailed a finger along her jaw line, the delicate skin there as
soft as warm silk. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, wishing
they were on the way to his penthouse instead of her office.
"A kiss," she said shyly,
as if it embarrassed her to ask. It amazed him. He'd explored every part of her
body, and she could still feel self-conscious asking for something as simple as
a kiss.
The cab pulled up to the curb in
front of Abby's building. Gage glanced at the driver. It didn't matter. He
couldn't refuse her; he couldn't refuse himself. He bent his head and gave her
what she wanted.
Too soon the kiss ended, leaving
him hungry.
"That was nice," she
said.
"That was just an
appetizer."
She caught her lip. "
So.
. . when do I get the main course?"
He chuckled.
"Tonight.
Followed by dessert."
"Promise?"
Gage growled and opened the cab
door. "Keep it up and you'll be getting a seven course meal in the back
seat of the cab."
He got out and took her hand, her
eyes smiling up at him as she slid out of the car. "Wait here," he
told the driver.
"I'll call you after I talk to
Mel and let you know what's happening with the attorney." He held her
gaze. "Are you all right with that?" he asked, wanting her to know it
was her decision.
She nodded. "That's fine.
Thank you."
He resisted the urge to kiss her
again. He saw the same longing in her eyes. It would have to wait.
"I'll see you tonight,"
he said softly, and as he turned to leave, he brushed against her, his fingers
trailing over the back of her hand, hidden from the passersby.
"The Heritage Place Building
on Chestnut," Gage said when he climbed back into the cab.
He glanced out the window. He could
see Abby crossing the lobby through the glass front doors. He was worried.
Twelve million dollars was a hell of a lot of motive.
He flipped open his cell and called
Grace.
"Are Mel and Brett still
there?"
"Brett's in your office. Mel
stepped out but should be back shortly," Grace told him.
"Put me through to Brett, and
then try to get in touch with Mel on his cell and tell him I need to meet with
him and Brett in my office in fifteen minutes," he said.
Five seconds later Brett came on
the line. "Christ, Gage, what the hell's going on? The way you ran out of
here no one knows what to think. Mel's been doing fucking cartwheels to get
Quentin Robertson to fly here this evening to talk to you, and he can't even
tell the guy what's so goddamn critical he needs to drop everything he's doing
to come."
"I'm on my way in. I'll talk
to you and Mel when I get there. In the meantime, Matt's down at the site. Call
him and tell him to meet us at the office in—" he glanced at his watch
"—an hour and a half."
He heard Brett's heavy sigh.
"Does all this have anything to do with the AG's probe?" he asked.
"I'll explain what I can when
I get there," Gage said.
"Is there any chance your
explanation will make Mel and me feel any better about what's going on?"
"Probably
not."
"I was afraid you'd say
that."
Ten minutes later Gage walked
through the front doors of
CHAPTER
TWELVE
T
uesday afternoon T. Eugene
Simms stared at the yellow pad on his desk and asked himself the question that
had been bothering him for over a week.
If Abigail Carpenter was guilty of
murdering her ex-husband, or convinced Faraday to do it for her, why wasn't she
acting more like a guilty person?
In his experience, the guilty
usually played it cool, even arrogant, or they were so nervous they gave
themselves away or made sloppy mistakes trying to cover up. She knew they
suspected her, yet she'd come to the station willingly when asked and allowed
them to question her. He didn't think she was stupid, quite the opposite, but
instead of refusing to talk to them, as was often the case when guilty, she
hadn't even thought of contacting a lawyer until Baker had backed her against a
wall and frightened her.
He loved a puzzle, he always had,
and if a piece didn't fit, he arranged and rearranged until everything fell
neatly into place, just the way he liked it. On the surface, solving Richard
Carpenter's murder looked like a slam dunk. He had two seemingly obvious
suspects. He had motive, and he had what some might consider compelling
circumstantial evidence.
He linked his hands behind his
neck. There were those in the department who said they trusted his intuition
more than they trusted evidence. Right now it told him to keep shuffling the
pieces.
Carpenter and Faraday were lovers.
He knew that from the surveillance he'd set up, and although both of them had
basically told him it was none of his business, they hadn't denied it. He also
knew they'd been lovers years ago. Carpenter's diary had chronicled the affair
in steamy detail.
He smirked. It was hard to imagine
someone like her involved in an illicit affair when she'd been just a kid. He
shook his head. Looks could be so deceiving, but he'd seen the proof.
The decedent had admitted to Billings he'd taken the
diary from his ex-wife's house. Apparently, he'd gone there to try to patch
things up although after talking with Abby Carpenter yesterday, he wasn't sure
who to believe on that account. Regardless, when she wasn't home, Carpenter had
let himself in with an old key, found the diary, and started reading it.
Gene rubbed his chin, running
possible scenarios through his mind. The man became enraged by what he'd read,
left with the diary, and then what? Confronted Faraday? Confronted his ex-wife?
Threatened one or both of them?
Who else might have wanted Richard
Carpenter out of the picture? He leaned forward and jotted several names on the
legal pad. Beside Abby Carpenter and Gage Faraday's names he put a P for
primaries.
He included the names of four women
they'd discovered Carpenter had had affairs with during the last two years, the
husbands of the two who were married, and Rachael Gooding. He tapped his pencil
against the pad. He added Harold Billings. He tapped the pad again. He added
Senator Carpenter as well as Abigail Carpenter's parents.
He didn't consider them all
suspects, but one of them knew something important, even if they didn't realize
it. He glanced at the list and frowned. Gaining the cooperation of some would
present a bigger challenge than others.
"Simms, there's lady out front
to see you." Jack Moyer said from the doorway. He wiggled his eyebrows and
shot Gene a lascivious grin.