Broken Trust Page 15

She watched as his fingers traced her areola.

  She toyed with the black hair on his chest, enjoying the steady beat of his heart beneath well-formed pecs. It thrilled her that she’d had both father and son as lovers. “What kept you busy all day?”

  He raised his jet black eyebrows. “I was at the Trust being a dutiful trustee and keeping an eye on Nora Abbott.”

  Sylvia didn’t like the idea of him spending time anywhere near that troublemaker. “Isn’t a nonprofit trust beneath your talents?”

  “I’m helping out temporarily. The finances are not what they should be. The budget is way over projections. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”

  The warmth of their lovemaking dissipated. “I haven’t done anything. Nora said my budget was way over but it shouldn’t be. Darla must have made a mistake.”

  He nodded, a quirk of a smile on his face. “Nora will find out, assuredly.”

  He obviously suspected Sylvia stole money from the Trust, just as Darla had accused her. She could tell by his smirk. “Why are you the one to keep an eye on her, anyway? Mark is there.”

  “I find her fascinating. And, as it turns out,” he pulled his head back and studied her, “Nora might need protecting. She ended up in the ER this morning.”

  So what? Apparently she didn’t die. “That girl can take care of herself, believe me.”

  He lifted her hand from his chest and sat up. “Perhaps. At any rate I did not come here to discuss Nora.”

  She ran the tip of her tongue around his lips with the slightest touch. “I didn’t think you came to discuss anything.”

  He grabbed her, kissing her with desire, thrusting his tongue past her lips. He let her go. “I have enjoyed you very much and now I must go.” He rose.

  She let the sheet fall just below her satiny breast. “Do you have to leave so soon?”

  He dressed quickly, almost as if he couldn’t wait to leave.

  Of course she was being sensitive. He’d just made love to her and obviously couldn’t resist the sexual spell she had over him. Maybe he wanted to give her time to recover from her awful experience with the police.

  He didn’t turn back before he sauntered out the door and down the stairs.

  She waited until the front door clicked shut. Then she rose and showered. She padded down the stairs to finish her glass of cognac in front of the fire.

  Her cell phone chirped and she considered not answering. She recognized the number and changed her mind. “How lovely to hear from you, Eduardo. Have you made my deposit?”

  He didn’t take the time to hear what she said. “You have murdered the accountant? For money? Are you insane?”

  She stood in front of the fire but it wasn’t responsible for the sweat that broke out under her negligee. “I didn’t—”

  “The police arrested you.”

  How did he find out? Did Daniel tell him? “They brought me in for questioning.”

  “And you have involved Danielcito, as I asked you not to do.”

  She trembled at the rage in his voice. “I was set up. It was Nora Abbott’s fault, that conniving little climber.”

  “She was not at the Trust when this happened.”

  “I can’t explain it. She’s jealous.” Sylvia paced away from the fire. “It’s like at HAARP.” Someone always tried to stand in Sylvia’s path to greatness. “Bruce Franklin wanted my job and he spread lies about me. He stole the credit for my work.” Of course she’d delegated the more tedious aspects of her job; that didn’t mean she wasn’t responsible for the work her department accomplished. He’d gone behind her back and got her fired.

  “Enough of your jabber, carina.” The endearment sounded like a curse. “I grow impatient.”

  “I need more time. And money. If you deposit—”

  “No more money. But in case you need incentive to work, I’ve sent Juan to watch over you. Time is running out.”

  “Juan—”

  He severed the connection.

  Sylvia ran to the control panel and slapped off the great room lights. She tiptoed to the dining room and snaked her arm around the corner to douse the chandelier. Then she ran up the stairs to her bedroom in the dark and slipped to the window facing the street.

  A Lincoln Town Car sat on the opposite side of her street one house down, facing her way. She couldn’t see inside the car so could only assume someone named Juan sat there watching her house.

  Her hands shook as she dressed in black leggings and turtleneck. She pulled on the black riding boots she’d bought last week.

  She wouldn’t tolerate Eduardo’s bullying. She didn’t know where she would go but her Ferrari 430 could outrun a Town Car and she’d lose Juan in a hurry. That would show Eduardo she couldn’t be intimidated.

  Sylvia hurried down the stairs, through the kitchen to the garage. Who did he think he was, treating her like some kind of minion?

  She stomped to the Ferrari and slid inside. With one hand she hit the garage door opener and with the other she pressed the start button.

  She twisted to view over her shoulder. An unusual lump at the passenger window startled her and she caught her breath. Her eyes focused on it.

  Snakes of fear slithered across her skin. A scream of terror built in her gut and exploded with echoes in the small car.

  Her foot slipped off the clutch. Her hands flew in spastic flutters and she kept screaming.

  The calico cat glared from the passenger window. Its glassy eyes glittered in the light from the garage door, mouth gaped in a ghastly snarl, the sharp teeth bared and white. The cat hung with her neck trapped between the top of the window and door. The cat’s blood smeared on the outside of the window and it dripped from her mouth, staining the white leather upholstery.

  twenty-three

  The key twisted in the ignition and Nora’s old Jeep fell silent.

  Thankfully Abigail had been out somewhere when Nora and Abbey returned home in the early afternoon. Cole had driven her to the Trust to get her Jeep and made her promise she’d stay home all afternoon. But after a shower she’d headed back to the office.

  Now she scanned her apartment, dreading another round with Abigail. She wasn’t ready to discuss her father. She needed time and solitude. Instead, she had Abigail.

  What a day. The Trust was a crazy place and Nora weighed whether saving the Earth was worth sorting through the problems. Okay, maybe working as Finance Director didn’t rise to the status of saving the Earth.

  She didn’t hold with Cole’s conviction that Mark had tried to kill her. For all her wild imagination and despite the events in Flagstaff, she believed murder and mayhem occurred in movies and novels, not in real life.

  Not usually.

  Cold seeped into the Jeep. Much as she’d like to start it up and drive away and not have to deal with Abigail tonight, she could use a bucket of Abbey-love.

  A group of students walked by chatting and laughing. They passed under the parking lot light and continued into the night. Nora smiled remembering the feeling of a new fall semester with all the hope and possibilities and freedom of youth. She climbed out of the Jeep and headed to the stairs.

  Without warning, her mind flashed to an image of Cole at the hospital this afternoon. Maybe she’d thought of him more than she’d like to admit in the last year. It didn’t matter that sometimes when she saw couples walking hand in hand along Boulder Creek, she’d imagined what it would be like to walk with Cole. But she’d trained herself to shove those sorts of thoughts far away.

  She inhaled the crisp fall air. With every step she drilled more determination into her brain. She would not discuss her father with Abigail tonight. Nora was bound to say something hurtful. She needed to process it on her time, whenever that might be.

  I will be nice to Abigail.

  She opened the door and steppe
d from the chill into a cozy apartment. In that tuned-in way of dogs, Abbey already stood by the door, tail wagging, tongue lolling, smile ready. Of course, in this micro-apartment, Abbey would only have to hear her hand on the door knob to get up from his bed under the corn plants and meet her at the front door.

  Nora dropped her bag and squatted next to him, burying her face in his fur. “How’re you doin’?”

  Abigail’s voice cut through Nora’s closed eyes and the haze of comfort coming from Abbey. She stood in the galley kitchen, which opened into the four-foot-square entry area. “I’m so glad you didn’t work any later. Dinner would have been spoiled.”

  Nora realized she’d been inhaling a savory aroma, just like a real dinner. Meat with onions and garlic undertones, and bread. Bread? Man, it smelled wonderful

  Who thought she’d be hungry after her terrible morning in the ER, but her stomach growled. Guess she was emptied out pretty thoroughly. “You cooked dinner? That’s great. I’m starving.”

  Nora surveyed the small dining room table. Instead of the colorful Mexican placemats and bright Fiestaware Nora furnished for herself, a white lace cloth draped over the table. Two places set with china sporting a sweet rose pattern. Wine glasses and candles added to the decidedly un-Nora table.

  Forcing her lips into what she hoped passed for a smile of pleased surprise, Nora said, “Very nice, Mother. You really went all out.”

  Abigail picked up Nora’s bag and thrust it onto a hook. “You only had those garish dishes. I thought you needed something more formal so I bought you a set of china and some stemware.”

  Abigail couldn’t afford this. Neither could Nora. “I don’t do much entertaining. Maybe we can box it up before we use it and take it back.”

  Abigail frowned. “You’ll thank me. Believe me, you’ll use these more than you think. Besides, I didn’t spend a fortune. I bought all of this at the outlet mall. Of course it’s not Wedgwood.”

  Hold the snark. She’s only trying to be nice.

  Abigail threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “ ‘Life is made more full by the simple joy of beauty. The red of the rose, the kiss of a lover.’ ”

  Nora struggled with a response. “Is that something you wrote?”

  Abigail pulled the cherub notebook from her pocket. “I just thought of it. When you tune your subconscious to poetry, it springs forth.” She paused. “Oh, that’s good too.”

  Poetry and spending. Her mother’s talents never ceased. Be nice, be nice, be nice. “So what’s for dinner?”

  Abigail beamed. “We’ll start with a butternut squash soup. The entrée is pork tenderloin medallions with garlic mashed potatoes and steamed green beans almandine, followed by apple pie.”

  Nora noted the clean kitchen. “You slaved all day on this?”

  Abigail laughed. “That wonderful deli just off Broadway closed since I lived here. But I Googled around on my phone and found a great new place. I sampled them at lunch yesterday and they’re excellent.”

  Dollar figures rolled in front of Nora’s eyes like cherries and oranges on a slot machine. New dishes, stemware, and now a catered dinner for two. Nora bit down on the lecture forcing itself from her lips. Tomorrow. She’d sit Abigail down and explain about budgets and frugality and living within her means—again.

  With a nod of satisfaction, Abigail stepped back. “It’s been a long day and I’ve got a novel I’m dying to sink into.” She yawned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Good night.”

  Nora spun around, fighting the rising horror of what she suspected.

  Yep. Cole opened the sliding door and stepped into her mini living room from the balcony.

  “Mother!”

  Abigail’s back retreated down the hall. “It’s like the china, Nora. You’ll thank me.”

  Molten lava of indignation erupted in Nora. “This is asinine. My life is not some clichéd romance novel.”

  Abigail paused outside her bedroom door. “ ‘The pages of the novel that is life bursts with the genres of the soul.’ ” She reached into her pocket. “Oh, that’s good.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” Nora shouted after the closing door. In the game of stubborn, Abigail had the upper hand. Nora studied Cole standing awkwardly in her apartment. “Hiding on the deck, huh? The Queen of Darkness pulled you into her black web of deceit.” Gaa! Now Nora was creating awful poetry too.

  Cole’s eyes twinkled. “I wasn’t hiding, just planning an entrance. Abigail tricked me too. She said you asked her to call me because you lost your phone.”

  “You weren’t suspicious?” Nora’s stomach growled. She pulled out a dining chair and sat. The simple cotton napkin revealed another of Abigail’s supposed penny-pinching ways. In the old days, the napkin would have been brocaded linen with a monogram.

  “Of course I didn’t believe her.” He bent to rub Abbey’s ears. “But when I found out you went back to work after you promised you wouldn’t, I decided to come over. I knew it would annoy you as much as you annoyed me.”

  “Very funny.”

  He grinned. “You’d never lose your phone.”

  “What’s that mean?” She tore off a piece of dinner roll and popped it into her mouth. Warm and buttery with just enough sweet to set off the yeast. Abigail knew her caterers.

  Cole walked to the front door and reached for his down jacket on the hooks. Why hadn’t she noticed it hanging there when she came in? “Come on, Nora. When was the last time you lost anything? I’ll wager you’ve never even had a sock go missing in the dryer. It wouldn’t dare.”

  She fought a smile. “Are you saying I’m controlling?”

  He stood at the front door, about fifteen feet from Nora. “Well, if Abigail is the Atlantic Ocean, you’re Lake Superior.”

  She lifted an eyebrow in question.

  “You’re land locked; only want to control your own shores.”

  She piled mashed potatoes on her plate, the garlic tickling her nose. “Abigail’s tides are epic.”

  He watched her. “I never picked you for a cruel woman.”

  She spooned out green beans and slivered almonds. “Huh?”

  Cole hadn’t donned his jacket. “I’ve been sitting here for a half-hour smelling this gourmet meal and you’re helping yourself while sending a starving man into the wilderness to pick up a greasy burger and fries at the nearest drive-through.”

  She served herself some tenderloin and gravy. “I didn’t concoct this romantic farce, but I’m going to end up paying for it. You’re on your own, buddy.”

  He addressed Abbey. “Heartless.”

  Nora forked in pork and rolled her eyes at the savory goodness. “Let this be a lesson: don’t trust Abigail.”

  He surveyed the table. “That’s an awful lot of food.”

  She regarded Cole and the table and imagined her empty apartment after he left. But it wouldn’t be empty. Abigail would swoop out of her room and harangue Nora.

  Cole might make a good Abigail buffer. “Fine. Come enjoy the bounty of Abigail’s non-existent fortune. But no talking about … anything I don’t want to talk about.”

  He tossed his jacket back on the hook. “Agreed. So, nice plants. Is that Benny’s corn?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He nodded. “Is that wine I see?”

  Nora poured while he seated himself. “This will probably be a bad idea.”

  He flapped out his napkin and placed it on his lap, reached for his glass and sipped Cabernet. “Why is that?”

  “Because I like you. But I don’t trust you. So the best thing is for me to steer clear of you. I’ve had enough of untrustworthy men in my life.”

  He heaped food onto his plate. “Just let me have my last meal. Abigail went to so much trouble.”

  �
��I don’t know why she’s obsessed with you.”

  He shrugged. “I think Charlie’s behind it. He’s in love with me. Always has been.”

  She laughed and the weight of the day slid off, crashing to the floor and disappearing into dust.

  Tomorrow she’d deal with The Abigail Ocean of Control and all the mess at the Trust. For just this one dinner, she’d let herself relax. No Lake Superior, just the free-flowing Boulder Creek.

  twenty-four

  Sylvia whipped the Ferrari onto the turnoff, across the rickety wood bridge, and into the Trust parking lot. She shut the lights off and held her breath.

  Headlights passed the turn and continued up Boulder Canyon. She sat another five minutes watching the highway. No one followed her.

  After she’d calmed down enough from the cat prank, Sylvia had released the creature from her window and sped off from her neighborhood. She’d zipped through town and out Highway 36 to Denver. It hadn’t taken her long to lose Juan in Denver’s streets and then she’d backtracked to the Trust.

  Sylvia let herself into the old farmhouse and locked the door after herself. She hurried to her office and snapped on the lights.

  Fear fluttered like bats’ wings in Sylvia’s belly. Damn Nora, damn Eduardo. Damn them all! They didn’t understand the way genius worked. She couldn’t be forced to a timeline like an hourly drone. But if she didn’t deliver something, Eduardo might just cut off his nose to spite that aristocratic face.

  Alone, she paced the office. All the common people were home with their droll spouses and their stupid children, watching reality TV and eating cheap dinners. She could have been just like them. Even that would have been a step up from her childhood.

  Sylvia sank into her office chair and gripped the side of her cherry wood desk as the office faded.

  “Come and get your supper.” She smelled her father before she saw his bare feet with the thick, yellowed toenails and dirt caked in black crescents. He stood on the linoleum in front of the torn and faded sofa with one of the legs replaced by a cinder block.

  Margery lay next to her, eyes wide, breath only the merest whisper. If he found them under the sofa it would be bad. Her sister grabbed Sylvia’s hand and squeezed.