A Murderous Game (29 page)

"That's not funny, Gage."

"You're right. But I never
claimed humor as my strong point." He caught her lower lip between his
teeth. "Want to know what is?"

She grinned against his mouth.
"I already do. Now, what brought about this change of heart?"

"I believe he thinks you're
innocent," he told her.

She pushed up on both hands,
locking her elbows, and stared down at him as if she didn't know if she'd heard
him right.

"He thinks I'm innocent?"

"He didn't say that precisely,
but I believe he's uncovered some things that make him question your guilt. Did
you know he talked to your father?"

"No," she said, glancing
away. Her mom had called several times to see how she was doing, but her dad
hadn't bothered to get on the phone once, either to offer support or find
fault.

"Rachael must have created
some doubt in Simms's mind when she went in to see him about your diary.
Apparently, he contacted your father sometime after her visit and got a similar
story. Of course, Simms didn't reveal any of this to me until after I answered
his questions about the night your dad confronted me."

"He called
Rach
to ask about James as well, and within minutes of when we left the
station," Abby said.

"It worked to your advantage
he was able to reach her so quickly." Gage kissed her forehead. "She
must have been pretty convincing then as well because Simms seems to be putting
a lot of effort into trying to validate your story."

"I hope you're right. It's
weird, though. I'm surprised Simms would be willing to accept anything
Rach
tells him because they seem to aggravate the hell out
of each other. I've never seen her act like she did when we ran into him
outside the Westville Café. I know she pushes the envelope sometimes, but she
was shoving the whole mail truck off the cliff that night."

Gage chuckled. "What did Simms
do?"

Abby frowned. "Actually, I
think he was amused, which of course pissed
Rach
off
even more." She drew a deep breath. "She's just upset the police
suspect me, and she probably blames Simms personally since he's the one leading
the investigation. I do know she doesn't like him, though, and she doesn't try
to hide it. In fact she seems to go out of her way to make the point,
especially to him."

"Well, whatever the case, I
think Simms believes you were telling them the truth now about the waiter and
the diary."

"But even if the police
verified what I said, the diary still presents a problem. They might believe
you and I didn't have an illicit affair fourteen years ago, but they suspect
we're involved now. It also doesn't change the fact they found my diary in
Dick's townhouse. Or that Dick believed you and I were having an affair. It's
still evidence and somehow it fits in to his murder. It stills ties things to
me."

Her points were well taken, but
Gage still didn't think Simms believed she'd killed her ex or that their
relationship had anything to do with the guy's death. He also didn't feel the
need to let her know he'd virtually confirmed their relationship with the
detective.

"I didn't say we should break
out the Dom
Perignon
and chocolates yet. I just
thought you'd like to know Detective Simms might be more on your side than we
thought. I can't say I like him. Like Rachael, I don't like seeing you get
hurt, but he's smart, and I've got a feeling his focus is shifting away from
you because he's on to something."

"I hope you're right, Gage. I
just want things to be normal again, although I'm not sure what that is anymore
after the last year and a half."

He rubbed a hand down her back.
"It'll get better." He vowed to himself he'd make it better for her.

They were both quiet for several
minutes, each nursing their own thoughts.

"I'm supposed to meet Matt
Silver at four tomorrow afternoon for a site visit. Is there anything I should know
before going?"

"Wear comfortable shoes,"
he advised.

She laughed. "Comfortable
shoes, that's it?"

"Yeah," Gage smiled down
at her. "And make sure you wear the hard hat Matt gives you. Other than
that, I just thought you might enjoy seeing the actual site."

"I think I will, too. Will you
be there?"

"No. I've got to go to New York tomorrow
morning. Brett and I will be catching a flight out of La Guardia for Chicago later in the
afternoon."

"Oh," she said, sounding
surprised. "You didn't say anything. How long will you be gone?"

"A few days.
I meant to tell you sooner, but I got distracted with other things, and it
slipped my mind. Brett and I are meeting with
GFI's
executive managers Saturday to announce some organizational changes, and I've
got a Board of Directors' meeting Monday morning. I'm hoping to be back late
Monday night, Tuesday at the latest."

She nodded. "Does Simms
know?"

"I told him this afternoon. He
rolled her onto her back and came over her. "I'll call you when I get home
tomorrow night, but the plane doesn't get into O'Hare until almost ten so it'll
be late."

"You don't have to do
that." She glanced away with lowered lashes, her eyes hidden from him.
"You're going to have a long day. You'll probably be tired when you get
home."

He could tell something he'd said
bothered her. "It really did slip my mind," he said, guessing she
might be hurt he hadn't mentioned the trip until now. He tipped her chin up.
"You're not upset, are you?"

"Of course not," she said
and sniffed. "You're being pulled in a dozen directions. You certainly
don't owe me an accounting of where you are or what you do with your
time."

He watched her a moment, not sure
he liked her response. He'd never wanted commitment from a woman, maybe because
he'd never thought he could devote himself to a relationship the way other
people did. It had never bothered him before now. He'd never be able to give
her as much time as some men could, but for the first time in his life he was
willing to offer whatever was in his power to. And if they couldn't have as
much time, he'd work that much harder to make what they could get special.

"I'll miss you," he said.
He'd considered asking her to go with him. But he'd be working all weekend,
probably late every night. Expecting her to hang out at his house all day just
so he could steal a few hours with her while they slept would be selfish.

She touched her palm to his cheek.
"I'll miss you, too."

"I should probably get
going." He rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. "I'm
supposed to meet Brett at the Amtrak station at six tomorrow morning." He
picked up his clothes where they'd been hastily discarded and began to dress.

He'd already stayed later than he'd
planned. By the time he got back to

He'd just finished tying his shoes
when he heard Abby moving behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her
scoot off the other side of the bed. She drew on a light blue chenille robe
that had been folded on top of the wooden chest near the footboard.

"I hope you have a good trip.
I've always loved taking the train." She wrapped the robe closed and
tightened the belt around her waist.

"When I was a kid," she
said, coming around beside him, "my mom and I took Amtrak into the city a
couple of times, and I'd always beg to sit in the dining car. It probably
doesn't speak well for my palate, but I liked the food."

"Then it shouldn't be
difficult to—" He stopped and shook his head. "Do you know I just
realized I've never taken you out to dinner?" He looked down at her and
frowned. "I've never taken you out anywhere. We've never had an actual
date, Abby."

"We had lunch at
Reggiano's
."

"That doesn't count; it was
business. In fact, almost every time we've been together it involved
business."

He looked around for his suit coat
and remembered he'd left it on the couch. "When I get back, I'm going to
take you on a real date." He walked out of the room and she
followed.  

He put his briefcase down again
when they were standing at the front door and drew her into his arms.

He lowered his head, brushing his
mouth lightly over hers. "Think about me while I'm gone," he said
against her lips right before savoring them one last time.

He jogged the two blocks to his
car. He felt uncomfortable leaving her. He couldn't attribute the feeling.
She'd seemed fine when he left. Her kisses had been as warm and sweet as
always, but he'd sensed something. Maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe he just hadn't
wanted to leave because he wouldn't see her again for several days.

He started the car and glanced in
the rearview mirror. He backed up, forward, backed up again, forward again,
backed up once more and eased out of the tight spot.

The last couple of weeks hadn't
been easy. Between worrying about
Riv
One, staying in
the loop with Chicago, and trying to nurture a relationship with Abby, he
wasn't sure where he'd found the energy to keep going. And that was without the
added pressure of Carpenter's murder investigation hanging over both their
heads.

He hoped they were turning a corner
on the investigation. Having Simms back off from Abby would be a huge relief to
Gage's peace of mind.

If he could just hold everything
else together for a couple of more weeks, the hellish schedule he'd had to
maintain the last few months should ease up somewhat. The probe had been
dropped. Brett was beginning to feel his way in Chicago, and
Riv
One was moving ahead on plan, or pretty damn close. Once things began to settle
into a groove, he'd have more time to devote to Abby and could ratchet up his
efforts to solidify their relationship.

"Just hang with me a couple of
more weeks, green eyes," he said aloud as he maneuvered the car around a
horse and carriage, "just a couple of weeks."

~~~

Abby lifted another section of wet
hair away from her head with the brush and moved the hair dryer up and down as
she blew it dry. She glanced at the clock on her bathroom wall. Gage was on his
way to New York.
This evening he would be flying home.

She turned off the dryer and
dropped her hands.
Home
.
He hadn't said he'd
call her when he got to Chicago,
or when he got in. He'd said he'd call her when he got
home
.

His life was in Chicago. She'd gone over all this in her head
when she'd decided to grab the golden ring. She had no business feeling hurt.
He'd never misled her with promises of a future. He gave her his present, and
she'd accepted it for what it was. He hadn't asked if she wanted to go with
him. Not that she'd have been able to just drop everything and hop on a plane
with him, but he might have asked.

Was there a woman in Chicago who was a part of
his present there? Someone who would welcome him back and drift to sleep in his
strong arms and glory in the warmth of his seductive smiles until he had to
leave again?

"This is ridiculous," she
said out loud. She spun around and went into the bedroom to get dressed. He
said he loved her. Why couldn't she believe it and trust him? He wasn't like
Dick.

No, she thought, taking a pale
green crepe suit from the closet, Gage would never tell her he loved her if he
didn't mean it. It was her own insecurities making her doubt him when he'd
given her no cause.

An hour later she walked into her
office. There was a note on her desk to see Mr. Norwell as soon as she got in.
Her phone started to ring and someone knocked on her door.

She looked up. "What's up,
Madeline?"

"Mr. Norwell told me to send
you to his office the minute you got here." She held up a couple of
messages. "And Gage Faraday's secretary called twice in the last half
hour. She said she needs to speak with you as soon as possible."

"Okay, thanks." Abby
started to reach for the phone, wondering what was so urgent for everyone this
morning.

"I think you might want to let
that go into voice mail and go see him before he comes looking for you again.
I'm afraid he's not in a very good mood."

"Is he ever in a very good
mood?" Abby asked, but she took the woman's advice and came back around
her desk to go pay a visit to her boss.

"Abby," Madeline said
after Abby had started down the hall.

She turned and looked over her
shoulder. "Yes?"

"For what it's worth, he was
planning on making you a senior next month. He'd already filled out the
paperwork."

That piece of information should
have made her feel like doing cartwheels down the hall, but Madeline hadn't
sounded cheerful, and Abby had a feeling her day had already reached its zenith
and was about to start downhill.

Just wait until you know what he's
got his shorts twisted in a knot over this time, she told herself. Despite
Madeline's ominous tone, everything had been going so well with the
Riv
One account that Abby couldn't imagine Norwell being
anything but thrilled with her performance.

The only other thing she could
think was that it had something to do with Dick's murder. The police had been
in to talk with some of her coworkers, Norwell included. Although the press
hadn't come right out and identified her as the primary suspect, they'd felt it
necessary to inform the good people of Philadelphia that she and Dick had been
recently divorced, and lest they forget, the senator's son had carried on
several very public affairs.

Abby shook her head. Who cared?
Didn't people have enough in their own lives to worry about? Who really gave a
frick
Dick had cheated on her?
None of them were married to the bastard.
Be kind. He's dead. Yeah, but it
doesn't change anything.