Cut to the Chase (9 page)

C
hase listened while his friend disclosed his findings. He was grateful that he had acted on his gut a few days ago and asked Sam to conduct a background check on Scott Morris. But the more Sam spoke, the more questions Chase had.

“Last April, Morris, along with two of his colleagues, was offered a position in New York City. Apparently, they were recruited to head the oncology department at one of the leading research hospitals in the country. Morris had accepted and was due to report to New York sometime last summer.”

“Let me guess. Morris didn't start his new job on time,” Chase said.

“No. It appears Morris didn't join the team in New York until December,” Sam said.

The timeline seemed to make sense. Morris would have needed ample recovery time as a result of Paul's handiwork.

“Why the delay? What caused Morris to put his new job on hold?” Chase asked.

“Cancer.”

That was the last thing Chase expected to hear. Chase looked over at Erin and was pleased to see the woman he loved catching up with an old friend of hers. He had caught her in mid-chuckle, which was always a beautiful sound.

“According to an article I found online, Morris was diagnosed with colon cancer last spring. He took time off from work to undergo treatment, which of course was a success. He returned to work months later in a new city, cancer-free.”

“And the treating physician?” Chase asked, pulling his attention away from Erin.

“Well, that was the reason for the article. His father, Mitchell Morris, world-renowned oncologist, took on his case and nursed his boy back to health. The feel-good story was used to promote early screenings and the necessity of colonoscopies in both men and women. The heartwarming tale of a father saving his son was printed in several health magazines.”

Chase felt his blood begin to boil. How convenient that the treating physician was now six feet under and not available to be questioned. Chase thought about the night of the benefit. Erin had said that Dr. Mitchell Morris looked off that night, as if he was anxious about something. A few theories were swimming around in his mind when he heard Sam continue.

“In regards to his phone records and banking statements, I found nothing of concern. Although Morris resides in a high-end apartment building and drives a luxury car, it doesn't appear that he lives a lavish lifestyle. He takes a vacation here and there, goes on weekly food-shopping trips to Whole Foods and other organic stores and belongs to some snooty gym around the corner from his apartment.”

Chase scratched his head and allowed himself to digest everything that Sam had just told him. Morris was either really good at hiding his tracks or they were tailing the wrong man, plain and simple. And if it was the latter, well, that meant the son-of-a-bitch was out there, flying comfortably below the radar. Chase needed to consult with Paul, Mia and Erin and give them a recap of his conversation with Sam.

“Sam, I appreciate you looking into Morris. If you find anything else, please let me know.”

“Absolutely. Is there anything else you need?” Sam asked.

Chase couldn't help but feel guilty. As of late, his friendship with Sam was very much one-sided. He didn't like that he was constantly asking Sam for favors, but he felt as if his hands were tied. There were few people Chase could trust, and even fewer who had the ability to make someone disappear.

“Sam, there is one more thing. There may come a time when Erin and I will need to live off the grid. If that happens, I'll need you, as my accountant, to transfer my funds to an account that can never be linked to me.”

Chase was met with silence and for a moment. He thought his friend had disconnected the call. Sam sighed and then said, “Are you in trouble, Chase?”

Chase wanted to tell Sam what was going on, but he also didn't want to make his friend an accessory to whatever future crime might be committed. It was best to leave him in the dark. “I just need to figure a few things out. Sam, how long would it take to transfer the money, if it got to that point?”

“Not long…a day or two from the moment you give me the green light. But Chase, I don't think that…well, running…is such a good idea. You know you can tell me anything. You can trust me.”

Sam sounded hurt, which only made Chase sick to his stomach. “I would trust you with my life and Erin's. For your sake, the less you know, the better. I need to leave it at that. I'm sorry.”

“Okay. Just don't want to see you, or anyone for that matter, get hurt.” There was a pause and then Sam said, “And no more apologies. The last time you felt sorry for something, I had to clear out my garage.”

Chase couldn't help but let out a chuckle, despite the seriousness of their conversation. “I've been asking a lot of you lately, and taking you away from that pretty and very pregnant wife of yours. The ‘I'm sorry' gift was more for Lucy, not you, jackass.”

“A card, a pair of slippers would have made her happy, Chase.”

“Are you telling me that she doesn't like her new minivan? With the baby coming, I wanted her to have the most up-to-date child safety features. If she doesn't like it, I can…”

“Chase,” Sam said, cutting him off.

Chase laughed. “All I was going to say is that next time, I will send her to the spa, not send her a car.”

“As long as the spa is in driving distance from our house and not on some luxurious island in the south pacific,” Sam said.

“I appreciate you giving me the parameters.” Chase wanted to end the conversation on a light note, but he also needed his friend to know where they stood. “Sam, thanks…and tell Lucy thanks for putting up with me.”

“I will.” And after a second, Chase heard his friend say, “And be careful.”

S
cott had found himself in a conundrum of sorts. He had never deviated from the course or thought about redefining his rules before this morning. Mia Moore was no longer just an angelic face on television. She was real and more beautiful than he had ever imagined. He remembered the night he had learned of the murdered woman, wife of veteran police officer Tim Moore and loving mother of college student Mia Moore, on the news. Due to the shocking nature of the crime and the fact that it affected one of the NYPD's finest, the story went national. Although Mia never granted an interview to a reporter, the media still possessed the ability to splash her picture across multiple magazine covers.

Scott had been intrigued at first sight. He had suspected that she embraced the qualities he so admired in a woman; she had come off as intelligent, determined, and incredibly wholesome. She had her sights set on being a teacher, but changed careers in order to help solve her mother's murder. And he would have made her his if it hadn't been for Erin Whitley. Erin had been easily accessible, residing in his hometown and working alongside his father. Mia was in another state and though it irritated him to do so, he had turned his attention away from the beautiful woman in New York and focused on his Angel, now turned Whore, in Philadelphia.

But things had changed. Mia had come back to him. The problem was that Erin Whitley was still alive. And according to his number one rule, two women could not coexist. A relationship had to be resolved before another could take shape. Shaking his head, he scrubbed and rinsed his body thoroughly before exiting his immaculate glass-enclosed shower.

Scott quickly dressed for work and then concentrated on his hair. He put a few dabs of cream into his palms and ran his fingers through his thick brown locks. He knew he was a good-looking guy. Women, especially the easy, filthy ones, made it known to him that they appreciated the view. But he didn't care about those women and how he made them feel. Scott did, however, wonder how Mia's body would respond.

And he would have enjoyed completing his morning routine with the thought of Mia on her knees in front of him, but he couldn't dismiss the vision of Paul Whitley calling for her as she exited the cab. Were they dating? What were the odds that Mia and Paul Whitley just happened to find each other? He would take some time today to review the notes he had taken regarding Mia a couple years ago and find the connection.

With every hair in place, each tooth flossed and glistening, Scott grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. He decided that his phone would remain on his person the rest of the day. He was curious to learn Montclair's ultimate destination. According to the tracker feature on his cell, Montclair's vehicle was heading south on I-95…toward the city Scott had shared with Erin Whitley.

W
e have some time to kill before we meet up with Erin and Chase at the condo. Can I take you to a late breakfast?” Paul looked at his watch. “Or lunch?”

“Uh…yeah. Lunch sounds great,” Mia said.

“What are you in the mood for?” Paul asked.

Mia knew exactly what she was in the mood for and it certainly didn't involve a sandwich. She must have zoned out for a bit, imagining exactly what she would rather be tasting, because she heard Paul ask, “Mia?”

Mia chose the first thing that came to her. “Um…Philly's known for their cheesesteaks, right?” she asked.

He smiled, as if he appreciated her simple request. “Geno's it is.” Paul hung a right and drove a few city blocks before saying, “If you can handle a Monty's sandwich, you will have no problem dealing with a messy Geno's cheesesteak. Just remind me to grab some extra napkins.”

Mia was thankful that Paul was acting normal. She was nervous that he would treat her differently after what she had told him about her parents. But he had just listened, asking a question from time to time, before telling her how sorry he was that she had to go through such a traumatic experience.

They pulled up to an orange-and-white building with the name of the establishment written in bold capital letters. The place was mobbed and as she looked at the orange picnic-type tables, Mia noticed that there wasn't a seat to be had. Paul must have read her mind because he said, “How about we take our food to go. We can eat in Rittenhouse Square, right across from Chase's place. Sound good?”

Mia nodded. As they stood in line, Mia read the small menu on the board behind the cashier and instantly zeroed in on the Whiz cheesesteak. Her arteries were screaming for her to rethink her decision but she held firm and when it was finally her turn, she proudly placed her order. Paul opted for the American cheesesteak, a side of fries and two bottles of water. The food came out in record time and they were back in the car within minutes. Mia held the food on her lap, which was a mouthwatering tease. Luckily the park was only five minutes away and she was able to curb the temptation to devour her entire lunch by swiping one of Paul's fries from one of the greasy white bags.

“I saw that, Mia,” Paul said. Mia didn't know how he noticed, since his attention seemed to be focused on parallel parking.

“Sorry. They just smelled so good,” she said, blushing.

Paul turned off the ignition. “I want to see you try to have just one. They're very addictive.” He looked at her with such heat that she suddenly lost the ability to speak. She just sat there like an idiot, staring at him with a pile of food on her lap. He broke their gaze and exited the vehicle. Mia finally came to at the sound of Paul opening her car door. He took the food from her lap and then helped her out of the car. The gesture was both gentlemanly and without a doubt…sexy.

“I think I have a blanket in the trunk,” he said. He pushed a button on his key ring and the trunk flew open. In an attempt to make herself useful, she walked over and withdrew a fleece blanket. Paul slammed the trunk closed and she immediately felt his hand at the small of her back. Though the sudden touch of his hand surprised her, she couldn't help but feel turned on and protected.

They crossed the street and made their way to the park. The beautiful summer weather seemed to draw even the most sedentary of individuals outdoors. Both adults and children were making good use of the grounds, whether they were playing Frisbee or just taking their dog for a walk. Mia caught sight of a wiry chocolate Lab dragging his owner down one of the many paths and instantly felt guilty for leaving Henry.

“So, who's watching that madman of yours?” Paul asked, leading her to a patch of grass beneath one of the larger maple trees. It was the release of his hand from her back that brought her back from her delirium, allowing her to answer his question. It only took her a second to realize that the madman he was referring to was her naughty toddler puppy.

“Rose finally got her wish. She graciously offered to watch him for the night. I'm sure she is spoiling him with table scraps as we speak,” she said, spreading out the blanket.

“I get the sense Rose was quite the spitfire in her heyday,” Paul said, taking a seat. He emptied the contents of both bags and then handed her the Whiz cheesesteak. Mia smiled when Paul placed the carton of fries in between them, signaling that he was willing to share the highly addictive guilty pleasures.

“I would have to agree with you. She seemed disappointed over my reason for needing a dog sitter,” Mia said, biting into a sandwich that was nothing short of Heaven.

“Well, you must not have told her that you were spending the night with me. I suspect if you would have told her the truth, our Rose would have been very pleased,” Paul said, reaching for a fry.

Mia almost choked on her cheesesteak. What was it about this man that made her body want to reject food and drink? He handed her a water bottle and she took a healthy gulp. Mia fought hard not to look at him, since she had a feeling what she would see if she did. That heated gaze would surely be there, making her burn for him. “Thank you,” she said, between two smaller sips.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, much.” Mia made the mistake of making eye contact and, as she predicted, he was watching her with those piercing blue eyes. She expected to see a smug smirk accompany his gaze, but instead she detected confidence and genuine concern…which only increased his attractiveness.

“Incoming!”

Paul reluctantly shifted his attention from Mia to the panicked voice in the direction of the field. He had less than a second to react and thanks to his quick reflexes, that was all he needed to catch the Frisbee that was just a moment away from nailing Mia in the face.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching over to touch her face. He didn't know why he felt the need to stroke her cheek and force her to focus on him.

He felt her lean into his hand for a split second before she pulled away. Her sudden withdrawal bothered him immensely, though he wouldn't dare let on, considering what she had disclosed to him earlier in the day. Between her mother's rape and murder and her father's suicide, he couldn't blame her for being guarded. It also explained why she toted a gun when walking her dog.

But what couldn't be explained away was the way she responded to him. It wasn't as if she were socially awkward or unsure of herself. She had been a competent criminal profiler for the NYPD, a position that required dedication and confidence. He had witnessed her in work mode and was impressed by how professional and insightful she was. But when they were alone and she was no longer on the clock, she came across as someone having limited exposure to the dating world.

It was out of character for him to be interested in someone who was not as worldly in the bedroom. During his college years, he had sought out women with experience, women who realized that sex didn't equal forever. In other words, he had left the sweet, and always more tempting, women alone.

“You're beautiful, Mia,” he said. The words poured out of his mouth before he knew what had happened. Her face turned a fiery red, making her appear delicate and even more stunning.

“My God, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?” The panicked Frisbee thrower drew closer, clearly concerned that he may have a lawsuit on his hands.

Paul had been so busy staring at Mia and wondering how she would respond to his honest admission, that he failed to recognize the familiar voice approaching.