In A Heartbeat (29 page)

“I guess congratulations are in order.” Wilson held out his hand.

Angie accepted his clammy handshake, purposefully avoiding Hank’s frown. No way would she accompany him on a private lunch. Some temptations were just too powerful. Best to avoid them all together. “I’ll stop by in an hour or so to collect those invoice copies,” she told Wilson. “Right after I set up my office and speak with Human Resources.”

“R…Right,” Wilson said before stomping into Hank’s office. The door must have caught a draft. The wall shook when it slammed.

AFTER RETRIEVING THE missing documents from Tom Wilson, Angie requested and received the vendor file for Timone Industries. Fortunately, Owens’s office had a locking door for privacy and a large table for her armload of papers. She submersed herself in detail. Tracking the movement of individual transactions through stacks of paper completely absorbed her thoughts until a knock at the door interrupted.

“I wanted to check to see if you were still alive.” Hank lingered at the door. “Everyone else left at five.”

She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. Crap! “My mother’s probably having a fit.” She stood and grabbed her coat from the corner stand. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Thanks for checking on me.” She hurried past Hank without a word.

“Wait--” His footsteps thudded behind her. “I thought we could discuss your findings over dinner.”

“Not tonight.” She pushed the outside door. “Maybe later.”

She walked briskly to her car, leaving little puffs of steam in her wake. Her mother would be worried, that much was true. She’d call her from her cell once she reached the car, but she didn’t want Hank to think he could treat her any differently than any other employee.

The end of daylight savings made the hour seem particularly late. As Hank had indicated, the parking lot was virtually empty. She reached her Civic in short order and pulled out of the lot without waiting for traffic. There were some advantages to working late, she thought. The traffic lights were all in her favor and she breezed from the city to the residential area.

She approached a four-way stop at the top of a small hill. She gently pressed the brake pedal to slow her speed. The brake offered no resistance. Her foot slapped the floor. The car continued with no reduction in speed.

Oh My God! She had no brakes! What to do? She leaned on the horn and turned the ignition key, hoping turning the engine off would cause the car to lose speed.

Unfortunately, a car pulled into the intersection in front of her.

“No!” Angie screamed. Her car rushed toward the other car’s midsection. Hoping she could avoid a collision Angie jerked her steering wheel toward the curb. Her front bumper narrowly escaped impact, but the Civic’s back end slammed into the other car. The crunch of metal exploded like gunshot. The seatbelt pressed hard against her chest. Her car shuddered to a stop.

Chapter Twenty-Four

HANK ABSENTLY DROVE home while rehashing his conversation with Angie. What did he say that caused her to avoid him all afternoon, and then again this evening? Would every day be like this? Flashing police beacons and flares on the roadside warned of danger ahead. Under the circumstances, they seemed to be a metaphor for his relationship with Angie.

He reassessed his surroundings. Schrock Road. Apparently, his subconscious had pulled him toward Angie’s house. And if his subconscious wanted him to go there, who was he to consciously refuse?

He slowed as he neared the flares. Two cars were off to the side of the road. He edged past the policeman directing traffic and glanced at the wreckage. Angie sat in the driver’s seat of one of the mutilated cars, her hand pressed to her heart as if pledging allegiance. She nodded in response to a police officer through the open door.

“Angie!” He yelled as if his voice would travel through his closed window. He cleared the flares and jerked his car to the side of the road. With little regard for oncoming traffic, he exited his car and ran back to her.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He turned to the policewoman before Angie could respond. “Is she all right?”

“I’m fine.” Angie put her hand on his coat sleeve.

“She seems a little shaken up, but otherwise okay.” The officer paused in her writing. “Are you her husband?”

“No.” They answered simultaneously. “Just a friend,” Hank added.

“Well, I think I’ve gotten all the information I need here. Give me a few minutes to finish this paperwork and you can give your friend a ride home.” The officer headed for her vehicle.

“Your heart, you’re pressing your heart,” Hank said. “Do we need to go to the emergency room? Should someone check you out?” His own heart pounded as if he had run a marathon to reach her rather than a few yards. His thoughts jumbled in chaotic disorder. The sight of Elizabeth in the hospital hadn’t thrown him into this kind of panic.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated patiently, patting her chest. “A little confused, but fine.”

“Confused? Did you hit your head? Maybe you have a concussion.” He mentally mapped out the quickest route to a hospital.

“Will you stop?” She pushed him away from his close examination of her skull. “I swear you’re as bad as my brother. I meant I don’t understand how this could have happened.”

Although his instinct was to gather her up in his arms and rush her to the nearest emergency room, he resisted. He forcibly slowed his breathing to match her calm exterior. “What do you mean?”

“This morning I didn’t have any trouble with my brakes. But when I came to this stop sign, my car wouldn’t slow down.”

“Are you sure you didn’t step on the gas by accident?” he asked, looking pointedly at her ankle.

“That’s what the policewoman asked. I don’t think she believed me when I said the brakes didn’t work until she tried them herself.”

“She tried them?”

Angie nodded. “Her foot went right to the floor. No brake fluid, she said.” Angie tilted her head. “I was lucky this intersection is on top of the hill. The car had already slowed before I tried to stop. Fortunately, no one was hurt.”

To be honest, Hank could care less about the people in the other car. All his emotions and concerns focused on the woman in front of him. A policeman halted traffic and the other injured vehicle limped away from the curb under its own power. The approaching tow truck with flashing yellow lights was destined for her Civic which had taken the brunt of the damage.

The policewoman returned Angie’s license along with a citation. Angie directed the tow driver to Classic Limo’s garage. After all the details had been sorted out, she slid into the passenger side of Hank’s car.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be alone tonight,” he said. “You know you can stay at my house.”

“Just take me home.” She sounded tired. “My mother came back this weekend. I won’t be alone.”

He was about to protest. He wasn’t suggesting a lewd rendezvous, just some support. He glanced at her face and the words died in his throat. She looked drawn, defeated, and in no condition for a debate. He started the engine and headed toward her house.

“DARN,” ANGIE MUTTERED under her breath. As if things weren’t already bad enough, the white limousine parked in her driveway signified they were about to get worse. “Stephen must be visiting. Just what I need, a lecture from both Mom and my brother.”

“Would you like me to come in with you?” Hank asked.

“They’re my family. I can deal with this alone.” In truth, this was one confrontation she didn’t want to deal with by herself, but she’d never admit it. If she did, Hank would stay, and that would definitely fuel the flames. “Thank you for bringing me home, but –-”

“I’d like to meet your mother,” he said.

“This wouldn’t be the best time, Hank. Maybe later.”
Maybe never
, she thought. This relationship can only end in pain. Best to move on.

“When?”

“I don’t know. Just later.” She reached for the door handle but he grabbed her arm before she could exit.

“When, Angie? Give me a date. Tell me a time when I can see you away from the office. Can’t we be friends again, the way we were before?”

It was tempting to believe nothing had changed. But she knew better. She knew she wasn’t the same child she was a month earlier.

The front door to her house opened, spilling light onto the porch. Her mother stepped outside with a sweater wrapped around her shoulders.

“Angie, is that you? I thought I heard your car.” Little puffs of steam from her breath rose like smoke signals. “Who’s that with you?”

Angie glanced back at Hank. He smiled much as he had the night she had raved about his culinary skills. “Will you do the honor?” he asked. “Or should I just introduce myself?”

She sighed. “Come along. I’ll introduce you.” She exited the car and hurried up the walkway without waiting. Hank caught up to her at the porch.

“Mom, I’d like you to meet my boss, Mr. Henry Renard.”

“Mr. Renard,” her mother nodded, her expression placid. Angie recognized the look from countless bedside vigils and hospital conferences. Her mother hid both tragic secrets and restrained joy behind that reserved mask. Which was it this time? The clue to her mother’s true feelings lay in her eyes. Many people assumed Angie inherited her analytical skills from her father, but she knew better. One had only to watch her mother’s eyes to see true critical assessment.

Tonight, however, the porch light didn’t reach her mother’s face, making close observation impossible. Angie couldn’t tell whether or not her mother approved of the man beside her. But then, what did it matter? There would be no future with Hank Renard.

“Angela, where’s your car?” her mother asked.

She cringed. “It’s a long story…”

“Then you better come inside before you catch your death of cold,” her mother directed. Angie started up the steps while Hank hesitated. “You too, Mr. Renard.”

Once inside, Angie and Hank repeatedly bumped elbows as they both tried to remove their coats in the tiny hallway. “I expected you home much earlier.” Her mother held out coat hangers for the both of them.

“I lost track of time at Hayden, but that’s not the reason I’m late.” Angie took a deep breath, bracing herself for the reaction. “I had a car accident.”

“An accident? Are you all right?” Concern and panic filled her mother’s eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she recited, making her way down the hall. She glanced at the empty sitting room. Her brother must be waiting in the kitchen. No sense rehashing the details twice. She’d tell them both about the brakes and then hustle Hank out the door. “Before you start on me, Stephen, I want you to know –-”

Raymond sat at the scarred kitchen table, cradling a Classic Limo mug. A sudden shiver raised goosebumps on her arms.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Stephen?”

Raymond raised an eyebrow, glancing about the room. “Not here.”

“I can see that.” Hank stood at her back. She fought an odd urge to lean back and surround herself with his strength and warmth. She reminded herself that Raymond was no threat. He was just a driver. Still…he shouldn’t be here.

“I see you’ve met Raymond,” her mother said behind them. “He volunteered to bring me home from the quilt store when I couldn’t reach you. So are we going to stand around, or sit like civilized human beings?”

A distinctive scratch on the back door announced Oreo’s impatience. Angie crossed the room to open the back door. Oreo burst into the kitchen in a flying mass of black and white, working the room for attention before settling by Hank’s leg. Her mother poured coffee while Angie reiterated the details of her accident.

“And no one was hurt?” Raymond asked. She shook her head.

“It was probably a good thing that you left so late,” Hank added. “Just an hour earlier and the rush hour traffic would have been heavier. It could have been much worse.”

“Speaking of leaving, it’s time I move on.” Raymond rose from the table. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Her mother followed Raymond to the door. Angie remained rooted to her chair.

“Such a polite, young man.” Her mother said on her return. “I know Stephen depends a great deal on him.”

“I suppose it’s time for me to be going also.” Hank turned to Angie’s mother. “Mrs. Blake, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps, in the future, we can—”

“I’ll show you out.” Angie said on a rush of breath. She certainly didn’t want him infusing himself into her family. Now was the time to tell him so. She handed him his coat from the hall closet and slipped on her own. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she called to her mother. They exited the front door with Oreo at their heels.

“Thanks for stopping when you saw my car.” She paused on the front porch to wrap a scarf around her neck. “But why were you driving down Schrock Road? Don’t you normally take the parkway further north?”

“You stayed locked in that office all day. I wanted to stop and see if you found anything.”

She glanced over at him. “You could have waited until tomorrow. If I find anything important, you’ll be the first to know. I told you our arrangement is to be strictly business. That means no after-hours social calls and no family meetings.”

His broad shoulders, emphasized by the brushed camel coat, drooped a bit under her harsh criticism. She instantly regretted her words. He had given her a job, he always seemed to be there when she needed him, and all he had asked for in return was friendship. He shouldn’t be blamed for her unrealistic expectations. She recanted. “But as you asked…”

They walked down the long driveway devoid of the white limousine. “There’s a couple of shady transactions that I’m researching. I’ve been trying to track the sale of merchandise that is delivered to the Ritchton warehouse. So far, I’ve only managed to confirm about forty percent of the sales. If my numbers are right, that warehouse should be stuffed to the rafters.”

“That’s no problem,” he said. “We’ll go there tomorrow and check it out.”

“Not so fast,” she warned. “I think someone inside Hayden is behind all this. Several people are involved in buying inventory. With current technology, it would be easy to phony up necessary paper to cover their tracks. Or they could move merchandise from one location to another. If we tip our hand by visiting the warehouse, we may never find out who’s behind this.” Oreo dashed ahead to dribble at the base of a light post. It never ceased to amaze her how much one dog bladder could hold.