Judgement By Fire (16 page)

           
“I’m in love
with him”, Lauren exclaimed to herself, surprised that she’d voiced the thought
aloud but knowing it was true even as the murmur died away in the room. “I
really am in love with a man I’ve known for just a few days!” Then she smiled,
realizing that love was the seasoning that had taken their physical desires
into these heady new heights.

            The only thing to
spoil her day was the thought of showering and slipping into the clothes she’d
worn all the previous day. Before she could throw back the covers, there was a
knock at her door and Mary Wilson entered at her invitation, the two Labrador
twins dancing at her heels. She was carrying two parcels with the name of a
well-known Toronto store on them, and a large shoebox.

            “Jon called me on the
journey home last night and had me order these for delivery today. He knew
you’d have no clothes to change into. He said to tell you that he had to guess
the sizes but that he was always good at figures,” Mary told an astonished
Lauren dryly, her mouth twitching at the double entendre in Jon’s message.

            Grasping the sheet to
her naked breast, Lauren felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks as she wondered
if the other woman knew that her employer had spent the night in this very bed.
To her sensitized nerves, she was sure their hours of lovemaking must be
evident, yet Mary Wilson simply laid the parcels down on the dark wood blanket
box at the end of the bed and turned, smiling, to Lauren.

            “Now, what would you
like for breakfast? I’m just a tea and toast person myself, and Jon usually
gulps down coffee and cereal. But if you’d like a cooked breakfast, I’ll be
happy to provide it for you,” the housekeeper said.

            “No, really, cereal
would be fine. I’ll be leaving as soon as Warren Dillon gets here,” Lauren
replied, wondering if she had time for a shower. Her question quickly answered.

            “Mr. Dillon is
already downstairs having breakfast himself. He said to tell you not to hurry;
he has some calls to make while he waits for you. And Jon said you’re a coffee
person,” Mary told her. “He also told me to try to make you stay here for the
weekend.  Those are farm clothes he ordered, I think…”

            Lauren smiled
regretfully. “I’m afraid, the answer’s no. I have to get back and start to get
my studio, and my life, back in some sort of order. You know what happened?”

            Mary Wilson nodded,
her expression sympathetic. “Well, at least I can tell him I tried. It’s not my
fault he’s met someone as pig-headed as he is.”

            “Gee, thanks - I
think. And about the clothes, I can’t accept them. I’ll wait until I get home
and change.”

            Mary looked
embarrassed. “Well, I understand from Jon that he and the police chief ordered
all your clothes at the studio to be disposed of. He said the…er,
condition…they were in, both he and the police chief agreed you’d never want to
wear them again. And as for your other clothes, well, I sent them out to be
cleaned. So I guess you’ll have to do as Jon says.”

            “Does he always get
his own way like this?”

            The other woman
shrugged, grinning. “Usually. At least, ever since I’ve known him, since he was
thirteen or fourteen…”

            “We’ll see about
that,” Lauren muttered, furious that decisions about her possessions had been
made without her having any part in the process.

She dwelt on
Jon Rush’s high-handedness as she showered, with a mild sidebar thought about
plotting a suitable verbal revenge on police Chief Mike Ohmer. But as she
toweled her hair dry she suddenly realized why they had done what they had
done. She’d read about some of the things that occurred in break-ins, when the
owner’s belongings were horribly defiled as well as vandalized. Lauren’s
stomach lurched, and she thought that perhaps she should be grateful to the two
men rather than angry. She suddenly didn’t want to know what it was they had
protected her from.

            To her surprise, the
good quality jeans, flannel shirt, and warm sweatshirt Jon had ordered for her
fit perfectly. Opening another, smaller box, Lauren felt her cheeks heat as she
surveyed a selection of luxurious silken under things, then she smiled
mischievously as she considered the consequences on Jon if she decided to model
his purchases for him. The larger box contained fine leather boots of a type
suitable for both walking and riding, and she wondered if Jon kept horses on
the farm and his intention was that they should ride together.

            Looking out of the
window across fields where the dull browns and greens of frost-rimed grasses
were rapidly overwhelming the remaining patches of sun softened snow, Lauren
felt a real temptation to put everything out of her mind. She could take a
leisurely breakfast, explore the books she’d seen on Jon’s study shelves and,
when he got home, she’d have him take her on a tour of his beautiful home and
its environs.  Maybe she could pick up some inspiration for new paintings in
this unfamiliar countryside.

            And thinking of
painting again brought her mind right back to the ruined bobcat portrait and
the need to take some action to see if it could be repaired. And to get her own
life back on track.

One thing marriage
to Terry had taught her, she wasn’t going to give up control of her life to Jon
Rush, or anyone else, ever again. With a last wistful glance out of the window,
she pulled on the stiff boots and went downstairs.

            Following her nose
along the scent of coffee, Lauren found Mary and a heavyset man she guessed
must be Warren Dillon in a spacious, bright kitchen. Country-kitchen touches
such as soft, sprigged muslin curtains, and a gleaming antique round pine table
with press-backed chairs softened the sharp lines of polished stainless steel
state-of-the-art appliances. Red and salmon pink geraniums gave out bright
sparks of color in deep windows, and a huge Boston fern drooped its healthy-looking
bright green fronds over a pine dry-sink, another antique piece, in the corner
of the room. 

            Warren Dillon stood
as she entered and offered a large hand in a friendly gesture. Lauren
instinctively trusted this man and the thought that Jon chose his friends
wisely ran through her head. She apologized for keeping him waiting, and asked
Mary if she could use the telephone for a few moments.

            In the study, she
quickly looked up the number of Judy Harris, the artist specializing in
repairing damaged canvases. She was relieved to find the other woman home, and
her explanation received the sympathetic response she knew it would engender in
another artist. Without hesitation, understanding the importance of the
exhibition to Lauren’s career, Judy said she would put other work on hold to do
what she could to restore the acrylic-on-canvas piece that had been so cruelly
slashed by Lauren’s intruder.

            Relieved, knowing
that she was putting her work in the hands of one of the best repair artists in
the business and that there was nothing further that she could do, Lauren
returned to the kitchen with a lighter heart. Dillon was alone there, nursing a
mug of coffee and staring morosely out the window. As she approached the table,
he indicated a bowl and selection of cereal packets, and reached over to fill
another large mug with fragrant fresh-brewed coffee from a French-style
stainless steel cafetiere that stood on the table.

            Lauren thanked him,
sensing from the man’s abstracted demeanor that there was something on his mind
and that he hadn’t yet made up his mind to offer her the same kind of instant
trust that she’d felt for him.

            The reasons weren’t
long in coming, and she admired the loyalty that lay behind his attitude.
Warren looked at her over the steaming coffee cup, which was dwarfed in his
huge paw. He seemed to be taking her measure and Lauren tried to look casual as
her heart and mind raced. What was in the mind of Rush Co.’s top security man,
that he should direct such a look at her?

“You know, Jon
Rush is the most honest man I know. What you see is what you get. Not a game
playing character, at least when it comes to relationships.” She nodded,
mesmerized by the other man’s deep gaze, which seemed to look into her heart
and soul. “He’s also my best friend. I’d hate to see him hurt.”

Lauren felt a
surge of irritation, which came through in her terse reply, “And this has
something to do with me?”

            “You know damn well
it does. Or you should. And if not, well, you’d better tell him, pronto. So he
can get over it before you really hurt him.”

            The silence in the
room was palpable. Defensive hostility seemed to breathe in the small gap
between Lauren and Dillon. Lauren’s first reaction was anger, she wanted to
tell the man to mind his own business, and that Jon was a big boy who could
take care of his own heart.

           
Yet you’re both on
the same side. You both love the man,
the niggling little voice wriggled
into Lauren’s mind, and she knew it spoke the truth. Her anger evaporated as
quickly as it had flared, and she sighed as she leaned back in her chair and
looked Warren Dillon in the eye.

“I don’t think
you have cause to worry on that score. To tell you the truth, I think I’m a bit
afraid on my own behalf. No one has ever come as close as Jon, and I’m scared
to feel so vulnerable.”

The other man
looked at her hard then nodded in satisfaction. “I don’t think you need fear
Jon. He’s one of the good guys,” Warren said, obviously relaxing as he poured
more coffee and scooped sugar into the steaming cup, then topped it with a
generous helping of cream.

“Seems like we
have a lot in common, Mr. Dillon,” Lauren said, a small smile playing around
her lips as she set about dumping sugar into her own coffee. Seeing Warren’s
questioning glance, she flamboyantly poured a sizeable quantity of cream in,
stirred the rich-looking liquid, and raised her mug to him in a salute. “It
seems like we both love the same things,” she said, and enjoyed his grin of
understanding.

            Lauren was just
finishing a helping of breakfast cereal when Warren’s cell phone shrilled from
its perch on the table. A look of strain and shock came over his face as he
listened to the news that came through the small black receiver, and he asked a
few terse questions.

            “Why the hell wasn’t
I informed of this sooner?” he demanded, then: “A memo on my desk? Jeez, man,
didn’t you think…no, no, I suppose you didn’t know. No, it’s all right. You
couldn’t really have known how important this is. What hospital did you say
again? And who’s the investigating officer?”

            Lauren’s heart began
to pound and the breakfast cereal she’d eaten rose in her throat. Had something
happened to Jon? Anxiety made her breath catch. Seeing her stricken look,
Warren hastened to reassure her.

            “It’s a member of
staff, an accountant named Pippa Williams. She was involved in a hit and run
accident last night. She’s still unconscious in hospital. Looks like she’ll
make it, but it was a lucky escape. If you can call something like this luck.”

            “Oh God. I’m so sorry
for her…but for a terrible moment, when you were so angry, so shocked…I
thought…”

            “No,” he said gently,
briefly patting her trembling fingers with his hand. “Jon is fine, as far as I
know he’s in a meeting right now giving some poor unfortunate major supplier’s
representative hell over a late delivery which has cost us contract penalties.”

            Lauren felt as though
she could breathe again. After all that had happened, it was probably natural
that she should worry in this way. But she hated to feel so vulnerable, so easy
to wound. Warren looked thoughtful.

            “The thing is,
really, that Pippa had asked me to see her, day before yesterday actually. I
put her off because I wanted to be in West River with Jon, in case there was
any problem there…”

            Lauren flushed at the
memory of the protest incident, knowing the part that Warren had played,
remembering his hard grasp on her wrist when he thought she’d assaulted Jon.
Then she thought about the security chief’s last words, something clicked in
her mind. “Do you think this has something to do with things going wrong at the
company? Mary told me there’d been several crises recently.”

            Warren was silent a
moment, assessing her with his eyes. Then he sighed heavily. “Yes, yes, I do.
Pippa is the accountant with responsibility for the special projects accounting,
and the difficulties seem to center on that area. The area concerned with
selecting the West River site, among other projects. If she found something out
of line…”

            “But why didn’t she
simply contact her department head?” Lauren asked, frowning.

            Warren thought of
Stephen Rush and his own dark suspicions about the man’s activities. “Maybe she
couldn’t, maybe she suspected she wouldn’t get a sympathetic hearing,” he told
Lauren.
Or maybe she was afraid something bad would happen to her if she
went to Stephen Rush. Like maybe a hit and run accident,
he thought grimly
to himself.

            “When did the
accident happen?” Lauren asked, scooping the last of the cereal from her bowl.

“A little
after midnight last night.”

The spoon
stopped on its journey to her mouth as her fingers reminded her of the damp
touch of melting snowflakes on Jon’s jacket, the memory bringing back in full
force the shock of passion she’d felt when his lips settled on hers. There
couldn’t be a connection. But she had to ask.

Carefully
placing the spoonful of cereal, untouched, in her bowl, Lauren looked Warren
Dillon in the eye and stated, “Jon went out before midnight last night, and he
didn’t get in until late.”