Silver Sparks (10 page)

“One of his bodyguards, maybe?”

She shook her head. “He seemed less, I don’t know . . .” She searched for a word. “Less bulky? Strong, but more lean.”

“Rafe isn’t that muscular.”

“I know.” She coughed lightly and massaged her throat, and Cal figured in another minute steam would be coming out of his ears if he couldn’t find the guy and slug him.

“You can’t be sure it was him?”

She huffed out an irritated breath and shook her head.

Todd studied Maggie. “You’re the owner of Fortune’s Folly? The one who got into it at The Aerie with De Luca?”

“Yeah,” Maggie grumbled.

“Did you tell that to the officer who took your report at the house?”

She nodded again, then bit her lip and looked at Cal. “There’s something else. He ran his finger across my neck and . . .” She took a deep breath, steadying her voice. “He told me how easy it would be to cut my throat.” Her hand went to her neck as she said it, fingers splayed protectively.

“Son of a bitch,” Cal growled. “It is him.”

The sergeant’s gaze shifted between them, settling on Cal. “Does that mean something to you, other than the obvious?”

Maggie kept her eyes on him, letting him decide whether to tell.

He had no evidence, nothing but a string of coincidences. But this latest one involved Maggie, and he wasn’t willing to take a chance with her safety. “A month ago, my sister was killed by having her throat cut after a sexual assault. She was dating Rafe De Luca at the time.”

Todd’s face got the shuttered, emotionless look Cal recognized from having used it so often himself. “Doesn’t prove anything.”

Cal stared him down. “Forget he’s a celebrity. Just think about the facts. One girl he’s dating ends up dead with her throat cut. He has a public fight with Maggie, then goes after her in the press. Next thing you know, she’s attacked by someone who chokes her and threatens to cut her throat. And that’s not even considering a couple girls he’s gone out with here who have disappeared.”

“Who?” Todd snapped out. “When?”

“Rachel Anders and Tara Kolinowski.”

He nodded. “I know those cases. The detective thought Rachel was a runaway, but the case is open. Tara had a history of hooking up for short-term flings. A drug rep from Dallas was a person of interest.”

“Rafe was in town both times—I have witnesses.”

“He was in town. That’s it?” Todd held his gaze for a long time before finally speaking. “How come I never heard of your sister’s case?”

“It was in L.A. Julie lived there and started dating Rafe after they met at a party. He has a house out there.” Reluctantly, he added what he knew Todd would ask next. “De Luca had an alibi—his bodyguard and a friend. They both said he was with them, for what it’s worth.”

Todd scowled as he thought about it, obviously unhappy with this new wrinkle. Cal knew he’d just handed the sergeant a messy situation that he wouldn’t have been happy to have dumped in his lap, either. He waited it out until Todd muttered something under his breath and gestured to a chair beside one of the desks. “Sit. Both of you. I want the whole story.”

Cal drew up a chair from another desk and sat beside Maggie. He kept his voice unemotional as he recited the basics of Julie’s death and the police investigation. Todd wrote it all down, then wiggled a finger between the two of them and asked, “How do you two know each other? You live in L.A., or here?”

“Neither. I’m from Oklahoma.” He laid his shield on the desk so Todd could copy down the badge number, and added a business card with his phone number. “I’m on leave, but my captain can tell you anything you want to know about me.”

Todd took the card and handed the shield back, giving Cal a long, assessing look. “As long as I don’t hear that you’re some whacked-out cop with a grudge against De Luca, we’ll be looking into this. If they tell me you’re a nut job . . .”

“You’ll be looking into me. I know.” It was more than he’d hoped for. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

He shook hands with Todd and walked Maggie out, one hand at her back. He needed to touch her, to reassure himself that she was okay. They paused outside, tolerating the cool breeze in order to soak in the bright, cleansing sunlight. The snowcapped peaks around them sparkled against the blue sky, as majestic as anything Cal had ever seen. It would be easy to pretend that the ugliness of the attack had never happened, except for the red blotches he saw on Maggie’s neck when she stretched her face toward the sun.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, letting her breath out slowly. It seemed to work like a yoga exercise for her, erasing the lines of tension from her forehead. It didn’t help him at all.

“That’s what I meant by escalating the argument,” he told her.

Maggie nodded.

“You have to stop fighting him in the press.”

Her brows snapped together, creases instantly returning to her brow. “Excuse me?” He couldn’t believe she really intended to argue the point, but she turned on him, hands on hips. “Whether or not Rafe did this”—she pulled her collar out to expose her neck—“we know it’s because of him.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then do you expect me to show Rafe that threats work? That violence against women is the way to get what he wants?”

“I don’t care what Rafe wants! I’m more interested in what I want—to keep you safe.”

“Oh, what
you
want.” She lifted one delicately arched eyebrow. “You think that just because I let you kiss me, you can tell me what to do?”

Throwing their kiss into the argument didn’t help his disposition. “I don’t think you ever let anyone tell you what to do. I just had this crazy hope that you might use common sense.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, unwilling to let her skim the facts. “And you didn’t just let me kiss you. You kissed me back.”

“So I like the way you kiss,” she said, the admission so casual he nearly lost the thread of their argument. “It’s not an invitation to run my life.” She huffed out a breath, signaling that the topic was closed. “Now could you please give me a ride to my store? Holly can drive me home later.”

He rubbed the center of his forehead, the sore spot that was beginning to feel like it had her name on it. Forcibly shutting down the part of his brain that wanted to dwell on how much she liked his kiss, he concentrated on her ridiculous request to go to Fortune’s Folly. She obviously had no idea what she was going to find when she got there. He could tell her, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood to take advice from him.

He shrugged. “My pleasure.”

Chapter
Six

M
aggie sat quietly in his pickup truck for the three-mile trip back to town. He pulled into the small lot behind the store, letting the truck idle in park. “I’ll just wait here.”

She gave him a quizzical glance. “I’m not just dropping in, you know. I’ll be here all day.”

He smiled. “See you in ten minutes.”

She gave him a suspicious look, but got out without another word. He watched her disappear through the back door, then looked at the clock on the dash. And waited.

Nine minutes later Maggie hurried out the back door and slid into the passenger seat. “Go!”

He threw the truck into drive without a word. Several photographers rounded the corner of the store at a run, snapping pictures of them as Cal zipped past, bounced over the sharp dip where the lot met the street, then slid into traffic. Two photographers jogged beside them for half a block, cameras pointed at the truck’s windows, but fell back as Cal lucked onto a green light and sped up.

Maggie slunk low in the seat. “How’d they find out so fast?”

“Police scanners.”

“They were all over the store,” she complained, wrinkling her nose. “Like an invasion of cockroaches. Holly said they’d stopped asking her questions, but as soon as I came in they swarmed around me. They wouldn’t leave, and if I’d called the cops it would have caused an even bigger scene.” She sighed. “Holly finally slapped a handful of phone messages at me, and begged me to leave. Even then, they tried to catch me.”

“Vermin,” he agreed.

She was quiet for a minute, then darted a sidelong glance his way. “So how long was I in there?”

He smiled, savoring his minor victory. “Nine minutes.”

“Crap.”

She sulked until they reached her street, then gripped Cal’s arm as they approached the house. “Oh, my God, don’t stop!”

He’d already seen it. “Don’t worry,” he said grimly.

She scooted down low in the seat as they drove past, peeking at the string of crime scene tape around her porch and the three white vans out front topped with satellite dishes. Where had they come from? There wasn’t a TV station within a hundred miles. On the sparse grass of her front yard, photographers roamed or sat on the rock outcroppings, smoking. By one of the vans, a man with a microphone conferred with a man holding a large video camera.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “This thing is out of control!”

“I should have anticipated this,” Cal grumbled.

“How could you?” She wrenched her body sideways, watching the spectacle until the neighbors’ trees blocked her view. “How will I ever get into my house again? Maybe I should call the police.”

“Don’t bother. They can’t make the TV people leave, they’re parked on public property. And the paparazzi will just scuttle off the grass until the cops leave, then come creeping around to look in your windows again.”

She made a frustrated sound, then gave it some thought. “I have a rifle.”

“Jesus, Maggie!” The truck jerked as he shot her a startled look. When she smiled, he turned away to scowl out the front window. “Shit, don’t scare me like that.”

“You thought I might really shoot someone?”

“It doesn’t strike me as impossible.”

She laughed. “I’m flattered.”

“Of course you are. Jesus.”

Rattling him made her strangely happy. Cal always seemed so controlled and organized, so damned
right
about everything, that it made her want to do something to knock him on his delectable ass. She snuck a look toward the part of him in question, then let her gaze roam down the well-muscled thighs, then back up to the wonderfully broad shoulders and the firm jaw that was currently locked tightly enough to make muscles jump in his neck. A contented hum rose in her throat. If he ever let go of that control, it could be mighty interesting.

As if sensing her gaze, he looked at her. She snapped back to reality. “Where are we going?”

“Lost Canyon Lodge. That’s where I’m staying. Shouldn’t be any press there. One guy had it staked out, but he gave up and left when he couldn’t find me.”

Considering her most recent thoughts, going back to his place didn’t sound like a smart move. Looking indulged her fantasies; touching was out of the question with such a control freak. He’d probably tell her where to put her hands and how loudly she could moan. He didn’t exactly seem like he was thinking about making a move on her, but he’d already taken her by surprise once. She hadn’t seen that devastating kiss coming.

“Why are we going there?” If he made some casual excuse about hiding from the media, she’d question his motives for sure, because they didn’t have to do that in a crappy one-room efficiency cabin that was little more than a glorified bedroom.

“That’s where I’m meeting Grady.”

“Oh.” He was thinking business. She was the one with her mind in the gutter.

She didn’t say anything else for the ten minutes it took to get to the Lost Canyon. Cal drove by the main lodge and followed a curving gravel drive through the trees, passing several scattered cabins and parking in front of the last one. Tall pines crowded around it, blocking even the neighboring cabin from view. She followed him up the steps to a rustic front porch with four inexpensive deck chairs, feeling out of place in her skirt and heels. Quiet enveloped them, save for the distant hush of traffic on the highway and the faint buzz of a bee. He unlocked the door while she noted management’s stab at beautification, a lone clay pot holding three stunted daffodils.

He pushed the door open and stood aside. “After you.”

She stepped over the threshold onto worn linoleum and looked around. The cabin was small, maybe twice the size of a motel room. To her left, a small kitchen table and counter were cluttered with groceries. She counted four boxes of macaroni and cheese, cereal, a small bag of potatoes, and another of apples. Bachelor fare. To her right, a couch, chair, and TV anchored a small square of carpet. The bed directly across from her was neatly made. She guessed that the door next to it led to a bathroom.

“Classy.”

He smiled. “I knew you were a snob.”

“You have to admit, it doesn’t look anything like the Alpine Sky.”

“I can follow De Luca around, but I can’t live like him. I don’t have a trust fund or a pretend job that pays me a million dollars a week. The place is clean; that’s good enough.”

She laid her bag on the kitchen table, checking for crumbs first. “When’s this Grady guy coming?”

“About fifteen minutes.” Cal stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around, as if just noticing his limited entertainment options. His gaze settled on the kitchen counter. “Want an apple?”

“No thanks.”

He scanned the room again. “Watch TV?”

She stood and opened one of two kitchen cupboards, taking down a glass. “I think I’ll water your flowers.”

She filled the glass at the sink as he watched, bemused. “What flowers?”

They were sitting on the deck when they heard the crunch of tires on gravel. She kept her eyes on the heavily treed drive as an ancient Honda appeared around the last bend and parked next to Cal’s truck. A man with shaggy dark hair got out, slammed the door, and shaded his eyes as he walked toward them. Maggie thought he looked studious with his dark-framed glasses, and handsome in an absentminded-professor sort of way. His eyes lit with curiosity when he saw her, and darted questioningly between her and Cal as he walked up the steps to the porch.

He went right to Maggie and stuck his hand out. “Rick Grady. I recognize you from the papers.”

She gave him a halfhearted smile as she shook his hand. “Not my best moment.”

“I thought it was brilliant!” Rick beamed in admiration. “Exactly what De Luca needed. I only wish I’d seen it myself.”

She gave Cal a triumphant look. “
He
thinks I was brilliant.”

Cal scowled. “I never said he was smart.” He cocked his head at the door to the cabin. “Come inside. We don’t want to risk someone spotting us. So far, the media haven’t found me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Rick nodded, suddenly serious. “Right.”

“Intrigue,” she murmured happily, following them inside.

They sat at the small kitchen table and Rick recounted his experience with the damning photo of Rafe for Maggie’s benefit. He seemed to revel a bit at being the unsung hero of the story, and Maggie couldn’t blame him.

“Thank God you were there to catch him in the act!” Fury raged through her at the thought of Rafe charming some young girl with his wealth and star power, then slapping her around, maybe even forcing himself on her. “You did a service for women everywhere by selling that photograph.”

“And for himself,” Cal pointed out. “He made a lot of money.”

“Cynic,” Maggie accused, then told Rick, “He’s good at finding the negative side of anything.”

Rick looked resentful. “I lost money over it, too. The De Lucas can buy loyalty, and some publications avoided me after that.”

“You didn’t say that before.” Cal finally looked interested. “Do they still refuse to deal with you?”

He brushed it off. “I have no idea, because it doesn’t matter. I have other outlets to write for. The point is, the incident opened my eyes. Rafe De Luca likes young girls and is sexually abusive. His family hates that I know it. Up until now, they’ve had enough money and power to cover it up.” He curled his lips over the words
money
and
power
as if finding them personally offensive. “We have to let people know what sort of man Rafe De Luca really is before he hurts more young women.”

“Exactly!” Maggie agreed. Finally, someone else who believed in being proactive. Why couldn’t Cal be this directed?

“We will,” Cal said. “But only if we can connect him to the disappearance of those two missing girls from this area.”

“We can try. We
will
try. But I’ve been thinking about this ever since we talked.” Rick leaned forward, intent on selling his point. “Maybe we don’t have to watch him as closely now, because Maggie planted the idea that he takes advantage of women, and the press will be watching for it. So we’re free to figure out how to connect him to the missing women.”

“But what if we can’t find any evidence?” Maggie asked. “We can’t just give up and let Rafe kill again.”

Cal frowned. “Who’s giving up?”

“I say we mount a two-pronged attack,” Rick continued. “We try to find evidence that links Rafe to the missing girls, sure. But we could also try to catch Rafe in an unguarded moment, like I did before, but something so bad it will mark him forever. Use the power of the press against him.”

Destroying Rafe had appeal, and Maggie had a new respect for the power of the press, but Cal looked annoyed. Before he could reject the idea outright, she offered her support. “It could work,” she told him.

“It could also get someone killed. You’re talking about putting Rafe in a situation where he’ll respond with violence.”

“A
controlled
situation,” Rick emphasized. “Scripted by us. A setup.”

She couldn’t read Cal’s expression as he took a long look at Rick. “You plan to lure him into it?”

“Why not? We know what he wants,” Rick said.

She looked from Rick’s confident expression to Cal’s closed one, not following. “What does Rafe want? A girl?”

“You.” Cal turned to her. “Rick’s talking about using you to tempt Rafe into violence.”

“Oh,” she said slowly, trying not to reject the idea out of hand just because the thought of Rafe touching her made her skin crawl. “But you guys would be right there to make sure he can’t hurt me. Right?”

“Of course—”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Cal said, squashing Rick’s reassurance before it left his mouth. “If Rafe did those kinds of things with other people around, he would have been caught by now. He wouldn’t respond violently unless he felt no one was around. And we aren’t in Mexico,” he added sharply, forestalling Rick’s objection. “We’re on his home field. If he wants to get kinky, or thinks a woman might resist, do you think he’ll try something at The Aerie? Or maybe in the Alpine Sky lobby, while you lurk behind a potted plant with your zoom lens? He’ll take her to the family estate, where no one can follow him.”

He was right. Maggie sat back in her chair, dejected. “Damn.”

Rick didn’t give up that easily. “It doesn’t have to work that way. Think outside the box,” he urged, the cliché drawing another annoyed look from Cal. “Maggie could entice him to a place where he thinks they’re alone, like her store. At night.” He warmed to the idea as he talked. “But we would already be there, hiding and watching.”

Rick gave her an encouraging look, waiting for her approval. Maggie didn’t want Rafe to touch George the trilobite, much less her, but for the chance to humiliate and destroy him, she might be persuaded. “Maybe,” she equivocated.

“No.” Cal’s forceful answer made it clear he didn’t care if she approved. He looked between them, like they’d both lost their minds, then focused his irritation on Rick. “In your little scenario, exactly when do you plan to step in—when Rafe slugs her for the first time? Is that when you snap a picture? If he just breaks a rib, or cracks her cheekbone, that won’t show on camera, you know. Will you let him keep going until she’s black-and-blue and dripping blood?”