Silver Sparks (11 page)

Maggie flinched, feeling bruised already.

Rick frowned and started to reply, but Cal talked over him. “What if he shoves her across the store and you don’t have a good angle because the display case is in the way? Do you sit quietly and hope Maggie can drag her battered body back into the shot? Exactly how much are you willing to put her through to get that million-dollar photograph?”

Rick’s gaze darted to Maggie, as if to explain, but Cal wasn’t done. Arms on the table, he leaned toward Rick. “And here’s one more thought—what if he comes after you, too? When he killed my sister, he slit her throat. Is your camera going to be enough defense against a raving lunatic with a knife?”

Rick frowned and held up a hand. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re right, my plan has a few bugs.”

“Your plan is shit.”

For a few seconds Rick pressed his mouth into a stubborn line, then gave a reluctant nod. Maggie blew out a sigh of relief, surprised to find she’d been holding her breath. Cal’s description had seemed all too real. His anger was real, too, and palpable. She wondered if it was because Rick had proposed a poorly constructed plan, or because it involved putting her at risk.

“So what’s
your
plan?” she asked him.

“Good old-fashioned detective work.” He gave them each a look as if assessing their capabilities. “The two missing girls I want to investigate are Rachel Anders and Tara Kolinowski. Rachel was eighteen and from Barringer’s Pass. She disappeared almost a year ago. Tara was twenty-three, from the Denver area, but was vacationing here when she disappeared eighteen months ago. I’ve already determined that Rafe was here during those times. He overlaps Tara’s visit by only two days, but that’s enough. We need to find witnesses who can put the girls with Rafe on the day they vanished.”

Maggie had to admit that Cal’s bossy attitude lent itself to leadership. He just needed a dry erase board to make it feel like a police briefing. Thankfully, Rick listened as attentively as a rookie cop, taking notes in a spiral notebook. “How do we know he even met them?” he asked.

“It’s a weak link right now. I’ve talked to people who can place both Rafe and Tara at the Glacier Pass resort on the last night she was seen. She was staying there, and partying with a large group of people in their lounge. If she left with Rafe, someone must have seen them, but I haven’t found anyone who can swear to it yet. Rachel, the local girl, will be harder to pin down. She didn’t hang out at the resorts, since they were too expensive for her. But she was well known at the bars and restaurants in town.”

“So how do we pin her disappearance on Rafe?” Rick asked.

Maggie hid a smile at his wording, which made it sound as if Rick was willing to blame Rafe whether or not it was his fault. No question, he was on their side.

“I think it’s likely she met him that night. Maggie can help confirm this,” he said, glancing at her. “A lot of celebrities have vacation homes or permanent residences in the mountains around Barringer’s Pass, so it’s not uncommon to see them around town. Right?”

She nodded.

“And even though most of them hang out at the high-end resorts and restaurants, a few of them are known for slumming at the cheaper bars and clubs.”

“Some do, especially a few rock stars and comedians I can think of. I don’t know about Rafe.”

“From what I’ve been told, and what I’ve seen, he does. Rachel told her friends she intended to meet Rafe De Luca the next time he showed up in town.” The corners of his mouth tightened a bit. “She made a bet with her best friend that she could get him in bed. Apparently the two of them had a contest to see who got him first.”

Maggie winced and muttered a few select words under her breath about teenagers and bad judgment. Only sheer dumb luck had kept her from a similar fate.

Under the table, Cal squeezed her hand. She looked up, surprised to see understanding and reassurance in his steady gaze, the kind of empathy she got only from her sisters. Something warm and fluttery bloomed inside her.

She never felt fluttery. Flustered, she pulled her hand away and pressed it to her breastbone, trying to rub out the strange sensation.

Cal went on. “I have a list of Glacier Pass employees, both current and former, who might remember Tara. I’ve eliminated six so far. Technically, Rachel still lived at home, but her parents said she often stayed with friends. They don’t seem to have a clue about her social life. I think her friends are the way to go there.”

“Wouldn’t the police have already talked to these people?” Maggie asked.

“Probably, especially the employees at Glacier Pass. But they weren’t asking about Rafe De Luca, and some might not volunteer that they saw him there even if they did—I’ve found that most of the townspeople try not to piss off the De Lucas. Except for you, of course,” he added dryly.

“I happen to think it’s one of my best qualities.”

Cal clearly disagreed, but Rick gave her an enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got guts. Good for you.”

Guts, but no brains. She knew Cal was thinking it. Whatever attraction he felt for her didn’t extend to the decisions she made.

Cal consulted a small notebook. “I suggest we divide up my list of names and cut the work in half.”

“There are three of us,” she pointed out.

“You’re with me. You don’t go anywhere alone.” When she bristled, he added, “Unless you can’t wait to go another round with your latest admirer.”

Rick looked between their resentful glares. “What are you talking about?”

“The guy who jumped out of her bushes this morning, nearly choked her to death, and threatened to slit her throat.”

Rick straightened, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “Rafe?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered, still disgruntled that she couldn’t pin it on him.

“Rafe, or someone doing his dirty work,” Cal said. “And he’s still out there, which is why she shouldn’t go anyplace alone.” He gave her a hard stare.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Then you two work out a schedule of who talks to whom. You don’t need me.” She grabbed her purse and took it to the couch, not caring if she looked like a pouting thirteen-year-old. It might be Rafe’s fault that she couldn’t walk around in public without drawing a crowd of reporters and couldn’t walk around alone for fear of being assaulted by some De Luca goon, but it was more convenient to be pissed at Cal.

Rummaging in her purse, she pulled out the five pink while-you-were-out slips that Holly had thrust at her as she left Fortune’s Folly. She read the large, looping script on the top one:
Mrs. McNabb changed her mind about the velociraptor
.

Damn. But it wasn’t too surprising. Mrs. McNabb had dithered for forty-five minutes over which fossilized dinosaur claw her son might like for his birthday. Personally, Maggie wouldn’t have paid nearly three thousand dollars for
anything
for an eleven-year-old’s birthday, but she wasn’t married to a wildly successful real estate speculator, so she didn’t have to worry about those decisions.

She flipped to the next pink slip:
Alyssa Burke canceled on the rugs.

For a moment, Maggie felt the blood rush from her head. The Burkes were adding a recording studio to their mountain retreat, and Alyssa had selected three of Maggie’s best Persian rugs to provide the proper ambiance. The order had been Maggie’s largest in months, and totaled over $45,000.

Even in her light-headed state, she made the connection—Aaron Burke was a music producer for one of the De Luca labels. Maggie didn’t know if they were friends with the De Lucas, but it wouldn’t matter, not when their income depended on the De Lucas’ goodwill.

Frantically, she flipped through the last three message slips. Each one was a canceled order, totaling another $12,000 in business.

Stunned, she stared at the message slips. Almost $60,000 in sales had disappeared in a matter of a couple of hours this morning. Who knew how much since then? The panicked thought jolted her, and had her digging into her purse for her phone.

One bar. It disappeared as she watched. Crap, she was tucked too closely against the mountainside. “Be right back,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked outside. The sky was overcast with a bite to the air, but it felt good against her fevered skin. She kept an eye on her phone as she stalked past the cars onto the gravel drive. Two bars—good enough. She dialed the store.

“Fortune’s Folly, may I help you?” Holly sounded tired.

“It’s me. Are you busy?”

The sarcastic laugh was sharp in her ear. “Hardly. It’s dead here, except for the phone calls and returns. Even the reporters are gone. There’s no point in you coming back today.”

“Damn.” Returns, too. She kicked at some stones, which didn’t work well with pointed toes. They moved a couple of inches. “How many more cancellations?”

“A few.” Holly hesitated, then changed it to, “A lot. But no more big ones. Most of them are small.”

“How small?”

“A few hundred dollars.” Another hesitation, this time longer. “Including returns, they total about fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Shit.”

“It’s the De Lucas, isn’t it?”

“Probably.” Definitely. She sighed. “Thanks for holding down the fort, Holly. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Don’t hurry. I hate to say it, but you could probably just close up early.”

She could just imagine the De Lucas gloating over that. “No way. I’ll see you soon.” She snapped the phone shut with renewed vigor and marched back up to the cabin.

Cal was looking at her expectantly even before she slammed the door, which startled Rick into looking up, too. “What’s wrong?” Cal asked.

She wasn’t surprised it showed; she probably had steam coming out of her ears. “The De Lucas,” she said, tossing her purse on a chair. “They must have put out the word, because I’m getting lots of returns and canceled orders, like you said.” She winced. “Including one big order that I really needed.”

Cal’s face was grim. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. It was better than “I told you so,” which he had every right to say. “I have to get back to the store.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Just take me to my house and I’ll get my car—”

“I said I’ll take you.”

She rolled her eyes. Fine. If he wanted to spend all his time chauffeuring her around, let him.

“What are you going to do about the De Lucas?” Rick asked.

Cal shot him a dirty look, but it didn’t matter, her mind was already working on the problem. The trouble was, she didn’t have any ideas.

Rick couldn’t leave it alone. “I didn’t think they had that many friends around here.”

“They don’t,” she said. “But they have money, and power. A lot of people here can’t afford to piss them off.”

Rick snorted his disdain. “Personally, I’d love to piss them off. Whatever ruins their day makes mine better.”

Maggie hummed a noncommittal reply. She didn’t need vengeance; she’d settle for being left alone. It was becoming clear that Rick invested too much energy into hating the De Lucas. Not that he was the only one—pushing people around tended to make them annoyed, and the De Lucas had done it enough to earn a reputation for being ruthless. Power bought loyalty, but it also earned enmity.

She twirled a strand of hair absently, wondering how many people felt as strongly as Rick did . . . and how she could use that to her advantage.

She stared unseeing at the speckled linoleum for several seconds before the silence made her look up. Cal and Rick were watching her, and Cal didn’t look at all pleased to see her formulating ideas. She freed her finger from the corkscrew of hair and flashed a smile. “So what did you guys decide to do first?”

Cal’s eyebrow twitched. He wasn’t buying the innocent act.

She wouldn’t have cared except for that glimmer of worry in his eyes. The death of a fellow officer still haunted him. Maggie wasn’t convinced that she was like his friend Diane, but she couldn’t deny she’d acted recklessly. And knowing that it revived Cal’s fears was enough to curb her plans.

“We’ll talk later,” she told him. “Right now I just need to get to my store while I still have one.”

From the way he relaxed, she knew he understood—she’d tell him what she planned to do about the De Lucas later, before she did it.

It didn’t mean she had to listen when he said no.

She spent the rest of the workday making returns and fielding calls for canceled orders. At the end of the day she was down another $8,000, which she considered good after the meltdown that morning. When Cal came to pick her up at 7:30, she was glad to lock the door behind her.

It was still light as they approached her house, and she could see that the line of news vans out front had grown.

“Good Lord, how many news outlets are there?”

“Hundreds. Do you want me to keep going? You could stay with me tonight.” When she shot him a look, he smiled and shrugged. “Or with your sister or grandmother. But I’d be better company.”

“I’m staying in my own house. They can’t drive me away.”

But they could give her several unpleasant minutes. They swarmed around Cal’s truck when he pulled in, yelling questions before she even had her door open.