Soft Focus (14 page)

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Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz

BOOK: Soft Focus
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Jack smiled. “Forget the matchmaking. I'm not looking for a date. I'm looking for a guy who stole something from me.”

Leonard looked more wary than ever. “What did he steal?”

“That's not important. What's important is that I find him as soon as possible.”

Fresh alarm blazed across Leonard's face. “We're not talking drugs or anything like that, are we? I don't want to get involved—”

“No drugs. Nothing illegal. Nothing dangerous. This was high-tech industrial theft. White-collar crime.”

“Sounds like you need the cops.”

“Nobody ever calls the cops on this kind of crime.”

“Oh, yeah. I've heard that. Bad publicity, huh?”

“Right.”

Leonard frowned. “You check the local hotels for this guy?”

“Yes. He's not registered anywhere here in town.”

“But you're pretty sure he's around?”

Jack thought about the phone call he had received inviting him to attend the auction. “He's here somewhere. What I need is someone who knows who's who behind the scenes here in Mirror Springs.”

Leonard looked wise. “Someone who knows the players.”

“Whatever.” It was hard to think of any of the low-budget
independent filmmakers he'd met here at the festival as Hollywood-style
players,
but Jack decided not to comment. He didn't want to insult Leonard. “If I give you the name of a guy who helped produce a film called
Fast Company,
think you could find him?”

Leonard's eyes narrowed. “Maybe. If he's hanging around. Is that all you want me to do?”

“There is one other small thing.”

Leonard uttered a world-weary groan. “I was afraid of that.”

Jack smiled slightly. “It's not so hard. I just want to be sure you keep this low-key, understand? I'm trying to find this guy, not scare him off.”

Leonard relaxed, happy again. “Got it. Don't worry, I won't take out an ad in the
Mirror Springs Gazette
. What's the name of this dude you're looking for?”

“Tyler Page.”

“Never heard of him.” Leonard flipped one hand in a vague gesture. “He can't be very big in the business.”

“He's not. But he's got ambitions.”

“Doesn't everyone? Okay, I'll see what I can turn up.” Leonard frowned. “How do I get in touch with you?”

“You can call me at either of these two numbers.” Jack took a card out of his pocket and scrawled the number of the house where he and Elizabeth were staying and his cell phone number. He handed the card to Leonard. “Day or night. Remember, try not to make waves. He'll disappear on me if you screw up. And I will lose all interest in
Dark Moon Rising
if that happens.”

Leonard glanced at the card and then looked up. Some of his initial enthusiasm had faded. “You really want to find this guy bad, don't you?”

“Yes.” Jack went to the door and unlocked it. “I do.”

“Hang on.” Leonard hurried to follow him out of the rest room. “I'll get that script for you.”

Jack paused at the door. “Mind washing your hands first?”

“I THINK I'D
better make it clear that I'm a noncombatant in your little war with Jack,” Elizabeth said.

“Innocent bystanders get hurt when he's in the vicinity.” Hayden smiled grimly across the table. “But you already know that, don't you?”

“What is this all about, Hayden?”

“Soft Focus.”

“I don't intend to discuss that subject with you again.”

He ignored that. “You're here for the auction. You're Jack's checkbook. He won't be able to afford to stay in the bidding without the Aurora Fund to back him up.”

“Go away, Hayden.”

“I didn't get a chance to finish making my pitch yesterday. We can both make a killing on this if we work together.”

“This conversation is starting to bore me.”

He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Talk to me, Elizabeth. Work with me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you can't trust Jack. You know that. Come in with me on this and I'll make it worth your while. You have my personal guarantee.”

“What, exactly, do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He grinned, a fleeting smile that reminded her of Jack. “I just want you to agree not to back him at the auction. He can't outbid me on his own.”

“I thought I made it clear that as far as I'm concerned, I've
got a vested interest in Excalibur. I'm not interested in taking a financial hit for the sake of revenge.”

“You disappoint me, Elizabeth. I pegged you as a woman of passion and imagination.”

“A lot of people make that mistake.”

“If it's only the money that's standing in the way, I can take care of that. My company is worth ten times as much as Excalibur and it has its own R & D projects, remember? At least two are guaranteed to hit big. I give you my word that if you help me out here, I'll cut the Aurora Fund in for a piece of the action.”

She studied him. “I know he's your half brother, Hayden. He told me the story. I don't want to get involved in a family quarrel.”

Hayden stared at her. Then his eyes hardened. “Shit. What's the matter with you? He's using you. Can't you see that?”

“What I see,” she said gently, “is that your need for revenge is eating you up inside. On top of the unresolved issues you've got with the past, you're going through a difficult divorce. That's undoubtedly added a lot of stress.”

“Don't analyze me. You don't know a damn thing about my past except what Jack chose to tell you. And you can bet that was a pack of lies. As for my divorce, you haven't got a clue. No one does. You can't even begin to understand what it's been like dealing with a spoiled little girl who thinks her rich daddy can give her anything she wants.”

The sudden gritty anger in his voice alarmed her. “Hayden—”

“Jack was smart enough to slip out of the noose before Ringstead could tighten it around his neck. I'll give him credit for that. But I got caught.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Didn't Jack tell you that he used to date my almost-ex-wife? Jack and Gillian. Cute, huh?”

“Oh, dear.”

“She picked him because
Daddy
liked him, you see. Ringstead decided that Jack had what it took to control Ring, Inc. But fool that I was, I convinced her that Daddy would like me even better. And you know what?” Hayden's mouth twisted with savage self-mockery. “He did.”

Elizabeth groaned. “You stole Gillian away from Jack?”

“It wasn't hard.” He tightened one hand into a fist on top of the small table. “Now I know why.”

“Why?”

“Because Jack had already figured out that the whole fucking family was poison. He probably laughed himself sick on my wedding day. And he's laughing even harder now, knowing how much it's going to cost me to squirm out of the Ringstead trap.”

“You can't blame Jack for the fact that you married Gillian Ringstead. Deep down, you know that.” Impulsively she touched his clenched hand. “You've obviously got issues with the past, but you won't settle them by trying to avenge yourself on your brother.”


Half
brother.” Hayden got to his feet with a quick, violent movement. “And I will destroy him, Elizabeth. The way his father destroyed my mother. For your own sake, I hope you're not standing too close when it happens. Believe it or not, I really don't want to see you get hurt.”

He turned and strode off toward the entrance of the club. On stage the singer launched into another haunting ballad, a tale of love and risk. Elizabeth did not recognize the song, but she knew the wistful, melancholic feeling it produced all too well.

“Better yes than no,

Better to take the fall,

Better some kind of love than no love at all.”

She let the music drift over her, feeling safe as long as it stayed on the surface. And then, without warning, it was inside her. She tightened her grip on her glass as the song stirred memories of last night.

She had made a pact with herself. She had vowed to concentrate on the physical pleasure and the satisfaction she had found in Jack's arms.
Keep it all on the surface this time.
But the singer was reaching deeper with her music, stirring more dangerous embers.

Getting beneath the surface.

In an effort to shake off the disturbing twist in the pit of her stomach, she glanced toward the purple neon sign that marked the rest rooms. There was no sign of Jack. How long did it take to make a deal in a men's room?

She glanced at her watch. When she looked back at the dark hallway again, she caught a glimpse of blond hair piled high on a gracefully held head. Vicky Bellamy was heading toward the women's room.

On impulse, Elizabeth got to her feet. She slung her small evening bag over her shoulder and made her way through the shadows toward the purple neon sign. She tried to think of a clever way to engage Vicky in a conversation in the ladies' room.
Loved your comments on the Femme Fatale panel. By the way, did you seduce Tyler Page to get him to steal a secret research specimen of a high-tech material for your husband?
Not exactly subtle. On the other hand, the approach had the virtue of being direct and to the point.

The walls of the hallway had been painted a very dark shade of purple. In the dim light they appeared almost black.
Beneath the neon sign, the corridor branched off in opposite directions. A plaque on the wall informed her that the men's room was to the left. She glanced in that direction. The door was firmly closed. Jack was apparently still engaged in his business conference. The women's room was to the right.

She went down the short hall and opened the door. There were three stalls inside, all painted purple. There were no feet showing beneath any of the stall doors. The rest room was empty.

She backed out of the small room and rechecked the configuration of the hallway. There was one other way out that did not lead back into the main room of the club. She went to the third door and twisted the knob.

She found herself standing on a small loading dock.

A draft of cold night air hit her in the face. There was a single, bare bulb glowing weakly overhead. She peered into the shadows and saw a service road and a small employee parking lot. A large metal garbage bin loomed to her right. The odor of rotting garbage and stale booze was faint but detectable.

There was no sign of Vicky Bellamy, but she caught the sound of muted voices nearby in the darkness.

She closed the door behind her, wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the crisp mountain chill, and went down the loading-dock steps. Should have brought her coat, she thought. It was freezing out here. Then again, who could have guessed that Vicky Bellamy would sneak out of the club via the rear entrance?

A sudden, jolting possibility occurred to her. What if Vicky Bellamy really was involved in the theft of Soft Focus? What if she had chosen tonight to run off with Tyler Page and the crystal while Jack was doing his deal in the men's room?

No, that made no sense, Elizabeth thought. There was supposed to be an auction. If Vicky was mixed up in this mess, she was unlikely to leave until she got her hands on the money.

She couldn't just stand here and do nothing, Elizabeth decided. Slowly, she began to prowl along the line of dark vehicles. If someone asked her what she was doing, she could always say she had just stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

She tried to appear casual as she moved from car to car, peering into the front seats. There was enough reflected moonlight to allow her to see large, bulky shapes. If Vicky was sitting in one of the vehicles, she would be able to see the outline of her body.

The body was not behind the wheel of one of the vehicles. It was lying on the ground near the rear tire of an aging Ford.

Elizabeth stared at the outflung arms, so pale in the moonlight. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. She took an instinctive step back toward the safety of the nightclub's rear door.

Then she made herself move forward again. With a sense of great dread she crouched down and started to check for a pulse.

“Are you—?” Stupid question. Of course the woman was not all right. She looked very dead.

A brilliant light flashed on, blinding her, just as she reached out to check for a pulse.

“Don't touch her,” a man yelled furiously out of the shadows. “It took me half an hour to set up this scene.”

Elizabeth's nerves were already strained to the limit. The man's irate shout was too much. She shrieked in startled outrage and leaped back, fetching up hard against the fender of the car.

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