Star Bright (7 page)

“Are you given to telling tall tales, Mr. Harrigan?”

He grinned and ignored the question. “You get a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Good. There are a couple of dead zones between here and town, but mostly the reception is dependable. I’ll worry a lot less about your makin’ the drive if you can call for help.” Drawing her along with him, he cut a wide berth around an open stall gate. All of his horses were gentle and well mannered, but Parker had learned long ago never to let down his guard around such large animals. “I made a pot of coffee,” he told her. “Don’t know if it’ll measure up to your high standards, but it’s hot and wet.”

When they reached the hallway, he released her arm and stood back, lifting a hand in farewell. “I’ll check in with you later. If you need anything or have any questions, just holler.”

She paused in the corridor to glance back at him over her shoulder. “I won’t need you. Thanks for making coffee.”

“You bet.”

Once Rainie settled in to work, she found it difficult to concentrate. She kept expecting her boss to storm into the office to confront her about all the lies she’d told on her application. What would she say to him?
I’m sorry I fibbed?
It wasn’t in Rainie’s nature to deceive people, so she had no experience in how to handle it when the truth came out. Parker Harrigan struck her as being a direct, honest man. He wouldn’t be happy if he discovered that she’d played him for a chump.

An hour into sorting through the office rubble, Rainie froze in motion when he suddenly burst into the room. Oh, God, he’d found her out. A scowl drew his black eyebrows together over his prominent nose. His firm mouth had thinned into a grim line. When he settled those intense brown eyes on her, Rainie’s skin felt the burn.

“Have you seen my checkbook?”

Rainie struggled to regain her composure. “I, um, didn’t think you used one much.”

“I don’t.” He advanced toward his desk to paw through the clutter. “Damn it. I’ve got a new guy deliverin’ hay. He won’t bill it to my account. Says he was told to collect payment on delivery at all his drops, and his boss isn’t answerin’ the phone.”

Rainie opened a drawer and tugged out a large dark blue binder notebook. “Is this it?”

“You’re my guardian angel.”

He opened the book and bent to fill out a draft. When he failed to document the amount in the register, Rainie did it for him.

“Thanks,” he said as he exited the room, banging the door closed behind him.

Rainie was trembling. After closing the checkbook, she hugged her waist and shut her eyes, so shaken that she almost wished she hadn’t taken this job. Her nerve endings were raw with tension. Her mind kept circling the fact that he was bound to check up on her sooner or later. At this point, she hoped it would be sooner. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand this waiting.

What had she been thinking yesterday to interview for a high-paying, permanent position? People like her took jobs at fast-food joints to avoid any questions. They didn’t set themselves up for detection by accepting sixty thousand a year in wages, plus benefits. Employers who offered that kind of package were successful business owners who hadn’t gotten where they were by being naive.

Sweat beaded on Parker’s face as he swung another hay bale off the stack and carried it into the storage shed. Normally, he used the forklift, but right now he needed the physical exertion. It was a habit he’d developed over his lifetime. When confronted with a problem, he worked while he sorted his way through it.

Anna Pritchard was definitely a puzzle he needed to figure out.

Parker had visited the office precisely four times over the course of the morning, and the lady had nearly jumped out of her skin each time. At first, he’d chalked it up to nervousness because it was her first day on the job, but then he’d noticed the fear in her eyes. Unless he was misreading her, she was terrified of him. How the hell did that make sense?

Parker had never spent much time analyzing how he might be perceived by others, so he didn’t go around guarding his every word or gesture. People either accepted him or they didn’t. He supposed it was fair to say that his manner could be a little gruff sometimes, and he’d be the first to admit he completely lacked the sophisticated polish a lot of guys had. But never, to his knowledge, had he terrified anyone.

Something about her wasn’t right. It reminded him of a slightly crooked picture on a wall. He always noticed immediately, and it bugged the hell out of him until he straightened it. It was that way with Anna. Something about her just didn’t line up. He wasn’t a boisterous man. He didn’t lose his temper at the drop of a hat and punch holes in the walls. He seldom raised his voice in anger. So what was it about him that frightened her?

Parker couldn’t say. He knew only that Anna trembled in her secondhand boots whenever he entered the office.
Weird.
He didn’t know what her deal was, but he hoped she got it ironed out. He didn’t relish the thought of working with a woman who jumped a foot every time he so much as looked at her.

For the rest of the afternoon, Parker did his best to put Anna at ease, but by the end of the day, he’d decided that nothing short of a Valium chased by two fingers of whiskey would do the trick. He gazed thoughtfully after her rattletrap Mazda as she drove away. The lady was a puzzle, no question about it. She’d done a great job of straightening his office. It wasn’t organized to her satisfaction yet, but he felt sure it soon would be. She’d also made fast work of logging today’s expenditures, not only the hay delivery, but also several nickel-and-dime purchases, one from a traveling salesman who peddled Parker’s favorite brand of equine supplements. Normally payouts like that never got recorded because Parker forgot to do it.

All in all, he was happy with her performance so far. But her odd behavior disturbed him. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was too late to do anything about it today, but first thing tomorrow morning, he needed to check out her references.

When Anna got home, she kicked off the boots, sank onto a kitchen chair, and lay forward over the table, resting her head on her folded arms. Nervous tension had drained her empty. Her limbs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, and she had a painful crick in her neck she couldn’t massage away. At least Parker Harrigan hadn’t made any phone calls today, she reminded herself. Instead he seemed willing to accept her at face value. As crazy as it was, that only made her feel guiltier for lying to him.

Thomas leaped up onto the tabletop to nuzzle Rainie’s hair. She smiled wearily and sat back to scratch the cat behind his ears. “Hi, there, skinny boy. Did you miss me, or are you just hungry?”

He started to purr, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. Rainie continued petting him for a moment and then pushed up from the chair to feed him. She’d purchased some cat food yesterday, but the tom seemed to prefer the kibble mixed with tuna.

As she opened a can, she said, “I guess I can afford a can of tuna per day now that I’m making good money and have health insurance.”

The cat rubbed against her bare calves while she prepared his meal. After setting the bowl down, Rainie returned to the table to watch him eat.

“Let’s just hope I can keep the job,” she added. “If he finds out I lied to get it, he may fire me on the spot. Then I’ll be lucky to get work at Burger King.”

No reply from the cat. Rainie sighed. Bottom line was, she missed her friends. Oh, how she wished she could unload on Margaret right now or hear Janet crack one of her silly jokes. Smiling slightly, Rainie tried to imagine what her irreverent friend might say.
A cowboy? They’re all dumber than boxes of rocks. That’s why they engrave their names on their belts, so they know who they are when they put their pants on in the morning.
Still grinning, Rainie rested her chin on the heel of her hand, gazing thoughtfully at Thomas. Maybe, just maybe, Parker Harrigan wouldn’t check out her references. He hadn’t bothered to record a single check that he’d written today, and he’d tossed the receipts at his desk, not even looking to see where they landed. Being so meticulous by nature, she found that inconceivable, but it took all different types to make the world go around.

Feeling slightly better, Rainie got up to fix herself something to eat. Her habitual comfort foods, tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, sounded good. When her meal was ready, she sat on the living room sofa. Thomas joined her on the cushion to beg for morsels of cheese. Rainie shared her food with him, then settled back to watch the news. For about ten minutes, the commentator focused on world affairs. Then Rainie saw her own face flash onto the screen. She’d grown accustomed to that over the last few weeks, but it still never failed to startle her.

“What really happened to Lorraina Danning?” the news anchor asked the audience. “Did she accidentally fall overboard, or was she pushed? It’s a mystery that the police have been unable to solve.” Rainie’s picture vanished from the screen, and the camera zoomed in on a live news conference. Detective Raymond Lord, with the King County police, stood at a podium. Expression solemn, blue eyes piercing, he announced that the FBI was officially taking over the investigation. The King County task force would, however, continue to lend support, assisting FBI agents in whatever way it could. Rainie’s face came back on the screen as the commentator resumed her narrative. No body, no clues. Lorraina Danning had disappeared without a trace.

Staring at her own likeness, Rainie touched her cheek with a trembling fingertip. The picture had been taken before she’d gotten the scar, and she’d lost some weight as well. The sleek brown hair that had once been her trademark was now a wildly curly mane, as blond as it was brown. She no longer wore expensive clothing, either. Overall, she looked completely different. Or so she hoped. But what if Parker Harrigan was watching this newscast and recognized her?

Composure shattered, Rainie went to the kitchen to open a bottle of merlot. It was becoming a habit, she realized. Her nerves were shot, and she was self-medicating. Not a good thing. Problem was, she couldn’t afford to go another night without sleep, and the wine would make her drowsy.

The following day, Parker got busy in the morning and couldn’t find time to check out Anna’s references. When things slowed down shortly after lunch, he decided to do his detective work at the house. After seeing Anna several more times, he felt a little foolish for his suspicions. No one with big, guileless eyes like hers could be a practiced liar. That said, her behavior continued to raise warning flags in his mind. She was still as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs whenever he entered the office.

Parker’s first call was to Pepperdine University. He was transferred from the main offices to those of Seaver College, a subsidiary school under the Pepperdine umbrella that apparently offered on-campus undergraduate degrees in accounting. A woman named Anna Pritchard had indeed taken that coursework and received her degree from Seaver in 1981. Wrong person. The Anna working in his stable office was only twenty-five. Parker asked the woman on the phone to please check her records for another Anna Pritchard who’d probably gotten her accounting degree in 2004 or 2005. Dead end. No one named Anna Pritchard had earned an accounting degree at Seaver College since 1981.

As Parker ended the call, his blood began to heat with anger. Next he called one of Anna’s former employers. Some little old lady in Orange County answered the phone. She’d never heard of the company Parker named. He got off the phone and turned to his computer. A Google search for the company brought up no matches. Parker double-checked the name of the place and typed it in again. Still nothing. If the company existed, it wasn’t listed in this search engine.

Before jumping to conclusions, Parker grimly placed several more phone calls. Once, he got a small child on the phone. The next time, he got a grease monkey at some gas station in Chico. At least the lady seemed to know her California area codes. So, what did that tell him, other than that she’d probably once lived in that state? It sure as hell told him nothing more—except that Anna Pritchard had lied on her application.

Parker was pissed. He seldom lied to anyone, and he expected the same courtesy in return. He tried to calm down as he headed for the stable, but it was an effort in futility. He’d trusted her. When he remembered their conversation the day before yesterday, humiliation seared his cheeks. She’d made him look stupid. Correction, he’d made himself look stupid by allowing himself to be taken in by those innocent hazel eyes.

Anna was standing at a file cabinet, hands full of papers, when he burst into the office. He made a conscious effort not to slam the door closed behind him.

“We need to talk,” he bit out.

Her face drained of color. “About?”

“Sit down.”

She put the papers on top of the cabinet and went to sit in her chair. Today she wore a fake suede skirt that had seen better times and a sleeveless blouse with one button that didn’t quite match the rest. As Parker advanced on her, he noticed that her face grew paler by the second and that the cherry surface of her work area gleamed with fresh polish.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to,” he said evenly.

Agitated and needing something to do with his hands, he reached for the granite paperweight on the blotter. At his movement, she flinched and jerked up her right arm to shield her face, clearly convinced he meant to strike her.
Whoa.
Parker was angry. He’d be the first to admit that. But he’d never hit a woman in his life, not even his little sister when they’d fought as kids.