The Dark of Day (50 page)

“I didn't know who she was!” He breathed through his teeth and said slowly, “What do you
want?
”

She paced back and forth in front of him, and he followed her with his eyes. “Tonight Rick and I found out that Billy Medina is the one who murdered Alana Martin. He admitted it. He killed her at his house the night of the party, and he threw her body into the Atlantic. She was getting to be an embarrassment, and he was afraid he would lose his investment in The Aquarius. This is the project that
you
have been pushing in Congress.”

“My God.” Paul Shelby's face was hidden behind his hands now. “C.J., I'm begging you. I'll do anything. No one has to know. For our daughter's sake—”

“You make me sick. You don't give a damn about her. No, I won't tell them about Kylie, but when the police come for Milo Cahill, he will try to save himself. He might say you brought the girls here. He might give their names. I will exert what pressure I can on Milo to leave Kylie out of it, but he might not listen to me.”

“The world is coming apart,” he groaned. “What am I going to do?”

“What you will do,” C.J. said, “is deny she was ever here, even if Milo says otherwise. That is what I want. You came tonight to discuss business with Milo. No other reason. If you ever mention her name, if you ever use her to try to cut a deal for yourself, I will destroy you. That is a promise. I can do it. You hired me because I knew how to work the media. Watch me.
I would turn them loose on you, and I wouldn't care if I went down in flames too. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” He was crying.

She crossed the small room, then glanced back over her shoulder. Paul Shelby had turned to face the window. His arms were outstretched as if he was holding on.

“Paul, our lives as we knew them are over. Yours. Mine. Kylie's is just beginning. If you have a shred of decency left, you will do the right thing.”

C.J. went out, quietly closing the door behind her.

 

 

Rick Slater looked around when he heard quick heel taps coming across the terrazzo floor. He met her halfway. Her eyes were on Kylie.

He spoke softly. “She's all right. Drugged, but that's not a bad thing, under the circumstances. Carlos is here. No, no, it's fine. I told him, no story, no photos. He'll do whatever you want.”

C.J. leaned against him. “Thank you.”

“Does Shelby know who she is?”

C.J. pulled away a little to look at him, to see what he meant, and in that long, wordless moment the truth flowed between them like an electrical current.

“It explains a lot of things,” Rick said. “You and Shelby.”

She nodded. “I told him. If her name comes up, he's going to deny she was ever here. It's Milo I'm worried about.”

“Deal with it later. We need to go. I have to get back to Billy's place and tell them what happened. You take care of Kylie. I'll ask Carlos to take you home.”

“Wait.”

C.J. went back through the living room, walking quickly toward the red sofa. She picked up Milo's hat and tossed it into his lap. Rick could hear the murmur of voices.

Then from outside there was the breaking of glass. A half second later, a heavy thud. Then a girl's high-pitched laughter.

Kylie stood at the window looking out, her hands at her mouth. Carlos opened the door and ran onto the terrace. He looked up, then came back inside and announced, “He jumped. Shelby jumped!”

C.J. ran into the room. Milo followed with his dog, which had started barking again. C.J. pulled Kylie away from the window and held the girl tightly to prevent her from seeing anything more. Paul Shelby lay in a crumpled heap among shards of glass. The rain washed the blood into the cracks between the paving stones, sloping gently toward the dock, toward the water.

Milo screamed, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” The dog was yapping and struggling to get down.

Rick said, “Shut that dog up.”

“Hush, baby. Oh, my God.” Milo scurried to a door and shoved the dog through it.

C.J. took Kylie to the armchair, covered her with a throw, and told her to sit there and not to move. Kylie curled up, put her head on her arm, and closed her eyes. C.J. walked over to the three men and whispered fiercely, “Paul Shelby didn't jump. Why would he do that? It was an accident. He came over to talk to Milo about The Aquarius. Didn't he, Milo? They always went up there to talk. Paul liked the view. He liked to sit on the ledge. You had warned him not to; he could lose his balance. Rick and I came by to see you, but you told us you had company. That was when it happened. A tragedy. I feel so sorry for his family.”

Milo was staring at her.

C.J. said, “We know nothing about the girls who were here. Do we? Nothing at all.”

He mutely shook his head.

Rick pulled C.J. aside. “Can we do this? What about Medina?”

C.J. put her fingers to her forehead. “We rushed over here to see if Milo was safe. We were afraid something had happened to him. Let me think.”

Milo cried, “What are you talking about?”

“Be quiet,” C.J. ordered. “I'll tell you in a minute. Rick, can Carlos take Kylie? I need her out of here right now. You'll have to put her in his car.”

“Sure. He and Inez can take good care of her. I think she'll sleep for a while.”

Carlos looked back and forth between them before saying, “It's no problem.”

“What is going
on?
” Milo said.

“In a
minute!
If you want to save yourself from being arrested when the police get here, you will do as I say.” C.J. put a hand on his arm. “Why don't you run upstairs and tidy up? Make sure there's nothing there that shouldn't be. Hurry. We need to report this.”

Milo backed away, turned, and ran for the stairs.

C.J. went to Kylie and roused her. “Kylie? You have to go now. This is Carlos. He's our friend.” She hugged her tightly, then moved aside so Rick could pick her up. “Thank you, Carlos. Take care of her for me.”

“I'll be right back,” Rick said. He scooped the girl out of the chair.

Kylie smiled. Her eyes were half closed. “Hi, Rick.”

C.J. followed them to the front door. “It's so dark in here. We should turn on some lights and blow out the candles.”

 

 

It was picked up on the police scanner, and within an hour satellite trucks were parked up and down the street, reporters were swarming the front yard, and the spotlights of news helicopters swept over the house. The street was a sea of flashing blue and red lights.

Detective George Fuentes asked what the hell was going on. They were going to get this sorted out. C.J. talked to him. He wasn't satisfied, but he couldn't find any cracks to put his fingers in and pull. He told her that in view of the fact that it was a U.S. congressman who had died, the FBI would be asking questions too. And what was the deal with Billy Medina? C.J. told him she and Rick would come over and see him in the morning.

It was past midnight and the rain had stopped when they finally came out the front door. The camera flashes were like strobes, and reporters shouted their questions. C.J. made a short statement about what a loss this would be to Congressman Shelby's family and friends and to the community. When she was finished, Rick put an arm around her and guided her through the crowd.

C. J. noticed that Rick had a quarter inch of dark fuzz on his head. She touched it lightly, not enough to wake him. She loved looking at him. The big arms, his back, his legs, the way the muscles moved, everything. There was a tattoo on his shoulder blade, an eagle with open claws. She had counted eighteen scars on his body and had kissed them all. It was a different kind of compulsion, and C.J. didn't care to get over it. She needed him. She had told him so one night, throwing caution away, and he had said he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't lie about the important things. He could have made money off his story, and been famous for a little while, but he said it didn't matter. She believed he meant it.

He opened one hazel eye, squinting at her. His smile lifted his mustache. He had a little chip out of one front tooth. He pulled her closer and stroked her back. Finally he gave her bottom a pinch.

“It's eight-thirty, Sunshine.”

It was not in his nature to sleep late, and today they couldn't. Rick was taking her and Kylie to the airport at noon to catch a flight to Pensacola.
Kylie had been here two weeks, and she was leaving today. She would go back to high school—late, but she would finish. She would start community college in the spring. She was okay with that, so she'd said. C.J. was going to pay for it, and for the university to follow. After some argument, Fran had agreed, for Kylie's sake.

Rick rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his shorts on the floor. He put on a T-shirt and jeans and his sandals. “I'll make coffee.” His footsteps thumped down the steps.

C.J. dreaded this trip. A few days ago, she had finally gathered the words and the courage to call Kylie's parents and tell them she wanted to be part of Kylie's life. It hadn't been easy, but it was something that C.J. admitted should have been done years ago. The three of them, she and Fran and Bob, would talk to Kylie. The thought of it made C.J. want to run the other way. How would Kylie react? Would she feel betrayed? Would she ever want to speak to C.J. again?

C.J. went across the hall, tying her robe. Kylie's door was open, and the sheets were folded neatly at the foot of the bed. She went to the window. Kylie and Edgar were on the front porch of the cottage. They had finished Edgar's photographs, but he would miss her terribly, till she came back for a visit over Christmas.

C.J. touched the glass. Kylie would be all right. She had not grown up in a household fueled on shame. Fran and Bob were good people. They were willing to share their daughter with a woman who was virtually a stranger to her. This gave C.J. hope that there could be something in the future.

The first night Rick stayed with her, and Kylie across the hall, C.J. couldn't sleep. She had lain awake listening to the patter of rain on the leaves. They had talked and talked, and Rick had finally closed his eyes, but her mind wouldn't stop, and she had whispered:

Rick wasn't asleep after all. He had put his arms around her and rolled over so he could look up at her. “Come on, C.J. She's right across the hall, and she'll be back to see you over winter break.”

“She'll find out who I am one day. It's not a pretty story. I hope I'm ready.”

“You will be,” Rick had said. The moonlight had come through the window on his ugly, beautiful face. “Kylie is yours. She's going to love you just fine.”

Copyright © 2008 by Barbara Parker

Published by Vanguard Press,

A Member of the Perseus Books Group

 

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parker, Barbara (Barbara J.)
The dark of day / Barbara Parker.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-0-786-72162-7

1. Women lawyers—Fiction. 2. Miami (Fla.)—Fiction. 3. Private security
services—Employees—Fiction. 4. Murder—Fiction. 5. South Beach (Miami
Beach, Fla.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3566.A67475D37 2008
813'.54—dc22
2008007371