The Marriage Profile (16 page)

“No, I didn't,” she told him, hurt and angry that he would assume she'd broken her word. “I told you that I wouldn't discuss the case with Ricky, and I haven't. Believe it or not, I try to live up to my word.”

A slight flush tinted his cheeks. Angela couldn't help being pleased to see a little more color in his face—even if the source of it was only embarrassment or irritation with her. While he no longer looked gray, as he had following the shooting, Justin also was a far cry from healthy. He looked tired and in pain. But she was sure if she suggested he get some rest, he would ignore her.

“Anyway, this stuff about Haley and the baby being hers, I think we were right. One of the reasons I tried to reach you today was to tell you that I found a connection linking Carl Bridges to a woman in London with a baby girl. Dylan Bridges was able to recover some e-mail exchanges between Carl and the woman, and it's a pretty safe bet that the woman was Haley using an alias. Carl warned her to be careful. It looks like he might have been
murdered because he wouldn't give up her whereabouts. She was worried and scared, and after Carl didn't answer her last few messages, she apparently disappeared. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out where she is or even what name she's using now.”

“She's here, Justin,” Angela told him. “She's here in Lone Star County. I'm sure of it.” And she was. Angela knew instantly that Haley was there.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because she would have wanted to make sure her baby was all right. Think about it,” she urged him. “It fits everything we already know. She would have known Luke was her baby's father, even if Luke didn't. If she was in trouble, she would have wanted her baby to be safe. Who could protect her child better than a man like Luke with his money and his connections?”

“All right, I'm listening.”

“If Carl Bridges was helping her, he would have known about Luke's Sunday golf ritual. He may even have been the one to suggest leaving the baby on the golf course with a note for Luke. Only no one counted on Luke being away and the sprinkler system smearing the note so that Luke's name couldn't be read. So everything went wrong. But she wouldn't have left town until she was sure Lena was safely with her father.”

“And with Carl Bridges dead, the only way for her to be sure that happened was for her to remain in Lone Star County.”

“Exactly,” Angela replied.

“If she's here, she'd have to be wearing a hell of a disguise to go unnoticed. Even the people who didn't know Haley well would remember seeing her picture splashed across the newspapers and TV during the trial.”

“It's not all that difficult for a woman to change her
appearance if she wants to. With a change of hair color, a new hairstyle, some colored contact lenses, the right makeup and clothes, I could walk through that door and you'd never know it was me.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“I am,” she told him with a certainty that she felt in her bones. “Haley's somewhere in Lone Star County, Justin. I know it.”

“You know what we haven't considered is that when Luke stayed away from Mission Creek for as long as he did that Haley might have decided to kidnap the little girl herself. That would explain there being no ransom note.”

Angela thought about the fear Lena had experienced when she'd been snatched and drugged. She shook her head. “No, it wasn't Haley. It wasn't Lena's mother.”

“Then it comes back to Del Brio again. If he suspected Lena belonged to Haley, he might have swiped her to use as a bargaining chip or to flush Haley out.”

“That's my guess. From what I remember of him and everything I've heard about him since I've been back, he would fit the profile of the kidnapper.”

Justin scrubbed a hand down his face, and Angela suspected he was fighting the dulling effects of the pain pill in order to remain alert. “All right, let's see what we've got, then. First, we have Carl Bridges murdered by a hit man presumably because he was trying to protect Haley Mercado. Second,” he said, holding up a second finger, “we have Haley Mercado, who's supposed to be dead, only she's alive and running around Lone Star County disguised as God knows who.”

Holding up another finger, he continued. “Third, we have Haley's baby, whose father turns out to be Luke Callaghan, the result of a one-night stand with a woman he didn't know. Fourth,” he added, ticking off another digit,
“we have that same little girl kidnapped and probably being held somewhere by that sociopath Del Brio in order to flush Haley out.”

“And finally,” he said, his voice filled with exasperation or exhaustion or both, “we have someone trying to kill you, but we don't know who or why. Does that about cover it?”

“Actually, I think the person after me is the same person behind Carl Bridges's murder and Lena's kidnapping.”

“Del Brio?”

Angela nodded.

“I'll admit the guy's a psycho and he's probably nervous if he knows you're working the kidnapping case. But it seems a bit extreme, even for Del Brio, to take a hit out on you at this stage. You've only been on the case a few days, and all you have is sketches and speculation. That's a long way from finding out where the girl is being held.”

“But maybe I'm close.”

“You mean the drawings?” Justin replied. “I tried to tell you that there are a lot of places that fit that picture.”

“I know. I got a listing and started checking them out today.”

“What?” he countered, instantly alert, his body tense. “This is my investigation, dammit. And I told you not to go off on your own.”

“This is
our
investigation,” she corrected him. “And if you learned nothing else about me during the time we were married, you should have learned that I don't take orders.”

Justin clenched his hands into fists. The look he gave her was as hard as steel. “Suppose I hadn't been there tonight on that terrace when that gunman came looking for you? Do you have any idea what would have happened?”

“I'd probably be dead now and you wouldn't have a hole in your shoulder,” she replied truthfully. “It was a
very brave and foolish thing that you did tonight, Justin. I've already thanked you once but I'll say it again. Thank you for saving my life.”

“I don't want your damn gratitude. I want you off this case.”

“That, I'm afraid, is not going to happen.”

“Why are you being so stupid about this? Are you that eager to get yourself killed? Or is it because you know I don't want you here or on this case, and it's your way of showing me that what I want doesn't count?”

Earlier today she might have thought his anger and concern meant that he still loved her. She knew better now. “I'm staying for the same reason you're here. Because it's my job. And as you've pointed out, this is business. Nothing else.”

 

His shoulder hurt like hell and he'd barely slept a wink, Justin admitted the next morning as he stood at the sink in the bathroom and struggled to get a fresh bandage on his shoulder. The end result didn't look nearly as good as the one they'd put on him at the hospital, but it would have to do. No way did he intend to take Angela up on the offer of assistance she'd made last night. For once, he intended to follow his own advice, which she'd tossed back at him so nicely. Things between them would remain strictly business. And maybe by not muddying those waters, he'd keep the headstrong woman from getting herself killed and save himself a lot of grief.

Justin listened for sounds of movement from upstairs, and hearing none, he headed to the kitchen to put on the coffee. Angela had never been a morning person. Given the events of yesterday and their late conversation, he wasn't surprised she'd slept in this morning. He thought about her sleeping upstairs in that big bed, remembered
how it had felt waking up there with her yesterday morning instead of alone in the guest room. Irritated with himself when he realized what he was doing, he poured himself coffee from the pot before it had finished brewing and headed into her workroom to make some calls.

Fifteen minutes later he'd put Hank in charge, left instructions for Bobby and went through the list of items needing his attention with Audrey Lou. “If anything comes up, you can reach me here or on my cell phone.”

“So how long you planning to stay at your wife's place?” Audrey Lou asked him.

“Ex-wife,” Justin corrected her, though he knew it was a waste of time. “And I don't know. Is there anything else?”

“No, I think we've about covered it all.”

“All right. Tell Bobby to make sure he interviews the staff who were on duty at the club last night, too. One of them might have seen something. And if he comes up with any witnesses, I want to know about it right away.”

He hung up the phone, punched in the number for his contact in the customs office again to see if she'd been able to find anything on a female and a child with the last names of Joseph who had arrived from London last year via the Dallas or the Houston ports of entry. It was a long shot that anything would turn up. They could even have come through a port of entry in another state. But it was a long shot he couldn't ignore, because if Haley had managed to disguise herself so well that she'd actually been in Lone Star County without being detected, matching her new face to a passport could save them a lot of time. When he got the voice mail, he left a message and gave numbers where to reach him.

After completing the call, he rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel a vicious headache coming on, his
shoulder hurt something fierce, and it was just barely nine in the morning. Not the way to start the day, Justin thought. Opting to pass on the painkillers because of the fuzzy-headed feeling they gave him, he decided to see if aspirin would help and headed for the bathroom. He found a bottle in the medicine cabinet. After shaking out two tablets, he filled a glass with water and washed them down. When he exited the bathroom, he heard the water running upstairs.

Deciding to pour himself another cup of coffee while he waited for Angela, he was on his way to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. With the memory of the attempt on Angela's life so fresh, he checked the peephole in the door and scowled when he saw Ricky Mercado on the other side.

Justin opened the door. “What do you want, Mercado?”

If Mercado was surprised to see him, he gave no indication. He simply said, “I want to see Angela. Where is she?”

“In the shower. If you want to leave a message for her, I'll see that she gets it,” Justin told him, and had the pleasure of seeing the other man's expression darken.

“No thanks, Wainwright. I'll wait and give her the message myself.”

Justin blocked the doorway, dared Mercado with his body language to try to get past him. It was a dumb maneuver on his part, Justin admitted—especially considering he had a hole from a bullet in his shoulder and would probably have trouble holding his own even against a teenager at the moment. Ricky was no teenager and had never been a slouch when it came to handling himself. And judging by the deadly look in his dark eyes, the man would have loved nothing better than to plow him down. But for
whatever reason, Ricky didn't press him. “When Angela comes downstairs, tell her I'll be in my car.”

“She and I are liable to be tied up for a while,” Justin taunted.

Ricky's lips thinned, but he didn't take the bait. “That's all right. Just tell her Bruno and I are waiting outside.”

“Bruno?”

Ricky inclined his head in the direction of the dark sedan parked across the street with a bald hulk of a guy behind the wheel. “He's a bodyguard I've arranged for Angela.”

“What makes you think she needs a bodyguard?”

“Because when she phoned me from the hospital last night, she said you claimed the shooter was after her. If that's the case, I want her protected.”

“I intend to see that she is,” Justin told him.

“No offense, Wainwright, but considering you were the reason she was so upset that she went out on that terrace alone in the first place, I don't want to count on you sticking around to take another bullet for her if it comes down to it. Besides, you've already done more damage to her than any bullet ever could.”

“My relationship with Angela is none of your damn business, Mercado. Who in the hell do you think you are to talk to me about how I've hurt her?”

“I'm someone who cares about her. Apparently a lot more than you do.”

Furious with Ricky for what he'd said and angry with himself because he suspected it was true, that he had hurt Angela last night when he'd cut off her explanations, Justin said, “Go to hell, Mercado. And take your bodyguard with you. If anyone's going to protect Angela, it's going to be me.”

“Thanks, but I can take care of myself,” Angela said
from behind him. “You want to tell me what's going on and what you're doing here, Ricky?”

“I've hired you a bodyguard,” Ricky informed her.

“And I just finished telling Mercado you don't need his protection,” Justin added. “That's why I'm here.”

“Well, you've got part of that right,” Angela told him. “I don't need a bodyguard. I also don't need you here standing guard over me. I can take care of myself. And I don't appreciate either one of you treating me like some female cream puff who needs a man to protect her.”

“Don't pull that feminist crap on me. You were nearly killed last night,” Justin pointed out.

“He's right,” Ricky added.

“Which is why from now on, I'll be carrying this,” she said, and held up the derringer. She made a point of checking the safety before strapping it inside her boot. “I appreciate the offer, Ricky, but tell your bodyguard he can go home. And I'd also appreciate it if you could move your car so I can get out.” Picking up the tote bag resting on the floor beside her, she walked out the door past him.