Trouble Me: A Rosewood Novel (35 page)

“I’ll start buying more packs of Kleenex.”

Jade hid a grin at Margot’s dry tone. Her sister didn’t like being teased about the crying jags she succumbed to whenever they said goodbye to one of their horses.

“On the plus side, if Topher buys her, at least Carmen will still be in the area. That’s something,” Jade mused. “And will you look at how sweetly she’s going for him? Should we up her price?”

A laugh burst out of Travis. “You are such a shark.”

“Hmm,” Jade said with an answering grin. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just a Radcliffe. What do you think, Margot?”

“I think that as usual you are scarily brilliant. Dad would be proud of you.” While Jade savored the notion that their father would have been pleased with her suggestion, Margot continued, “We should definitely up our asking price. From what I know of Topher, he’s the kind of guy who enjoys spending a lot simply because he can.”

“So we’ll be adding to his happiness quotient by having him spend an extra ten thousand on Carmen,” Jade said, getting into the spirit of the thing.

“Whoa, easy there, you two,” Travis cautioned. “Let’s wait and see how happy he is after jumping Carmen before we start boosting her price.”

It didn’t come as any surprise to Jade that Topher loved Carmen’s big, bold jumping style as well as the amount of ground she covered in a gallop.

He had a grin on his face as he dismounted. “She’s a real sweet ride.”

“That she is.” Jade kept her reply casual. There was no need for a hard sell. “I just wanted to say bye. I’ve got another mare to exercise.” She stuck out her hand, a habit she’d picked up from Travis and Ned, who always shook hands with the people who came to look at Rosewood horses.

Topher took her outstretched hand, then must have decided to keep it. “You know, now I realize why you look different from Margot and Jordan. You’ve got quite a bit of your mom in you, don’t you? I always considered her one of the sexiest women in Loudoun County. And because I appreciate beautiful, sexy women who can also ride like nobody’s business, how about coming out for a drink with me?”

Oh, God. Just when she’d gone and resigned herself to the idea that it was too difficult to determine if he’d been involved with her mother, Topher had to toss out a statement like that, muddying the waters once again.

But would he really be interested in her if he’d had an affair with her mom? Personally she thought that was too creepy for words, but obviously it happened and not only in
The Graduate
. If she went out and had a drink with him, maybe the atmosphere—heck, maybe the alcohol—would loosen his tongue and she’d know for sure. “I might be free to have a drink.”

“How about Saturday?”

Topher moved fast, that was for sure.

“No, not Saturday.” Saturday she’d be seeing Rob. Recalling their first meeting, she knew Rob could move plenty fast too, but he’d never given her the impression that he was a slick operator. Nope, Rob was just hot. Very hot.

“Then let’s get together tomorrow. We’ll go to the Brass Horn,” he said in a decisive tone that told her he
was used to having his suggestions become reality. “I’ll pick you up—”

“No—no.” She didn’t relish having to fend him off if he wanted to make out in his car. Somehow she thought he might go for that sort of thing. “I’ll meet you there,” she said. It would help her avoid any attempt on his part to come inside the cottage.

“Okay. I have some afternoon meetings, so let’s meet at six.”

Jade nearly rolled her eyes. Why did it never occur to some guys to ask their date whether a certain hour would be convenient for them?

Tito had entered the ring to take Carmen back up to the barn. Topher handed him the reins, then said with a nod to Margot and Travis, who’d also approached, “Travis, Margot, as I was just telling Jade, Carmen’s a real treat to ride.”

“Well, come on up to the office and we can talk a bit,” Travis suggested.

“Be happy to. See you at six tomorrow, Jade.”

“See you,” she replied with a bland smile. Aware that Margot was giving her a hard look, she hurried out of the ring ahead of them.

She should have known that Margot would come and find her as soon as she could. “Jade, are you seriously going out with Topher tomorrow?”

She paused in the midst of centering Valentine’s martingale to shrug. “Yeah. He asked me to have a drink. I didn’t see why I shouldn’t say yes—”

“And what about that truly major kiss I saw Rob and you share? That wasn’t reason enough to say ‘thanks but no thanks’?”

Jade tried to ignore the niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s no biggie, Margot. I’m just having a drink with him.”

“But why? You can’t be interested in him—oh, my God! Jade, no, this is a really bad idea.”

“What?”

“Don’t feign ignorance. I’ve spent longer than you playing the nasty TM guessing game.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Topher’s on your detective’s list, isn’t he?”

She shrugged. “And what if he is?”

“Then you should let this detective you hired do his job.”

Dropping to one knee to check the fastenings on Valentine’s jumping boots, she muttered, “I am,” before scooting around to Valentine’s other hind leg, avoiding Margot’s skeptical gaze.

“Bull. Jade, this has all the makings of a disaster. And what about Rob?”

Jade straightened. “What about him?” she asked guardedly.

“What are you going to say if Rob finds out you’re going out with Topher—a guy who has
on the prowl
written all over him? I can’t imagine he’d be too happy about that.”

She couldn’t either, and it made the niggling worry in the pit of her stomach tighten into a hard lump of anxiety. “I’ll deal with it.”

Margot gave her a long look and then sighed. “I wish you’d reconsider.”

“I can’t, Margot.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Margot said sadly.

W
ITH ITS
leather-covered stools, dark-wood tables, polished-brass bar fixtures, and ceiling beams, the Brass Horn Pub had the sort of “olde English” feel to it that made it popular with tourists. The locals liked it too, because it had an excellent selection of beers and ales on tap and a decent-size parking lot—a bonus in a town where parking was limited.

It appealed too because of its proximity to the Coach House. One could meet for drinks at the Horn and then mosey on next door and finish the evening at the more sophisticated Coach House—whose cuisine made it a destination restaurant. But a growing number of the pub’s customers were choosing to stay and dig in to the menu’s offerings of shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, or burgers and, on weekend nights, to listen to the live bands the owners hired.

Luckily, the live music didn’t start until after 8:00
P.M.
All to the good, since Jade wanted to be able to hear what Topher had to say. The sooner she could decide whether he really might have been her mother’s adored TM, the sooner she could split.

She was running late for her so-called date with him, despite having given the minimum attention to her appearance. After showering off the sweat from her workout with Cosmo and Griffin—a two-year-old dark-gray gelding that Ned had suggested she might like to begin training—she’d pulled on a pair of pencil-leg black jeans
and a multicolored knit wraparound sweater that she’d snatched up on sale at Anthropologie.

Fussing with her hair had been out of the question; the day had been too long, the entire week too long, to exert that kind of energy. And why bother anyway? Impressing Topher wasn’t her aim. After blow-drying her hair, she let it hang down her back. Lip gloss was applied not out of vanity but to soothe her bottom lip. She’d unconsciously been gnawing all day, the result of second-guessing the wisdom of meeting Topher for a drink but also of fretting over Eugene Harrison’s continued absence from school. This last had worried her enough to ask Ted Guerra for advice. Far more sanguine about Eugene’s absence, Ted had nonetheless promised to call the Harrisons himself if Eugene didn’t return to class on Monday.

Preoccupied with figuring out how to resolve what was clearly becoming an increasingly uncomfortable situation with the Harrisons—the elder Harrisons, that is—Jade could only muster faint amusement at the fact that she’d sought an authority figure’s help to handle a problem.

Not so long ago, her rebellious self would never have dreamed of consulting her principal for anything. And as for that other authority figure who’d played such a huge role in her defiant youth, never in her wildest imaginings would she have predicted she’d find herself half in love with Rob Cooper.

Her feelings for Rob were a topic she was trying not to think about. They were too big, too scary. Contemplating them was like jumping off a cliff into the waves of a dazzling azure ocean and then hitting the water and feeling its vastness close over her head.

No matter how good a swimmer she might be, there was no stopping the panicky sensation that she might
not be strong enough to navigate this new element or ever reach the surface.

Fridays were Fridays; even the Brass Horn’s large parking lot was full. Jade was forced to circle the lot a couple of times before hitting the jackpot and spotting a car that was leaving. After pulling into the empty space, she got out and slammed the Porsche’s door, glanced at her watch, and frowned. She hadn’t been able to call to tell Topher she was late, since by asking Travis for his cell number she would have risked running into Margot and seeing the disappointment on her face.

Her family had done so much for her, and once again she was letting them down. Better to get the evening over and done without involving them. She’d caused them enough distress.

It would be a typical twist of fate if it were all for nothing and Topher, deciding he’d waited long enough, had left the pub, she thought, as she hurried to the entrance and pulled open the carved oak door.

Rob loved his hometown, with its beautiful location among Virginia’s rolling hills. As a cop, he appreciated the fact that the crime that existed in Warburg was, for the most part, mainly property crime. As in most towns in America, drugs were to be found, but substances like methamphetamines and heroin hadn’t made any real inroads.

Cocaine and prescription-drug abuse were a different story. The town’s profile—moneyed and sophisticated, with a sizable number of residents considering themselves quite the jet-setters, who liked to vacation in Palm Beach or Aspen in the winter and Cabo or Mallorca in the spring—created far too welcoming an environment for dealers. The drugs’ presence and the chilling potential for serious crime that accompanied them enraged
him. Each time he was able to bust a dealer or nail a user was a sweet victory.

Today was no exception. The bust had been especially fine—neat and serendipitous. Rob had pulled over an electric-blue souped-up Subaru Impreza that blew past his speed trap. The driver was a Caucasian homeboy who luckily wasn’t so stupid as to try to outrace him or use the heat he was packing when Rob asked for his license and registration.

The license and registration both came up clean. But the kid was nineteen years old and living in a D.C. area that was seeing a spike in crime. What was he doing tearing through Warburg at 3:00
P.M.
? Then there were his eyes. They held more fear than even a pricey speeding ticket should warrant.

Heeding a gut instinct, Rob called for backup, and his brother Scott was there in two minutes. Seeing the flashing lights of Scott’s patrol car in his rearview mirror, Rob approached the Subaru and asked Jimmy Winn to step out of his car.

The kid complied readily enough.

But then Scott pulled up in front of the Subaru, effectively blocking it. Climbing out of his cruiser, Scott began to walk toward them.

Having a second uniformed cop approach must have triggered the kid’s panic, sending it into the red zone. Abruptly, he tried to dive back into the car. Rob, already on high alert, was faster. Hauling him back, he pinned Jimmy against the side of the car.

A pat-down that wasn’t nearly as invasive as a TSA search produced the Glock 19 the kid was packing. Sending a prayer of gratitude that the kid hadn’t been stupid or scared enough to fire it, Rob read Jimmy his Miranda rights.

Jimmy chose to remain silent while Scott proceeded to search the Subaru’s interior. He changed tactics when
Scott came upon the plastic-wrapped stash of coke tucked away in the spare-tire well, promising to tell them whatever they wanted to know. So while Scott stayed behind to have the Subaru impounded, Rob and a handcuffed Jimmy took a quick trip to the station, where they had a very successful chat.

It turned out Jimmy Winn was a runner but still fairly new at the game of shuttling back and forth between the dealer and the users, who put in orders for their coke to be delivered to them like pizza or Chinese food. Caught red-handed and with the charges piling up fast against him, Jimmy had the wits to cooperate, understanding it might help him down the road in a plea bargain.

Within an hour, he’d given them the name of the dealer in D.C. and the address in Warburg where he’d made a drop-off to a couple of high school kids. He’d also provided their first names (not even these kids were stupid enough to have given him their surnames) and detailed physical descriptions. To demonstrate his goodwill, he told them where in Leesburg he’d been heading to drop off the rest of the coke, information the Leesburg police would be extremely grateful to receive.