Cursed (10 page)

     The bell on the
front door of the shop jingled. He rose, walked around the desk and saw Hope
stroll toward him.

She had a large white paper bag in one hand
and a cardboard tray of drinks in the other. “The diner’s running a special—two
burgers for the price of one.” She smiled and wiggled her brows at him as she
walked to his desk. She laid the bag on top of the desk. “Tess called me today.”

     At hearing Tess’s
name a dull ache nudged his heart. Great. “Yeah. So?”

     “She wanted to talk
about how you stole her pendant.” Hope looked at him over her shoulder.

     He raked a hand
through his hair. “Can you believe it?”

     “No, but she does
and that’s all that counts.” Hope lifted their food out of the bag and laid it
on the desk top. She took a long draw on what he assumed was a chocolate shake,
her favorite, and gave a sigh of satisfaction, then looked at him with sisterly
affection.

     He walked to his
chair and sat down. He took a sip of his soft drink and shoved a French fry
into his mouth.

     Hope took a bite of
her burger, rolled her eyes in ecstasy, and raised one brow in expectation.
“Want to talk about it?”

     Cullinan shoved his
food aside as the anger and frustration he’d felt over Tess’s accusation rose
inside him once more. “She waltzed into the shop with both guns blazing.
Nothing I said could dissuade her.” He huffed out a breath. “After eight years,
the only reason she comes to see me is because she thinks I stole her precious
pendant.” He remembered the look on Tess’s face as she accused him. The hurt,
anger and shock because she thought he had betrayed her. “She’s changed, Hope.
Tess isn’t the woman I used to know or the woman I...”

     “The woman you
loved?

     “That too.”

     Hope watched him
with concern on her face. “People change, Cullinan. Her husband was one of the
victims of 9/11. Any death of a loved one changes a person. It’s bound to,
especially the way Quinn died.”

     Cullinan shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter if she’s changed.” He avoided her eyes in an effort to hide his
true feelings. “Tess and I are over.”

     Hope snorted.
“Right. Listen, if you still didn’t have feelings for her, Tess’s accusation
wouldn’t have bothered you in the least. You’d have laughed it off.” She popped
a French fry into her mouth.

     Cullinan looked at
her and frowned. “What! Are you a psychologist now?”

     “We need to examine
the situation from an objective point of view.” She effectively ignored his
sarcasm.

     He rose from his
chair and paced with his hands shoved into his pockets. “There’s nothing
objective about her giving me one week to turn myself in.” He snapped out the
words.

     She tossed a French
fry onto the paper container holding the rest of her fries. “What happens if
you don’t?”

     “She’s going to
Abel.”

     Hope shot up from
her chair. “This whole thing is getting way out of hand. I’ll call her right
now and set her straight.”

     Cullinan grabbed her
arm before she could reach the phone. “You know you can’t tell her the truth.”

     She rolled her eyes
at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up something.”

     “The only way to
prove I didn’t do it is for us to figure out who did and why.”

     Her shoulders slumped
and she sighed. “You’re right, but how are we going to do that?”

     “Let’s start with
what we know.” He walked over to an empire sofa and sat down. Hope picked up
her drink and followed, settling beside him on the sofa.

     Cullinan kicked off his
shoes and propped his feet on top of a small ottoman. “Okay, let’s look at the
facts. During a dinner party at Abel’s someone broke into the safe, stole some

cash, a coin collection and Tess’s pendant.
They damaged the safe and were surprised by the gardener.” A thought slipped
into his brain. “Remember when the World Trade Center was bombed a few years
before 9/11?”

     She took a sip of
her milkshake. “Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

     Cullinan
straightened, leaned forward and rested his hands on his thighs. “One of the
men who rented the van that had the bomb in it went back to the car rental
agency after the bombing to get his deposit back. That’s how they caught him.”

     Hope chuckled. “Yes,
I remember now. Whoever he was, he wasn’t too bright.”

     Cullinan laid a hand
on her arm. “I think the same thing happened at Abel’s.”

     She set her cup on
the floor as she stared at him with interest. “What do you mean?”

     “I don’t believe
that the person who broke into the safe is a pro but an amateur. They fumbled
around, damaged the door on the safe and made noise. That’s what alerted the
gardener in the first place. A pro wouldn’t have been caught. Besides, why
would he or she leave a feather behind?”

     Hope’s eyes widened.
“Do you think someone told the thief to plant the feather?” Excitement filled
her voice.

     “I think it’s
possible because the feather was white. Someone must have specified the color
otherwise he might have left a gray, red or even a blue feather behind.”

     “But why not hire a
professional? Why risk getting caught?”

Cullinan frowned slightly. “I don’t know, but
I do think that pendant is part of a bigger picture.” He turned and looked at
her. “Have you ever seen it?”

     Hope shook her head.
“No, unfortunately not. The only thing I know is that it contains a white
stone. Whether it is
the
pendant or not, it’s quite valuable and would
be worth a lot

of money on the black market.”

     “Exactly. Tomorrow
I’ll do some checking and see if I can find out who some of the previous owners
were.” Cullinan raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head as he
settled against the back of the sofa. “We need to know who they sold the
pendant to.”

     Hope nodded. “Give
me the names as soon as you have them. I’ll use my connection with the D.A.’s
office to try and find out more information.” She took a long sip of her shake.

“Perhaps, we’ll find out what happened to
them very soon. Maybe then we can put Dad and his mission behind us for good.”

* * *

     Tess tightened the
belt of her warm flannel robe and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Just as she reached the doorway, she sneezed for the umpteenth time and grabbed
a tissue from the dispenser on the butcher block counter. Holding a tissue to
her nose, Tess turned on the light and walked toward the stove to set the
kettle on to boil water for her tea. She shivered as another chill wracked her
body.

     The doorbell rang.
The sound echoed through the quiet house and for a moment, she considered not
answering it. Her head felt stuffed with cotton and her chest ached from
coughing. Besides, she wasn’t in the mood for conversation or company. Quinn
had always liked to entertain and never minded when people dropped by
unexpectedly, but she hated making small talk, especially when she didn’t feel
like it. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. If she didn’t answer the
door, maybe they would go away. The bell rang again. No such luck. Reluctantly,
she headed for the front door.

     When she reached the
door, she saw Abel on the stoop. He looked at her through the large glass
insert in the door. A warm smile creased his face. He held a cardboard box in
one arm and a bouquet of flowers in his other hand.

     Tess shifted to
block her body from the cold air and opened the door. She tilted her head and
smiled at Abel around the edge of the door. “Abel, this is a surprise.”

     Heavy gray clouds
quilted the sky and a light snow had begun to fall. “I called the store to see
if you’d like to have lunch and they told me you were out sick. May I come in?”

     “Of course, but I
warn you, I have a terrible cold so you’ll be entering at your own risk.”

     “I’ll take my
chances.” Abel stepped inside and shut the door. His height and strength
reminded her how much she missed having a man in the house.

     Snowflakes sprinkled
his black hair. He wore a heavy brown coat and his skin looked flushed from the
cold. With an assessing gaze, he studied her with kind hazel eyes. “Even sick,
you still manage to look beautiful.”

     Yeah, right
. Tess pushed a strand of hair away from her
face. “Not true, but thanks.”

     He lifted the
bouquet of flowers and held them out to her. “I thought these might cheer you
up.”

     Tess took the flowers.
“They’re lovely. Thank you, Abel. If only they could get rid of this cold.” She
buried her nose in the assortment of blooms, wishing she could smell their
sweet fragrance.

     The bouquet held a
couple of tulips, her favorites, and other assorted spring blooms. A memory
focused in her mind, unbidden. Cullinan held a bucket of bright pink tulips out
to her. Tess had always liked flowers, but never had a particular favorite
until Cullinan. When he showed up at her door with those tulips, they became
her favorite flower.

     Abel gestured toward
the box he still held in one arm. “Not to worry. I brought the cure. A few
bowls of my cook’s chicken soup and you’ll be well in no time.” He shrugged out
of his coat and hung it on a hook beside the front door.

     Tess reached out and
touched his arm. The expression in his eyes warmed in a way she’d never seen
from him before, an expression of male interest. Surprised and uncomfortable
that she provoked his reaction, she withdrew her hand. “You’re a good man,
Abel. I never understood why you and Quinn didn’t get along.”

     The warmth in his
eyes turned cool then warmed just as quickly with a friendly light. “It’s water
under the bridge.”

     “I suppose you’re
right.” Something had happened in the past to drive a wedge between Abel and
Quinn, but Quinn had refused to talk about it. “I was about to make tea, but
I’ll have some soup instead. It smells wonderful.”

     “Go put your feet up
and I’ll fix you a bowl.”

     “I’m fine, Abel. I’m
not an invalid yet.” She started toward the kitchen.

     “No, you’re just
pale as the snow falling outside and ready to keel over.”

     She stopped and
looked at him over her shoulder. “A minute ago you said I looked beautiful.”

     Abel winked. “That
too.”

     Tess realized he
charmed her. She hadn’t been truly drawn to a man since...since Cullinan. Quinn
had been loving and protective, but not alluring.

     A moment ago, she’d
thought he’d looked at her with male appreciation. Surely, that was a mistake. Abel
had never shown the slightest bit of interest in her, at least not
romantically. He’d only exhibited a brotherly sort of affection. Funny, she had
never found Abel particularly attractive before. Obviously, she’d had too much
cold medicine. It made her giddy. “Okay, you win.”

     In a few minutes,
she was settled on the sofa with a plaid throw over her legs. Abel walked
slowly into her small, cozy den holding a tray laden with a steaming bowl of
soup. He set the tray on her lap and then sat in an overstuffed chair opposite
her.

     Able wore a dark
gray suit with a pale blue tie. There was a strong resemblance between him and
Quinn, especially around the eyes. Her gaze shifted to a picture sitting on the
desk beneath the window. She and Quinn smiled at the camera, their faces close
together, and Quinn’s arm draped around her shoulders. Seeing the picture
didn’t normally make her feel sad, but having Abel in the house and looking so
much like Quinn made her heart ache for the husband she’d lost. Pushing the
emotions aside, she swallowed a spoonful of the rich broth. The warm liquid
soothed her raw throat. “It’s delicious.”

     “Eat up because
there’s plenty more where that came from.”    Abel rose from the
chair and walked around the room while she ate the soup. He stopped in front of
a bookcase where Tess shelved her collection of mystery novels before he
noticed a stack of sketches she had lying on top of the small desk. He glanced
at her. “May I have a look?”

     She nodded. “Go
ahead. They’re just a few jewelry designs I’m considering.”

     If he liked them,
fine; if he didn’t, so what? She created her designs for women, not Abel, or
any man for that matter.

     He said nothing as
he flipped through the sketches. He looked at one and then paused a moment.
When he’d studied the last one, he turned and looked at her. “They’re
excellent,

Tess.”

     This was the first
time anyone had seen her work. She suddenly felt a tremendous rush of relief
and some embarrassment. To hide her feelings, she focused on the bowl of soup.
“Thank you,” she murmured. He probably said it just to be nice.

     “I mean it
sincerely.” He brought her attention back to the subject of her work. “When do
you think you’ll have some pieces ready to show?”