Dangerous Melody (7 page)

She bridled. “That’s not your business, Tate, but no. He was strictly
an employer in my mind.”

“You could have worked anywhere. Why work for him?”

Why him? Because he was interesting and smart and he distracted me from thinking about the man I really loved, the man who pushed me out of his life.
“You don’t get to interrogate me,” she said, voice bitter.

Tate blew out a breath. “I told you when you first started consulting for him that he was a freak.
You’re smart and you’re well connected. How could you ever have let that guy into your life?”

“Maybe because I don’t like being told what to do. Your sister fell in with Bittman, too, remember?”

“Different story. My sister has always fallen for the wrong guy. She was impressed with his money, I’m sure, flattered to be hired by him to do his odd jobs. Never bothered to look deeper than
the car and the fancy house.”

“Maybe she just wanted someone to listen to her.”

“I listened.”

“No, you lectured.” She sighed. “And so did I. I told her everything, but all she knew was that he showed interest in her.”

His eyes flicked to her face and quickly away. “And I didn’t.”

She didn’t answer. “Past is passed.” But they both knew that wasn’t true. As much as she wanted
to leave their decisions behind, there were two people whose lives were precariously balanced on the shifting pile of past sins.

Her phone indicated a text from Luca.
Got signal. Buckle up.

They followed Luca toward the blazing horizon.

Lord, please help us find them.

Fast.

SEVEN

T
ate pressed down the black feelings in his gut. Anger at Bittman, shame at his own failure toward both Maria and Stephanie and an unaccountable sense of betrayal that Stephanie had delivered herself into Bittman’s world. He knew it didn’t make sense. He’d been so desperate to keep her from knowing the truth of his humiliating addiction that he’d practically shoved her away,
buried in his own grief at the death of his father.

The sound of the most horrible moment of his life echoed in his ears. He’d driven to see her, mind fogged on painkillers. Even in that altered state, his heart craved her, the need overriding common sense. After an incoherent ramble about how sorry he was, she’d begged him not to drive, pulling at his arm, trying to snatch the keys. He had
to get away, to keep from shaming himself any further.

He’d wrenched free, floored the gas pedal, and then somehow she’d been there, in front of him and he couldn’t stop in time. He remembered the soft thump of her body hitting the front fender, the blood oozing from her cheek. He’d managed one word, one agonizing plea.
Help.
And then it had all gone mercifully black.

He swallowed the
nausea that came with the memory. God saved her from him, he was sure. Was He systematically removing all the people in Tate’s life? His father, Stephanie, his sister? Where was the compassionate, loving guardian his mother always told him about? Once you accepted Christ, as he’d done as a teen, wasn’t He supposed to help you, no matter what? Bring people into your life to mentor and guide you?
When the addiction took hold of him with stunning ferocity, it seemed to drive away everyone close to him.

Now he was alone, and that’s the way it would stay.

The miles unrolled in front of them. Stephanie remained busy on her laptop, and he dutifully tailed Luca. It was more comfortable for them both to be immersed in their own worlds.

“Guarneri made several instruments before
he died in 1741, but the one that may or may not have burned at Hans’s shop, the Quinto Guarneri, was unique. It was almost lost in a building collapse in the early 1800s, but amazingly it survived with only a slight scar on the scroll.” She checked her messages again. Only one from Brooke, which she listened to attentively. “Victor’s coming around,” she relayed, relief shining on her face until a
shadow of disappointment followed. “He can’t remember what happened.” She bit her lip. “He keeps asking for Dad.”

Tate put a hand on her arm. “We’ll get him back. Both of them.”

She didn’t look at him, but clasped his hand with hers. For a moment, hands twined together, it felt like old times. He was her rock, the rebellious love that would give his life for hers in a heartbeat. Her
stomach let out a loud rumble, and her cheeks pinked. “I never did get to eat any of that pie.”

“Under your seat there’s a box of food. Take what you want.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You never used to plan ahead much for road trips.”

“Still don’t. It’s Gilly’s truck. He doesn’t leave home without a week’s supply. He got trapped in an elevator during the Loma Prieta quake, and he vowed
never to be without food again.”

She slid open the compartment under the seat and grabbed a couple granola bars and a box of Oreos. “I’m going to give Gilly a kiss when I see him,” she said, taking a big bite of the granola bar.

Tate chuckled. “I’m sure that will make his decade. He’s had the hots for my sister for years, and she’s never given him a second look. Too bad. He’s geeky,
but he’d treat her much better than the other guys.”

He avoided looking at her.

“Tate, I know Luca would never take advantage of a woman. He didn’t touch Maria, and he certainly didn’t try to force himself on her.”

Tate’s jaw clenched. “She says he did.”

Stephanie tried to tread lightly. “She is...volatile. A week after she said that about Luca, she was involved with Bittman.”

“I know she’s made mistakes, but past is passed, just like you said. And we’re supposed to be forgiven, right? That Christian thing?”

His tone was suddenly earnest, and something in his gray eyes was soft and tender. “Yes, that’s right.” She wondered again why it was harder to forgive someone you loved than a complete stranger. Her heart sped up a tic, and she realized she was actually
pleased to have Tate sitting here next to her, clean of the painkillers that nearly destroyed him. Maybe he really had beaten his addiction. On impulse, she traced a finger across the toughened skin of his hand. He jerked, shooting her a look she could not decipher, but he didn’t move his hand away.

He shifted on the seat. “There’s water in my backpack.”

She snagged it from the backseat
and rummaged around inside, rifling through a clean shirt and a small travel case. Her heart stopped when she saw the bottle in the bottom of the pack. She read the label. Painkillers. Hating herself for doing it, she gently poked at it. The tiny sound of the pills shifting inside mirrored the crash of her own emotions. Half full.

He was still using. Maybe not at that moment, or even that
day, but he would soon enough. The thought burned inside her.

“Find some?”

She’d always considered herself courageous, but in that moment she found she could not bear to confront him. She forced a smile and pulled a water bottle from the pack. “Yes, thanks.” There were no tears forming in her eyes, no rage at herself for believing he’d gone straight. Only sadness and despair. She prayed
silently that God would take away his burden because she now realized he did not have the strength to do it himself, and he probably never would.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing that won’t be fixed when we find my father and Maria,” she said, turning her eyes out the windshield, watching the evening swallow up the day.

* * *

Tate finally followed Luca into a dark parking
lot, home to a truck stop diner and a gas pump. They stayed at the far end of the lot, hidden by a screen of semitrailers. He’d kept a close eye on the rearview mirror and had seen no one tailing them, though the fact that Bittman was somehow keeping tabs on Stephanie’s every move made a knot in his stomach.

Luca joined them, staying away from the parking lot lights. “Ricardo’s stopped here.
I saw him look around, check his watch. He’s meeting someone.”

Tate’s hopes lifted. “Maria?”

“Or maybe the crazy man from Devlin’s music shop. I think Ricardo paid Devlin a visit, and Devlin’s afraid Bittman will find out and think he’s double crossing.”

“Let’s go in and see for ourselves,” Tate said, starting for the door.

“No, we wait here. We don’t want to spook him.”

Tate stiffened. “We’ve done enough waiting and following. We can’t let him get away.”

“He won’t. His car is here. We wait.” Luca’s eyes glittered. “This is how we do things.”

“You’re a Treasure Seeker, Luca, not a private eye.”

“It’s oftentimes the same thing.” Luca cocked his head. “We’ve found everything from paintings to a million-dollar stamp, so maybe you should step back
and let us do our job.”

They waited, the minutes ticking into hours until Tate was nearly ready to jump out of his skin. He was about to walk into the restaurant with or without Luca’s consent, when Stephanie’s phone rang. After a fleeting look of fear, she answered it. They watched as her eyes widened.

“But why don’t you just tell me over the phone? What’s the big discovery?” She listened,
alternately cajoling and demanding. Finally she hung up. “The man mailed Devlin a picture of the violin. He’s insisting we go see him in person.”

“When?” Tate said.

“Now.” She checked her watch. “It’s an hour back to Lone Ridge, so we’ll be there by ten if we leave right away.”

“It could be a trap,” Tate said.

“We don’t have a choice,” Stephanie shot back.

Luca’s eyes
danced in thought. “We’ll have to split up.”

“I’ll go back with Steph. You stay on Ricardo,” Tate said, retrieving his keys from a front pocket.

Luca hesitated, shooting a look at his sister.

She shrugged, and Tate felt a slice of pain at her obvious reluctance, but she acquiesced. “It makes sense since you’ve got the signal on him. If he does leave unexpectedly, you can track it.”

“Be careful,” Luca said to Stephanie.

I won’t let anything happen to her,
he wanted to say. It would have been false assurance. Besides, Luca would never trust him again after he’d almost killed Stephanie. Tate was not sure he fully trusted himself, for that matter.

It’s just a drive. Take her, get the info and bring her back.
He put a hand on the small of her back to guide her,
wishing his fingers didn’t relish the play of muscles there, wondering when the riveting movement of her dark hair would cease to mesmerize him.

Probably never, the same way he would never stop missing her, stop feeling the pain of his leg, which seemed somehow twined with the ache in his heart. The past is passed, but it was also unchangeable and unforgettable. He shut the door after her,
which elicited an exasperated look from Stephanie, like it always had.

“I can shut my own door,” she’d perpetually insisted.

“My mother taught me right,” he’d responded a million times. A lady deserves that much, and she deserved so much more.

She was oddly quiet on the way back to Lone Ridge, tapping keys on her computer or gazing out the window onto the road, which was now only
lit by a fat yellow moon.

A car zipped by going the other way as they approached the town, which was quiet and still.

“First car we’ve seen in miles,” he said with a twinge of uneasiness.

“Mmm,” she murmured.

He pulled the truck to a stop a couple blocks from the music store. “Best not to be too obvious.”

“In case Bittman has someone watching, like he did at the restaurant?
I don’t trust him.”

Tate drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Stephanie took a small pair of binoculars out of her pocket and trained them on the music store. “Looks dark.”

“Could be we’re early.”

“It’s ten-fifteen.” She put a hand on the car’s door release. “Let’s check it out.”

He stopped her. “Why don’t we watch awhile first? Take our time.”

Her mouth tightened
into a luscious bow. “Because we don’t have any time to spare. My father isn’t eating, your sister is still missing and someone else is searching for the treasure that I’m going after.”

She was out the door before he could say another word. He followed, trying to keep from stepping on the numerous small twigs that littered the walkway to the music store. The place was dark, windows shuttered.

He caught up with her as she knocked softly.

“Mr. Devlin?” she called. After a moment, she knocked louder and called again.

“Maybe he’s gone home.”

She shook her head, face pale in the moonlight. “He lives here, in a room in back.”

He didn’t ask how she knew, but he did manage to get ahead of her as she made her way toward the rear of the store. They saw it at the same
time—the gleam of lamplight, showing from underneath a curtained window.

She tapped on the rear door and called Devlin’s name again.

No answer. She dialed Devlin’s number on her cell phone. They both heard it ringing inside, two rings, three, five before the answering machine came on. Stephanie pocketed the phone, her look mirroring the concern he felt.

“Something’s not right,”
he whispered, mouth pressed to the delicate shell of her ear. “We should get back in the truck, wait and see what develops.” He knew she wouldn’t go for it, though.

Ignoring him, she tried the handle. It turned.

“Unlocked,” she breathed.

“Breaking and entering,” he retorted.

“Since when did you get all concerned with the rules? You’re still the same guy who stole a pig from
the high school ag department.”

“The pig came willingly, and I borrowed, not stole.”

Her grin sent his heart spiraling. He grabbed her hands and pulled her closer until her mouth was inches from his. Fighting a wild desire to kiss her, he shook his head. “Steph, this isn’t a good idea.”

She cocked her head but didn’t pull away. “Devlin told us to come. He might be in there needing
help.”

“Or it might be someone else waiting. We don’t know all the players involved.”

She inched closer. “I’m going in there,” she breathed, causing his body to tingle all over.

He held her tighter. “Let me. You stay outside with the phone. I’ll yell if I need help.”

She gave him an odd look. “I wish you would have told me you needed help before.”

He felt confused. “I
don’t know what you mean.”

“The pills,” she said, eyes moist.

He stepped back. “I beat it by myself. I didn’t need your help.”

“And you don’t need it now?” she whispered. She closed the gap and pressed her cheek to his. “Forget it. I’ll go in and you stay in the truck.”

He closed his eyes against the softness of her skin, the silken touch of her hair on his cheeks. Raindrops
on roses. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, felt or come near to in his whole life. He pretended for a split second that she was his again, that his heart was whole and clean, cleaved once more with hers. When the feeling became too much to bear, he gently set her back.

Stop deluding yourself, Tate. Those are just memories of old feelings.
Things are different now.

“Steph...”

It was a mistake. As soon as he released her, she turned the knob and darted into the silent building.