Dead Air (15 page)

With shaking hands, Gabby shoved the receipt on the edge of the desk, then slipped out of the office.

What was going on?

N
ight fell over Mystique. Clark ducked into Ms. Minnie’s diner, then shook off the raindrops spattering his back and shoulders.

Three of Gabby’s friends sat at the back booth. He took a moment to realize what a smorgasbord they were—the classic young beauty from the B and B; the librarian, a strawberry-blonde with cold green eyes, and nurse Imogene, the mousy type, but with personality bubbling from her face. So different, but obviously so in tune with one another. As one, their laughter ceased, and they turned to stare at him.

He resisted the urge to squirm. When Clark moved to go to the other side of the diner, Imogene called out to him. “Mr. McKay, won’t you join us?”

He glanced at the friends and found the strength to uproot his feet.

Imogene slid over next to the young classical beauty. “Sit.”

“Thank you.” Clark dropped onto the bench beside the librarian.

“I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to all the girls, have you?”

“No.”

As if she didn’t notice his discomfort, Imogene pointed across the table at the woman sitting beside him. “That’s Sheldon, town librarian. I believe you met her at the Ellisons’.”

He nodded at her.

Imogene tilted her head to the side. “And you’ve met this lady beside me, Rayne VanDoren, manager of the B and B.”

“So, Mr. McKay—” Sheldon pinned him with her scrutiny “—what exactly are your intentions toward Gabby?” Those green eyes of hers could freeze his blood right in his veins.

Heat skidded up his neck and scorched his face. He realized what facing the Spanish Inquisition must have felt like.

“Sheldon! How rude,” Imogene admonished.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay, really.”

Good thing, too, because Sheldon didn’t look as if she were the least bit fazed by Imogene’s reprimand. Her stare remained locked on his face, and even Rayne leaned forward to stare at him over Imogene.

He hauled in a deep breath. “I really like Gabby—a lot—and I want to get to know her better.”

“But?” Sheldon jumped right on him, not giving him an inch to collect his thoughts.

He nodded as the waitress approached with a carafe of coffee. Clark waited until she’d filled his cup and walked away before readdressing the ladies. “There’s still something she doesn’t trust me about. She even refused to look at the house I bought.”

A collective hush fell over the table. He glanced at Sheldon, who dropped her gaze to study the French fries drowning in ketchup. He looked at Rayne, whose lips were pressed so tight together, they were white around the edges. Something wasn’t right—they knew what was going on.

“What?” He faced Imogene. “Help me out here.”

Imogene searched his face.

“I really like her.”

Imogene cleared her throat.

“What?” Was he just blind to the obvious? Each woman at the table seemed to sit in shocked silence.

“Well, you see…”

“Immy, you can’t tell him Gabby’s personal business,” Sheldon said with a slap to the tabletop. “She’ll kill you.”

Clark turned pleading eyes to Imogene. “Please. I really want to understand.”

“Look, she had a really bad experience back in college with the management of a local news station. Then, when she moved back to Mystique, she got her heart set on an old home that she just had to buy. She’s been saving up for it for years.”

“What happened?”

“You’ve said enough, Immy. Drop it.” Rayne nudged her friend, then shot her piercing gaze to Clark. “That’s all you need to know. If you really care about Gabby, and I think you do, then you should be as open and honest about your feelings and your past with her. Once she feels you’re being upfront, she’ll tell you the rest herself.”

“No, Rayne, Immy’s right—he needs to know.” The librarian pointed a fork at him. “You bought her dream house.”

Oh, no. That explained the tears in her eyes when he invited her in. Her funny expressions on their date when he talked about improvements. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have.” Imogene’s smile was sincere. “And deep down inside, Gab knows that.”

“I would have never bought the house she wanted if I’d known.”

“Hard to know with a Yankee.” But Sheldon flashed him a wide smile.

“You know, you should talk to Gabby. Soon,” Rayne said with a nod. “No sense waiting. Lay your intentions out on the table. She’ll appreciate your candor and honesty.”

He choked on his coffee. “She’s at work.” He glanced at his watch. “Or will be soon.”

“Yes.” Sheldon quirked a single brow up. “And you have a problem with that? Aren’t you her boss?”

They were trying to help him? They’d given him approval? Elation pushed his hunger even further away.

“They’re right. You should go as soon as you finish eating,” Imogene nearly whispered. “Tell her how you feel.”

Swallowing, he nodded. “I will.”

Her eyes widened.

Clark stood in the hall of the station, his hands cupped around his face, pressing against the glass to the studio to stare at Gabby.

Gabby motioned him inside. “What’re you doing here?” Her tone was as soft as the rain flittering to the ground following the hard storm of earlier as he eased into the studio and took the seat in front of her. “Has something else happened?”

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to see you. Talk to you.” He blinked, his heart racing.

Those eyes of hers…man, he could drown in the liquid emotions expressed in them. He’d swear he could see forever lurking there.

“Clark?”

Jerking back from fantasyland, he forced a smile. “I wanted to talk to you. About my house.”

Her expression went void. “I only have a minute left before I’m back on air.”

He opened his mouth, but she shook a finger at him while adjusting the headset over her ears.

“This is Gabby Rogillio, and welcome to dedications on KLUV. Up next is a special dedication going out to Casey from Robin. She says she loves you with all her heart. Love to you all, Mystique.” She pushed the button to start the song, and then shoved the headset down to hang around her neck. She stared at Clark. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

He shook his head. “I just had dinner—I mean, supper.”

She smiled weakly as she doodled on her desktop. “So, what about your house?”

Clark shifted in his seat, the old chair creaking in protest. “I didn’t know it was the house you wanted. I would never have bought it had I known you were saving up for it.”

“You couldn’t have known.” She tossed him another smile, but it still didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well, I just wanted you to know that…” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I just want you to know that I had no idea.”

“Just a minute, time to queue up a few more dedications. Hold that thought.” Gabby settled the earpieces snugly over her ears.

Once she’d aired the dedications and started the song, she pushed down the headset again. “Have you heard anything else? About the case?”

“Nothing. You?”

“Well, I talked with Eric about Mr. Tankersly. He said his stepfather was abusive.”

Clark nodded. “Fits with the rage we saw in him during our altercation.”

“It’s just…” Gabby shrugged and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Just what?”

“I found something tonight that bugs me a little.”

“Such as?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows against the small desk.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “A deposit slip from Eric’s personal account. For quite a bit of money.”

“Exactly how much money?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

He let out a low whistle and leaned back. Fifty thousand dollars? “Dated recently?”

She nodded, her eyes asking the questions her voice wouldn’t.

“Any idea where he’d get that kind of money?”

“None.” She clicked the pen.
Click-click-click
. “It does look strange.”

Click. Click
.

“Did you ask him about it?”

“He’d already left.”

“I have a friend from…older times, and I can ask him to look into it.” He ran a hand over the uninjured side of his face, studying her. “Gabby, why don’t you trust me?”

“I do.” No hesitation.

But she still wasn’t being completely forthcoming. He shook his head as his pulse pounded against his skull. “Not in business you don’t. Why?”

Click. Click. Click.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Clark.

The silence filled the room like dead airtime.

“You don’t. Every single time I even mention my past business or the station, you close up as tight as a clam.”

She dropped the pen onto the desk, shoved the headset over her head, and then punched the button to broadcast the dedications she read from her sheet. After queuing the song, she stared across the desk at him. “I just got burned before by newshounds, okay? Let’s just leave it at that.”

“No, I don’t want to leave it at that.” His voice came out as unyielding as her expression. He swallowed, then softened his tone. “I want you to trust me, Gabby.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because you’re important to me.”

“You hardly know me.” Her words were barely a whisper.

“And that’s part of the problem. I want to get to know you better.”

She chewed her bottom lip, not responding.

“Gabby, I don’t want to frighten you off. I think you know
there’s something simmering between us.” He laid his hand over hers. “That kiss…” Had nearly scorched him. Hadn’t she felt it?

The heat from the contact sent little beads of perspiration to the back of his neck. No sense stopping now—might as well get it all out in the open. “But we’ve got to be open and honest in order to get to know each other better. I want that. Do you?”

She licked her lips, but remained as unmovable as the Confederate monument outside Mystique’s courthouse square.

“I think we have a chance at something here. Something wonderful and lasting.” He withdrew his hand, letting it fall into his lap.

“Clark—”

“No, let me finish.” He gulped in air. “You interest me in a way no other woman has, Gabby Rogillio, and I have no intention of letting that drop without getting to know you better.” He stood, towering over her. “You think about that. In the meantime, I’ll have an investigator look into Eric’s accounts and into Martin and his late wife and see what I can dig up.”

Her jaw hung slack, but her stare stayed glued to his.

“How about we meet for lunch tomorrow? Give you some time alone to think about what I’ve said.” He took a step backward. “Say about eleven at Ms. Minnie’s?”

She nodded.

“I’ll see you then.” He turned to head to the studio door, then stopped. Glancing over his shoulder, he stared at her.

In four strides, he’d crossed the room to her. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her up to him. With the slightest pressure from the tip of his finger, Clark lifted her chin, then lowered his lips to hers.

Her lips were soft and yielding, spinning his mind and emotions into an eddy.

He ended the kiss way before he was ready for it to be over,
and withdrew from her in just a fraction of a heartbeat. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered, his breath teasing her cheek.

Gabby sank back into the chair.

He resisted the urge to whistle as he left the studio.

In the dark parking lot, he slipped into the rental car. A breeze skipped across the open space. Would she even show up for lunch tomorrow?
Lord, please let her show up
.

Driving home, he listened to the dedications on KLUV. He didn’t hear Gabby’s exact words, just listened to the throaty smoothness of her one-of-a-kind voice gliding under his skin and tangoing into his heart.

He’d told her the truth…he did want to get to know her better. His interest and attraction held his throat so tight he couldn’t swallow.

Once in the house, Clark glanced around at the renovations he’d already started. To Gabby’s house. Oh, she’d downplayed how important this house was to her, but he could tell Gabby loved the house. How had he missed that before? As he looked around, he could imagine her here, in this house. With him.

The knot in his throat cinched. After Philly, he didn’t believe in happily-ever-after. Yet, here he was, dreaming of a perfect ending with a woman who still seemed unsure whether or not she could trust him.

He glanced at the clock. It was late, but not so much so that he thought he’d wake his former reporter. Clark flipped open his cell and punched in the man’s number.

“Yes?”

“It’s Clark. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“No worries, dude. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to find out some information for me. Personal information about some people here in Mystique.” He’d set the hound on the trail of the fox now. Let the games begin.

R
ushing across KLUV’s parking lot, her heels slipping against loose gravel, Gabby noticed Robert’s car in its usual spot, and her breath caught. Had Robert woken up? She shoved open the double doors and crossed into the reception foyer.

Loud voices echoed off the normally serene walls. Eric’s deep baritone vibrated throughout the station, followed by a woman’s sobs. Gabby strode toward Eric’s office. Although the door was closed, she didn’t bother to knock before entering.

Eric stood behind his desk, his hair sticking up and gaze darting over the seated woman’s hunched form.

Amber, with sobs shaking her body, was speaking. “You can’t ask me to—” Her words died as her glance shot to Gabby.

The look in the woman’s stare froze Gabby to the core. Remorse, anger and perhaps fear soaked her tear-filled eyes. But there was something more lurking behind those irises…a true sign to Amber Ellison’s mental state—brokenness. Gabby should know—she’d seen it in her own reflection after Blake Riggsdale had finished with her.

Dropping into the chair beside Amber, Gabby threw an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “Amber, what is it? Has something happened with Robert?”

She sniffled and shrugged off Gabby’s arm before jumping
to her feet. “I just can’t do this. Not now. Not here. Not…” Her glance moved to Eric’s, where it lingered for a moment before she jerked her stare back to Gabby. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Without another word, she fled from the room.

Gabby stood.

“Just let her go.” Eric’s quiet words halted her.

“What were you two arguing about?”

His face flushed a brighter red. “Nothing. She’s just emotional.”

“No, I heard you yelling when I came in. What about?” Gabby crossed her arms.

For a split second, anger slipped across his features. In a blink of an eye, it was gone again. Had she imagined it? “She just refuses to pick up Robert’s personal stuff. That’s what I’d asked her to do. For Mr. McKay.”

Suspicions receded partially. Gabby remained wary as she dropped her hands to the desk. “Oh.” She glanced at the computer screen behind him. “Is there a problem with payroll?”

He spun around and clicked on the computer keyboard. “Trying to figure things out. I think Robert might’ve been embezzling money.”

“What? You’re mistaken.” Robert wouldn’t embezzle money. No way.

“Well, Robert made three different large withdrawals over the past six months.” His fingers flew over the keys. “One for fifty thousand dollars and two for twenty-five.”

She sank back into the chair, rubbing her chin. Why would Robert take out so much money? They hadn’t bought anything new for the station in years. “Maybe he used that money to buy back Howard’s shares of the station?”

“I don’t think so. Deposits were made regularly every month into the account. The only checks drawn out each month were legit—payroll, advertising and the like. Then, six months ago,
a cash withdrawal was made on the account, followed by the other two.”

It didn’t make sense. “What was the balance in the account before the cash withdrawals began?”

“Fifty-six thousand and some change.” He rolled his shoulders, his bones popping.

“On average, what was the running balance in the account before these withdrawals?”

The clicks came faster, and louder. Or maybe that was just her perception.

“Between fifty and sixty thousand. Deposits were made regularly, as they should, but once the balance hit near the sixty-thousand mark, the withdrawal hit. Then the balance would go back up with deposits.” He sighed. “And another withdrawal would put the balance back below ten thousand.”

Nothing added up.

Eric let out a long sigh, laced his fingers behind his head, and stared at her. “See what I mean? The only thing that makes sense is embezzlement. And who could it be but Robert?”

“I don’t know.”
Think, Gabby, think.
There was a piece of the puzzle right here—just out of her grasp. What wasn’t she seeing?

Her cell phone chirped. She dug into her purse for it. “Hello.”

“Are you standing me up?”

Her heart faltered at the sound of his voice. “Clark.”

“The one and only. I’m sitting here at Ms. Minnie’s.”

She checked her watch—11:22. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” She cut her gaze to Eric, who made shooing motions. “I’m on my way now. Be there in five.”

Gabby slammed the phone closed and slipped it into her purse. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She moved toward the door.

“Sure you don’t want to work tonight?” His tone had shifted
to light and teasing. “I’m sure Harry would enjoy the break.” Harry, a part-time deejay, filled in on the regulars’ days off.

“My one day off? Are you kidding?” She hitched her purse strap over her shoulder. “I have a lunch date. Later.”

His laughter followed her out of the station, into the parking lot and inside her car. She wanted to take comfort in it, but couldn’t. Eric was her friend, she trusted him, and yet…was it really just a coincidence that the deposit slip she’d found matched one of the withdrawals from the station’s accounts?

She headed toward where Clark sat at a table near the window, her steps light.

“Sorry I’m late.” Her words came out in a burst as she dropped into the seat across from him.

“No problem.”

Ms. Minnie ambled up. “Hi there, Gabby. What can I get y’all?”

“What’s today’s special? It smells divine.”

“I made some crawfish étouffée fresh this morning.”

“That’s what I’ll have.”

Clark smiled at the diner owner. “Make that two, Ms. Minnie.”

“Iced tea?”

After agreeing to the drink, he waited until the proprietor had left to readdress Gabby.

“So, guess what I found out.”

Oh, so it was serious time already. She swallowed the knot of fear. “What?”

“Aunt Beulah was right. Amber Ellison, back then Stevens, did have a baby out of wedlock the summer after her high school graduation.”

Her heart began to beat in double time. “What else?”

“Amber Stevens gave birth to a healthy, bouncing baby boy in September at Children’s Hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana.”

“Oh my.” She ran a finger over her bottom lip. “What happened to the baby?”

“Here’s where it gets tricky. The baby was adopted by a Paul and Jane, no last name. It’s listed as a closed adoption, so no further information is available.”

Ms. Minnie chose that moment to deliver their savory and aromatic bowls. “Here ya go. If you need anything else, just holler.”

They quickly offered up grace and then Clark grabbed a piece of garlic bread.

“But that’s it? A dead end?” She leaned back in the booth, the vinyl squeaking. “I don’t even know why it’s important, but I just feel that it is. And now to have hit a roadblock.”

“I said the adoption was closed. I didn’t say my source gave up digging.”

Did this mean there could be evidence of a connection? “So there could be more?”

He smiled as he dipped the tip of his bread into the thick souplike meal. “I told him to keep looking until he’d found everything possible.”

Gabby smiled and lifted a spoon to her mouth. The sharp and stinging spices warmed her mouth, exploding in a melody of bite and flavor.

After breaking his bread in half, Clark slipped a bite into his mouth.

Her stare shot to his mouth…the strong jawline…the perfect symmetry of his features. He was a beautiful specimen of a healthy, red-blooded male. Gabby’s stomach rumbled as she brought her analysis to a screeching halt. His unpretentious speech from last night still rang in her ears.

“So, did you think about what I said last night?” Was he a mind reader, too?

She set down her spoon, lifted her glass and took a long, slow sip. Anything to stall this conversation.

“Gabby?” His eyes were so open, so honest.

“I did.” She set her glass down with a shaking hand. Tea sloshed over the side and onto her hand. Just what she needed to cool off. “I won’t lie to you, Clark. I’m very interested in you.”

“Uh-oh, I hear a
but
in there.” He steepled his hands over his bowl.

She gave a little chuckle. “But I don’t know if I want to risk becoming involved with you or anyone right now.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Why didn’t she want to take a chance? She deserved to be happy, to have love.

“Because why?” He rested his chin on his interwoven fingers, peering across the table at her with those piercing eyes of his.

She fisted her hands in her lap, then jerked them and laid her palms flat on the table.

“You were hurt before. Tell me.” His voice was smooth, as if coaxing a kitten down from a tree.

Could she trust him? With her heart? She studied his face, his eyes…Was he as sincere as he appeared, as he sounded?

He laid a hand over hers. Warmth filled her.

Whether or not she trusted him, she owed him the truth. He’d shared his past with her.

She took a deep breath. “In college, I was interning at a local news station. Reporting.” She smiled at him, hoping it didn’t look as wobbly as it felt.

“The station manager, and son of the owner, befriended me.” The memory of Blake’s attention still haunted her. “We actually began dating.” She took in another deep breath.

Clark squeezed her hand, his smile brightening her dark recollections.

“Then, some college girls began being stalked. On campus, at their apartments, at jobs. Letters, pictures, phone calls—things that weren’t exactly harmful, just frightening.” Gabby paused, the memory washing over her. “Of course the news station ran a special feature on the issue. I was the reporter.

“My boyfriend, Blake, encouraged me to be visual in my reporting. To make the public aware, he swore to me.” She ran a hand through her hair, wishing she could whisk away the past as easily.

“What happened?” Clark’s hand released hers.

“Oh, I did all the reports. I mean, I was informing the public, helping these young women be smart, right?” Gabby took a sip of her tea, then stared into the cloudy liquid.

“The station’s ratings soared. But that was it. I’d done my job.” She shrugged. “Blake wanted more. He encouraged me to provoke the stalker. To try and annoy him publicly. To get him to make a mistake, at least that’s what Blake said.”

An icy finger traced her spine. “And me being the naive and trusting person I was then, I did it. I deliberately set out to enrage a stalker.”

“Oh, Gabby.”

“It gets even better.” She tossed a caustic smile across the table. “Without warning me, Blake concluded my segment with a couple of personal details about me. Just enough information that the stalker could find me.”

“Oh, no.” Clark’s eyes darkened a shade.

“Oh, yes. At first I was livid, but Blake told me how great the ratings were, how I was coming to his father’s attention, how this could make my career in broadcast journalism.” She shook her head, dismay pounding against her temples. “I bought into it. Hook, line and sinker. All of it.”

He interlaced his fingers with hers, warming the chill from her.

“Blake went even further. He’d planned for the stalker to
come after me, and he kept me under close observation, with a camera crew no less.” Gabby dusted imaginary crumbs from the table. “All without me knowing.”

“What happened?”

“Just what Blake had wanted. The stalker came after me. Upped his actions from his previous victims. No cards or pictures or calls for me. No, he came after me physically. Caught me in a parking lot. Grabbed me, threw me against the hood of my own car.” Tears erupted from her eyes, but she didn’t blink them back. She’d come this far, and now she couldn’t stop the release of water over the dam even if she tried.

For good, bad or indifferent, Clark McKay was going to hear the whole sordid ordeal.

She sniffed, but kept her attention focused on her glass. “The stalker spit in my face, called me horrible names and threatened to show me just how much of a
coward
he wasn’t. And my knight in shining armor, the one who wanted this to happen and was supposed to save me? He sat back and recorded the incident. He let this man humiliate and terrify me so he could air it.”

“What happened?” Clark’s voice came out heavy. “What’d this stalker do to you?”

“Well, after the yelling and spitting, he ripped my shirt.” She closed her eyes, her words coming in bursts. “Blake, I suppose, figured that was enough. He came rushing on the scene—the cameras still rolling, of course—to be my hero.” She opened her eyes and stared at Clark. “And he succeeded—the ratings for that airing went through the roof.”

“But what about you?”

She slapped the tears from her face. “I survived. I learned my lesson—that ratings are the most important thing. Made the decision that if that’s the way the business worked, I didn’t want to be a party to it.” Gabby let out a long breath, not as broken
and harsh as before. “I switched majors, went into communications. And here I am.”

Did he have a clue how much it had cost her to tell him all this, relive such a painful event?

Clark slipped from the seat and moved around the table. He knelt beside her, staring into her eyes. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Gabby.” He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her to him. “And I’ll never hurt you like that. Ever.”

He lifted his lips to hers, softly brushing against them. Her heart pounded so hard he must be able to feel it against his chest. He deepened the kiss, burying his hands in her hair. She liked the feeling of security and acceptance she found in his embrace.

Most of all, she liked the way her heart lifted as he kissed her.

Clark fought against holding Gabby tighter, afraid to scare her off. He ran a thumb against her chin, wanting to take away all the pain she’d endured.

The acid ate at his stomach lining as he reflected on what she had shared. This ex-boyfriend was below disgusting, beyond selfish. The urge to hit someone hard—this Blake person in particular—had Clark tightening the muscles in his biceps. But Gabby needed him, needed him to understand her past.

He cuddled her closer, to where he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. No, he’d never hurt her. All he wanted was to keep her exactly as close and exactly as safe as she was at that moment.