Lie to Me (18 page)

Bob reached into his blue pants pocket and pulled a round key chain with at least two dozen keys attached. He held it up.

Damian relaxed. It had been easy. So far.

Bob turned and led them down the dark, plaster corridor. With the mill not as busy as it was during the day, Damian and Casey saw only a handful of workers. Some turned to look at them, and Damian met their gazes with nods and smiles, trying to show that he felt they were his equals. A few smiled back, others stared with hostility.

Damian grabbed Casey’s hand and she squeezed it. He felt it best not to say much.

As they stopped before the Ballantine suite of offices, Bob turned to face him. “Sorry ’bout what happened to your brother. Some of them who were fired—they’re real angry, don’t care that your brother doesn’t even work for the mill. I know there’s a group who just wanna hurt you all, but they keep their identities a secret.”

Damian met his stare. “Do you know who did it? Even a clue?” He kept his voice calm.

Bob shook his head. “Nope.”

“If you remember anything, please tell me. I swear I won’t let anyone know who talked.”

“I try not to listen to that crap, sir.” He selected a few keys, and then turned and unlocked the doors to Michael and Sam’s office suite. Damian and Casey followed him into the dark room and he switched on the light. Flora’s desk was empty, and compulsively neat. Neither said anything as the security guard took them to Michael and Sam’s office. Again, he unlocked the doors. “All set,” Bob said, and he twisted the doorknob, opening the double doors a crack. “You need me for anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Bob,” Damian said, his stomach tightening as if he’d seen something he didn’t like.

Bob nodded at him. Without another word, he turned and walked down the hallway.

Damian and Casey stared after him until he disappeared from view and shut the main door.

“You believe he doesn’t know anything?” Casey mused, looking at up at him.

“I don’t trust anyone right now. Except you.” Damian put an arm around her.

A black cloud seemed to hang over his head. He shook it off and gave Casey a friendly nudge into the office. Before he shut the door, he switched on the light. Then he turned and locked, and double locked, the door.

Casey shook her head as she observed, once again, the splendor of the room. It didn’t make sense to have such an elaborate office; it was probably insulting to the workers, who had bare, sterile surroundings. “Your Dad and Sam are so pretentious.”

“Hmmm.” He didn’t sound as if he were paying attention. When she turned to him, he looked as if he were lost in his thoughts.

“What?” she asked, running a thumb down the front of his unzipped leather jacket.

He frowned and gazed around the room. “So much to tear through, so little time.”

She snatched his hands. “We can do this.”

“Yes.” Damian’s tense face relaxed a little as he gently guided her toward the closer of two thick, dark, wooden desks. “Dad’s,” he mumbled as he sat down.

Casey picked up the photo of Damian that Michael had put on his desk. “You look wasted in the picture.”

“I probably was.”

“He put it here. He cares.”

“He wouldn’t, if he saw me now.” His finger rested on the keyboard as he stared at the blank monitor.

Casey leaned on his shoulder for support, as she watched him struggle and then finally access his father’s computer. He leaned back in the cushioned chair, beaming at her. “His old password worked. I’ll be damned! Now for the e-mail. That should be easy. Bet the old man didn’t change that either.” When proven right, Damian grinned again and looked at her with pride. She couldn’t help smiling back, in spite of a bad case of nerves.

Damian stood up. “Now to get onto the other computer,” he said, and grabbed her hand. Across the room sat Sam’s computer, and Casey felt Sam’s eerie presence when they reached it. She could smell a whiff of his pine-scented aftershave.

Damian seemed as coiled as a panther ready to strike. He sat down, but didn’t lean back. Casey massaged his shoulders as he logged onto Sam’s computer and accessed his e-mail. “Bingo!” He finally sank back, this time looking relieved. “We’re in business, babe!” He glanced toward the other desk. “Case, you go to Dad’s desk and read his e-mails.” Grabbing her hands, he squeezed them. “Tell me if you see anything unusual.”

She saluted him. “Aye, aye, sir.” As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist and she bounced back like a boomerang. “What?”

“You can still back out.”

“When pigs fly. I think we’ve covered this.” She smiled to herself. Damian didn’t know that she’d brought her Saturday night special with her. It rested in her purse that hung at the end of her shoulder strap.

Once Casey sat down at the desk, she felt small in the large, cushioned computer chair. Michael had even made this chair one of luxury. With a sigh, she punched the keyboard. Snooping to this extent wasn’t her style, but it had to be done.

The air around her seemed to crackle with tension, but Casey clicked on the first e-mail and started reading. Almost right away, she saw one that caused her heart to race. “Damian!” She glanced at his back, across the room.

He came to her in a flash, bending over, a hand atop her chair. Casey watched as he read it. “Damn!” He bent down further and the side of her face grazed the leather covering his shoulder. She inhaled the smell as Damian said, “I had no idea. Alex either didn’t tell me or doesn’t know. Dad and a woman.” He sounded intrigued.

“A woman from Arizona who thinks he’s retiring and moving there,” Casey mused.

“Yeah.” Damian leaned his elbow on her desk, his free arm wrapping around her shoulders. “I’m shocked,” he murmured, so close that his voice vibrated inside her head. “I had no idea Dad was thinking of retiring. He’s only fifty-two.”

Casey felt the heat of his nearness. “Your dad’s still a good-looking, active man. It makes sense. He doesn’t
need
to work.”

“See if you can find more e-mails from this lady,” Damian said.

It didn’t take long.

“Ah, so this lady is the heiress to Wyler Chocolate.” Damian’s head lowered and his cheek pressed harder against hers. His voice dropped an octave. “If he’s actually serious about leaving, he’ll be handing the mill over to Sam. He must know.”

Casey felt his muscles tense.

“I’m sure your dad told him.”

“I showed up at the worst time possible for Sam, didn’t I? Dad would give me half the business for the asking.”

“Yes.” She knew where this was going and didn’t like it.

The e-mails flew by. Some were from the union, threatening to strike. Old news, but disturbing. Some were from a man named Jason Quinn from London who wanted to buy the mill.

“Will your dad sell?” Casey asked. “Quinn seems pretty desperate to buy.”

“No. Dad wants this business to stay in the family.”

“Maybe Quinn is trying to scare your dad into selling. You can’t discount anybody. Maybe he’s the one who engineered the attack.”

“He’d have a lot of trouble planning a thug attack from England.”

“But it could be done.”

Damian shot her a cynical look, and then said, “Love, read some more e-mails. I have to go sort through Sam’s.” He gave her a fast kiss. Casey watched as he stalked back to his brother’s desk and went to work.

An hour later, Casey had read hundreds of Michael’s incoming and outgoing e-mails; so many her eyes were growing heavy. The overriding impression she got from Michael was his surprising fatigue. He was tired of running the mill, tired of its problems, tired of the worker’s demands, tired of always being in the newspaper. The e-mails offered another side of a man she’d thought of as larger than life.

“Whoa!”

Casey’s body jolted as Damian’s voice broke the thick silence. He whirled around in his chair as she looked up at him.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to slow her heart.

He swung around towards the screen again. “Listen to this! Sam sent it to Dave Collier, his buddy, the CEO.” His voice bit. “Dave, can you help me think of ways to get Damian out of town? I’ve already gotten George Fly to keep an eye on him in case he starts drinking, but that’s not enough. That fucker needs to go back to where he came from, and the sooner the better. I don’t want him hurting my nephew, and I also sense that, if he stays, Dad will try to get him involved in the mill again. I’m willing to pay big bucks to anyone who can think of a plan to get rid of him.” His voice dripped with bitterness.

Casey had to admit the letter was incriminating. She rose and strode across the room, setting her hands on Damian’s shoulders when she reached him. She bent over from behind and kissed his cheek. “Read the next e-mail, Damian.” She could feel his coiled muscles. “It’s really no secret that Sam wants you out of town.”

“Yeah, and he’s asking that asshole Collier to help him think of how to do it. Do you think—” He cut off the question as his eyes narrowed.

Good heavens, could Sam have planned the attack? But why Alex?
She swallowed hard. If Sam had planned it, and she wasn’t at all convinced he had, then maybe the thugs had meant to get Damian. The twins looked a lot alike, especially from the back and in the rain—Damian stared at her, waiting for an answer, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She could see a vein throbbing in his temple.

Casey reached over and deleted the e-mail. She playfully combed her fingers through his longish hair, and then brushed the side of his face and cheek with light kisses. “I know you and Sam have been fighting since even before you left town, but I don’t think it was him.”

“That letter that was left last night specifically mentioned me.” His voice dripped with bitterness.

“It mentioned all of you.”

“Maybe to smokescreen who’d composed the letter?” His features were taut as he watched her.

“Keep reading. If it’s him, we’ll deal with it, but I still don’t think so.” She kissed his ear, not so sure of her words and worried about his state of mind.

“I’ll keep an open mind. Go back to Dad’s computer.” He let out a big sigh. “I’ve calmed down.”

She kneaded his shoulders and could tell he’d relaxed a little.

He reached behind himself and patted her hand. “Go so we can get out of here,” he said, gently. She kissed the top of his silky head and then returned to Michael’s desk.

The clock ticked on and Casey kept reading, although she couldn’t shake a sense of uneasiness.

As she stared at Damian’s form, his back to her, she almost told him of her discomfort, but decided not to distract him. It was foolish to worry him over an intangible sensation.

She took a deep breath, and discarded one more e-mail of the thousands, and then she scanned many more. Suddenly she jolted upright and almost called out for Damian to come over.
No.
Her lips clamped shut.
What good would it do for Damian to read this?
She, however, read it for the second time.

It was an e-mail that Michael had written to Annabelle. Somehow it had bounced from her account back to his, undelivered. Maybe he’d accidentally put in the wrong address. It didn’t matter why. The words before her mattered.

Dearest Annie,

After I spoke to you this morning, I talked to Sam, just like you said I should. He didn’t offer much, but admitted he hates that Damian is in town. When I asked him outright if he’d been involved with what happened to Alex, he looked shocked, and then hurt. Ended up slamming out of the office, and I haven’t seen him since. I feel badly. I’m ninety five per cent sure that Sam would never physically harm anybody, other than during a one-on-one fair fight. But Sam has very bad feelings toward Damian, and is afraid I’ll suddenly hand the operation of the mill over to him. He really wants Damian to go back to Alabama.

The reason I once wanted Damian to take charge of the mill, rather than Sam, is because Sam is reactive and hot-tempered while Damian is calmer, unless tremendously provoked. Lately Sam has been under a lot of stress from the Union and from Damian’s surprise visit. He’s even seeing a psychologist, at my insistence. I’m hoping he hasn’t snapped. That five percent that isn’t sure of anything feels that it’s possible Sam wanted to hurt Damian. If so, whomever he hired got Alex instead. I’m going to talk to Sam about this incident again, even though he’ll hate me for it if he’s innocent, and he probably is.

Dearest, I can’t retire and leave the mill to Sam if he’s unstable or dangerous. I’m going to call the police chief again to see if they came up with new leads. Until this is resolved, Annie, I can’t come to Arizona. Hopefully, it will be over soon and I’ll find out for certain that Sam didn’t do it. I love all my boys so much. This is like a stake in my heart. Thank God I can confide in you. I have nobody else to talk to about my deepest fears.

Love,

Michael

Casey sucked in a deep breath, watching Damian as he worked at Sam’s computer. What would he do if he saw that his father thought that it could be Sam? That his worst fears may have been validated?

Casey sighed.
Michael wasn’t accusing Sam of anything, didn’t really think he did it. Why pour fuel on the fire? If Sam were guilty, they’d eventually know.
Like Michael, she was ninety-five per cent sure that Sam didn’t do it. He could be a cold bastard, but ordering harm to somebody—she couldn’t see it, unless he’d truly lost his marbles.
And that was the problem. Had he?