Now You See It (12 page)

Chapter Ten

Gemma looked around her new home, and the delighted
bubble under her solar plexus burst out into joyous laughter. So perfect. It was
smaller than the Kirkland house, and she’d even worried about finding storage
until she could get to St. Vincent, but thanks to the hoodlums, there was much
less to have to fit in. It had taken the cleaners longer to repack what was
salvageable than it had taken the movers to load, transport and unload what was
left.

Well, she’d wanted a new start. There were some things she
would have kept, given the choice—the carved box Trevor had made in woodshop
their junior year; his class ring, and hers; a set of antique jewel-toned Rhine
wine glasses; a tea cozy Mom had embroidered. Grandma Eileen’s clock. There
wasn’t much else that couldn’t be replaced. Her yearbooks had disappeared when
they moved to the Kirkland house, along with her “memory box” of photos,
letters—a girl’s memorabilia. Ned swore it was just lost in transit. She hadn’t
believed him, but there was no proof either way. It was easier to give him the
benefit of the doubt. And who really knew? She chose a stack of boxes nearest
the far corner of the living room and started to make some order out of the
house.

She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “I’m starting to wonder if
I’m going to spend the rest of my life surrounded by an ocean of cardboard.”

The movers had managed to recover a surprising amount of
furniture, books, kitchenware, and linens and had done a good job of setting the
uniform stacks of anonymous boxes approximately where they should go, but the
bar-coded tags gave no clues to what was inside

She glanced around, trying to get her bearings in the sea of
boxes. “Brady, do you see the toolbox anywhere?”

“Yeah. What do you need?” he asked as he opened the lid.

“Medium Phillips.”

She heard him rootling around in the toolbox, and then the
sound of his footsteps as he followed her into the kitchen. He held up a medium
Phillips-head screwdriver with an eight-inch handle. “Think this thing’s long
enough?” he asked.

“It’s physics. The longer the handle, the more torque at the
screw head. More leverage, less muscle.”

“What do you do in a tight space?”

“I cheat and use a socket wrench with an angled extension
handle.” She laughed up at him. “Mike got our dad’s height. I’m built like Mom.
And when you’re, um, vertically challenged,” she said, “you learn to use
physics.”

Brady chuckled. “I really could help, you know”

“I thought you were making my world safe from predators.”

“Okay,” he said. “Then you can help me. I need an extra hand
with these wires for a few minutes.”

“I’m thinking about getting rid of my landlines altogether,”
Gemma said. “And changing my cell number. This last few days, I’ve realized one
good thing about not having a phone would be Ned’s mother couldn’t reach
me.”

“In-law problems?” Brady asked around the nail he was holding
in his mouth.

“She really hates me.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“You and a couple hundred other people. And I don’t know why.
She’s terrifyingly genteel, in this creepy Southern way. Until Ned died, I’d
never heard her raise her voice, or ever seen her actually stoop to a sneer, but
the disapproval always just drips off her like Spanish moss or something. When
Ned introduced us the first time, she wouldn’t even speak to me.”

“You’re kidding.”

Gemma shook her head and handed him the wire strippers. “Nope.
In fact, after the first shocked head-to-toe once-over, she didn’t even look in
my direction. I might have been a napkin on the table. Oh, excuse me,
serviette
. The old witch.”

“My family say ‘serviette,’ too, but they’re French
Canadian.”

“
O, pardon
,” she said, and laughed.
She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so much, or had so much fun just doing
nothing special. Actually, she could. Being with Trevor had been like that—just
seeing him, talking to him, had been enough to make her feel happy, as if she
had balloons in her chest. She always remembered how they had laughed at little
things, and his dry, silly sense of humor that had sent her into peals of
laughter. His touch, that had made her feel as if the world was tinged with gold
dust.

Brady’s voice broke her reverie. “So, what are we doing after
this? Want to send out for pizza?”

“It’s not even noon yet. Sheesh! Let’s be a little serious,
here, okay? My goal for today is to make enough space for the furniture,” Gemma
said, taking back the wire strippers. “What’s left of it. I think most of what
was actually destroyed was furniture. As soon as I get access to some money,
I’ll get more—maybe a huge trip to IKEA.”

“IKEA?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? I love their stuff. When I go
in there, it’s like a trip to Disneyworld, only in Swedish. It’s great.”

Brady stared at her, brows raised and pulled together. He
looked so comical she laughed again.

“Okay,” she said. “When this is all over, we’ll go. Some
afternoon. Have meatballs and pickled herring and lingonberries and look at all
the fun stuff.”

“Swedish Disneyworld? It’s a furniture store, Gemma.”

“You sounded just like Mike right then. And that just shows
what you know. All those cool little lights, and big floor lamps with paper
shades like huge white flowers—what?”

“I was just thinking that Swedish Minimalist is quite a step
down from all those antiques you used to have in your living room.”

“Well, those antiques are all mostly kindling, now. And I’m
looking forward to comfortable stuff I don’t have to devote my life to caring
for. Furniture should serve people, not the other way around. Besides, they have
such cool accessories. You’ll see.” She almost sang the last two words, and she
realized she was flirting with him.

God, Gemma, you should be ashamed of
yourself. Ned’s been dead less than a week, and here you are flashing your
tail feathers at this rogue male.
She tried to feel guilty, but just
didn’t. And when he stretched to loop co-ax cable over a nail he’d tacked
lightly into the wall, his shirt rode up to reveal taut, tan skin at his waist
and one extremely fine male butt. Her mouth started to water, and she had to
swallow hard. She hadn’t looked on purpose, she insisted to the outraged nun in
the back of her conscience. Not
entirely
on purpose.
She was just so aware of him, and he was so totally...
yummy
came to mind, along with Dante-esque visions of leaping
flames.
Oh, man, I am so doomed
. It had been a long
time since she’d felt so female and alive.

He even goes through doors sexy
,
she decided, watching him stride back out of the house. It was sheer body
reaction—it had to be. Brady was physically different from Ned—different build,
different coloring. And he was the first new male she’d met since Ned moved out.
It had been so long since she’d had good sex. She wondered if all the years of
faking it, staying alert to what was going on in bed, had eroded her ability to
really enjoy it. Maybe she’d just have to find out. The thought brought a rush
of heat.

“Okay,” he called. “When you see the drill come through, I need
you to feed your end through the hole, okay?”

“Okay. Give me a minute.” She clambered up to kneel on the back
of the couch.

Nikki thundered down the stairs into the living room with a
high, yodeling bark.

“Hello? Gemma?” Doug called from the front doorway.

“Doug! Hi. Come on in,” she said. This was starting to look
like a Peter Sellers movie, with people coming in one door, going out
another...

He wound his way through boxes. “What on earth are you doing up
there?”

“Waiting for—”

The sound of a drill vibrated through the wall, and the tip of
the bit appeared.

“Having some work done?”

“Sound system,” she said over her shoulder. The lie came
easily. She’d promised Mike she wouldn’t talk about the security arrangements at
her new place, but she wasn’t sure she liked how easy it was becoming to distort
the truth. That was what she got from hanging around with a bunch of damned
spooks.

“How are you doing?”

“A lot better today. Busier than I’d expected.”

“You should treat yourself to some downtime. You’ve had more
than enough reason. No one could blame you. Maybe a few days at a good spa,
getting pampered.”

Irritation flashed.
Spa, my ass.
“Too much to do,” she said as she passed the cable through the hole to Brady.
Why did Doug’s nurturing, protective suggestions set her teeth on edge? “Mike
sent movers over this morning, and between scrambling with that and then with
the cleaners later, sorting what was left after the raid—”

“Raid?”

She grimaced. The coils of the cable had tangled just enough
they’d tighten into a knot at the wall unless she straightened them out before
they got there. “That’s what it reminded me of. The old stories of Viking raids.
It makes me feel better to think of them as horned monsters.”

“Vikings didn’t really wear those helmets, you know.”

“Don’t mess me up with facts here,” she said. “I’m the victim,
remember?”

“I’m hardly likely to forget.” He paused and looked around, as
if he wasn’t sure what to say next. “Well, it’s good to see you keeping your
spirits up. I wanted to come by and make sure you’re all right after the article
this morning.”

“What article?”

“You haven’t seen the
Chronicle
?”

“The
Chronicle
? That reactionary
rag? Not a chance. I haven’t even seen CNN in a couple of days, much less the
local news. I got out of the habit lately. At least they’ve moved on to newer
scandals and sensations, so now I won’t need to be afraid every time I turn on
the TV to see what lurid new development they’ve scraped up on Ned. Why?”

He didn’t answer, but looked so distressed a trickle of fear
dropped into a lump in her stomach.

“Brady,” she said to the wall, “did you bring the paper over
this morning?”

Brady’s voice came back. “It’s in the office. I’ll get it.”

Doug opened his mouth, then closed it helplessly. “Don’t you
think this is just a little too domestic?”

She stared at him in surprise.

He spoke quickly, glancing up in the direction Brady had gone.
“What’s he doing here again? I’d think, with all that’s been happening, you’d be
more careful about letting strangers into the house.”

She’d never seen him so intense.

“Gemma, it’s important to have someone you can depend on right
now. I’d hoped you would let me really help, let me be there when you need
someone. You haven’t known—what’s his name? Grady?—very long. You don’t know
much about him.”

“You know perfectly well it’s Brady. And Mike trusts him. I
told you that before. That’s good enough for me, until I have a reason to think
any different.” She heard the stress in her voice, and took a deep breath. It
was more than just trust, and she had a strong feeling Doug knew that—and he
didn’t like it one bit
. Time to change the subject
.
“I haven’t thanked you for all your help. It’s just been a strange time.”

“Not to worry.”

“This can’t last too much longer. Maybe when it’s all over, I
can work on your campaign. Answer phones, distribute flyers, sell T-shirts.”

His laugh was short and humorless. “Let’s hold that thought,
shall we?”

Brady worked his way back through the stacks, clutching the
rolled-up newspaper. As he reached them, he slid the rubber band off the paper
and onto his wrist, and spread the pages open on a breast-high stack of cartons.
“Jesus,” he said, and looked up at Gemma. “Sam Dawkins? He was at the memorial
yesterday.”

Gemma turned the paper so she could read more clearly, but she
had seen enough to make her tremble and turn her irritation into fear. “Sam
Dawkins is dead? I can’t believe this.” She looked up at him. “What
happened?”

“Someone broke into his office late last night and found him
there. Whoever it was beat him to death and ransacked the place.”

She knew when she got shaky like this her face turned
shockingly pale, and that had been happening way too often the last few days.
Her eyes sought Brady’s.

“You really didn’t know.” Doug’s voice was softer.

Gemma drew herself up, stung. “Why would I lie about that?” She
couldn’t believe Doug had said something so insulting.

“So the police haven’t been here yet,” he said.

“Why would they come here?” Brady asked.

Doug reached to touch Gemma’s arm, but she jerked away from
him. His voice sounded hollow when he spoke. “I think we’re all extremely
stressed and confused right now. I know I am. I’m sorry, Gemma. I don’t know
what I was thinking.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Brady said. He was
wearing his cop eyes again.

“Mark Taylor’s office was vandalized last night, too.
Fortunately, no one was there to get hurt. This morning he cancelled all his
appointments for the week and dropped off the map.”

The implications of Brady’s question hit her like a physical
slap. “It says here Dawkins’s office was part of a string of break-ins at
downtown legal offices,” Gemma said. “Why would the police question me?”

“That’s what I’m asking, too.” Brady said. “But you’ve danced
neatly around the answer, counselor.”

“Sam Dawkins was representing Ned in the divorce,” Gemma said.
“Mark Taylor is my divorce attorney. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” Doug said, looking anxiously
at Brady. “All these things seem to be centering on Gemma. I think that’s a
cause for concern, but then I care about her,” he added with a nasty edge in his
voice, “not just what I can get from her.”