Promise Her (17 page)

No matter which scenario proved correct, the question still remained—who killed Tempest and set up Lisa? And why?

Douglas went to the door of Lisa’s room, looked in. Her eyes were closed. Papers from the file were scattered on the bed. He went in as quietly as possible and put the papers back in the folder and onto the night table.

He started to turn out the light. Couldn’t. All he could do was look at her, inhale her sweetness.

The urge to crawl under the covers with her was so strong he had to get out of there. Shutting off the light, he almost ran from the room.

Thoughts like that could get him in more trouble than he could handle.

He went to the den and turned on the TV, but nothing interested him. His interest lay in bed a few feet away.

****

The next morning, Lisa opened her eyes and curled deeper into the covers for a couple more minutes, trying to ignore the aches that followed her there. “It’s going to be a Tylenol day.” Douglas couldn’t find out. But she didn’t know how good an actress she was. Sighing, she pulled herself out of bed and made it to the bathroom. She remembered what she’d promised TJ and, instead of taking a shower, simply washed up. “I hate this.”

Doing a few stretches, she tried not to moan at the effort.

She dressed slowly in a western shirt. No jeans. They were too tight on her abrasions. She found a pair of black, loose-legged slacks and pulled them on. A touch of lipstick, a comb through her hair and she was ready to go.

No way was Douglas going to keep her here.

When she got to the kitchen, Douglas wasn’t there.

If he left without me there will be war.

Then she heard him in his office. His low chuckle drew her closer. “Sorry, babe. I’m out of pocket for a while.”

Silence.

Then, “I’m taking care of my little sister after her accident. I’ll call once I’m free.”

“What?” Lisa blew out a quiet curse.

“No. No dinner. Not here or at a restaurant. I told you I’m tied up with this. I’ll make it up to you soon.”

More silence as he was obviously listening.

“Sorry,” he said and hung up.

He made two more similar calls. Each made Lisa’s anger rise another notch. The man was a first class womanizer.

She went to the kitchen, made a pot of coffee. “Little sister, huh?” She slammed a few dishes on the counter, banged a pot on the stove. “I’m not his sister,” she almost cried. “I’m not.”

But she knew that in his eyes, she was. The thought didn’t make her feel better.

By the time he crawled out of his office, she was in a snit.

“What’s going on?”

“Not a thing.” The words came out between tightly compressed lips. Why did she have to fall for such a jerk? He loved every woman he met. Except her.

“Lisa! Are you all right?”

“Never better,” she said as she loped past him, opened the fridge and grabbed a container of yogurt.

In the heat of anger, aches and pains were forgotten as white-hot fury consumed her.

“Then sit down while I get you a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll get my own.” She jerked a cup out of the cabinet, filled it and went to the table.

The coffee, though hot, felt good.

Bringing a cup to the table he sat opposite her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting different this morning.”

Get used to it,
she thought. “Are you ready to go?”

“No. Are you?”

“I’m waiting on you, Douglas,” she said sweetly.

****

Douglas opened the door of the SUV and tried to help Lisa in, but was met with a glare so hot it would melt wax. What had gotten into her? She’d been on a tear all morning and he didn’t have a clue. Was she hurting? Worried? What?

Another quick glance. Blue eyes threw daggers. What had he missed?

Everything was fine last night.

At least he’d thought so.

He sighed inwardly. No sense in racking his brain. She’d come out of it in her own good time.

“I thought we’d check the brokerage firm first.”

“Fine,” she snapped.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He couldn’t stand it. Even hurting, Lisa was even-tempered. And she was always warm and friendly. Not this morning. “Are you hurting?”

“I’m better. Good enough to go back to my apartment tomorrow.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes, I can. If you won’t take me, TJ will come and get me.”

His heart fell to the floor. Didn’t she know how much danger she was in?

Didn’t she know how much he cared?

Chapter Sixteen

Lisa sat in one of the comfortable chairs in the reception area at the Brokerage house watching Douglas as he charmed the receptionist into getting Tempest’s fund manager, Ralph Hoyt, to see them.

With a wide smile, the woman whispered something to Douglas. He smiled back, showing perfect white teeth and emerald green eyes to their best advantage. He oozed that sex appeal most women found so charming.

Lisa wanted to laugh—then cry. He was just being Douglas. Right now, it was helping, but she could wring his neck.

Mr. Hoyt came out to greet them. He took Douglas’ card, walked them back to his office.

Three comfortable chairs, a desk, file cabinet and a credenza with a computer and fax machine weren’t the least crowded in the spacious office. It fairly oozed old money and good taste.

He sat behind his desk, peered at them through granny glasses, waved them to take a seat. “I don’t know what more I can tell you that you don’t know already,” he said. “According to our files, Tempest’s father set up the trust for her soon after he came into money. He wanted to make sure she would be taken care of.”

“Did Mr. Collier make provisions for any other children?” Douglas asked.

“He had no other children,” Hoyt said, looking at a file. His mouth pursed as if he’d eaten something sour.

“What about Tempest’s twin?” Lisa asked.

Hoyt’s head jerked up. “I wasn’t aware she had a twin.” Visibly shaken, he looked at them with dismay. “You must be mistaken.”

“We’re not mistaken,” Douglas said. “So I’m asking again; were provisions made for the sister? Now that Tempest is dead it could be important.”

Hoyt swallowed hard. “None. When Ms. Wheatley came to me about the missing money, I thought perhaps she was, you know…maybe had emotional problems or something.”

“Why would you think such a thing?” Lisa asked, dismayed that the man couldn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.

Hoyt shrugged. “Because she withdrew the money herself. What was I to think?”

“Are you sure it was Tempest? What if it was her twin?” Douglas asked.

Hoyt turned several shades paler. “Couldn’t be.”

“You say that, because?” Douglas asked.

“Because I sat right here, watched her sign for the money. It was Tempest Wheatley.”

“Can you show us her signature?” Lisa asked.

He studied them for a moment. “No. I’d have to consult with our attorney first. Sorry.”

After that he clammed up and wouldn’t say another word. Lisa had done her research before they got here and knew the brokerage firm would be responsible for the missing money if circumstances proved it was given to the wrong person. Ralph Hoyt was covering his ass.

“One more thing,” Douglas asked. “Do you have surveillance tapes?”

“In here?” Hoyt asked, his facial expression stunned, his color rising.

“Anywhere?”

“In the reception area, yes.”

“Would you have the tape of the times the money went missing?”

“It didn’t go missing,” Hoyt said stiffly.

“If it did, do you have tapes?” Douglas asked again.

“Perhaps.”

“We’d like to see them.”

“I’ll need a warrant to release them.”

“If that’s how you want to play this,” Douglas said as they were escorted out the door.

“Doesn’t that prove Storm took the money?” Lisa asked when they were away from the office.

“It’s the most logical explanation.”

Douglas helped her into the SUV. She was moving slower than normal, but couldn’t help it.

“Next stop, HPD?” she asked.

“You got it.” He looked over at her. “Are you up to it?”

She wasn’t. Not because of aches or pains, but because she didn’t want to be questioned again. The cops had all but accused her of murder. Lisa didn’t know how to prove her innocence any more now than she did before.

“You’re still my lawyer, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m fine with it.”

“You shouldn’t worry, you know,” he said, giving her the same sexy smile he'd given the receptionist. “We’ll find who did this to Tempest, and to you.”

Darn him. As upset as she was with him and his girlfriends, he still managed to take her breath away. Somehow, he always said the right thing. Part of that charm of his, she supposed.

When he came around to help her out at police headquarters, she was already out of the SUV and heading inside.

“Wait up, Lisa.”

“I want to get this over with.” She wanted to get back to his house, pack her belongings, and be ready to go back to her apartment in the morning.

As she watched him go up to the officer and ask for Detective Ryan, her gullible heart kicked up a notch.

Little Sister, huh! She’d spend one more night. No more.

Detective John Ryan was in charge of Tempest’s murder and had investigated Lisa’s accident. She’d endured just about all of his questions she could handle and was grateful Douglas was here to field further queries.

Ryan led them down the hall. Lisa couldn’t help but compare the brokerage office with this one. Ryan’s office could use a good face-lift, including a paint job and new flooring, whereas Hoyt’s reflected money and success.

When they were seated in his small cubicle, he turned to her. “How are you doing?”

“Better than the last time you saw me.”

“Good.”

“Have you found anyone who saw a person around Lisa’s horse who shouldn’t be there the night she was hurt?” Douglas asked.

Ryan’s gaze shifted from Lisa to Douglas. “No.”

“You must have a theory. Something. Things like this don’t just happen, they’re made to happen.”

“You’re right, Mr. Callahan. They are.”

“And?”

Penetrating brown eyes fixed on Lisa. “Everyone we talked to told us what an experienced rider you are. They were shocked you took such a fall.”

“I’ve been riding most of my life.”

“I understand that. It’s probably why you weren’t hurt any worse than you were.”

“I’ve taken tumbles before.”

He chuckled. “I’ll bet you have.”

She leaned across the desk. “Do you know who did this to me?”

He spread his hands. “No. But I have a theory.”

“Are you going to tell us?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. He was a seasoned cop and, according to Darin, had a reputation for getting to the truth pretty quickly. So why was he looking at her as if she were the guilty party?

“Perhaps you cut the cinch yourself so suspicion of Ms. Wheatley’s murder would go elsewhere?”

“What?” Hadn’t she thought of this theory herself? Hadn’t she outlined it just as he said? Someone was clever. But who?

She jumped to her feet, felt heat rise to her face. They weren’t going to do this to her.

Douglas stood to stand beside her. “This is absurd. Have you seen her abrasions? Do you know how she’s suffered? No. You don’t have a clue. Lisa didn’t do this to herself any more than she poisoned Tempest Wheatley. HPD needs to pull its head out and find the real criminal.”

“Sit down. Both of you.”

“We’re leaving. It’s clear you’re open to only one theory.” Douglas started for the door.

Lisa took his arm, pulled him back. “They need to know, Douglas. What they choose to do with the information will be up to them.”

“What information?”

Douglas turned back, but didn’t sit down. “Tempest Wheatley had a twin. It’s possible the twin stole money from her trust and Tempest thought it was Harold. The twin needs to be found and questioned. If you get a warrant, the brokerage firm will give you the signature of the person who took the money. You can compare it with Tempest’s. They also have surveillance videos. You might want to look at them. Maybe then, you’ll find out who signed for her trust money.”

Detective Ryan’s face flushed a deep red. “How did you find this out?”

“We looked,” Lisa said. “Which is more than you’re doing.” She turned to Douglas. “Now we can leave.”

They left the detective on the phone.

“Will they do anything about the twin?” Lisa asked when they were on their way to Douglas’ house. She sank back against the seat. She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, how draining the day had been.

“Can’t say,” he answered. “We’ll check with Darin later and see if he can find out anything.”

“Douglas?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no way we can prove I didn’t cut the cinch. And there’s no way we can prove I didn’t put poison in Tempest’s glass. Even if we find the twin, it won’t prove anything other than she stole money from her sister.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I could go to jail.”

“You’re not going to jail. I won’t let you go to jail. That’s a promise.”

“How can you stop it? If HPD thinks they have enough evidence, they’ll arrest me.”

Douglas swallowed the bile that rose to his throat.

His gaze went to her. She hadn’t smiled all morning. Lisa always had a smile. Even in the ambulance, even in the hospital, she’d managed to flash a few.

How could he reassure her when he didn’t know how they were going to get out of this himself?

When he reached for her hand, she pulled away. That wasn’t like her either. Lisa was different today. Perhaps everything she’d been through and been accused of was sinking in.

She stared out the window, her profile as beautiful as always.

Something turned over in his chest.

“I won’t let them arrest you, Lisa,” he promised. But his voice wasn’t his own. Could she hear the uncertainty? He hoped not.

She looked both frightened and angry. Little wonder. She was being wrongly accused.

He wanted to pull her close, hold and reassure her. His arm went around her shoulder. He leaned close enough to inhale her scent. Then pulled back. He couldn’t do this. She’d probably slap him.