Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (37 page)

“That makes me feel even worse for her, Reva.”

“Me, too.”

I turned around. “So it’s the norm for the Friends?

To see the residents as dollar signs?”

“That’s all we are to most people, Julie. Medicare, Medicaid, funeral planning, free scooters, adjustable beds, wheelchairs, and prescription medicine programs. That’s why I like Luella the best of all the volunteers. She never makes me feel like a number.”

386

Yeah, but Luella sure had Vernon Sloane’s number. All five million of them. “Well, you’re number one in my book. I appreciate all your help.”

Reva snorted. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

The slanted jeweled green eyes on her retro cat clock shifted; the long tail twitched back and forth, announcing the top of the hour. I sighed. “I should go. I have a couple of things to finish up at the office before I can call it a day.”

“You all done with this case, then?”

“I’m not sure. I definitely need to regroup.”

“I wish you luck.”

Her shoulders slumped as she cleared the dishes from the little table. Even her sassy hairbow drooped.

Guess she thought I’d gotten what I’d needed and wouldn’t be back, which made me feel like a heel.

But she’s right, isn’t she?

Yes, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change. I wanted to change. Besides, hadn’t I been bitching about having too much free time in my off hours? I genuinely liked Reva and suspected she and I were more alike than either of us knew. God knew I could use a wise woman in my life.

“You kicking me to the curb, Reva? Because I was hoping the next time I stopped by you’d crack that bottle of Jack Daniels instead of serving me that shitty tasting tea.”

Her lips quirked. “Such a potty mouth.”

387

“I’ve heard librarians have seriously creative language once you get them drunk. They start throwing out words like
lugubrious
and
verisimilitude
and get into fistfights about the misuse of the Dewey decimal system. ” I fixed her bow. “Let’s test that theory. How about a week from Wednesday? Sevenish? You can tell me about your bad boy and I’ll tell you about mine?”

“Sounds like a deal.”

“Until then, try to stay out of trouble, spy girl.

And if you can’t be good, have fun being bad.”

388

On the way back across town, I’d come up with a couple different scenarios.

Vernon Sloane had given Luella paperwork for safekeeping. No-brainer what kind of documents he wanted hidden from his snoopy granddaughter. Legal documents, like a new will.

By requiring a copy of a will to be filed on-site, Bradley Boner knew exactly how much each resident was worth. He knew who had heirs and who didn’t. It was like a fucking treasure map. Encouraging seniors to gift their entire bank accounts to the Prime Time Friends organization. In exchange for a cheap plaque on the wall in the common area?

I’d hoped Luella wasn’t in on it, but courting Vernon Sloane for a five-million-dollar donation to Prime Time Friends would be a huge coup for her.

389

I smoked, my brain playing ring-around-the-rosy with the possibilities.

Then the truth smacked me upside the head.

Luella was hiding the latest will as a bargaining chip.

She could blackmail Amery, demanding a large chunk of the five million, or else she’d turn over Vernon’s newly inked will, and Amery would get nothing.

If Vernon had written a new will, wouldn’t the attorney’s office have a copy? Yes. But would a lawyer even let a man with dementia write a new will? Probably not. Which meant Vernon might not have used an attorney. There were plenty of those “create-a-will”

kits, and I’d think an old folks’ home would be a perfect place to find them, which would also explain why Luella hadn’t come forth with the other will yet.

Luella wouldn’t be that naïve, threatening a murderer, would she? If Amery killed her grandfather for money, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill Luella.

How could I prove it?

I couldn’t.

My other get-Amery-to-confess idea was just as lame, but still an option I’d have to fine-tune.

I flipped on my computer and ran a records search on Beth McClanahan, narrowing the age scan to ten years. Then I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. A catnap would revive me. Why was I so damn tired all the time? Unfortunately, I hadn’t devoted my nighttime hours to sextracurricular activities with Martinez.

390

My cell phone rang. I was disappointed when TM

didn’t pop up on the caller ID.

“Hey, Brittney.”

“I can’t believe you told her!”

“Told who what?”

“My mom. You told her that stuff I said to you in confidence, and now look what you did. I knew I shoulda listened to him about not trusting you.”

Him who? Dad probably. At least Trish was trying to rectify her mistakes. I didn’t respond, feeling stung she’d automatically jumped in to accuse me of wrongdoing.

Brittney babbled in the awkward silence. “Mom came in my room last night and started asking me all these embarrassing questions about the hired man.”

Her voice turned churlish. “If he’d touched me in my private parts. That’s just gross. What did you tell her?

Why would she ask that?”

“Because she was worried about you, Britt.”

“That’s exactly what she said. So I think you put her up to it.”

“No, I didn’t. But even if I did, did you tell her the truth?”

Sullen silence.

“I’ve got plenty of stuff to do besides listen to you sulk on the phone.”

Sniff. Sniff.

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

391

Count to ten. “Look. I didn’t rat you out, okay?

Your mom came to me and all I told her was that she should ask you about it.” I paused to let that sink in.

“Really?”

“Really. So why the tears?”

She wailed, “Because right after that my mom and dad had a huge fight. They never fight. Mom was yelling and Dad wouldn’t even talk to her and then he took his stuff and slept in the barn.”

“Take a deep breath. Parents fight. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I think they were fighting about you.”

I frowned.

“Are you trying to break them up? Because you’ve been spending time with my mom and if you’re telling her the same kinda stories about Dad beating you up that you told me, and then they get a divorce, it’ll be your fault.”

Why the fuck did I let her—and Dad and Trish—

blame me for everything that went wrong in their oh-so-perfect lives? “Again, fighting doesn’t mean they’re going to get a divorce. The best thing you can do is to stay out of it.”

“Really?”

The outer office door slammed. “Really. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah.” More snuffling. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

More guilt. Big goddamn surprise.

392

My office door opened. Silver crutches caught the fluorescent light when Martinez paused in the doorway.

Be still, my heart. My blood pulsed, more promi-nently in some spots than others.

Tony shut the door. And locked it. He stalked me with that look. The look that made me forget my own damn name.

“Julie? You still there?”

“Ah, Britt. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I shut the phone off and closed the distance between us in two steps. “I missed you. Really missed you. Going crazy kind of missing you, Martinez.”

“I heard.”

“How’s your leg?”

“What leg?”

“I’m serious.”

“Serious enough to take off my pants and judge for yourself?”

I lunged for him at the same time he lunged for me. The crutches crashed to the floor. We followed in a tangle of tongues, arms, and legs.

When we were both mostly naked, I broke free from a toe-curling kiss to drown in his eyes, losing myself in the look that was mine alone. “You sure—”

“Yes. And I’m tired of you being on top.”

He flipped us, then he was on me, in me, and I didn’t care about anything else.

393

Usually after an intense bout of sex, Martinez and I rolled around in bed. Rolling on the cold office floor wasn’t an option. We dressed, but he kept me close, kept touching me as if we were still naked.

“How much longer do you have to be on crutches?”

“Been wearing a knee brace the last two days. I left it off after the last PT appointment I just finished.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew I was coming here and I didn’t want to mess with taking it off and putting it back on again.”

“Knew you were gonna get lucky, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I should be insulted.”

“You’re not. You’re wishing we could go at it again.”

“True.” His backside rested against the front of my desk and I stood between his outstretched legs. I ran my fingers through his hair as he kissed my neck.

“You can’t stay, can you?”

“No.”

“Did you ditch your security team again?”

“I’d like to pretend I did, but they’re probably sitting in the hallway waiting for me.”

“Do they have a tracking device on you or something?”

394

Tony’s warm mouth brushed my collarbone until his lips reached the necklace. I felt him smile against my throat. “You’re wearing it.”

“I always wear it.”

“I noticed. I’m glad.” He kissed the skin beneath the pendant. “I didn’t know if you’d like it since you don’t wear jewelry. Not even . . .”

The necklace I’d taken back after I’d killed the person who’d killed my brother. Happy as I was to have Ben’s prized possession, I had never put it on and I never would. “Not the same.”

“I figured. But I wondered if there was another reason.”

“No. The reason is simple; I don’t have any classy bling. Feel free to shower me with precious gems any time your heart desires, baby. I’m partial to big stones.”

He laughed softly. “I know.”

“Where’d you get this?”

“It belonged to my mother.”

I angled his head back to look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Dammit, Martinez, you shouldn’t trust me with a family heirloom. What if I lose it?”

“You won’t.”

“But—”

“See? This is the reason I didn’t tell you.”

“Why? Because you were worried I’d be too paranoid to wear it since it’s so valuable?”

“It’s not more valuable to me than the person 395

wearing it, Julie.”

Melt my resistance, why don’t you.
“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is. I didn’t tell you because you’d see it for what it really is.”

“What’s that?”

“A symbol of permanence.”

My heart slammed into my throat.

“You really think I’d give this to you if I thought you’d walk out of my life? Or if I’d walk out of yours?”

He curled his hands around my head and his thumbs stroked my cheeks. His eyes were dark, black as mo-lasses, but not hard and cold. “Although it took you long enough to say it the first time, you can tell me you love me more than once.”

My cheeks flamed. “Yeah? Maybe I’m waiting for you to say it back to me, asshole.”

His right eyebrow winged up. “Asshole?”

“You have to admit it’s been pretty one-sided when I’ve been the only one—”

“
Te quiero mucho.
”

“In English,” I snapped. But a strange feeling unfurled in my chest. “Wait a minute. You’ve been mumbling that to me . . .”

“For months, blondie.”

Breathe. In. Out.

“You really need to buy a Spanish-language dic-tionary.”

Martinez had been telling me he loved me. For 396

months. He understood I’d be too chicken to put myself out there first, so he’d taken the risk upon himself.

Stupid, sweet man.

But, Christ on a Kawasaki, I was also the world’s biggest fucking idiot. Why hadn’t I seen what everyone else had?

Are you ever going to allow yourself to be happy?

He’s crazy fucking in love with you.

Martinez mooning around you all the time.