Trust Me (28 page)

"Was he ever in San Quentin?"

"No. He started in juvey, after which he did some time in county jail.

Then he spent two years at Folsom."

"So how did Burke know him?"

"I'm looking for the connection."

"There has to be one, right? He was here to kill me."

"I'm glad you had that gun. Without it..." He paused. "I don't even want to think what would've happened without it."

She smiled as she rested her forehead against the door lintel. She liked the warmth in his voice, the concern, but her head was still spinning. Maybe she shouldn't have gotten up just yet. "How come you're working? I thought you had Jeremy today."

"I do. I'm piddling around from home, trying to track down some people named Zufelt. Their son crossed Oliver when the boys were in eighth grade and didn't live another two years."

"You think he's a victim?"

"At this point it's just a hunch."

"What's Jeremy doing while you piddle?"

"He's organizing his room."

"I don't want this to take you away from your time with him."

"It's okay."

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But wasn't that what David was afraid of--that if he let himself care about her she'd eventually compete with Jeremy for his love and attention?

"Isn't the sheriff handling what happened here last night?"

"Deputy Meeks is contacting some of the people who went to high school and college with Burke, asking if anyone recognizes the name Lorenzo Bishop. I'm going to call Jane, and Oliver's parents, see what they have to say. We need to find out if he ever knew this guy. If not, he could be connected to some other case you've been working on at The Last Stand. Or maybe Noah Burke sent him."

"Noah wouldn't send someone to kill me," she argued. "It's a pretty big leap from adulterer to killer."

"I've met other men who've made that leap, Skye, and women, too.

Self-preservation is a pretty strong instinct."

She understood that. It was for the sake of self-preservation that she was attempting to get over David and move on with her life.

"Are you still going to the fund-raiser tonight?" he asked.

"Of course."

There was a brief silence. "With that guy--Charlie something?"

"Charlie Fox."

"How well do you know him?"

Was that jealousy in his voice--or just caution? "Why do you ask?"

"Because he's taking my spot. Call him up and cancel. Tell him you have a date."

She couldn't believe how badly she wanted to do exactly what he suggested. But that survival instinct warned her against it. "No. It's your weekend with Jeremy. Stay home and enjoy him."

"I have a sitter lined up, a friend's teenage boy, a kid I trust and Jeremy likes. We're all set."

What did she say now? That she'd dump Charlie? No, David had had his chance. She was finished with wanting him and getting nothing. "It's too hard, David. Especially now."

There was another silence, this one longer than before. Finally, he said, "What's changed?"

"I guess I just got tired of waiting."

"So you're over me already?"

"Yes," she lied and hung up.

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Skye had never seen Peter Vaughn, their most reliable volunteer, wearing anything other than a pair of holey jeans and a Black Sabbath Tshirt, but he looked great in a tux, despite the faux Mohawk.

Spotting her the moment he came through the door, he walked over to say hello.

"Wow, I almost didn't recognize you," she teased as he approached.

The shy smile he gave her made her smile, too. "I can hang with the

'in' crowd," he said proudly, and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate lapel. "I sold fifty tickets to this thing. I had to come see how it turned out."

At eighteen, he was probably the youngest attendee in the room--and the only one with tattoos all the way up his neck--but Skye was glad he felt such a part of The Last Stand. "You did a great job."

"We're making a difference."

"I hope so." Skye fingered a strand of hair that had fallen down her nape from her up-do. She'd taken thirty minutes to have her nails done before the fund-raiser began, and she used one to shove that derelict curl back into place. She figured she might as well enjoy such a feminine luxury while she had the chance. The new nails would have to come off tomorrow.

They made it too difficult to handle a gun.

Briefly, she wondered how many other women in the room had to worry about fake nails getting in the way of shooting someone.

"Hey, you look pretty hot yourself," Peter said, and she belatedly realized he'd been sizing her up for some time.

She let her smile widen. "It's the nails."

"It's the body!" he responded bluntly.

She laughed. "A side benefit of my passion for exercise, I guess."

"Most people think that's the main benefit."

"I'm not most people."

"I heard about what happened," he said, growing serious.

He was referring to the shooting at her house last night, of course.

Thanks to her affiliation with The Last Stand, and her background, which 179

was already sensational enough, the incident had been splashed all over the news. A local program with an especially zealous reporter had even picked up on the fact that this second attack had occurred on the same day as Burke's release from prison, and had reported his stabbing, too.

It was a violent day for both victims' advocate Skye Kellerman and the man who attempted to rape her at knifepoint four years ago....

Since the guests had begun to arrive, Skye had had to respond to some comment or question about last night from almost every person she met.

I'm so glad you're okay.... That must've been terrifying.... Do you know the guy who broke in?... No? Do you think he's affiliated with that dentist who attacked you before ?... But Oliver Burke's in the hospital, right?... I saw that on the news.... Since you're okay, I can say this: You couldn't have staged a better publicity stunt. What a turnout!... I bet you raise some serious dough tonight, eh ?... Good thing you got him....

In some respects, it didn't feel like such a good thing. Lorenzo Bishop had to be someone's son/grandson/brother. Maybe husband, or, God forbid, father. Skye was doing her best not to consider that aspect, not to think of him as human at all, so she could hold herself together long enough to get through this night. If only she could forget the gory details... But she couldn't have forgotten a second of it, even without all the reminders.

"Peter, you haven't seen anyone unfamiliar hanging around the office, have you?" she asked. Skye had told herself she wouldn't investigate tonight.

It wasn't the time or the place. She needed to focus on wining and dining the people who'd paid to be here and could make such a positive impact on what she, Sheridan and Jasmine were trying to build. But she planned to question all the volunteers as soon as possible and couldn't resist the opportunity to ask Peter right now.

He blinked at her. "Unfamiliar?"

"The man who came to my house last night had a map."

"That doesn't mean he was hanging around the office."

"I'm unlisted."

"Doesn't matter. Anyone who owns property or has a utility account can be traced."

He'd already learned a lot at TLS. "I have to start somewhere," she said.

"I wish I could help you, but I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary."

Before Skye could press him for the names of anyone who'd been in the office this past week--it was his job to organize the other volunteers--

Sheridan joined them. "You okay?" she asked, touching Skye's elbow.

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Skye allowed herself to be drawn into a quick hug. "I'm fine."

Sheridan and Peter hugged, too. "You look great," Sheridan told him.

"I feel like a proud mother."

He grimaced at her words. "Mother? Come on. I'm almost nineteen.

Maybe if I dressed up at the office occasionally, one of you wouldn't mind the age difference between us."

"Why settle for only one?" Skye quipped.

"Good point." He straightened his tie, his tone purposely cocky. "I can handle both of you at the same time. That's the beauty of youth."

Sheridan rolled her eyes. "Where's Charlie?" she asked Skye.

Skye glanced around the room, which was beginning to fill up. "I asked him to meet me here. I wanted to have a good reason to keep him away from the booze tonight. The fact that he'll have to drive himself home is it."

"Smart," Sheridan said with a chuckle. "And practical, since we had to come early to decorate." She angled her head slightly to the right and lowered her voice. "Did you see Senator Denatorre come in?"

"No." Somehow Skye had missed him. But that didn't surprise her.

She wasn't exactly at her social best and had mostly stayed in the corner opposite the hors d'oeuvres table where there was less of a crowd. She'd also been searching for Charlie. Since he was here as her guest, he didn't have a ticket. She wanted to make sure he felt comfortable. And, for once, she was eager to hear all about the latest evil machinations of his ex-wife. At least it had nothing to do with her own problems.

"I already greeted the senator," Sheridan went on. "So you don't have to go over right away, but you should probably say hello before we sit down to dinner. He wants to meet you and Jasmine."

"Where is Jas?" Skye asked.

"Still on her way from Ft. Bragg. She'll be here soon."

"I'll say hello to the senator once I've got my escort in tow," Skye said pointedly. "Wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea."

"Whatever it takes to impress him."

"Damn, even in the charity realm you gotta suck up to somebody,"

Peter muttered. But he'd spotted a fellow volunteer and didn't seem to be paying a lot of attention. "Catcha later," he said with a wave and left to join his friend.

"So, where's your date?" Skye asked.

"He's here somewhere."

"Who is it?"

"Jonathan."

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"Stivers?"

"Do we know another Jonathan?" she asked innocently.

"That's not fair!" Skye complained. "That's like asking one of the volunteers!"

"I didn't say you couldn't ask one of the volunteers."

"I was under the impression we were trying to get real dates."

"You consider Charlie a real date?" Sheridan countered.

Charlie had arrived and was making his way over to them so Skye had to be careful not to speak too loudly. "Jonathan's a worse cop-out than Charlie, and you know it," she said under her breath.

Sheridan smiled brightly--for Charlie's benefit. "I don't think so.

Sleeping with Jonathan would be like sleeping with my brother, but I'd still go to bed with him before Charlie."

Skye had no chance to respond. Charlie was too close. Sheridan said hello to him and moved on. Skye stayed where she was, making small talk while scanning the room for Jonathan. She wanted to ask if he'd found anything more on
the
Regan case--she felt terrible about Sean--but she didn't see the private investigator anywhere. He was probably standing out in the hall, talking on his cell phone. A bona fide workaholic, he was always on one phone or another.

"Who are you looking for?" Charlie asked when he had to repeat his question about how her work was going. He hadn't mentioned last night's incident, and hard as it was to believe, Skye was pretty sure he hadn't heard.

"Sheridan's date."

"Who'd she bring?"

"Jonathan Stivers."

"I've heard that name before."

"They're friends. He sometimes works as our private investigator."

"I didn't know she was seeing anyone."

"They're not seeing each other. Not really." Jonathan was an old flame of Sheridan's, which would've made Sheridan's choice of escort much more interesting, except that Skye knew the flicker of romantic interest had guttered out more than two years ago.

"Time to live a more balanced life, huh?" she mumbled sarcastically.

"What'd you say?" Charlie asked.

"Nothing." Taking a deep breath, she threw back her shoulders and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. It didn't matter whether or not Sheridan had gotten a real date, she told herself. She'd invited Charlie for a reason, and it certainly wasn't to get laid--no matter how long it had been.

"We need to go over and say hello to Senator Denatorre."

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"We do?"

Skye paused, surprised by his lackluster response. "That's okay, isn't it?"

"I'm a Democrat," he said. "I hate Denatorre."

"Don't worry about it. This is a bipartisan event."

"My ex-wife is a Republican."

Oh, boy...more scarring. "Don't mention your ex-wife to the senator,"

she said and dragged him over.

The senator and his wife were busy conversing with a small crowd.

Skye was standing politely nearby, waiting for a chance to introduce herself, when Bob Gibbons, an aide she'd met at a press conference after the Ubaldi case, noticed her. Taking her elbow, Bob guided her into the circle.

"Senator, this is Skye Kellerman. She's one of the founders of The Last Stand, and possibly their most ardent devotee."

The senator looked as distinguished as a senator should. With dark hair combed back from his forehead, intelligent eyes and perfect teeth, he was a handsome man in his mid-fifties. "It'd be tough to be any more devoted than her associates," he joked, but he extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kellerman."

"The pleasure is mine," she responded. Then he introduced her to his wife.

Perfectly trim and stylishly dressed in a black gown with white cuffs and collar, Roxanne Denatorre gripped Skye's hand as soon as her husband released it. "And who's your companion, Ms. Kellerman?" she asked.

Charlie was standing slightly behind Skye, looking like he'd rather be home. "This is my friend and escort for the evening, Charlie Fox."

"Charlie, you're a lucky man to be in the company of such a lovely woman," Mrs. Denatorre said.

Charlie's eyebrows went up as if he hadn't noticed. "Oh...urn, yes.