Glancing back down at the notes, she observed, These could have just been sent by someone looking to hose you, you know.
Youre most likely correct. But if thats true, the sender will find that Im not, as you put it so eloquently, easily hosed. I wont give in to blackmail.
She almost grinned. There may be a hint of humor beneath all that tailoring, after all. And she didnt doubt his words. He wouldnt be an easy mark, which meant that the sender had grossly underestimated him. Or else was holding something back that would yet prove truly compelling.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, The only note that interests me is the one about my parents accident. Im not going to pay for any information that this person has, if it comes to that. Thats what youre for. By reconstructing the investigation into their deaths, you should be able to answer any questions about what really happened.
During his speech, the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped ten degrees. She decided it was due to the chill in his voice. And what if I find out there was more to their deaths than was ever reported? What then?
His smile was as brilliant and lethal as a keen-edged blade. Thenjustice.
She stared at him while a shiver snaked over her skin. Something about the way he said the word leeched it of its nobility and instilled it with a sense of deadly purpose. I wont do anything illegal. For the first time, it seemed prudent to point that out. Ill use every avenue at my disposal and take advantage of every possible lead, sometimes utilizing unconventional methods. But Ill do it all within the boundaries of the law of Louisiana.
Of course. Id expect nothing less. His tone was normal, making her believe she might have misinterpreted it a moment ago. Except the gooseflesh on her arms was still raised, and her nape was still prickling. With any luck you can have this thing wrapped up shortly, and we can both go about our lives. Ill contact you tomorrow. He approached her, pausing by her chair.
Slowly she rose, sliding the briefcase to the floor. Tomorrow?
When I messenger over the contract and file that you requested.
Ah. Yes. Her tongue suddenly thick, she resisted the urge to wipe her palms on her khakis. He was standing a little too close, as near as hed been when shed turned around on that ladder and found herself almost in his arms. Close enough to have her marveling at the deep blue of his eyes, but retaining enough of her scattered senses to wonder at the secrets behind them.
To our partnership, Ms. Corbett, as brief as it may be.
Her hand raised of its own volition. To our partnership. His hand engulfed hers. It suited her to blame the skip in her pulse on static electricity. But try as she might, she couldnt shake the feeling that shed just made a pact with a very sophisticated, very charming devil.
The plaintive cornet of Bix Beiderbecke wailed from the portable CD Tori had carried into the attic. The blues music provided a perfect backdrop for the task at hand. With resignation layering the ache in her heart, she scanned the contents of the space and wondered where in the world to start.
Rob Landry had been an undisputed pack rat, and she didnt doubt that hed saved more than hed ever thrown out. Furniture was heaped and shoved into one corner, and overflowing boxes teetered in precarious towers, threatening imminent collapse. There were stacks of newspapers, neatly bundled and piled haphazardly almost to the ceiling beams. Why theyd been important enough to keep was beyond her, but then her dad had been the type to let junk mail accumulate, too, until she came in and tossed it. The man had been able to figure every angle of a case and work a source like a master, but hadnt been able to part with a single scrap of paper.
The memory made her lips curve and her eyes mist. The pain twisted just a bit, leaving a wound that she knew from experience would throb for some time. Cancer had stolen both of her parents now. First her mother, and now her beloved dad, who had seemed so indestructible. Right up until that day three months earlier when the pain hed passed off as indigestion had been diagnosed as something a great deal deadlier.
Releasing the breath that had backed up in her lungs, she headed toward the furniture. Shed already been through the downstairs, putting aside the pieces she wanted to save and those that would be donated to the needy. Shed expected this to be easier somehow. The things that he had stored up here wouldnt hold the keen reminders of him, nor still smell of his aftershave. There wouldnt be memories of him here, as there were in every room below. Hed been a big man, but had filled a room more with his presence than his stature. It would be impossible to exorcise those memories from the house, and impossible to live with them. Shed placed it on the market earlier that week.
Tori worked her way trough the chairs and tables that hed deemed too good to throw out. It took an hour to decide there was nothing in the collection that she wanted to save, and she restacked the pieces. Shed use the corner to separate those things to be gotten rid of from the things she wanted to keep. Most of what she had decided to hang on to was downstairs, but there wouldnt be room for all of it in her small house. It would have to go into storage until she had a bigger place.
The newspapers could be tossed without going through them, she determined, passing by them in an effort to get at the boxes. But she must have brushed the stack as she went by, and the entire pile began a slow-motion sway. With a sense of futility, she leaped aside, just in time to avoid being nailed by the bundles as they tumbled to the floor.
The impact of their landing sent up a cloud of dust that sent her into a spasm of sneezing. When her eyes and lungs had cleared, she glared at the mess accusingly. Her dad had tended to keep any newspapers with articles that caught his imagination, talking vaguely about writing a book sometime when he retired. Shed never been able to imagine him in so sedentary a pastime, but had thought it a harmless enough intention until now.
Muttering a few choice words, she set to hauling the papers into yet another pile, this one designated for the trash heap. The headline leaped out at her from the top one of the bundle, and a quick flip through them showed a collection detailing the trial of the notorious New Orleans Ripper, whod been caught and tried a decade earlier after killing a dozen women.
With a grimace, she pushed them aside and started some smaller, steadier piles. Hed had varied interests. Some of the papers were articles on fishing, a passion of his, others on the history of the city. But it was the bottom bundle that caught her eye, with a headline very like the one shed clipped and placed in the file shed given to Tremaine.
Tremaine Heiress Returned Safely.
With a sense of déjà vu she had a sudden recollection of James Tremaines face when hed seen the similar headline in the file shed given him. A grim mask had descended over his features, but not before shed glimpsed the bitter resentment in his eyes. Hed made his feelings toward the press and public prying quite clear, but that didnt stop her from reaching out, tugging at the string that bound the papers together. Flipping through them, she found stories detailing the kidnapping and the car accident a few months later. She scanned the stories, but they elicited no information she hadnt found in her research earlier that week. Something clicked in the rereading, however, something shed forgotten to ask Tremaine about. There had been a third passenger in the car. A third death.