Chapter Two
"That’s
all I can tell you about my sister," Tabby said to the homicide
investigator, who’d introduced herself as Detective Carlucci. "I didn’t
see or talk to the man. I don’t know what he wanted to tell me."
"Any
idea where your sister might be staying?" the detective asked.
Tabby
gave a negative shake of her head. "I don’t. Since I hadn’t heard from her
again I figured she’d moved on."
"When
she contacted you, what did she want?"
Still
feeling the sting from the visit, she sighed. "Beth was having a cash–flow
problem and asked if I could help her. I gave her what was in my purse, which
wasn’t much. Then she was gone. I really don’t know anything more." Tabby
glanced toward the suite where a gurney with a sheet draped over the dead man
was being wheeled out. "Do you know what killed him?"
"Blunt
force trauma to the head."
Turning
her attention back to the detective, Tabby asked, "Why would someone do
that? Who is he?"
"It’s
my job to find out." Detective Carlucci flipped her notebook closed and
dug out a business card from the side pocket of her tailored, expensive–looking
suit jacket. "If you think of anything else, give me a call."
Taking
the card, Tabby nodded. "I will."
The
detective moved to confer with her partner, a tall, blond–haired man with
sharp, vivid green eyes that seemed to take everything in at once.
"You
okay?" Jon asked as he came to stand beside her, his handsome face full of
concern. The crispness of his white dress shirt against his olive skin made his
square jaw and high cheek bones more pronounced. Tonight he’d swept his dark
hair back in a controlled style that complemented his tailored black suit,
though she much preferred the more tousled way he normally wore it.
She
resisted the urge to lean against his broad shoulders for comfort. He was her
boss. And that was a line she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cross. Not even
because of a dead man.
She shivered. The creepiness of the turn of
events made her skin crawl.
"You’re
cold. Here," Jon said and draped her wrap around her shoulders.
"It’s
just so sad. Who do you think killed him? And what did he want to tell
me?"
"I
don’t know. But the police will figure it out. Let’s get you home."
"But
the guests!" She didn’t relish rejoining the party and having to field questions,
but doing so was part of her job. "We can’t just leave."
"Don’t
worry. I’ll come back and make sure everyone’s had a good time," he said,
his dark eyes alive yet so tender as his gaze touched her.
The
unmistakable buzz of a cell phone on vibrate reverberated around them. Jon
patted his breast pocket. "Not mine."
"It’s
mine," she said, gesturing to the blue beaded evening bag dangling from
the crook of Jon’s elbow. Amid such grim circumstances, an amused smile played
at the corners of her mouth. Jon was the only man she knew secure enough in his
own masculinity to hold a women’s purse without embarrassment. That was one of
the many traits she enjoyed and appreciated about her boss.
With
a rueful grin, he slid the bag to his hand and held it out. She opened the
latch and fished out her small red cell. She glanced at the number, didn’t
recognize it. "Hello?"
"Listen
carefully and do not react. I’m watching you," said a muffled voice, whose gender was indistinguishable. "If you ever want to see your sister alive
again, go home and await instructions."
The
line went dead.
Terror
chomped through Tabby but she forced herself not to let it show, even though it
sounded like her sister had been kidnapped.
Quickly,
she closed the phone, took her bag from Jon and said, "You’re right. I
need to go home. You stay and make sure the guests are happy."
Without
waiting for a response, she hurried toward the elevator. To her chagrin, Jon
matched her pace. As the elevator doors slid open, she put her hand on Jon’s chest
to stop him from entering. She felt his heart beating, the tempo nearly
matching her own. Awareness of his proximity sent shivers of a different kind
sliding over her skin.
"Really.
You stay," she managed to say.
Capturing
her hand and pulling her into the elevator, he said, "Really. I’m not."
The
elevator doors slid shut, blocking out prying eyes. Tabby bit her lower lip.
How was she going to get rid of Jon?
"Spill
it," he said.
"I…
What are you talking about?"
He
grabbed her purse.
"Hey!"
He
undid the clasp, reached in and dug out her cell. "You received a call
that upset you. Who was it from?" He checked the call log.
Staring
straight at the door so he couldn’t see the panic in her eyes, she said,
"It’s none of your business."
Reaching
past her, he hit the stop button. The elevator ground to a halt. "We’re
not leaving until you tell me what has you so spooked."
Frustration
and panic vied for prominence in her mind. She needed to get home. She needed
to be there when the call came in about her sister. Even though they weren’t
close, Beth was still family.
Over
the years, Tabby had prayed her sister was safe and happy. And when Beth
appeared out of the blue, Tabby had wept with joy that God had brought her
sister back to her. Tabby tried to ignore the disquieting knowledge that Beth
wasn’t like the girl who’d run away. The cold, hard person standing in her
kitchen hadn’t wanted a warm and fuzzy reunion, only money. Confused and hurt,
Tabby had done what she could for her sister.
As
she would now. After all, they shared the same blood and Beth obviously needed
her.
"I
can’t say anything," Tabby said, looking up at her strong, handsome boss
and yearning to confide in him, wishing she could slip into his embrace and
forget the horrible events of the night.
But
he was her boss and there was no way she’d ever jeopardize her job or her
integrity by becoming just another notch on his belt.
Though
eight years her senior, Jon had a youthful exuberance for life that made him
good at his profession and also a desirable catch. Touted as one of Boston’s
most eligible bachelors, Jon had his pick of women. And usually dated several
at a time. Another reason she would never let herself fall for him. She wanted
a love that would last a lifetime. So far, she hadn’t found it.
Jon
stepped closer, his six–foot frame crowding her into the corner. "Who
called and what did they want?"
"Please,
I have to get home."
He
reached out to run his knuckles down her cheek. "Trust me, Tabby. I can
help you."
"You’re
really not going to let me out until I tell you, are you?"
He
shook his head.
"Fine."
Conceding defeat in the stubbornness department. "The caller said if I
want to see my sister alive, I need to go home and wait for further
instructions."
Jon
straightened, his expression darkening. "Was the caller a man or
woman?"
"The
voice was digitally altered, so I don’t know." She shivered again as fear
traipsed up her spine. "And the person said he or she was watching
me!"
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