Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

Martha’s phone rang and she picked it up. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at both Torie and Paul, but she concluded the call quickly. “Mister Jameson, if we could speak in private for a moment?”

“Certainly. If you’ll excuse us?”

Torie watched them, but could discern nothing from their body language. Although she’d slept well, she was beginning to fade. It was lunchtime, and she’d not eaten anything.

“Let’s go,” Paul said, taking her arm to ease her around the arriving officers. “Tibbet can come over to O’Briens if he wants to see us.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re getting lunch. You’re too pale, your hands are shaking, and I’m starving.”

“Wait a sec,” Torie said, remembering her shopping. “Missus Prinz,” she said to Martha, “would you mind checking the items I left with you?”

Martha’s lips tightened, but she turned to the nearly invisible closet door in the paneling. Opening it up, she gasped.

“No. No argument,” Paul insisted as they left the building at the end of the day. They’d spent the afternoon with the police going over what had happened to Torie’s things. The shredded garments from Martha’s closet were now in Tibbet’s hands. They’d been notified that they could pick up the few undamaged clothes from the Suites, since they were ready to release the room as a crime scene. According to Tibbet, there wasn’t much left, so Torie would have to go shopping again.

“Until we can find you a new bodyguard, you aren’t going anywhere alone, much less staying alone. I’d rather have you in my guest room than have both of us staying at some characterless hotel. We’ll pick up your remaining things and head to my place.”

“Paul, I don’t want to stay with you. I can call Pam,” Torie began. “And what about the bodyguard from this morning?”

Paul glared at her. “I thought Pam was your best friend.”

“She is.” Torie’s whole body bespoke insult.

“Then don’t get her hurt, dead, her house burned down, or anything else. The same reasons you had when you insisted on staying at the Hilton still apply.”

“I don’t think…” she stopped, and Paul nodded.

“Yes, you do. You think the same thing I do. Whoever this is, whatever it’s about, it’s directed at you.” Paul ushered her into his car. Once he got in, he continued the thought. “Better to be with me, someone who knows what’s up and can, hopefully help. Besides, the bodyguard from this morning could only work today. He has another gig, but he was able to cover you while you were out of my sight.”

Torie frowned into the darkening day. She spoke very little until they had picked up her meager things at the hotel and were driving toward his house.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, either, Paul.”

He laughed. “Oh, come on. Wouldn’t it just be justice for something to happen to me? After all, I’m sure you’ve wished me dead or to the devil at least a hundred times since we met.”

“No,” she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” She turned in the seat to look at him. Since the light was red, he turned to her, grinning.

“Oh, right. How better to get back at me?”

She shook her head. “That’s not the way I work. Never has been.”

“Right,” he smirked, and drove on.

Her cell phone rang. Digging it out of her purse, she answered it.

“Hi, Pam.”

“You’ve got to come, quick,” Pam was panting the words. “It’s the package. There’s been a problem. You gotta come.”

Torie looked at Paul. Crap. He’d never understand. Closing her eyes, she wondered why she cared. What did it matter what he thought of her? He’d made his decision a long, long time ago.

“Turn around, Paul. We’ve got to go to Germantown.”

“What?” Paul snapped.

“It’s a matter of life or death. I’m not kidding.”

“You’re kidding, right? Life or death in Germantown? It’s a suburb.”

“Pam and my cousin Dev are there. Yes. It’s for real.”

“I’m calling Tibbet,” Paul said as he made a squealing U-turn and headed for the interstate.

“No,” Torie screeched and snatched his phone away. “This isn’t about that. It’s something else. But we have to go.”

“We’re on our way, Pam,” she said, cutting off Pam’s stream of chatter. “Can’t talk.”

Slapping the phone closed, she grabbed the armrest as Paul whipped the car onto a side street, screeching to a halt at the curb.

“What the hell is going on?” Paul demanded.

“Pam and I had a little side incident, the day my house burned down. The, um, package, we delivered is really fragile, and…”

“Torie, if you don’t speak English and tell me what the hell you and Pam did, I’m turning the car around and calling Tibbet.”

“You can’t. Really. Just trust me.”

“ Trust you?” His incredulity crushed her heart. “I can’t believe you said that to me, of all people.”

Her nerves, frayed to the point of breaking so many times over the past few weeks, finally gave way. The scream started low and rose until she let loose a howl worthy of a banshee.

Paul recoiled in reaction and she poked a finger into his bicep.

“I want you to shut the hell up. Trust. What the hell do you know about trust? I trusted you, you bastard. You’re the one who told Todd, not me, and I’m supposed to trust you? Ohhhh, no. Then you go from helping me get away, asking me out, being that way with me, to shouting at me afterward? Telling people we were a one-date wonder? Then complain when, after six months, six months, that I’m dating your friend?”

She sat back into her seat with a whump, sat for all of two seconds, then fired up again. “I think you should be really watching who you ask to trust you, buddy. I’ve never been anything…” she shouted, turning back. She felt as if she could shoot fire from her fingertips, she was so mad, as she poked his arm again. “ Anything but honest and truthful with you. You’re the one who betrayed my trust. So suck it up, Jameson. If you want to protect me, fine. I’m going to help my friend since she asked, and has never, ever broken the bonds of friendship. So let’s go. Drive.” When he didn’t put it in gear, she put her hand on the latch and picked up her purse. “Trust me on this, Paul, if nothing else. If I have to get out of this car and call a cab, I will.”

Paul sat for several heartbeats more, just looking at her. His dark eyes betrayed turbulent emotions, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. Her own outburst had her so wound up, so shaken, that she didn’t really want to know.

“Damn it, Paul,” she began, pulling the latch.

He slammed his hand down on the locking mechanism.

“I’m driving.”

The silence was fat and thick with unspoken pain, with memories and bitter words from long ago rising to shake off the dust of time, to bite again. Torie sank into her seat. She’d gotten her way, but at what cost? Her resolve to never speak of those days again, her decision to not go there, was blown.

They pulled into the neighborhood; Torie gave terse directions to get them to Carlos’s house. There were three cars in the driveway. Carlos’s low-slung Jaguar was first, then Pam’s SUV, then what looked like a rental car.

Paul pulled to the curb behind the rental. Torie got out before Paul could cut the engine.

“Where is he?” Torie called as Pam hurried out the door.

“Who?” Paul was quick to follow. “Where is who?”

“More like what, I think,” a male voice drawled from inside. “Come in here, cher cousine and ’splain all this to your Dev, eh?”