As Darkness Gathers (Dark Betrayals Book 2) (19 page)

He’d met us at my apartment midmorning and it was only noon.

“It’s a wireless system, which is quicker to install.” He handed me the paperwork and walked me through setting a code for the system. “You have thirty seconds from the time you open the door to punch in the security code before the alarm goes off. There’s also this red alert button here, which goes out immediately to both our office and the police. I waived the installation fee for you, so if that shows up on your first bill, it’s a bookkeeping error. Just give us a call, and we’ll take it off.”

I shook his hand. “Thank you.”

“I have a daughter about your age.” He clasped my hands. “When Clay called and told me the situation, I thought it was the least I could do.”

“Appreciate it, Bill,” Clay said as he shook the man’s hand.

I wandered to the window after he left. “I can’t even tell a difference. I think I expected there to be a wire strung around the windows with cans and bells on it.”

“And a tiger pit dug into your living room floor?”

I laughed. “Yes, precisely.”

“I may be able to arrange that. I think I have a friend at the Cincinnati Zoo.”

I playfully punched him in the stomach, and he made a show of wheezing and doubling over. I’d felt the hard layer of muscle there, though. “You do not.”

He straightened, and his grin was equal parts roguish and boyish. “No, I don’t. Have you ever thought about getting a dog, though?”

I sighed and couldn’t keep the wistfulness from my voice. “I would love a dog. But I’m away from home so often, it wouldn’t be fair to have one. Maybe one day when . . .” I fingered a leaf of the blinds aside, and Clay leaned over my shoulder. “That’s Sydney’s dad pulling up out front. I wonder what he wants.” I made certain the alarm was deactivated before opening the door. “Mr. Beecher, how are you?”

“Hello, Finch. I’m fine, but the more important question is how are
you
? Sydney told me of the trouble you’ve been having.”

“It’s been a little . . . stressful. Please, come in. Is that William in the car?” I waved, but he ducked his head.

“It is. The boy insisted on coming over here with me, but then refused to get out of the car. You know how he is.”

It seemed strange to refer to a man in his midthirties as a boy, but I knew it was how his father still viewed him.
 

“Tell him I said hello. You remember Clay Gandy?”

“Sir.”

“Of course, of course. You look better than when I saw you last.”

Clay smiled, and I said, “May I get you anything to drink, Mr. Beecher?”

“No, I won’t be long. I just . . . I wanted you to hear it from me, not from the media or a stranger in a suit.”

“Hear what?” I glanced at Clay, but he was focused on Mr. Beecher.

Mr. Beecher looked pale and weary, his shoulders were stooped, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

He sighed. “Please, Finch, sit down.” He waited until I’d taken a seat on the couch before sitting beside me.
 

Clay remained standing, leaning against the windowsill. He stared out the window, but I knew his attention was focused on the conversation.

“The investigation into the plane crash is ongoing. The NTSB has called in the FBI to assist with it.”

“The FBI? Why?”

“It’s become a criminal investigation, then,” Clay said.
 

I glanced at him but couldn’t catch his eye.
 

Mr. Beecher nodded. “They’ve found the plane to be tampered with.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve been told the rods in the rudder’s power control unit were sawed almost completely in two. It’s a wonder they lasted as long into the flight as they did.”

My lips moved, but no sound escaped. My hands were numb, and I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I had to swallow several times before I could speak. “Tampered with?” I didn’t realize Clay had moved away from the window until I felt his hands on my shoulders.
 

“The crash was no accident,” he said.

Arnold looked away and swallowed audibly. “I’m afraid not.”

“But that’s sabotage,” Sydney said as we sat at the counter in Julia’s shop.

“God, that’s horrifying,” Julia said. “That someone would deliberately do that is sick. I’ve never liked it that the two of you fly for a living. It’s dangerous. Why don’t you both come work here?”

My usual argument was that planes were one of the safest means of travel, but I couldn’t force my lips to form that assurance just then.

“Because I’d gain fifty pounds,” Sydney said, pushing away her half-eaten cupcake.

Julia glared at the plate. “You’re insulting me by not eating all of it.”
 

I slid Sydney’s plate in front of me. “I’m doing this as a favor for you,” I said as I polished off the rest of the vanilla bean cupcake in two bites.

Julie narrowed her eyes at Sydney. “Oh, come on. I know that cupcake was the best thing you’ve put in your mouth since you last ate one of my cupcakes. Unless you’ve had other things in your mouth.” Her stern look transformed into a sly smile. “Syd, have you been seeing someone and keeping it from us?”

Sydney choked and sputtered, and I laughed.
 

The jingling of the bell over the door went ignored as Julia leaned over the counter. “Because, honestly, I can only think of one thing better than my cupcakes. A man and his—”

“I think I need to cover my ears for this.”

The three of us yelped and straightened so quickly we almost fell over. Sydney was bright red, and I could feel my own face heat up.
 

Julia gaped at the newcomer, her mouth opening and closing but no sound escaping until she managed to squeak, “Daniel.”

“Am I interrupting?” His voice was level but the tips of his ears were red, and I saw bewildered amusement in his eyes.

It took her a moment to recover, but then she grinned. “Yes, but your timing is impeccable.”

He greeted me, and we introduced him to Sydney.

“What brings you here?” Julia asked.

Timothy popped up from where he’d been crouched, peering into the display. “Do you have any of those cupcakes like the ones you brought to the house?”

“Not today, but . . .” Julia ducked under the counter. “You might like this one even better.”

He took the stool next to mine and didn’t bother with the fork Julia set beside his plate. “Hey,” he said.

I smiled.
 

His crutches were gone, as was the pale hollowness from his face. He looked healthy and energetic and carefree.
 

“Hey yourself.”

He leaned around me to say hello to Sydney.

“How’s it been going?” I asked.

“Great,” he said around a huge bite of cupcake. “Man, that’s good. I’m back in school again, and what happened has made me the cool kid.” He shrugged, his grin at once sheepish and mischievous. “Dad wanted me to see a counselor, and the guy is pretty cool.”

“I’m glad.”

Timothy glanced toward the end of the counter where Julia was talking with Daniel. “Um, earlier,” Timothy said, “was she talking about—”

“Yes,” Sydney and I said in unison.
 

“You’ll have to forgive her. Julia has no censor,” Sydney said.

Timothy leaned over and whispered, “My dad really likes her.”

“What?” Julia gasped from the other end of the counter.
 

The rest of us turned to stare, but she had her eyes on Daniel.
 

“I asked you the same thing, and you turned me down.” She folded her arms over her chest. “
Twice
.”

“Now I’m asking you,” Daniel said.

Julia rubbed her forehead, leaving behind a streak of white frosting. “Just another reminder: you already said you didn’t want to date.”

“I’ve had more time to think about it.”

“And you’ve changed your mind since earlier this week?”

“No, I changed my mind the day after you drove us home from the hospital.”

“But you—”

“Sometimes a man wants to be the one to take the initiative.”

She blinked at him. “Oh.”

“So, again,” he said, without fidgeting or stammering, his rangy frame tall and confident. “Would you like to go to dinner with me, Julia?”

She stared at him, and he held her gaze. Her smile was slow and sweet, and I thought there was a hint of shyness to it. “Yes. I would love to.” Her face fell so fast I had to catch my breath and glance at Daniel. “Should I wear something different?”

He frowned. “Different how? I like what you wear. You can even wear the frosting on your forehead and the flour on your cheek, if you want. I don’t care.”

I glanced at Sydney and found her grinning as well.

That night, I stayed at my apartment for the first time since the burglary. Clay slept on the couch, and I left the bedroom door open and the light on in the bathroom, but my nightmares were still plagued by the plane crash and the burglary.

I gave up on sleep after several hours and padded into the kitchen, crossing with stealthy care the sections of wood floor that tended to creak. The tile of the kitchen was cold beneath my bare feet, and I tiptoed over it. I cracked the refrigerator door to grab a bottle of water and cringed at the harsh light that spilled out.

“Can’t sleep?”

I jumped and turned from the refrigerator, letting the door fall closed behind me. “Did I wake you?” Momentarily blinded, I couldn’t see him, but I heard a rustle of movement from the couch and shuffled in that direction.

“No,” he said. “I’ve been up for a while.”

Clay started to sit up, but I said, “Stay put. I’ll just sit here.” I lowered myself to the floor and leaned against the couch, letting my head drop back on the seat cushion with a sigh. He lay down again, the taut curve of his bicep resting against the top of my head.

He’d refused when I offered to take the couch and let him sleep in my bed. My couch was oversized, though, so at least he wasn’t cramped and uncomfortable. When I’d purchased the couch, I’d had Darcy in mind.

“I think my brother . . . I’m afraid my brother was the one who broke in,” I whispered then told him of Darcy’s request, his reaction to my questions, and how he’d been avoiding me.

The couch cushion dipped and then plumped again as Clay rolled onto his side. “The envelope in your closet?”

“The envelope. I keep some cash on hand in case of an emergency. The exact amount he asked for is gone.”

Clay was silent a moment. “And the man who attacked you?”

I swallowed. “It happened so fast. I think he was bigger than Darcy, but I don’t . . . I don’t know.”

“The young man I met at the hospital adored his older sister, and I wouldn’t think him capable of hurting someone he obviously cared for and looked up to. But if drugs are involved . . .”

“I hate thinking this of him.”

He tangled his fingers in my hair and then drew out its short length to fan around my head. “I know.”