Before Sunrise (19 page)

She moved her hand into the hair at his shoulder, to bring him back to her.

He smiled and tested the soft texture of her hair even while her own hands slid into the thick, cool strands of his long, black hair.

“I love your hair,” she said softly. “I always have.”

“I loved yours long,” he replied.

She smiled sadly. “I cut it the day I got the newspaper clipping.”

His eyes closed briefly. “I couldn't think at all, the day I mailed it.” He drew in a long breath as he studied her oval face. “Phoebe, there was more to it than just Isaac dying. He died running from the police. He'd been in trouble with the law for years. He drank to excess and didn't know what he was doing until he was arrested. The day he died, he'd just robbed a liquor store and seriously injured the owner of the store. He'd have done time, if he'd lived.”

“Your poor mother!” she groaned. “And with a weak heart, too.”

“A violent death is the worst kind for any family to cope with,” he replied. “I went a little crazy. That's why I didn't write to you.” His eyes mirrored his sadness. “What happened broke my heart. I loved my brother.”

“I would have understood, if I'd just known what was going on,” she replied heavily.

He smiled faintly. “I realize that now…years too late.”

“I really tried to date other men,” she added. “But when it came right down to it, I didn't trust men anymore. I'd given up on a happy, shared future when I came to Chenocetah. I planned to be a career woman and live for my work.”

“So I gathered, when I finally located you,” he replied with a rueful smile. “But knowing where you were didn't help much. I couldn't find a good excuse for coming to see you. Then fate arranged it for me.”

“Yes. Everything fell into place like links in a chain. You know, I really resented Joseph at first,” she confessed.

“I knew that,” he replied quietly.

“It didn't last long,” she murmured, remembering little arms clinging around her neck. “He snuggled close to me and refused to let go. I was hooked.”

He laughed. “He has a way with women—Tina can tell you that.”

“He looks a lot like you,” she noted. “Only someone who knew for sure wouldn't think he was your own son. Are you going to tell him about his father, when he's old enough?”

“Yes,” he said. “Isaac wasn't a bad person,” he added. “He was just weak when it came to alcohol. He was one of those people who become violent when they've had too much. He started drinking when he was barely in his teens. We tried hard to get him away from it, but we couldn't. We all felt guilty when he died the way he did.”

“You can't fight fate,” she said absently. “I lost my grandparents two years ago in a train wreck in Europe,
of all things. They'd gone on vacation. It was really hard for Derrie and me.”

“I didn't know that.”

She searched his dark eyes. “I didn't know about Isaac or your mother.”

He returned the curious, intent stare. She looked like a woman who'd just discovered the meaning of pleasure. He was glad that he'd given her that. But now he wondered if her surrender had been desire…or just curiosity. She was overwhelmed with the newness of intimacy. That didn't mean she loved him, or that she wanted a traditional marriage. Hadn't she just said that her goal was to become an independent career woman?

He stared past her, feeling uneasy all over again. He grimaced and let go of her, getting to his feet. “Not much sense in going to bed. It's eight in the morning. We'd better have a quick shower and get out of here. You can have the bathroom first.”

She'd almost suggested that they shower together, but he was standing with his back to her and he didn't turn when she got out of bed. With a worried sigh, she went toward the bathroom.

 

I
T WAS A SILENT DRIVE
to the museum. The intimacy of the past hour might never have happened. It had spoiled
something between them. She'd thought it would bring them closer, but it had split them apart instead.

He pulled up at the door of the museum. “I need everything you can get me on the man who sold you the effigy figure,” he said. “The notes helped, but I need as much information as you can get from the other museum personnel if they saw him.”

“I'll talk to the directors for you, too,” she told him. “One more thing. That woman who came here was tall and elegant and blond. She was wearing designer shoes and a designer purse—Aigner,” she added, naming a famous French designer. “She had a mole on her right cheek, just above her upper lip. She had a Southern accent, not thick but noticeable, and dark blue eyes.”

“You're a wonder,” he said gently.

She managed a smile. “Not really. I just have a fairly decent memory.” She searched his eyes intently. “You be careful. This is getting dangerous.”

“You're the one I'm worried about,” he countered. “Wait here until I pick you up. If I can't make it, I'll ask Drake to take you to the motel. The local police are going to step up patrols through the area as well. We've got a would-be murderer on the loose. I don't believe he'll quit.”

“Neither do I,” she replied. She wanted to say more;
she wanted to ask how he really felt about what they'd done. But in the end, she was too shy. She smiled and got out of the car. “See you around, FBI,” she teased.

“You, too, ‘Indiannetta Jones,'” he murmured with a forced smile.

She laughed all the way into the museum.

 

B
UT WHEN SHE WAS BY HERSELF
, it felt like the end of the world. Cortez acted as if nothing had happened. Were all men like that? Were they truly unconcerned once they'd fed a physical hunger? Or did Cortez just have a guilty conscience, because he knew now that she'd been innocent?

Worrying about it, she decided, was only going to increase her gray hairs, without solving anything. She turned on her computer and printed out the telephone numbers of the museum's board of directors. She was going to get everything she could about the mysterious man who'd sold them the effigy figure. If there was anything that she hadn't already given Cortez. Perhaps he was only asking to keep her busy, so she wouldn't worry. It did the job.

Cortez, meanwhile, was in Jeb Bennett's office.

“I can't believe Walks Far is in the hospital,” Bennett said wearily, when he was informed about the events of
the night before. “He's a good worker, honest and loyal. Who would want to hurt him? And why?”

“That's what I was hoping you could tell me,” Cortez said quietly. He was wearing a suit and his hair was in a neat ponytail. He looked the part of an FBI agent.

Bennett leaned back in his chair. “I'm afraid I don't know a lot about him,” he said tersely, and didn't meet the other man's eyes. “He's worked for me for several years. I've never had a complaint.”

Cortez was noticing something he vaguely remembered from his last visit to Bennett's office. There was a picture in a frame, a pretty blue-eyed, blond woman in an expensive dress. She had a mole on her cheek. What was it Phoebe had said about the mystery woman's appearance?

“Is that your wife?” Cortez asked, nodding toward the frame.

“What? Oh. No. I'm not married,” Bennett said with a grimace. “At least, not now. That's my sister, Claudia.”

He had to fight not to let show how interested he was in this new possible connection. “Is she in construction, too?” he asked.

Bennett laughed. “Claudia doesn't like getting her hands dirty. She's an art dealer.”

An interesting answer, and Bennett looked as if he'd said
too much and was regretting it. Cortez noted that Bennett hadn't owned up to the fact that Walks Far had spent time in prison or that he was married to Claudia. “How is Walks Far?” he asked quickly, as if to divert his guest.

“He's still unconscious,” Cortez told him. “Head injuries are tricky. If he dies, we'll be looking for a murder suspect.”

Bennett sat up straight, looking uneasy.

Cortez's dark eyes narrowed. This man was involved in the case. He leaned forward. “If you know anything, and you don't tell me, you could end up charged as an accessory. It carries a stiff penalty.”

Bennett's dark eyes met his and he hesitated.

Before he could speak, Cortez's cell phone began to vibrate insistently in his pocket. He pulled it up and flipped it open. “Cortez.”

It was Alice Jones. “I've got a preliminary report on that stuff I got from the victim's shirt. It's definitely brain matter. There was some dirt as well. It's from another cave, not the one we were in last night. I got a biologist out of bed and in front of a microscope to analyze it for me. The dirt is from a living cave, a wet one—and a cave with bats.”

Cortez's heart jumped. Yardley's cave. He was certain of it. “Jones, you're worth your weight in pizzas! Get
your team together and meet me in the parking lot at the corner of Harper and Lennox streets. Got that?” he added, directing them to a neutral point so that he didn't have to speak in front of Bennett. He didn't trust the man.

“Got it, boss,” Alice said, and hung up.

“I've got to go,” Cortez said, rising and shaking hands. “It looks as if we've got a break in the case.”

Bennett seemed to hesitate. “What is it?” he asked suddenly.

“I'll be in touch,” Cortez said without answering the question. He left the office deep in thought.

Once he was out of sight, Bennett picked up the phone.

 

A
T THE MUSEUM
, Phoebe was dodging curious looks from Marie. She was certain that nobody knew she'd been alone with Cortez that morning, but it seemed as if Marie had some idea of it. Finally she decided that the best way to deal with the problem was to meet it head-on.

She called Marie into her office and closed the door. “You've been giving me strange looks all morning,” she told the woman. “What's wrong?”

“I wasn't sure how to mention this,” Marie confessed, sinking onto a chair with something like relief.

Phoebe felt uncomfortable. She was old-fashioned, in her way, even though she'd given in to a three-year starvation diet of unfulfilled desire for Cortez. But she didn't want to share that with the community at large.

Marie grimaced and averted her eyes. “You know that Drake's my cousin.”

“Yes, of course I do,” Phoebe replied, sidetracked by the statement.

“Well, it's just…” She grimaced again. “He was kissing Cortez's cousin Tina last night. Really kissing her, you know?” She looked at Phoebe with compassion and regret.

Phoebe's eyebrows arched and she almost slumped in relief. “Was that what you didn't want to tell me?”

“Yes. I'm very sorry. I know that Drake paid you a lot of attention, and I know that he was really attracted to you…!”

Phoebe held up a slender hand and smiled with pure relief. “I like Drake a lot,” she said. “He's a wonderful man. But I'm not in love with him, Marie.”

“Thank goodness!” Marie said, pressing a hand to her ample bosom. She laughed breathlessly. “I hated having to tell you, but I didn't want you to find it out by accident. I think he's got a case on Cortez's cousin.”

“I think he has, too,” Phoebe replied. “She's nice. You
should see her with Cortez's nephew,” she added softly. “She loves kids.”

“Is she involved with anybody, do you know?” Marie persisted.

“She was dating a policeman in Asheville,” she replied, “but just between you and me, I think he's out of the running. Drake is special.”

Marie beamed. “I think so, too, even if he is my cousin.” She cocked her head. “I heard something about a man getting hurt and sent to the hospital last night.”

Phoebe wasn't certain how much Cortez would want her to say to an outsider. She only smiled. “Did you?” she asked.

Marie cocked an eyebrow. “You're not talking, right? I tried to pump Drake for information, and he said just about the same thing. But another one of my cousins said you and Cortez drove out of town in the early morning hours, and that there was a whole group of police and sheriffs' cars at a cave on a building site close to here.”

“You have too many cousins, Marie,” Phoebe said firmly. “And I need to get to work, or we'll both be out of jobs.”

Marie chuckled. “Fair enough.” She got up, waved, and went to work.

Phoebe let out a sigh of relief. At least nobody was
speculating about her and Cortez. Not yet, at least. It was a secret she didn't want to share just yet.

 

T
HE NEXT DAY
C
ORTEZ DROVE
to the Yardley building site ahead of his crime scene unit's big van, Drake's squad car, and a local police officer in his own vehicle. It was going to attract attention, but that couldn't be helped. He had a cold feeling in his gut that this was going to be a second crime scene.