Colleen Coble (15 page)

“I believed Gina’s death was an accident, remember? There was nothing to talk about. And I don’t want to just call him. It will be better face-to-face.”

Her head pulsed hard, and she started to feel a little sick. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Sure.”

She held out her hand. “Squeeze the fleshy part between my thumb and forefinger as hard as you can. It will get rid of my headache.”

“You’re serious?” When she nodded, he grabbed her hand and squeezed where she indicated. “How’s this work?”

“It’s an acupressure point.” The pain began to ebb almost instantly. It was like cold water running over the heat in her head and rinsing away the agony. She breathed deeply, in and out. “It’s working. You have the touch.” Not to mention the fact that his skin on hers made her stomach behave in funny ways.

The smile in his eyes changed to something else as he stood and looked down at her with their hands locked for several minutes. Almost as if he felt the same sense of connection she did.

The pain was gone, but she continued to leave her hand in his for a few more moments before she made herself smile and pull her hand away. “Thank you. It’s gone.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I told you—you have the touch. Do we have enough time for me to take a quick shower?”

“A beautiful woman is always worth waiting for.”

It was more his expression than his words that brought her heart rate up. “I’ll be right back.”

She raced to her bedroom and tore off her shorts and paint-stained T-shirt. The warm shower washed away the last traces
of the tension in her shoulders. She dried off and surveyed her closet. Shorts would work, but she’d rather feel feminine if they were going out in that car. The red sundress was festive yet casual. She yanked it over her head, then dusted a bit of powder over her face and added some blush and eye shadow.

With her wet hair twisted on top of her head, she slipped on sandals and grabbed a scarf from the drawer on her way out of the room.

Curtis wasn’t in the living room when she entered. “Curtis?”

She heard a muffled shout from the backyard and rushed to the kitchen. Through the back door she saw him waving his arms and chasing the horse out of her herb garden.

Smiling, she pulled open the door. “It’s a lost cause, Curtis. I’ll have to fence my garden. He pretty much trampled it yesterday.”

The horse snorted as if to say this was his domain and no one had better doubt it. Amy walked across the yard, and the horse approached her with his nose outstretched. She patted it. “Sorry, boy, I don’t have an apple with me.” The horse nudged her, then snorted and walked off toward the trees.

Curtis shook his head. “Sorry. I tried to save your herbs. The horses like them as much as you do.” Then his eyes widened, and he gave a low whistle. “Glad I told you to take your time.”

She couldn’t look away from the admiration in his face. “You didn’t. I thought I had fifteen minutes flat. Think what I could have done if you’d given me half an hour.”

“I don’t think my heart could stand it.” His voice was almost too low for her to hear.

In fact, she thought maybe he hadn’t intended for her to hear him because red crept up his neck.

She decided to spare him further embarrassment. “I’m starved. Do you mind if we stop for something at the café on our way to the ferry?”

“Fine by me. I haven’t had lunch either. I’ll buy.”

Was this like a
date
? A silly thought because she was here to get to the bottom of her brother’s death. It seemed somehow wrong to feel happy in Curtis’s presence when her brother’s body wasn’t even resting in a grave.

Some residents hated the influx of tourists, but Curtis liked seeing people enjoying the sights and sounds of the Outer Banks. The traffic in Kill Devil Hills traveled bumper to bumper. New tourists had arrived over the weekend, and they were out in force driving slowly down the coast road and cruising the Croatan Highway in search of adventure. Hang gliders and people flying kites packed the dunes at Jockey’s Ridge State Park. The miniature golf places were doing a brisk business.

Amy craned her neck out the open window to take in the activity. She looked stunning in that red dress, and it had pleased him more than he liked to admit that she dressed up for him.

He pulled into the Island Bookstore parking lot at the MP5 mile marker. His attorney was in the strip down toward the end. “This is it.” The sign read Eric Bristow, Attorney-at-Law.

She was out of the car before he could go around to open her door. The wind blew her hair around her face. Wisps of dark curls had escaped the updo, but it was a charming look on her.

She fell into step beside him. “You think we can get in to see him without an appointment?”

He took her arm. “I hope so. If not, maybe the receptionist can provide some information.”

The waiting area was empty when they entered. The receptionist, an attractive blonde in her thirties, looked up with a smile. “Mr. Ireland, good to see you again. I don’t have you on the appointment calendar. Was Mr. Bristow expecting you?”

He shook his head and wished he could remember her name. “I just took a chance and stopped by to see if he had a minute.”

The worry left her eyes. “I was afraid I’d messed up and didn’t have you on the calendar. He left to go out of town a few minutes ago.”

Curtis shook his head. “I should have called first. Maybe you could answer a quick question for me about the papers my sister signed. You probably drew them up, correct?”

“Yes, I did.” Her expression was still open and helpful. “Is there a problem with them?”

“Not at all. I just wondered if you noticed anything unusual when she came in to explain what she wanted. When did she make the appointment, and did she say why she was doing it?”

The receptionist jiggled her mouse and squinted at her computer. “She called on October twelfth, and I had an opening the next day.”

“Two weeks or so before her death.”

She nodded. “As far as noticing anything, she seemed calm when she came in. The child’s father was with her.”

It struck him then—why it had seemed so odd. “There was no mention of Ben’s rights at all?”

The receptionist raised a brow. “Every client is different, but I must admit it was a bit peculiar.”

“Maybe Ben had existing rights to her as the father without it being spelled out in a will,” Amy put in, her tone defensive.

The other woman nodded. “The baby has his name, so upon her death, he would naturally be allowed to assume custody.”

But he didn’t
. The unspoken words hovered in the air between Amy and him. She had to be thinking the same thing. “So this arrangement was in the event of both their deaths. But why wouldn’t she spell it out clearly in her will? Less hassle for Ben.”

The receptionist nodded. “That’s true. I don’t know why they
chose to do it this way. I’m sure they had no idea they would both die within a couple of weeks of each other.”

“And Ben didn’t make up a will detailing what would happen if he died after Gina.”

Amy frowned. “When will Mr. Bristow be back? Maybe he will know why that wasn’t done.”

The receptionist shook her head and looked apologetic. “Not for two weeks, I’m afraid. He took his wife to Jamaica for their thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

He hoped to have this figured out by then. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime. Sorry I didn’t have more information for you.” The receptionist reached for the phone when it rang.

Neither of them said anything until they stopped by the car. She had to be wondering about it as much as he was. He got her seated in the car, then went around to his side.

“It’s very peculiar,” Amy said when he slid under the wheel. “I mean, it wasn’t a joint will, right?”

“No, it was only Gina’s. She listed me as guardian, and the will stated all her possessions went to Raine. She appointed Edith executor, who would determine how much of the estate would go for Raine’s maintenance.” When she shot him a sharp glance, he added, “But I haven’t taken any money out of the estate. I want to support Raine by myself, and I want her trust money kept intact.”

“It’s almost like they knew they both might die.” Amy frowned. “Don’t you think it feels that way? I mean, otherwise why wouldn’t she have listed Ben as the executor or Raine’s guardian or something? It’s very strange.”

“It doesn’t feel that way to me. If they were afraid they both might die, why wouldn’t he make a will too? Unless they both knew Ben wouldn’t be in the picture any longer. There was that big fight her neighbor told us about.”

She tied her scarf under her chin. “Ben wouldn’t run out on his responsibilities. I just don’t believe it.”

Her brother was still on a pedestal in her eyes, and Curtis wasn’t about to try to knock him off. He started the car. “How about some ice cream?”

Her smile extended to her eyes. “I never say no to ice cream.”

“And here I thought you were a health nut.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Ice cream has a special dispensation.”

“How Sweet It Is is just down the road, and it’s homemade so it’s a little healthier.” He pulled out onto the highway.

“As long as they have chocolate, we’re good.”

The rest of the day stretched out in front of them, and he had every intention of taking her to a nice restaurant for dinner. There was no need to hurry back to Hope Beach. He meant to enjoy his day off to the fullest.

His phone played “Gonna Fly Now,” the theme from
Rocky
. Great. He pulled to the side of the road and looked at his phone. “It’s Josh.” He answered the call. “What’s up?”

“We need you, buck. A fishing boat struck a rock and is going down. Stat.”

Josh wouldn’t ask if there was any other person to take his place. Curtis glanced at the clock on the dash. “I’m not on the island. It’s going to take me several hours to get there.”

There was a long pause. “We can come get you. That will be faster than waiting for the ferry. You can park your car at the airport.”

“Amy can drive it home. I’ll be ready.” He ended the call. “Sorry, Amy, I have to go.”

“An accident?”

He nodded. “Can you get my car home?”

“Of course. I’ll be praying for you and the victims.”

Her promise warmed his heart.

S
IXTEEN

T
he helicopter rose into the air, carrying Curtis with it. Amy tried to tell herself she wasn’t disappointed, but she recognized the lie. She hugged herself as the wind from the rotors hit, then walked slowly back to the convertible. It wouldn’t be much fun tooling around in it without him. She could console herself with fudge, or she could simply head back to the ferry. Neither option held much appeal.

“Amy?”

She turned at the female voice and saw Dara leaning out of a sporty red Mercedes. The other woman’s red top had sequins on it that glittered in the sunlight, and her hair looked freshly styled. The red in the car and in the blouse matched as if she’d planned it that way.

Her heart sinking, Amy smiled. “Hi. Are you taking in the sights?” It was clear the beautiful brunette was on a mission.

Dara shook her head. “I’m picking up Preston Kendrick. He’s flying in on his private plane.” Her voice was full of self-importance.

Amy approached the car and glanced at the passenger seat. Dara’s aunt wasn’t with her. “I thought the rally wasn’t for another couple of weeks or so.”

“Yes.” Dara’s voice was guarded, and she pressed her lips
together. “He and Zoe needed a little R & R.” She studied Amy’s face. “Your father wouldn’t be
the
Oliver Lang, would he?”

Amy smiled. “Well, I’d hardly put it that way, but yes.”

She was used to the awe and respect from people when they discovered who her father was. It wasn’t his wealth that impressed people as much as the power he wielded with such care for others. While she would have preferred he was home more often when she was growing up, he had helped a lot of people over the years. And he’d put many politicians in office, including Preston.

“I’d never have put the last name together, especially with you out on Hope Island.” Dara got out of the car. “There’s Preston.” She waved at the tall blond man striding their way.

Preston was a handsome man in his forties. He wore jeans and a light blue polo shirt today as if he didn’t have to face voters. But then he had never been a man to put on airs, which was why Amy liked him so much. He never pulled any punches with what he believed about how to fix the problems facing the country either. Amy was as eager as her dad to see him reelected.

His smile widened when he drew near them. “Amy, I didn’t expect to see you!” He nodded at Dara, then stepped past her with his arms outstretched.

Amy accepted his hug and brushed her lips across his smooth chin. “Dad should have let me know you were coming. Where are you staying?” She tried to ignore Dara’s glower that Preston had greeted her first.

He released her. “At the Tidewater Inn. I’m just here for two days. Wish it could be longer.”

“I arranged it,” Dara put in.

What was with the woman and her jealousy? She seemed to think she deserved the attention of every man she was around. Amy wasn’t interested in competing. Well, unless Dara started chasing Curtis.