Let's Make It Legal (25 page)
She loved the ring. It was so like Sam: out of the ordinary, a bit larger than life. She hated removing it, even to wash her hands.
She was still smiling as she pulled into the driveway of her parents' home, punched in the security code that would open the electronic gates, and drove around to the back of the property where she lived in an apartment over the garage.
The first thing she saw was Justin Malone's dark green Toyota. She frowned. What was Sam's best friend doing here so early in the day? Justin and Sam worked together and had even lived together for a while. Several weeks ago Amy had given Justin the code to the security gate because he was helping her paint the inside of the apartment while Sam was gone. Even though she and Sam were planning to find another place to live when he returned, Amy wanted to leave the apartment fresh and shining in case her parents decided to rent it to someone else. And Justin being Justin had insisted on giving her a hand.
Her unease deepened.
It was only four-thirty. It wasn't like Justin to leave work so early. Since he'd been promoted to business manager at the magazine, he'd been working long hours. Amy had enjoyed teasing him about his diligence, saying she guessed that now that he was "one of them" she'd have to be careful what she said in front of him.
Justin was fun to tease because he was so earnest and serious. Too much so, Amy thought. She'd already decided that once she and Sam were married, she would try to find someone for Justin so that he'd loosen up a bit. "The Quiet Man," Sam called him, always there, always the person you could count on.
She waved as she passed him, pulling her Miata into the garage. "Hi!" she said as he walked toward her. "What a surprise! What're you doing here at this time of the day?"
As he came closer, she saw a peculiar expression on his lean, angular face. His blue eyes, normally so bright and riveting, seemed shadowed and troubled, and he wasn't smiling.
"Hello, Amy." His voice sounded odd, too—rough and strained.
Her smile slowly faded. Everything inside her went still except her heart. Something was terribly wrong. She wet suddenly-dry lips and stared up at him.
"Amy," he said again. He reached for her, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking down into her eyes. "I-I've got some bad news."
No.
She shook her head. She wanted to put her hands over her ears. Whatever it was Justin was going to tell her, she didn't want to hear it.
"I came right over," he continued. "I didn't want you to hear about this on T.V. or the radio."
Sam.
Please, God . . . please, God . . . please, God.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
Justin's face was rigid and tightly controlled. Only his eyes betrayed his inner torment. "We heard an hour ago. Sam . . . " He took a long, shuddering breath. "Sam had a bad accident. He fell down the side of a cliff, and . . . and when the search party finally reached the place where they thought they would find him, his . . . his body was gone."
He swallowed hard, and the part of Amy's brain that still functioned normally noted in a detached way how his Adam's apple bobbed and how his dark hair, normally neat and well-groomed, looked as if he'd been running his hands through it.
He squeezed her shoulders. "They . . . the authorities believe he's dead."
"Nooooooooo . . . noooooo . . . " Amy heard the keening sound, hardly aware it came from her mouth.
"God, Amy, I'm so sorry."
Amy felt his strong arms go around her, she heard him continuing to talk, continuing to say comforting words, continuing to explain, but nothing he said mattered. "No, no, no," she moaned.
She tried to hold on. She tried to listen. To think. But she felt sick to her stomach and lightheaded. A loud buzzing filled her head, and then there was nothing but blackness as she slumped against him.
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