Risking Trust (7 page)

“You just earned yourself a bonus.”

“Ooooh, I hope it’s that condo in the Alps. I was upset I didn’t get that
last
year.”

She strolled out leaving Roxann smiling for the first time all morning. Mrs. Mackey skiing. Ha.

A minute later the phone buzzed and the secretary’s voice boomed through the speaker. “You have the pressmen in ten and the mayor is holding. What should I tell him?”

Roxann slumped back in her chair and the bowling ball lodged in her intestines grew. She should avoid the call and take a few more minutes to prepare for the skewering.

Coward
.

Perhaps she’d slip into her armored suit, cross her fingers and get it over with. Put it behind her so she could go about her day. She had to be sharp for the pressmen and didn’t need to be distracted by an impending bashing from the mayor.

“Put him through. Thank you.”

Roxann closed her eyes, imagined herself on a warm toasty beach and picked up her ringing phone. “Mr. Mayor, I was just about to call you. How can I help you?”

“You can start by issuing a retraction. Have you people lost your minds? I thought your father was bad, but even he wouldn’t have signed off on this. Prepare yourself for a libel suit, missy.”

She winced. Missy? Of course, the mayor would go for the jugular by implying she wasn’t living up to her father’s standards.

She squared her shoulders, allowed the competitor in her to take over. “Sir, there is nothing libelous in the story and my father most certainly would have run it.”

“Goddammit, Roxann. Do you have any idea what this is doing to Carl’s family?”

“He should have thought about that before he carried on—whatever his
relationship
was—with Alicia Taylor.”

The mayor huffed, “I don’t disagree, but for God’s sake, this is a man’s family. And his career.”

“Not to mention bringing embarrassment to your office.”

“Listen,
honey.
”

A honey and a missy in one conversation.
Stay calm, Keep it in check. Start at the toes, tighten every muscle.

“My name is Roxann.”

“
Roxann,
you just put your tits in a vise.”

A sudden and mind freezing anger shot through her. So much for calm. The limit on what she could take from this sexist maniac had just been reached. “
Mister
Mayor, this conversation is over.”

She slammed the phone down, jumped from her chair and stormed around her office. “Pig!”

The nerve. Could she bring a sexual harassment suit against the mayor of Chicago? Maybe he needed his
balls
put in a vise.

Mrs. Mackey appeared in the doorway, her face carrying the blanched look of someone who had just witnessed a bombing. “Are you okay?”

Roxann stopped pacing, counted to ten and rolled her shoulders. “I’m fine. No more calls from the mayor today. He needs to work off that mad. Besides, I just hung up on him.”

“You hung up on him?”

“He deserved it.”

“That’s my girl. The pressmen are waiting for you.”

“Perfect. Let’s get all the negativity out of the way first thing.”

Roxann sucked in the misty dawn air. The rhythmic
thump, thump, thump
of her feet hitting the path settled her and brought peace to her tortured mind.

Her forty miles per week goal had gone astray lately and the effects dragged on her. Working off the stress wasn’t the only concern. The M&M component had to be recognized. She was single handedly keeping the Mars Company’s stock price up and her butt had the squishy feeling of a life raft equipped to hold twenty people. New territory for a girl who’d been a size six for twenty years.

The dawn sky stretched to a brilliant orange that could have been hand-painted. Sunrises truly were a miracle. Cold this morning though. Spring in Chicago was a fool’s bet, but Chicagoans were a hardy bunch and adapted easily. It would take more than a cold spring morning to keep her, and the smattering of other runners, inside. To ward off the morning chill, Roxann wore second skin running tights, a T-shirt and a zip up jacket. If the temperature climbed, she could strip off her jacket.

At six miles in, she reached her cruising altitude where her breathing and heart rate leveled. The challenge came with pushing past the point where she wanted to stop. If she kept moving, her body would eventually find its rhythm and perform better than expected. That was her joy in running.

At the Starbucks, her mile marker nine, the sun now blazing, she slowed to her cool down jog and felt the blissful ache of a healthy and de-stressed body.

Someone muttered something from a bench she had just cruised by and she snuck a peak behind her.

Michael.

What was he up to? Had she not been so focused on completing her run, she would have recognized his voice.

Narrowing her eyes, she retreated the few feet to the bench where he looked better than a bowl of M&Ms. Casual today, faded jeans and a white T-shirt under a black fleece pullover. He held two coffees and a brown paper bag.

“Kind of cold for an early morning picnic with yourself, isn’t it?” she panted, her breathing not yet regulated.

He scooted over on the bench and patted the spot beside him. “I wasn’t intending on eating alone. Have a seat.”

She stopped her in-place jog, pursed her lips and, taking the coffee he held out, sat down. Her hamstrings begged for a stretch and, still holding the cup, she obliged by extending her legs and folding her upper body forward. “What brings you out here?”

He peered at her over the top of his sunglasses. “I needed coffee. Figured I’d have it out here and maybe I’d see you.”

“How’d you know I’d be out here?”

That got a laugh out of him. “You’ve been doing this route for years.” He shoved the brown bag at her. “Got you a muffin.”

Roxann peeked into the bag, inhaled the warm, tangy scent of a fresh cranberry-orange muffin. He remembered her love of all things citrus.
Big trouble.
“Good memory. Thank you.”

She held up the muffin and imagined herself drooling. Her stomach had been growling for three miles. She leaned back on the bench, bit into her breakfast and groaned as the flavor seized her mouth.

Michael stared.

“What?” she asked, wiping her mouth.

“You and the muffin.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “It’s sexy.”

“Easy, big boy. It’s all about the food.”

“How you wound me.”

“You’ll bounce back.”

Michael shifted toward her. “Coffee okay?”

After a sip that scorched her tongue, she held the cup up. “Black, no sugar. Perfect.”

One of the regular runners ran past and waved to her.

Michael studied the guy. “Friend of yours?”

She shrugged. “I see him out here.”

“He likes looking at you.”

A chunk of muffin caught in her throat and she coughed, nearly spitting crumbs everywhere. Her mother would be mortified. “Pardon?”

“He spotted you a block down and didn’t take his eyes off you. You need to be careful out here.”

Was he kidding? She’d managed just fine without him for the last twelve years and didn’t need him lecturing her. “All of a sudden you’re my bodyguard?”

“Just saying.”

“Well, don’t.”

“News flash, Rox. You look good in that getup and if I’m thinkin’ it,” he swooped his index finger toward the other runners. “They’re thinkin’ it.”

Oh please.
She set the muffin on top of the bag and held up two hands. “Whatever.”

Her hamstrings still whined and she stood for a full stretch. Irritating man. Not only was he condescending, but he was probably right.
Shoot.
She hated giving him the satisfaction. In the years she’d been running along the lakefront, she had allowed herself to get complacent and ignore the possible dangers around her. For a smart girl, that was dumb.

Michael’s intense study set her comfort level at zero and she shook out her legs before moving on to her next set of stretches. The man had a way of looking at people that made them want to curl up in his lap. Or, maybe that was just her.

Stretch. Think about the stretch.
By the time she’d finished her quads, the angst had cooled. Minimally.

She sat beside him, retrieved her muffin and coffee. “I was going to call you today.”

“Lucky me.”

She smiled. “Don’t say that until you hear what it’s about.”

He groaned.

“Exactly,” she said. “The other night you mentioned you had someone following Alicia.”

Michael shifted to face the lake and stared out. “You want to see what I have on her.”

No sense hedging around it. They needed to see those files and compare it with the information Phil had. “Phil wants to look.”

Michael remained quiet, gazing out over the lake for a minute. Maybe two. “There’s information in there that would hurt people.”

Seriously? “It didn’t seem to bother you when we used what you told us about Carl.”

He glanced over at her. “Alicia’s parents don’t deserve to see photos of their daughter giving someone a blow-job behind a building.”

Roxann reeled back against the bench, tried to imagine how it would feel to see her spouse doing such a thing. Her stomach turned sour and she stared at Michael whose cheeks had hollowed. If she pulled his sunglasses off, what would she see in those dark eyes? Exhaustion? Regret? Hurt? Maybe all of the above.

She breathed out. “I’m sorry.”

He turned toward her again. “I got over it a long time ago, but her parents are good people. They shouldn’t have to see it. Whatever Alicia had become, she used to be my wife and she didn’t deserve to die. If you want to see the files, I’ll let you look at them. Just you.”

“But Phil—”

“Rox,
you
know what will be important in those files. You’ve got an eye for that. Plus, you have a yearning to do the right thing. Always have. You decide what’s relevant, and we’ll see if it gets passed to Phil. That’s the deal.”

Could she argue this? What choice did she have? They needed to see those files and although she’d rather brand her own skin than look through pictures of Michael’s wife… “I’ll do it.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s fine.”

A runner went by and Michael again studied the person. What was he always looking for?

They sat for a moment and the sounds of gently lapping waves and cars whooshing along Lake Shore Drive caught her attention. Roxann glanced at her watch. She needed to get moving, but stayed anchored to the bench, that devil inside her enjoying the early morning company. She could stall a few minutes. Hadn’t she cleared her morning schedule so she could catch up on phone calls?

“So, I think we should talk about a couple of things,” she said.

Michael shook his head. “No.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“With a lead like that, it can’t be good.”

He laughed and the sound glided through her. She sent her elbow his way and connected with his arm. “I just want to be clear about our arrangement. This is business. No funny stuff.”

He turned toward her, smiling the smile that heated her up.

“Hey,” she said. “I don’t need people thinking we ran the story about Alicia and Carl because—well—you know.”

He leaned in close. “Because they’ll think we’re lovers?”

The warmth of his breath skittered over her cheek and she angled away. “Exactly.”

“You worry about crazy shit.”

“Maybe so, but it’s how I feel.”

He watched two joggers run by. “Whatever you say, Rox.”

“You’re humoring me?”

“Absolutely.”

“You are so irritating.” Irritating and sexy and cute all at the same time.

“My mother says that all the time. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes. She does. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, just not about my mother. Anyway, I’d love to stay out here with you, but I have to change for work.”

Roxann walked over and tossed the cups in the garbage can. “Me too.”

Michael stood. “I guess I shouldn’t kiss you goodbye then?”

“Ha, ha.”

They walked a short distance to the concrete pedestrian bridge that stretched over Lake Shore Drive. “This is my stop.” He snapped his fingers. “We have to talk about your lobby desk situation. You should reassign those guards. Let us put a couple of our guys there.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Vic has been bugging me about it. I’ll get to it.”

“Well, tick tock. Don’t wait too long.”

“Blah, blah, blah. I said I’d get to it.”

Michael grinned and tugged a loose tendril of her hair. “Those files you want to see are locked in a safe in my office. If you want to come by after work, I’ll let you go through them.”

“Okay. I’ll call you later.”

She watched him jog up the steps and couldn’t help noticing his great butt. With that, she let out a sigh.
This is just not good
.

Traffic on the Drive had picked up, the cars speeding by for another busy day in the city. Another five minutes and it would be a rush hour parking lot. Roxann gazed up at the thirty-story building Michael called home, its gold tinted windows drenched with sunlight. A condo on the famed Gold Coast. He’d done well for himself. Over the years, she’d seen or heard him mentioned in various places and his wealth had surprised her. Twelve years ago, he’d just gotten out of the military, was dealing with wicked post traumatic stress and simply wanted to survive.

After all he’d been through, how far would he go to protect his hard fought wealth?

She thought about it on her jog home, but—her tortured mind be damned—didn’t have one decent answer for herself. She’d have to see where this story led her and then decide. She strode through the back door of her childhood home, locked it and snatched the cordless phone from the kitchen counter. Voice mail. Not even eight o’clock. The people in her life knew her too well. She propped the phone at her ear, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat at the table.

“Hi, Roxann. It’s your mother calling.” As if she wouldn’t know her mother’s voice. “I just spoke to Max and he’s upset. Call me, dear.”

She grunted, hit the delete button and waited for the next message. As predicted, Max had moved out of the bullying phase and into the silent treatment. Of course, the silent treatment had been directed toward Roxann because, rather than deal with her, he’d chosen to complain to Mom. Brat.

“Hey, girlfriend.” Janie’s raspy voice popped through. “Just checking in. My dad has two waitresses out with the flu and needs me to help tonight. I’ll be at Cassatta’s after five if you need me. Love you.”

Roxann hit the delete button. She’d call Janie back—chatting with her friend would be a nice distraction. First she had to deal with Max and that would be a task. She glanced at the clock, dialed Mrs. Mackey’s direct line at the office and left a message that she’d be making calls from home and would be late. Nothing compared to breaking her own rule about being on time. Blame it on Michael for distracting her. She took a much needed gulp of water, set the bottle on the table and dialed her mother. When voice mail picked up, Roxann pasted on a smile hoping it would inspire her to be cheerful.

“Hi. It’s me. Got your message. I’m going to call Max myself and take care of this. Please don’t worry about it. Call me if you need anything. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

She clicked off and dialed Max’s cell.

“What is it, Rox?”

Her head snapped back at the toxic tone. “And good morning to you.” Why not take a shot at cheerful?

“I’m working.”

Okay, he didn’t deserve bright and cheery. “If you’re so busy you could have saved yourself time this morning by calling me, rather than my mother, to complain.”

“I didn’t call to complain—”

“She told me—”

“Don’t interrupt me. I called to check on my recently widowed sister. She asked me if I knew anything about Carl’s relationship with Alicia Taylor. Did you want me to ignore her?”

Roxann’s gaze fell to the table and, using her free hand, she drew imaginary circles. Burying Max with guilt backfired on her and left her feeling the fool.

“I apologize. A little jumpy I guess. I thought you were mad about the story.”

“I am. We’re working this case hard and I don’t understand why you’re doing this, but you’re a big girl with big responsibilities. I don’t need to remind you, of all people, about libel, obstruction of justice, impeding an investigation. You know the drill.”

Obstruction of justice was a new one. “I have to pursue this, Max.” Roxann stood and paced the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to work off the negative energy filling her. “I know this is an active investigation, and I respect that, but it’s news. Carl Biehl was involved with a murder victim and if he wasn’t the mayor’s aide the public would already know about it.”

“We were aware of his association with her and cleared him early on. Why release information that’s not going anywhere?”

“Carl may have been cleared, but what about all the people that work for him or are related to him?”

“Are you a detective now?”

Her heart hammered from the frigid tone in Max’s voice. Anger always made him distant and unaffected, but she’d experienced this with him when he didn’t agree with the
Banner
’s coverage. And, as before, he’d get over it because she wouldn’t give in. “Absolutely not. I’m not accusing Carl of murder, but I think his relationship with Alicia warrants him being looked at. His involvement with her might lead to something. I’d love to tell you we’ll drop this, but until these questions are answered, we’re following this story.”