Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (36 page)

“By touch, do you mean just a little?”

“No. I’m sure you’ve seen TV shows where the psychic holds something in his or her hand and can tell the police where to find a missing child?”

“Yeah. Is that what you do?”

She shook her head. “No, but I know things about an item when I touch it, like if a fire was arson, and I often see the face of the person who set it.”

“That must come in handy in your job.” The words sounded bitter. She was a freak. He’d slept with a freak. Then full realization made his breath catch. “What about when you touch people?”

“I can see things about them, too.”

He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Is that how you knew my brother had an affair with Brittany?”

“Yes.”

He had secrets he had to keep. He couldn’t ask outright if she’d learned he was bipolar. “What did you learn about me?”

Gabrielle gave him a sharp look, then her eyes shuttered. “You love your work … ”

“That’s no secret.”

“I saw you draw the Densmore. I saw the look in your eyes, the love that went into the drawing. You were barefoot.”

He felt more vulnerable in that moment than he’d felt his entire life. He tried to ask a question, but had to clear his throat and begin again. “Anything else?”

“You stood beside the Mackinaw Bridge and you loved that, too. I think you must have wanted to design bridges, but you felt you had to stay close to Paul.”

He felt like he was stripped naked in a crowd.

“You stood in front of your parents’ graves soon after they died and wanted to know why they’d left you.”

God, she knew everything about him. All those times she touched him, she was prying into his mind, ferreting out things about him.

“Did you do it for Michigan Casualty? Do they send you in to determine a person’s guilt by touching him or her?”

When she stopped for a red light, she looked at him. It was a look that could freeze a person alive. “My employer doesn’t know what I am. Like your reaction, most people are freaked by someone who can sense things by touch. I rarely tell people, and when I do, inevitably, they show fear and loathing like you are.”

Three facts jumped out at him from what she’d said. Her employer didn’t know. She didn’t tell people. And when she did, people hurt her.

That was the hurt he’d sensed from the very beginning. People hurt her … like he was doing now. People judged her … like he had. Did that mean people rejected her because she was psychic? He guessed they did.

“You can’t blame me for being … ” he searched for a word that wouldn’t insult her, “unnerved.”

“Of course not. Why should you be different than the rest of Detroit? By all means, be afraid like the masses.”

Her pain echoed in him, stabbed his beating heart and made it ache. Her being a psychic was something she couldn’t change, like eye color … or bipolar. She didn’t sound happy to be able to pick people’s minds like cheap locks. She sounded like she hated it, probably because of how people reacted to her. He didn’t want to hurt her further, but he needed to understand.

“The vision I’ve had of making love to you … ”

“It’s clairvoyant and it’s precognitive, meaning it’s a prediction of a possible future. You shouldn’t be able to sense it, or share it with me.”

“Are you using telepathy on me, is that why I see it?”

“I’m not a telepath, as least I never was before. If you’re a psychic, that would explain the shared vision.”

“I’m not a psychic.” Hell, no.

“Have you ever been tested?”

He’d been tested for everything else when he was seventeen, but never that. “No.”

“Then you might be.”

“I’m not.” He had enough to deal with without being that.

The temperature in the car dropped, and it wasn’t from the air conditioning. His vehemence about not being psychic hadn’t gone over well with Gabrielle. Damn. The morning after a night of lovemaking like they’d experienced shouldn’t go this badly. He knew the most intimate things about her, but he didn’t really know her. Had he known she was psychic …

Christian pulled in his breath sharply. Would he have avoided going to bed with her if he’d known? Would he have kept an emotional and physical distance from her? His belly felt cold with his doubts. Apparently what she was did make a difference. He didn’t like what he learned about himself at that moment. And what was worse, the future he’d been picturing with Gabrielle seemed to have gone up in smoke. Another disillusionment.

After driving the rest of the way in silence, Gabrielle pulled into Dun-rite Auto Repair and parked.

“That’s my Jeep in the bay,” he said.

As they approached, he saw the driver’s side wheel had been removed and a mechanic was working on the suspension.

The mechanic in the adjoining bay looked up from the car he was working on and pulled a rag out of his back pocket to wipe his hands. “Can I help you folks?”

“That’s my Jeep,” Christian waved his hand toward it. “I need some papers out of it.”

“I need to see some ID.”

“Sure.” Christian handed over his driver’s license.

“Ziko. You’re the one under indictment.” The man’s friendly tone had turned icy.

Christian didn’t want to explain to this man, but he wanted his car back in working order. He didn’t want any ‘accident’ happening to him as a result of purposely faulty repairs. “Yeah. I’m working on proving my innocence. The papers in my Jeep are evidence.”

“That right?” The words dripped doubt.

“Yes. If I’d been able to deliver them yesterday, you might have read about my innocence in this morning’s paper. But as you can see,” he indicated his bandaged head and the Jeep’s wheel, “I couldn’t do that.”

The man handed Christian’s license back. “I don’t want it said that Donny Nash stood in the way of a man proving his innocence. Take whatever you need out of the car.” He turned to the other bay. “Jeff, move out of the way and let these people get their stuff.”

The second mechanic rose from his crouch and went to stand by the other.

Christian took the driver’s side of the Jeep and Gabrielle took the passenger’s.

After a moment of digging, Gabrielle spoke up from the front seat. “It’s not here.”

Christian looked up from searching the back seat for the copy of the drawing from City Hall. “It must have shifted when we hit the wall. Look under the seat.” He did the same.

“It’s not here.” Her tone was so flat it was obvious she was covering up some emotion.

“Mine’s not either.” Christian turned to Donny and Jeff, fighting off panic. “Did you empty my car?”

Donny frowned and scratched his head. “No. We didn’t touch the inside except to drive it into the bay.”

“The evidence is gone. It’s very important. Did anybody else touch the car? Who else works here?” He had to have that evidence.

“Just the owner, Harmon Dunn. He opened this morning, but he left to get parts.”

“Did he remove any files or papers?” Christian asked.

“Not that I seen.”

“When’s he due back?”

“Less than an hour.”

“Is there somewhere we can wait for him?”

“There’s chairs in his office.” Donny pointed off to his right.

By the time Christian and Gabrielle had reached the office, his head had begun to pound from his blood pressure rising. When he looked back, Donny and Jeff were peering into his Jeep.

He turned to Gabrielle. “Do you think somebody took the papers?”

“Don’t panic. The owner probably put them away for safekeeping.”

For a moment, hope made him feel drunk with giddiness, but then he got a good look at her face. That cynical, world-weary look had returned, the look that said she believed the worst of people. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t. But I need to be sure, so I’m going to wait for Mr. Dunn to return.” She sat in one of the room’s chrome chairs.

Christian needed to pace to siphon off his nervous energy, but the pain in his head would only increase with movement, so he sat in the other chair.

While they waited, Christian tried not to panic. The samples could be replaced. It would take a lot of work, and the suspects might not be so friendly and cooperative a second time. This was a minor setback, not a major catastrophe. He’d have to call Bryce as soon as they knew for sure.

By the time an older man walked into the office, Christian had calmed himself.

“I’m Harmon Dunn. Donny says you’re looking for something from your Jeep?”

Christian stood. “There were two manila file folders full of evidence and a blueprint. Did you see them?”

“Sorry. I haven’t been inside your car. Jeff moved it into the bay today. He helped steer it when the wrecker dropped it off yesterday. Otherwise, no one’s been in your car.”

“You’d better phone the police,” Gabrielle said.

Mr. Dunn’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”

Christian couldn’t believe it. “I’ve been robbed.”

The police forensics specialist Gabrielle had insisted on finished dusting Christian’s Jeep doors for fingerprints. Although she hoped otherwise, she was afraid whoever wanted Christian framed for the Densmore collapse hadn’t left any prints. This case just kept getting stranger and stranger.

And her boss wasn’t going to like this new turn of events. Somebody wanted his or her handwriting sample back, or they wanted to make the investigation murkier, or they just wanted to make sure Christian didn’t present evidence to clear himself. Detective Bolling of the Highland Park police had questioned Gabrielle and Christian about the theft. He was fifty-something, growing thick through the middle, with short brown hair.

His partner, Detective Peterson, a thirty-something black man in a navy blue suit jacket entered from the garage bay. He glanced at Christian and her, then spoke to Bolling.

“There’s been an odd development I think might be related. A company called DesignCorp in Highland Park had a break-in last night.”

“DesignCorp?” Christian came to his feet. “Was anything taken?”

Peterson narrowed his eyes at Christian. “They had a small fire. In the records room.”

“The Densmore records?” Gabrielle asked.

Peterson drilled her with a look. “They don’t know what’s destroyed yet. Highland Park PD is investigating.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” she said. “Not when our evidence is gone, too.”

“Or you made sure all the so-called evidence disappeared,” Bolling said. “Filing a false police report is a crime, Ms. Healey.”

“Detective, someone is trying to erase what they did to make the Densmore collapse. Funny how that’s happening now that Mr. Ziko and I are investigating. It sounds like someone is afraid we’re going to find out the truth, doesn’t it?”

“Can both of you account for your whereabouts last night?” Peterson asked.

“The press, who were camped outside Mr. Ziko’s condo, can swear that we were there all night. Since Mr. Ziko has a concussion, I don’t know how much time he can account for me. I know I can account for his whereabouts from around nine o’clock last night until this moment.

“We visited DesignCorp yesterday. Their connection to the Densmore design has been in the newspapers, so a smart person could put two and two together. I didn’t see anyone following us yesterday, but I couldn’t swear to it.”

The forensics tech poked his head in the office. “I’ll need Ms. Healey’s prints. Mr. Ziko’s are already on file.”

After the police left, Christian called his lawyer and informed him about the lost evidence. When Christian disconnected the call, he told her, “Bryce says our request for dismissal has been denied.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I’d hoped it would be easy to prove I was innocent. So where does our investigation go from here? We can’t go to Kernfelter, and DesignCorp is off limits. Bryce wants to see me when I have a chance.”

“We’ll have to retrace our steps and get signatures once again. Let’s do it efficiently this time.”

Christian barked a small laugh that stirred little flutters in Gabrielle’s stomach. It was the first time she’d felt like smiling since he’d learned she was psychic. At the reminder, the flutters died and coldness took their place.

Together they made their plan. They set out for their first stop, calling to make sure Roger was in first.

• • •

It was a repeat of two days ago. Christian couldn’t believe it had been only forty-eight hours, but so much had happened in the meantime. He glanced at Gabrielle as they exited the elevator on the top floor of the Piedmont Building. Her face showed no emotion. She must have plenty of experience hiding what she felt.

He hated being one more person to hurt her, but he couldn’t cope with her psychic ability right now. He feared her touch, and what she might learn from it, which made him doubly careful of any incidental touching. He noticed she avoided him, too.

Brittany watched them approach and for the first time, he saw wariness in her eyes. He didn’t blame her since he was forcing each of their employees under a cloud of suspicion. It wasn’t easy to be treated like a suspect, to have someone doubt your word. He should know.

“Roger’s in his office,” Brittany said, her tone icy.

Roger’s office was open. He looked up from the piles of paperwork on his desk. They didn’t appear to have lessened in the days since they’d last been here.

“What do you want now, Kit?”

There was no softening what Christian had to say. “The handwriting samples were stolen. We need another one.”

For a moment, Roger just looked at him. Then he threw down his pen. “Goddamit, I’m trying to run the business. If they were so goddamn important, why didn’t you take better care of them?”

“I was in an accident and my car had to be towed. The samples were in the car.”

Roger’s face worked as he looked Christian over, his gaze fixing on the white bandage on Christian’s forehead. “You were hurt?”

“Concussion.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I assume your concussion prevented you from doing any work for Barrett and Ziko?”

Christian was glad he’d worked last night while Gabrielle went to see her mother. “I made a dent in the pile you gave me.”