Sudden Second Chance (3 page)

The wooden chair scraped the floor as he pulled it out. “The only important business I have right now is dinner.”

She gulped the next spoonful of soup and it burned her throat. What possible reason could Duke have for joining her for dinner? Maybe he wanted to grill
her
for information this time.

“The seafood bisque is good.” She drew a circle around her bowl of soup with her spoon.

Chloe returned to the table, practically bursting at the seams. “Are you Beth’s cameraman?”

“Would it get me a beer faster if I were?” Duke lifted one eyebrow at Chloe, who turned three different shades of red.

“Of course not. I mean, what kind of beer would you like?”

“Do you sell that local microbrew on tap here?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have that and the pork chops with the mashed potatoes, and you might as well bring me some of that soup she’s slurping up.”

Beth dropped her spoon in the bowl. “Why did you join me if you’re going to sit here and insult me?”

“That wasn’t an insult. Are you getting overly sensitive out there in LA? You used to be a tough broad, Beth.”

Rolling her shoulders, she exhaled out of her nose. Duke liked to needle her. It hadn’t bothered her before—when they’d been in love. But now that he hated her? She couldn’t take the slightest criticism from him.

“Pile it on, Duke. I can take it.” She set her jaw.

“Relax, Beth. Your slurping made the soup sound good. That’s all I meant.”

Relax? Was that a jab at her anxiety? She squeezed her eyes closed for a second. If she didn’t stop looking for innuendos in his conversation, this was gonna be a long dinner.

She scooped up a spoonful and held it out to him with a surprisingly steady hand. “Try it.”

He opened his mouth and closed his lips around the spoon. “Mmm.”

Heat engulfed her body and a pulse throbbed in her throat. My God, she couldn’t be within five feet of the man without feeling that magnetic pull. And he knew it.

She slipped the spoon from his mouth and lined it up on one side of the bowl just as Chloe brought Duke’s beer and another bisque.

“Are you done, Beth?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She pushed her bowl toward the eager waitress.

When she disappeared into the kitchen, Duke took a swig of beer and asked, “What’s up with the waitress? Is she your new best friend or what?”

“She dated Wyatt Carson and thinks that’s going to get her camera time.”

“You have that effect on people, don’t you? They tend to fall all over themselves in your presence.”

She stuck out her tongue at him and took a gulp of wine. She needed it to get through this meal.

“Interesting case, Wyatt Carson.” Duke flicked his bottle with his finger.

“I know, right?” Beth hunched forward. “Why do you think he did it? Hard to imagine he’d want to put other families through that hell when he’d suffered the loss of his brother.”

“One of two things.” Duke held up two fingers. “Either he missed the attention and limelight of those days when his brother went missing or he really did just want to play the hero. He kidnapped those kids and then rescued them. Maybe he thought he could get past his survivor’s guilt by saving other children when he couldn’t save his brother.”

“Twisted logic.” Beth tapped her head.

“Do you want a slurp, er, sip?” He held his spoon poised over his soup. “I had one of yours.”

“No, thanks. I have some fish coming.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know the camera adds ten pounds. You still run?”

“There are some great running trails here. Did you bring your running shoes?”

“Of course. Running is the only thing that kept me sane...keeps me sane with the pressures of the job.”

“Same here.” So the loss of his partner must’ve weighed heavily on him. Did he suffer from that same survivor’s guilt as Wyatt Carson?

“You doing okay with all that—” he circled his finger in the air “—panic stuff?”

“I’m managing.” Did he care? He’d acted like he wanted to strangle her today in the woods. Of course, she’d just nailed him with some expired pepper spray.

“How are your eyes? They still look a little red.”

“I’m managing.”

Chloe brought their entrées at the same time and hovered for several seconds. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Not for me.”

Beth shook her head. “No, thanks.”

As Duke sliced off a piece of pork chop and swept it through his potatoes, he glanced around the room. “Does the entire town of Timberline know why you’re here?”

“I don’t know about the entire town, but everyone in this restaurant has a pretty good idea by now, thanks to Chloe.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” His lips twisted into a frown.

“How else am I going to investigate, to get information?” She squeezed some lemon on her fish and licked the tart juice from her fingers.

Duke shifted his gaze from her fingers to her face and cleared his throat. “I guess that’s how you operate. Stir up a bunch of trouble and heartache and move on.”

Beth pursed her lips. “None of the original families is even here anymore. Wyatt Carson was the last of Stevie’s family in Timberline. Kendall Rush, Kayla’s sister, blew through town, got caught up in Wyatt’s craziness and then hightailed it out of here. And Heather’s family... They moved away from Timberline, to Connecticut, I think.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“I always do, Duke.”

“What I can’t figure out—” he poked at his potatoes “—is why you were attracted to this cold case. It hardly has all the elements you usually look for.”

“And what elements would those be?”

“You know—sex, drugs, grieving families, celebrity.”

She chewed her fish slowly. Duke hated what she did for a living—had hated it then, hated it now. She didn’t have to answer to Special Agent Duke Harper or anyone else.

She drained her wineglass. “I was following the copycat kidnapping story and got interested in the old story, like a lot of people. There seemed to be heightened interest in the Timberline Trio and talk of some new evidence, so I figure I’d capitalize on that. Right up my alley.”

“Excuse me, Ms. St. Regis?”

Beth turned and met the faded blue eyes of a grandmotherly woman, linking arms with another woman of about the same age.

“Yes?”

“I’m Gail Fitzsimmons and this is my friend Nancy Heck. We wanted to let you know that we were both living here at the time of the Timberline Trio kidnappings and we’d be happy to talk to you.”

“Thank you.” Beth reached into her purse for her cards, ignoring Duke’s sneer—or what looked pretty close to a sneer. “Here’s my card. I’ll be doing some preliminary interviews before my crew gets here.”

Nancy snatched the card from Beth’s fingers. “You mean we aren’t going to be on TV?”

Duke coughed and Beth kicked him under the table. “I can’t tell yet. We’ll see how the interviews go.”

When the two ladies shuffled away, their silver heads together, Duke chuckled. “This is going to be a circus.”

“And what exactly are you doing to work this cold case?”

“I have all the original case files. I’m starting there.” He held up his hands. “Don’t even ask. You can do your interviews with Wyatt Carson’s ex-girlfriend’s ex–dog sitter’s second cousin.”

“Don’t dismiss what I do. I helped the FBI solve the Masters case.”

“You helped yourself, Beth.”

Chloe approached their table. “Dessert?”

“Not for me.” Beth tossed her napkin on the table.

Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, Duke said, “Just the check.”

“You paying?” Beth reached for her purse. “I have an expense account.”

“And you’re using it to pay for your own dinner. I’m using my per diem to pay for mine. I don’t want any commingling here.”

She lowered her lashes and slid her credit card from her wallet. Was he talking about just their finances?

“Got it.” She tapped her card on the table. “No commingling.”

A loud voice came from the bar area of the restaurant, and chatter in the dining room hushed to a low level—enough for the bar patron’s words to reach them.

“That TV show better not start nosing around. If anyone talks to that host, I’ll give ’em the business end of my fist.” The man at the bar turned to face the room, knocking over his bar stool in the process.

His buddy next to him put a hand on his shoulder, but the belligerent drunk shook him off.

“Where’s she? I’ll toss ’er out right now on her fanny. Tarring and feathering. That’s what we should do. Who’s with me?” He raised his fist in the air.

A few people snickered but most went back to their dinners. Duke didn’t do either. He marched across the room toward the bar.

Beth groaned as she scribbled her signature on the credit-card receipt and took off after him. Duke had always been a hothead, and it looked like he hadn’t changed.

“What did you say?” He widened his stance in front of the man. “Are you threatening the lady?”

“You with that show, too?” The man looked Duke up and down and hiccuped.

His friend picked up the stool and shoved his friend into it. “C’mon, Bill. Take it easy. Who knows? Being featured on TV might increase our property values.”

The man, his dark hair flecked with gray, shook his head and stuck out his hand. “Sorry about that. My friend’s a Realtor and has had a little too much to drink. I’m Jordan Young.”

“Duke Harper.” Duke gestured toward Beth. “This is Beth St. Regis, the host of
Cold Case Chronicles
and the woman your friend was threatening.”

Jordan Young dismissed his drunken friend with a wave of his hand. “It’s the booze talking. His sales numbers haven’t been great lately, but it has nothing to do with the recent publicity we’ve been getting. Hell, Kendall Rush’s aunt’s place sold for top dollar. He’s just ticked off that he didn’t get that listing.”

He took Beth’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m a big fan of the show, Ms. St. Regis.”

“Thanks.” She nudged Duke in the back. “Are you a Realtor, too?”

“Me?” He chuckled. “Not really. I’m a developer, and I have a lot more to lose than Bill here if things go south, but that’s not going to happen—Evergreen Software will make sure of that.”

“You need to tell your friend to keep his mouth shut about Beth.”

“Duke.” She put her hand on his arm. His stint in Siberia hadn’t done anything to temper his combativeness. “I’m sure he’s not serious—at least about the tar-and-feathering part.”

Young winked. “Good to see you have a sense of humor about it, Ms. St. Regis, but I can understand your...coworker wanting to be protective.”

Duke didn’t correct him. If the residents of Timberline knew all about
Cold Case Chronicles
looking into the Timberline Trio, they didn’t seem to be as knowledgeable about the FBI putting the case back on its radar. Maybe Duke wanted to keep it that way.

“You can call me Beth.” Her eyes flicked over his gray-streaked hair and the lines on his face. “Were you here at the time of the initial kidnappings?”

“I was. Sad time for us.” He withdrew a silver card case from his suit jacket and flipped it open. “If you’re implying you want to interview me, I might be available, although I don’t know how much I could contribute.”

She took the card and ran her thumb across the gold-embossed letters. “You’d be the first one in town without some special insight.”

“Can you blame them?” He spread his hands. “A chance to be on TV and talk to the beautiful host?”

“Thank you.” The guy was smooth but almost avuncular. Duke could wipe the scowl from his face, but she didn’t mind that another man’s attentions to her irritated him.

“You should take care of your buddy here.” Duke jerked his thumb at Bill, still resting his head on the bar.

“I’ll get him home safely to his wife. Good night, now.” Young turned back to the bar. “Serena, can you get Bill a strong cup of coffee? Make it black, sweetheart.”

Duke put his hand on her back as he propelled her out of the restaurant—with almost every pair of eyes following them.

As Duke swung the door open for her, Chloe rushed up and patted her apron. “I’ll be calling you, Beth. I don’t care what Bill Raney says.”

“Looking forward to it, Chloe.”

When they stepped outside, Duke tilted his head. “Really? You’re looking forward to talking to Chloe about Wyatt Carson?”

“You never know what might pop up in a conversation. Maybe Wyatt remembered something about his brother’s kidnapping that he never told the cops.”

“Why wouldn’t he have told the cops?”

Beth zipped up her vest. “Because he turned out to be a nut job.”

“Seems to be no scarcity of those in this town.” He hunched into his suede coat, rubbing his hands together. “Where are you parked?”

“In the public lot down the block. This is Timberline. You don’t have to walk me to my car.”

“Just so happens I’m parked there, too.” He nudged her with his elbow. “There have been two high-profile kidnapping cases in Timberline. I wouldn’t take your safety for granted here. There might be more people here who feel like Bill.”

“I’m hardly in danger of getting tarred and feathered...or kidnapped.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets and lifted her shoulders to her ears. She may have already been kidnapped from Timberline once. What were the odds of it happening again?

Duke followed her through the parking lot to her car anyway, occasionally bumping her shoulder but never taking her hand. What did she expect? That they would pick up where they’d left off two years ago? Before he’d accused her of using him? Before she’d used him?

As she reached the rental, her boots crunched against the asphalt and she jerked her head up. “Damn. Somebody broke the window of my car.”

“Safe Timberline, huh? Maybe Bill did his dirty work before he hit the restaurant.” Duke hunched forward to look at the damage to the window on the driver’s side. “You didn’t have a laptop sitting on the passenger seat, did you?”

“No, but...” Her ears started ringing and she grabbed the handle of the car door and yanked it open.

Someone had taken the bag from the gift shop. Collapsing in the driver’s seat, she slammed her hands against the steering wheel. “My frog. They took my frog.”