The Wharf (24 page)

“We’ll see about that. When that DNA test comes back, it may turn out Langford was lying anyway. I don’t know how much to believe about what he said.”

Ryan insisted on giving her hope by suggesting that Russ Langford wasn’t really her father, but she’d rather not harbor that wish.

She tucked her hair behind one ear. “Why would he lie about being the Phone Book Killer? He never wanted the publicity for the crimes.”

“That part makes sense, but what about all that other stuff? What about Bannister, the doll, Cookie, the initial attack on you in the steam room and someone trying to get to your computer? Even the brakes on my car. He denied all involvement.” Ryan crossed his arms and wedged his shoulder against the window.

“I was thinking about that. Maybe the steam room, the doll and Bannister were all Walker’s doing, his way of punishing me.”

“What about Cookie? Walker had nothing to do with her beating, and we can’t ask her because she’s still in a coma.”

“Did you ever think that what happened to Cookie was unrelated to everything else? Someone attacked her at an open house. Maybe someone from her past.”

“And Marie’s disappearance?”

“You said it yourself. She was paranoid.” She clapped her hands together. “Maybe now that Russ Langford’s confession is out there, she’ll feel safe enough to come home. I already told Ray Lopez he’s welcome to the Langford story.”

“Is he picking it up?”

“I don’t know. Without the Brody connection, he didn’t seem quite as interested. He believes Langford was the Phone Book Killer, but he’s still intrigued by the unanswered questions surrounding the case.”

“For once, Lopez is right.” Ryan scratched his chin and sat beside her on the bed. It dipped and she shifted against his solid shoulder.

“There’s so much that doesn’t make sense,” he said, “and we’re still left with the greatest mystery of all. Why did my father jump from the Golden Gate Bridge?”

“A lot of people wonder that about their friends and relatives. None of us knows what drives other people. Your father could’ve suffered from depression. The case might have been the last straw.”

“I don’t know if I can ever accept that, Kacie.”

“I know. There’s a lot I can’t accept.” She took his hand. “But I can’t deal with it right now, Ryan. I’m putting the book aside. I feel like I granted my mom a measure of justice.”

“I think you did.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry to keep harping on it. You need a break. Hell, I need a break.”

“
She
needs a break.” She pointed at the TV, where a horde of reporters was following London Breck out of the courthouse, yelling questions at her. The blonde in the large sunglasses didn’t answer one of them, instead ducking into a waiting limo.

“I told you. Sometimes money is a curse.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s get out of this city.”

“You love this city. We both do.”

“Yeah, but what did Cookie say? Sometimes it just gets to be too much.”

Kacie turned and put her arms around his neck. “We have a chance, don’t we, Ryan? I just want to start over with you, away from the drama and the danger and the lies. My lies.”

He kissed her and she knew everything was going to be okay.

After he took her breath away, he traced her lips with his finger. “I’m going to take care of you in Crestview, and you can write whatever you want to write. There’s a big mystery going on right now about who’s stealing Mr. Pritchard’s tomatoes. The book could be explosive. Another bestseller.”

Smiling, she rested her head against his chest. They could start over. She had found love—with one of the sons of Joseph Brody.

* * * * *

Don’t miss the heart-stopping conclusion of
BRODY LAW
when Carol Ericson’s THE HILL
goes on sale next month. Look for it wherever
Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!

Keep reading for an excerpt from SNOW BLIND by Cassie Miles.

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Intrigue story.

You crave excitement!
Harlequin Intrigue
stories deal in serious romantic suspense, keeping you on the edge of your seat as resourceful, true-to-life women and strong, fearless men fight for survival.

Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Intrigue every month!

Connect with us on
Harlequin.com
for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Other ways to keep in touch:

Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com

Chapter One

If ninety-two-year-old mogul and client Virgil P. Westfield hadn’t died last night under suspicious circumstances, legal assistant Sasha Campbell would never have been entrusted with this important assignment in the up-and-coming resort town of Arcadia, Colorado. She draped her garment bag over a chair and strolled across the thick carpet in the posh, spacious, brand-new corporate condo owned by her employer, the law firm of Samuels, Sorenson and Smith, often referred to as the Three
S
s, or the Three Asses, depending upon one’s perspective. Currently, she was in their good graces, especially with her boss, Damien Loughlin, Westfield’s lawyer-slash-confidant back in Denver, and she meant to keep it that way. With this assignment, she could prove herself to be professional and worthy of promotion. Someday, she wanted to get more training and become a mediator.

“Where do you want the suitcase?” Her brother Alex was a junior member of the legal team at the Three
S
s and had driven her here from Denver. He hauled her luggage through the condo’s entrance.

“Just leave it by the door. I’ll figure that out later.”

Before the mysterious death of Mr. Westfield, she and Damien had been scheduled to stay at the five-bedroom condo while attending a week-long series of meetings with the four investors who had financed Arcadia Ski Resort—Colorado’s newest luxury destination for winter sports.

That plan had changed. Damien would stay in Denver, dealing with problems surrounding the Westfield estate, and Sasha was on her own at Arcadia. Nobody expected her to replace a senior partner, of course. She was a legal assistant, not a lawyer. But she’d been sitting in on the Arcadia meetings for months. They knew and trusted her. And Damien would be in constant contact via internet conferencing. Frankly, she was glad she wouldn’t have to put up with Damien’s posturing; the meetings went more smoothly when he wasn’t there.

Drawn to the view through the windows, she crossed the room, unlocked the door and stepped onto the balcony to watch the glorious sunset over the ski slopes. Though the resort wouldn’t be officially open until the gala event on Saturday, the chairlifts and gondolas were already in operation. She saw faraway skiers and snowboarders racing over moguls on their last runs of the day. Streaks of crimson, pink and gold lit the skies and reflected in the windows of the nine-story Gateway Hotel opposite the condo. In spite of the cold and the snow, she felt warmed from within.

Life was good. Her bills were paid. She liked her job. And she’d knocked off those pesky five pounds and fit into her skinny jeans with an inch to spare. Even the new highlights and lowlights in her long blond hair had turned out great. She was gradually trying to go a few shades darker. At the law office, it was bad enough to be only twenty-three years old. But being blonde on top of that? She wanted to go for a more serious look so she’d be considered for more of these serious assignments. Alex tromped onto the balcony. “I can’t believe you get to stay here for five days for free.”

“Jealous?”

“It’s not fair. You don’t even ski.”

He gestured with his hands inside his pockets, causing his black overcoat to flap like a raven’s wings. There hadn’t been time for him to change from his suit and tie before they’d left Denver. Throughout the two-and-a-half-hour drive, he’d complained about her good luck in being chosen for this assignment. Among her four older brothers and sisters, Alex was the grumpy one, the sorest of sore losers and a vicious tease.

She wouldn’t have asked him to drive her, but she’d been expecting to ride up with Damien since her car was in the shop. “This isn’t really a vacation. I have to record the meetings and take notes every morning.”

“Big whoop,” he muttered. “You should send the late Virgil P. a thank-you card for taking a header down the grand staircase in his mansion.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say.” Mr. Westfield was a nice old gentleman who had bequeathed a chunk of his fortune to a cat-rescue organization. His heirs didn’t appreciate that generosity.

“Speaking of thank-you notes,” he said, “I deserve something for getting you a job with the Three Assses.”

The remarkable sunset was beginning to fade, along with her feeling that life was a great big bowl of cheerfulness. “Number one, you didn’t get me the job. You told me about the opening, but I got hired on my own merits.”

“It didn’t hurt to have me in your corner.”

Alex was a second-year associate attorney, not one of the top dogs at the firm. His opinion about hiring wouldn’t have influenced the final decision. “Number two, if you want to stay here at the condo, I’m sure it can be arranged. You could teach me to ski.”

He gave her an evil grin. “Like when we were kids and I taught you how to ride a bike.”

“I remember.” She groaned. “I zoomed downhill like a rocket and crashed into a tree.”

“You were such a klutz.”

“I was five. My feet barely reached the pedals.”

“You begged me for lessons.”

That was true. She’d been dying to learn how to ride. “You were thirteen. You should have known better.”

His dark blue eyes—the same color as hers—narrowed. “I got in so much trouble. Mom grounded me for a week.”

And Sasha still had a jagged scar on her knee. “Way to hold a grudge, Alex.”

“What makes you think you have the authority to invite me to stay here?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly, “but I’m sure Damien wouldn’t mind.”

“So now you speak for him? Exactly how close are you two?”

Not as close as everybody seemed to think. Sure, Damien Loughlin was a great-looking high-powered attorney and eligible bachelor. And, yes, he’d chosen her to work with him on Arcadia. But there was nothing between them. “I’d have to call him and ask for an okay, but I don’t see why he’d say no.”

“You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.”

Alex made a quick pivot and stalked back into the condo. Reluctantly, she followed, hoping that he wouldn’t take her up on her invite. Spending five days with Alex would be like suffocating under an avalanche of negativity.

Muttering to himself, he prowled through the large space. On the opposite side of the sunken conversation pit was an entire wall devoted to electronics—flat-screens, computers and gaming systems.

“Cool toys,” her brother said as he checked out the goodies. “Damien is the one who usually stays here, isn’t he?”

“Makes sense,” she said with a shrug. “He’s handled most of the legal work for Arcadia.”

“He’s kept everybody else away from the project.”

“It’s his choice,” she said defensively. The four Arcadia investors were rich, powerful and—in their own way—as eccentric as Mr. Westfield had been about his cats. They insisted on one lawyer per case. Not a team. The only reason she was in the room was that somebody had to take notes and get the coffee.

“Binoculars.” Alex held up a pair of large black binoculars. “I wonder what Damien uses these for.”

“He mentioned stargazing.”

“Grow up, baby sister. His balcony is directly across from the Gateway Hotel. I’ll bet he peeks in the windows.”

“Ew. Gross.”

Carrying the binoculars, he marched across the room and opened the balcony door. “The guests at that hotel are super rich. I heard there’ll be a couple of movie stars and supermodels at the big gala on Saturday.”

“Alex, don’t.” She felt as if she was five years old, poised at the top of the steep hill on a bike that was too big, destined for a crash. By the time she was on the balcony, he was already aiming the binocular lenses. “Please, don’t.”

“Come on, this is something your darling Damien probably does every night before he goes to bed.”

“No way. And he’s not my darling Damien.”

“I’ve heard otherwise.” He continued to stare through the binoculars. “I’m actually kind of proud. Kudos, Sasha. You’re sleeping your way to the top.”

She wasn’t surprised by gossip from the office staff, but Alex was her brother. He was supposed to be on her side. “I’m not having sex with Damien.”

“Don’t play innocent with me. I’m your brother. I know better. I remember what happened with Jason Foley.”

Jason had been her first love in high school, and she’d broken up with him before they’d gone all the way. But that wasn’t the story he’d told. Jason had blabbed to the whole school that she had sex with him. He’d destroyed her reputation and had written a song about it. “How could you—?”