“What? Why?”
“The press is waiting out there for you.”
“What?” Torie couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Torie.” Paul stopped as he said her name, forcing her to turn and face him. “You are a murder suspect. It’s a colorful story. The press has been digging. I didn’t think anyone would figure out that I was going to get you, but someone did and someone talked. And when I find out who…” He let the words dangle. The look in his eyes told Torie someone was in for an ass-whipping.
“But, but…who? How?”
Paul managed a wry grin. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you speechless.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she snapped back. “But I don’t understand.”
“Not that complex, honey. Todd won big five years ago. That was in the files. Todd donated to a lot of Philly charities, so his name’s well-known. He’s dead. You did his eulogy. You’re news, too, around here.”
“Not that much,” she protested.
“More than you know.”
“But still,” she managed, denying his comment, “I’m just a small fish.”
“They figured out, or the cops leaked the fact that your dates haven’t fared so well.” His face was closed down now, almost shuttered. “They learned about your boyfriend, the one who was killed.”
“Christian,” she whispered.
“Yeah, and they’ve put it together with Todd. Some other guy said he’d nearly been run down after dating you a couple of times. They’re calling you the Black Widow.”
“The what?”
“You heard me.” He pushed open the door to the quiet lounge. “Follow me.” He showed the desk clerk his access card, and led her to a kiosk with a computer desk and a phone. “Sit. I have to make some calls.”
Torie sank down, letting her heavy carry-on bag drop to the floor. Never in a million years could she have imagined this as part of her life. Murder suspect. Black Widow. How could it get worse?
“Cancel, cancel,” she muttered, knowing it could get worse, and that was the last thing she needed or wanted.
Yanking out her own cell phone, she called Pam.
“Honey, are you okay?” Pam didn’t bother with hello before launching in. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m with Paul. He came and got me at the beach. I…I don’t know if I’m all right or not. Pam, they’re saying things, horrible things.”
“I know, honey, but they aren’t true. We both know that. Sticks and stones, love.”
“Pretty ugly stick to hit me with,” Torie said, fighting tears.
“That’s God’s truth, but I’m here for you. You’ll get through this.” There was a long pause. “You want some good news?”
“There’s good news in the world right now?” Torie tried to joke.
“You bet. Tax cut to boost the economy. Three houses sold on my block for full-asking price. That’s not bad.”
“Yeah? That’s the good news?”
“Um, no. Good news is your cousin is okay and on the mend. He’s, uh, really nice.”
Torie heard the underlying excitement in Pam’s voice. Oh, no. She could not let her friend fall for Dev. He was the quintessential ever-philandering flirt. Her sexy cousin was also a marked man, if the cops were to be believed. He was part of her curse.
“Pammie, girl, don’t go and fall for Dev. He’s not the marrying kind.”
“I know, but damn if he’s not one of the hottest men I’ve ever met. Seriously. I mean damn, girl. How could anyone resist that smile? And you wouldn’t even go to dinner with him.”
Torie said flatly. “I go to dinner with him, he’s a target Pammie. He’s my cousin—that already makes him a target. Which would make you one, too. Please, please, don’t go there. And be careful.”
“You know I will, either way. But I can’t not help your cousin, girlfriend. Since you’re a big fat target for the press right now, you’re not going to be able to. There are newshounds all over the place. They’ve been showing photos of your house, and they’re trying to dig up all the guys you’ve dated. I think one of those cops let loose with his theory that you were some kind of—”
“Black Widow. Yeah, Paul told me that charming tidbit.”
“Oh, the other piece of good news is that package we picked up—the night everything went down?”
Torie had forgotten about their little criminal detour. “Yeah?” she said cautiously.
“Doin’ fine. I baked that cake and all is well.”
Cake. Life was simple when all it took was baking a cake. Why couldn’t she be more like Pam? Torie cut off that line of thinking. If she’d thought it once, she’d thought it a hundred times.
“That’s good. Any idea where we can send the package from here?”
“May have already found a place to stash it. I’ll keep you posted.”
Paul had come back, and was waiting impatiently to talk to her.
“Uh, I have to go, Pam. Paul’s back. I’ll let you know what’s up as soon as I know, okay?”
“’kay, see ya, and love ya, girl.”
“You, too.”
Torie flipped shut the phone, and turned to face Paul. For the first time, she actually looked at him, really looked. His face was drawn and pale. The lines around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced. As she watched, he downed two tablets, chasing them with water from a bottle he held.
“Are you okay?” she asked, honestly concerned. “You look…”
“That bad, huh?” Paul said, frowning. He rubbed his eyes, which just made them redder, and made him look even more haggard.
“Yeah. That bad.”
“Tell me what you really think. Seriously,” he quipped. “Don’t mince words.”
Torie smiled. “Sorry. It’s just I’ve never seen you so out of sorts, I guess. You always seem to be in that ‘I’m in charge’ mode.”
He grimaced. “Thanks, I guess. Although that really doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
“True. I’m just not used to you being, um, human.”
That made him laugh. “Oh, I’m human all right. Damnably so.”
Torie had no idea what he meant. She was about to ask when his cell phone rang. He held up a finger, motioning her to be quiet.
“Okay, great. We’re in…yeah, okay. Officer Rhodes. Yes. Thanks.”
“What was that all about?”
“Airport security is happy to escort us out of a private entrance in order to get all the reporters out of the airport. They don’t like it, they don’t like doing it, but the press has access to the public areas of the airport just like anyone else, and the TV vans and so forth can circle all day long. They’d rather have us out of here and get it over with.”
“Ooookay. Our luggage?”
“Will be picked up from the carousel and brought to us at the door. Another officer will round up a driver for us.”
“You didn’t drive?”
“No, took a shuttle.”
They both heard footsteps, and Paul stood up to greet a uniformed man. “Officer.”
“Mister Jameson?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you and your guest would come with me, please.”
“Sure,” Paul said as he picked up his briefcase and hefted Torie’s carry-on bag. He made a soft oofing noise and glanced at her as if to say, “What have you got in this, rocks?”
“Running shoes. Books.”
“How many?”
“I expected to be there for a while longer.”
“Uh huh.”
She thought he muttered something about her being a crazy woman, but the words were lost in the throng of the airport’s noisy passageways. The officer led them down the concourse, then ducked into a bland passageway. Three doors led in different directions, but all were marked with “No Admittance” signs.