Jacob Conti could hear the voice of his butler outside the door of his darkened office where a tenor’s voice soared from the speakers to greet the final notes of his favorite aria. Normally he found this the most relaxing way to end the day, but today it was a farce. Angelo was missing, Elaine was in tears and Jacob knew what came next would be bad.
„He’ll want to see me,“ Drake Edwards said.
No, I don’t want to see you, Jacob thought. But he silenced the aria with the remote. „Let him in.“ He rose, furious that his legs trembled. He took one look at Drake’s face and sank back down into his chair. His head of security looked grim.
„I’m sorry, Jacob,“ Drake said quietly. He brought a set of keys from his shirt pocket and Jacob instantly recognized the Northwestern emblem hanging from the chain. „We found the Corvette. Some kids say they found the keys on the front seat and were taking a joy ride.“
„And Angelo?“ Jacob’s voice was hoarse.
Drake shook his head. „He was last seen at a bar off campus. His friends say he’d had a lot to drink, but he wouldn’t let anybody call him a cab.“
Stupid, stupid boy. „No, I guess he wouldn’t. Not Angelo.“
„Jacob, we…“ Drake closed his eyes, his expression pained. „We found blood spattered on the driver’s seat.“
Jacob drew a breath. He’d have to tell Elaine. This would kill her. „I’ll wait to tell Mrs. Conti until we’re certain. Keep looking, Drake. And put men on Mayhew and those two detectives… Mitchell and Reagan. According to Richardson, the killer sends Mayhew letters. If Angelo’s – “ He forced the word from his mouth, „hurt, they’ll know soon enough.“
Drake nodded stiffly. This was hard on him, too, Jacob thought. Drake had been with him for a long time, long before he was Jacob Conti, wealthy Chicago industrialist. Drake had been his right-hand man since he was running two-bit cons on lonely old ladies and doing the dirty work of others on the side. Drake was family. He’d changed Angelo’s diapers, taken him to the circus when he was just a kid. Drake’s heart had to be breaking.
„I already put men on the three of them and their bosses and the Richardson woman,“ Drake said. „Jacob, try to get some rest I won’t stop until we find Angelo.“
No, Drake wouldn’t stop looking. Jacob knew it as well as he knew his own name. But when he does find Angelo, will I still have a son?
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday, February 21,
9:30 p.m.
With a wave to the cruiser, Reagan pulled into her driveway, his headlights illuminating another vehicle sitting under her carport. „Looks like you have company,“ he said.
„I don’t think so.“ She never had company. Except for him. „I think the rental car company brought me another car.“ Kristen squinted to see the make and model in the darkness. „It’s a Chevy.“ She glanced over to find him studying her, his expression as intense and expectant as it had been the whole way to her house. There had been an air of anticipation hovering between them that made her jumpy and wistfully anxious all at once. „Maybe it’ll come with a global positioning system just like Skinner’s.“
The corner of Reagan’s mouth lifted. „Couldn’t hurt.“
The silence between them grew heavy and still his eyes held hers. He was waiting. For what she wasn’t sure. Yes, she was. Trouble was, she had no idea how to begin.
„Thank you,“ she said. „I had a good time.“ She really had. She’d met his sister and what seemed like four dozen of his sister’s friends. The kids had been noisy and brash, but their youthful enthusiasm served to dissolve her depressed mood. They’d been curious about the case, which thanks to Rachel everyone knew about, and asked questions, most of them surprisingly pertinent. Rachel lapsed into an imitation of Zoe Richardson so irreverently funny that Kristen laughed until her ribs ached. Then the middle school crowd took over the other half of the restaurant, leaving Kristen and Reagan to talk in relative peace.
Reagan liked art, he told her, and they found they had Impressionists in common. Music was a slightly different matter. He preferred seventies rock while she admitted owning every Bee Gees’ album ever made, much to his disdain. She’d found Reagan’s company utterly charming. And comfortable. And enticing.
Once again he’d held her hand. No one had simply held her hand in a very long time. It made her crave more. And that frightened her even as it beckoned.
„I’m sorry about my sister. She can be…“
„A teenager?“ Kristen supplied and his smile flashed.
„Yeah, I suppose that’s as good a word as any. You don’t have to do her little interview tomorrow afternoon, Kristen. I know she bugged you into it.“
Kristen shook her head. Rachel Reagan was quite the salesperson, she thought One minute she was politely declining the girl’s request for an interview and the next minute she was accepting an invitation to a Reagan Sunday dinner tomorrow afternoon. „It’s okay.“ And she found it really was. „I don’t mind.“ In fact if I’m honest, I’m looking forward to it. „Besides, I can use all the good press I can get.“
Reagan grimaced. „Tony felt just terrible about that.“
„It was bound to happen. It wasn’t his fault the reporters were lying in wait outside. I just wish I knew when Richardson sleeps. She seems to be everywhere all the time.“
„At least, the uniform in front of your house can keep her from bothering you here.“
There was another heavy pause, and Kristen wished she was comfortable with the social words. She wished she could invite him in for tea without making it seem like a big deal. Even though it would be. Her skin still tingled from the sweep of his thumb across her palm. And she wanted him to do it again. She blew out a hard breath.
„I’m no good at this.“
One dark brow lifted, giving him a rakish look. „At what?“
Kristen rolled her eyes. „Do you want to come in for a cup of tea or not?“
His eyes gleamed in the darkness and her heart thumped as she waited for his answer. „Yes, I do,“ he said huskily, and she had the definite impression he was talking about more than tea. „I need to talk to your uniform down on the street. I’ll be right back.“
He slammed the door, leaving her in the dark with her thoughts.
He’s going to kiss you, Kristen. You stupid idiot. Now he’ll know.
She wasn’t mat naive. Yes, he’d try to kiss her. Nor was she a woman to deny the inevitable. Yes, he’d know. With a man like Reagan, all it would take would be one single kiss to expose her. So he’ll know. So what? Maybe he won’t care.
Hah, she ridiculed herself. You really are stupid. All men care.
She sighed. Even a nice man like Abe Reagan would want what she couldn’t deliver. After one kiss, he’d realize she was too cold… Too frigid to give him what he needed, wanted. He’d quickly conclude this wouldn’t work, and though he’d try to be kind about it, they’d quickly find themselves back in a purely professional relationship. Which was better. The sooner they caught this killer, the sooner Reagan would be gone and she’d have her life back to normal. Normal is lonely. Normal is all you’ll ever have. Get over it.
He opened her car door, letting the cold air rush in, a fitting end to the lecture she’d given herself. She looked up at him bleakly. „Any action while I was gone today?“
„No. Charlie Truman’s assigned to night shift. He’s a good cop, friend of my brother. You’ll be safe with him outside. And remember Mclntyre, the guy who took your statement last night? He’s got day shift. You should see him tomorrow morning.“ He frowned. „Kristen, what’s wrong?“