Gray released his hold on the other man, who muttered under his breath, gingerly opening and closing his fingers. He stared from Gray to Marley, managing to convey confusion, suspicion—and physical pain—at the same time.
Too bad.
“Are you okay?” Gray repeated to Marley. The way she looked at him suggested he’d grown horns—or worse.
“Yes, I am, thank you.”
“That’s great, then.” His attention was split between Marley, who visibly shrank away, and Sidney’s voice from behind him. “You got a problem, Danny?” he asked.
“Yeah, I reckon I do. There’s something going on here. You two know each other.”
Gray raised his brows. “Why would that be a problem? I came to meet up with Marley. She’s a friend.” He looked into her very green eyes, willing her not to call him a liar.
Freckles showed plainly over her nose. Such white skin, but he guessed that went with the red hair. He hadn’t known many redheads.
“You’re late,” Marley said.
She narrowed her eyes slightly and he figured he’d probably have to pay for her cooperation. An interesting thought. What could he have that she wanted? Must be something.
“I shouldn’t have touched you,” Danny said to Marley. “I don’t usually lose control like that. Sorry.”
“What’s with you?” Gray said to Danny before Marley could respond. He took off his jacket and slung it over a shoulder. Unless you stood in front of icy blasts from air-conditioning vents, the place was tight with wet heat.
Danny started to walk away, but he stopped. “She won’t tell me why she’s asking questions about Amber,” he said, nodding at Marley. “You understand what that means to me. You know what Amber means to me. She hasn’t come back. I haven’t even had a call from her. I don’t know what to do next.”
Gray didn’t know Danny was involved with Amber, or he hadn’t until now.
“You could start by coming clean with the police,” Marley said, then she wouldn’t meet Gray’s eyes.
“I’m not having them poking around in her things,” Danny said to Gray. “And it’s none of their damn business how I feel about her.”
“Danny,” Gray said. “How long have you known Amber? You know what I mean—personally?”
“Why would that matter to you?” Danny bristled. “I should be the one asking you questions. Two of the people you were supposedly writing an article about have disappeared. Liza Soaper and Amber were doing just fine till you showed up.”
“Coincidence,” Gray said, knowing that in the other man’s place, he’d be coming to some of the same conclusions. “I’ve written about a lot of people.”
Then he noticed Marley’s face. Stunned. She clutched the edge of the table.
Damn, if Danny hadn’t opened his mouth she still wouldn’t know about his connection to Liza and Amber. It hadn’t been mentioned in front of her at Nat Archer’s office. She didn’t have to say a word for him to know she was connecting dots and drawing an ugly picture of him. At least she wasn’t linking him to Pipes Dupuis, or to the Cooper woman’s death—yet.
Danny sat on the end of the banquette across from Marley. He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand back and forth over his mouth.
Gray met Marley’s eyes. She had already collected herself and shut away whatever she felt.
“Do either of you know anything?” Danny said. “If you do, for God’s sake tell me. I don’t know where to go for help.”
“Did Amber live with you?” Marley said.
Gray watched Danny’s reaction.
“That’s it,” he said, getting up again. “I know when I’m being taken for a ride. You two have got your own agendas and they’re not about helping Amber or me. The only people I’ll be talking to are the police. And don’t think I won’t tell them to take a long look at the two of you.”
Just what I need. “That’s up to you,” Gray said. “But don’t forget I like Amber. She’s got a lot of guts and she hasn’t had it easy. I’ve got no reason to wish her any harm. If you point the cops in my direction you could make yourself feel better, but you’ll only be taking their time away from the case.”
“I gotta go,” Danny said. He shook his head slowly all the way back to the bar.
“You know Liza and Amber?” Marley asked softly.
Gray puffed up his cheeks and studied his shoes.
“You do, don’t you? You’ve been writing a story about them. And now they’re missing. When I showed up, Detective Archer must have been questioning you about it.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “You don’t waste any time getting your wild guesses together. If Nat had brought me in for questioning, we wouldn’t have been lounging in his office when you arrived.” Not entirely true, but Nat hadn’t seen any reason to hold him, either.
Marley Millet still wore the white cotton dress she’d had on earlier, but with a short pink sweater that tied beneath the breasts and a filmy, multicolored scarf around her neck. Everything about her appealed to him and he didn’t like the idea of her being alone in Scully’s at almost one in the morning. There weren’t many sober patrons around.
The glass of green-something Marley picked up shook slightly on the way to her lips. She barely touched the liquor, but continued to hold the glass in both hands.
“I know where you live,” he told her, and almost bit his tongue when he saw what she thought of that announcement. “You gave your name at the station and you said you lived on Royal. I put it together with J. Clive Millet. The antique people. I worked in the Quarter a long time—I probably know just about every business around.”
“You followed me here?” she said.
“No. I didn’t know you’d be here. I came for the same reason as you, to see if I could get a lead on Amber. This is the last place I know she was seen. I don’t expect her to walk through those doors, but I keep hoping.”
Marley raised her chin, but abruptly her eyes lost focus on him. She seemed…distant, as if she was listening for something. Or to something.
Gray looked around, but didn’t see anything different. When he glanced back at Marley, she had rested her chin on her hands and closed her eyes. Tingling crept up his spine, and he got that sensation of heat in his lungs and belly again. There was fear in this woman, and urgency. She needed and wanted to do something but couldn’t, not without help.
The flicker of a memory shoved into his mind. He didn’t allow himself to go there to that place where a small boy was tormented for being “different.” The boy had made the mistake of knowing when bad things were going to happen, and trying to warn the other children. He had been that boy.
No, that was a long time ago. Whatever he’d thought he knew was dumb kid stuff.
Marley was so still, he could almost imagine she wasn’t breathing. Under the low lights in the room, her hair glowed a deep, shocking red. Her brows were fine and feathered and even her lashes were dark red. She fascinated him. He’d never considered himself a masochist, but he must be if he was excited by Marley of the laser tongue who walked into a precinct house and announced she could travel without her body!
She was concentrating on him again and he almost said, “welcome back.” This time sanity prevailed. “You look really nice,” he said. Sanity? With a grin, he added, “You do, but I’m also trying to soften you up. It would be good if you could like me a bit. I’m a decent guy, honestly. Just a journalist trying to make a living and having problems right now.”
Her stare never left his face.
The same sensation he’d had in his fingers yesterday afternoon slipped into his head. The very tips of his fingers were still affected. Numbing cold.
“Tell him he should go home.”
Who said that? He frowned. Not Marley, but he heard it.
“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll leave now.”
A man’s voice.
Was he losing it?
“Marley, did you say something?”