As they sat down on the couch, she noticed that he was brooding about something. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
He sighed. “Cindy, as much as I want us to be together, after today I wonder if it’s such a great idea for you to move in.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not a question of loving you. I’m crazy about you. It’s just that I’m not sure it’s safe for you here.”
“Why not?”
He exhaled, then launched into a selective summary of the events of the past two days, focusing on the Tampa real estate attorney by the name of Richard Dressler.
“So why is Dressler so interested in this?” she asked.
“He’s not. I got a call from Manny driving back here. His investigator met with Dressler in Tampa. Turns out his wallet was stolen two months ago. Somebody got all his identification. Including his Florida bar card.”
“So somebody’s been using his bar card to pose as an attorney?”
“Exactly. This somebody used his name to check out the police file in my case after Goss was dead. I think the guy, whoever he is, is trying to frame me. If I’m right, it was him who was hassling me all along, not Goss.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you saying-”
“I don’t know exactly what I’m saying. I haven’t thought it all the way through yet. But I’m pretty sure there’s still a killer on the loose. Whoever was after me is still out there.”
She took a step back. “Who is it, then? If it wasn’t Eddy Goss, who could it be?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. And until I do, I think it’s best if you take a vacation or just get out of town for a few-”
“No. I’m staying with you, Jack. I’m not going to leave you at a time like this. We’ll deal with this together.”
He took a deep breath, then put his arms around her again. “We still can’t call the police. I can’t tell them that whoever was after me is still out there. Because the minute they find out I thought Goss was threatening me, the prosecution goes from no evidence of motive to iron-clad proof.”
Cindy bit her lip. It was bad enough that a stalker was still out there, but not being able to tell anyone was against common sense. Yet everything Jack had said seemed logical. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “No police. We’ll look out for ourselves, and we’ll look out for each other.”
That same Thursday evening, Governor Harold Swyteck checked into a room on the thirty-second floor of Miami’s Hotel Intercontinental. He was scheduled to speak at a fund-raiser later that evening, but first he had to give away some money of his own. The bouquet of chrysanthemums he’d ordered was waiting for him in his room. He took the money from his briefcase-fifty thousand dollars-and placed the bills in the oversized pot. Then he took his shoes from his suitcase, all the while fighting to keep his anger under control. It was demeaning, really-like stealing a man’s clothes and leaving him stranded on a street corner. But if that was the kind of cheap power trip this lunatic needed, so be it. At this point, Harry would have given much more than fifty grand to be rid of his blackmailer, once and for all.
He checked his watch. Six-thirty. With traffic, it would be about a twenty-minute drive to Memorial Cemetery. For perhaps the hundredth time that day, the governor mentally ran through his options, trying to find some way out of this ludicrousness. But both of his alternatives-calling the police or letting his tormentor do what he’d threatened-seemed unacceptable. At least, by following his blackmailer’s instructions, he had a chance of holding on to the life he’d struggled so hard to create.
He grabbed the pot and the keys to his rental car and he was off, wondering with a growing dread if the grave he was about to visit was his own.
Chapter 31
Jack and Cindy were in bed by 9:00 p.m., and they didn’t stop making love to the sounds of “Love Jazz” on the radio until well after the deejay said, “Thank God it’s Friday.” Afterward, Jack decided he had to find some way to tell Cindy the truth about Gina. She was risking too much for him to be dishonest with her. Before breaking the news, however, he wanted to confirm Gina’s position. He wanted to be able to tell Cindy that Gina wouldn’t be telling their sordid story to the world-as a witness for the prosecution.
The following afternoon Jack was deep in thought as he headed to Gina’s townhouse, driving so slowly that even carloads of tourists zoomed by him on the expressway.
Gina had just returned from jogging when Jack knocked on her door. She wore orange nylon shorts, Nike running shoes, and a skimpy tank top that had been pasted to her body by a good hard sweat. Her long brown hair was pulled back and tied behind her head.
“Can I come in?” he asked, standing in the open doorway.
Gina sipped her Gatorade Lite, her expression as cool as the ice in her glass. “Sure,” she said with a shrug.
He stepped inside and closed the door, then followed her to the kitchen. “I realize this isn’t your favorite subject, Gina. But the way you left Manny’s office yesterday, I felt like we should talk.”
Gina went to the refrigerator for a refill on her drink. “I’ve pretty much said it all, haven’t I?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. That crack you made yesterday about not wanting to help me. That worried me.”
“Well,” she said with a wry smile, “maybe I did lay it on a little thick. But you got the point of my performance: I don’t want to get involved. That shouldn’t surprise you, Jack. I honestly don’t think it even upsets you. I could see it on your face. The last thing you wanted was for me to be your alibi.”
“You don’t know what I want, Gina.”
“Oh, no?” she said coyly, switching to a low, sexy voice. She suddenly felt challenged. She moved closer to him, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek and smell the sweat that reminded him of things he should never have done. She reached behind her head and tugged on the sweatband, letting her hair down. “Let me put it another way, Jack. Did you actually want me to say I touched this body,” she said, gliding her open hand lightly over his chest, a half inch away from touching him, but never making physical contact. “That I felt the weight of it on top of me. That we tangled and sweated and screamed in the night, that with each thrust I dug my nails into your back and sunk my teeth into your chest, crying out for more, even though you were more than enough for any woman. Is that really what you wanted? And if you did,” she whispered, now looking deeply into his eyes, “did you want Cindy in or out of the courtroom when I said it?”
Jack pulled himself away from her. “What happened between you and me was a mistake. I think we both regret it. And you certainly could have been my alibi without making it sound so lurid.”
Gina emptied her Gatorade into the sink and opened the liquor cabinet. She filled her glass with Campari and ice. “Are you negotiating with me?”
“Negotiating for what?”
She arched an eyebrow, then sipped her drink. “Do you want me to say you didn’t leave my townhouse until after four o’clock?”
Jack knew her serious look, and she was definitely being serious. “Just hold it right there, Gina. You’ve totally got the wrong idea. I didn’t come here for that.”
“I didn’t say you did. But, then again, think about the last time you came here. You didn’t come here to make love to me. But you did.”
“And I wish it had never happened.”
“Do you? Or do you just wish Cindy would never find out about it?”
He looked away, trying not to lose his temper. He brought his emotions under control, then gave her a very lawyerly look. “Listen, Gina, I didn’t come here to talk you into being my alibi. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to testify against me.”