Murder in the Clear Zone Page 15

  Her face flamed hotly. To cover her wayward emotions, she said, “The stuff about Deeter is on the last page.” Her words came out bedroom-husky.

  She closed her eyes, fighting her desire, hating the way it floated between them like an eros gas—dangerous, combustible—made more explosive by spending the night only a few feet away from him, seeing him half-nude.

  Without comment, Bard turned to the first page and skimmed through, making note of the names listed. The name he’d printed at the top of the list was Lopez. It meant nothing to her.

  In spite of her curiosity, she yawned. The lack of sleep was catching up to her. The secretary had told them to help themselves to the coffee. There was too much at stake to let herself droop. She went to the cart and poured herself a cup. “Want some?” she asked.

  ****

  Bard glanced up. “No, thanks.” He knew Paula hadn’t slept much. She’d thrashed around in the bed most of the night. Strangely, her lack of sleep didn’t show. She looked alert, ready for anything. She’d swept her hair up in a crown of copper curls. Her blue suit brought out the deep blue in her eyes.

  Staring at her, as much as he loved the distraction, wasn’t getting the job done. He forced his attention back to the journal. The name Leroy Damas jumped out at him. Damas was one of Reed’s people, The Corps official with whom Gordon talked almost daily on the phone, the man who’d visited Gordon’s office several times a week. Bard jotted down the name and phone number. Maybe Damas had worked with Charlie undercover, or perhaps Charlie suspected the official was involved in the clear zone looting. Reed would know if Damas and Charlie had worked together.

  Lomas swept into the room and laid a file on the table. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said in a deep, confident voice. The ebony-skinned lawyer was a quick moving man, impeccably dressed in a double-breasted gray suit. His thick lips broke into a smile, and he went straight to Paula and shook her hand. “I feel I know you, Mrs. Lord,” he said, looking a lot like Sidney Poitier. “Charlie told me so much about you.”

  Light glistened on the lawyer’s coarse black hair as he turned his attention to Bard. “Perhaps you’d like to wait outside?” He gestured toward the door to the outer office. “There are confidential matters I must discuss with Mrs. Lord.”

  Bard didn’t budge. He looked questioningly at Paula.

  She hesitated, then tucking her arm through Bard’s, said, “This is my friend, Mr. Nichols.” She looked up into Bard’s face as though warning him that he’d better not prove her next words wrong. “There are no secrets between us.”

  Guilt for holding out on Paula twisted his gut. He mumbled, “Pleased to meet you,” as he gripped Lomas’s hand.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard or not,” Paula said softly, “but someone murdered Charlie.”

  Lomas’ eyes widened, his pupils retracting to pinpoints of shock. “No!” He pulled out a chair and sank into it.

  Paula and Bard followed Lomas’s lead and reseated themselves. Bard drew his chair close to Paula’s, hoping his nearness would give some comfort. Breaking this news had to be hard for her.

  “Forgive me,” Lomas said. “Charlie was more than a client;he was a friend.” Lomas inhaled deeply to regain his composure.

  Paula gripped Bard’s arm tighter. In response, he covered her hand with his. Her skin felt soft, icy cool. She looked down at Bard’s hand covering hers with a soft expression that gave him a sense of unity beyond any he’d ever experienced.

  She lifted her chin. “Mr. Nichols is helping me find Charlie’s killer.”

  Lomas measured Bard, his expression wary. “You a police officer, a detective?”

  “Just a friend,” Bard said, hoping the lawyer would let it go at that.

  “Well,” Lomas said, “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

  After a few heartbeats of silence, Lomas rubbed his angular jaw and turned to Paula. “Of course you’re aware you’re Charlie’s beneficiary?”

  “Chief Reed of the U.S. Corps of Engineers told me that,” Paula said. “But I—”

  “This has nothing to do with The Corps,” Lomas said with a frown on his face. “I must make that very clear. Surely, Charlie explained everything to you.”

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” she said. “We’re here because I found your card in his journal.”

  Lomas’s frown deepened. “Due to the risky work Charlie was in, I advised him to tell you the whole situation.”

  “You knew he was an undercover agent?”

  Bard gripped Paula’s hand, sensing by the sharpness in her tone and the sadness in her eyes, that it hurt a great deal for Charlie to have shared his secrets with everyone but her.

  Lomas nodded.

  Bard cursed under his breath. Just how many people had Charlie told? Telling even one person was too many. Maybe that was why he was dead.

  “You didn’t know he was an agent?” Lomas asked.

  “Not until yesterday.” Paula twisted an escaped coppery tendril at the base of her hairline. “It seems Charlie kept me in the dark about a lot of things.”

  Lomas stroked his full lower lip. “Two weeks ago he promised me he’d tell you the details of his business affairs that very night.”

  “Charlie didn’t mention any business,” Paula said.

  Lomas cleared his throat. “What do you know about his inventions?”

  “Charlie told me he’d sold some, but he acted like it was no big deal. He certainly never mentioned anything about me being his beneficiary.”

  “Well, Mrs. Lord, it is a big deal. As his beneficiary, you are entitled to five hundred thousand in round figures to start. Then there are the future revenues.”

  Paula gasped. She took a deep breath and moistened her lips. Her nails dug into Bard’s arm. For an instant it looked as if she might cry. Then a mask closed over her face.

  Blaring alarms went off in Bard’s brain. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. This was all Cory needed to strengthen his case against Paula. She’d already inherited money and property from her husband, and from Grandma Emma. Now this. Five hundred thousand here, and another hundred thousand from The Corps. People had been convicted with far less motive than six hundred thousand dollars.

  ****

  The car was an oven after being parked in the direct sunlight all morning, but Paula felt cold. So cold. She stared at the sealed envelope Lomas had handed her as they left the law office. It trembled in her icy fingers. Her name was on the front in Charlie’s distinctive scrawl. The envelope had an ominous aura to it. Apprehension slithered over her.

  Bard sat behind the wheel looking at her—not starting the car—not even moving. “Open it,” he urged. “Maybe Charlie identifies his killer in there.”

  Paula’s mouth felt dry. She slipped her nail file out of her purse, slit the envelope open, and slowly unfolded the letter. Cars entered and left the parking lot, but Paula was in a capsulated world, sealed away from engines roaring to life, honking horns, the squealing tires. She tried to focus on the printed words, but they ran together like some grotesque black and white puzzle. Her vision blurred. “I can’t read this now,” she murmured.

  “Let me,” Bard said, taking the envelope from her hand. He didn’t wait for her approval to read the letter aloud. “Paula, if you’re reading this, I’m dead.”

  Paula winced and drew in a quick breath.

  Bard swallowed. Paula saw the regret in his eyes. “Can you handle this?” he asked.

  Tension thickened the air around them. She tried to find her voice and dredge up a tough tone. “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Right?” But she wasn’t so sure.

  Bard’s face tightened, yet he continued reading the letter in a hoarse voice. “I’ve already waited too long to tell you the truth. I’m the one who killed Frank.”

  A jolt ripped through Paula like a lightning bolt. “No! He couldn’t have. He wasn’t in town.”

  Bard stared at her a moment, looking
grim, then broke eye contact and continued reading. “‘You sounded so frightened when we talked on the phone. I hopped a bus to see for myself what was going on. Through the window, I saw Frank go for you. Even after you sank to the floor, he kept hitting you. I had to stop him. I didn’t mean to kill him, but to save you—’”

  “Oh, God,” Paula cried, cutting Bard off in mid-sentence. “Not Charlie…not Charlie.” Paula fumbled to open the car door. Then she was running. She didn’t know where, somewhere away from the pain.

  “Paula, wait!”

  After only about a dozen steps, strong hands gripped her around the waist. Bard turned her to face him, bringing her up short against his broad chest, making it impossible to struggle. “Let me go! I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  “It isn’t like you to run away just because you don’t like what you’re hearing.”

  Paula glared up into his piercing eyes. His strong features were framed by a deep blue, cloudless sky. “Don’t tell me what I’m like! You don’t even know me.”

  A strange look flicked across Bard’s face. Before she could react, he brought his lips down on hers. Paula tried to push him away. She pounded his chest. His grip was like velvet-steel. The kiss was meant to stun her. Shock her into a calm place. It was doing far more.

  His mouth was warm and tasted faintly of mint. He absorbed her, drained away any urge to fight. Before she could stop herself, instinct took over. Her arms circled his neck, and she curved into his body without regard for the consequences.

  When Bard lifted her into his arms, she buried her face in his neck near his rapidly beating pulse. A spicy fragrance mingled with his male scent. She breathed in deeply, needing its intoxicating essence to dull her anguish.

  A few dozen heartbeats later, in the cocoon of the car, he took her in his arms and kissed her again. It was a comforting kind of kiss that was so tender and soothing she couldn’t stop herself from pulled his head toward her. He moaned and deepened the kiss. Everything faded away except his closeness, her need. It had been so long since she’d been in a man’s arms. And Bard’s arms felt so right.

  Vaguely, she heard footsteps then giggling. She opened her eyes. Two teenage girls stared in at them.

  Bard turned and glanced at them with a wry smile. He kissed Paula’s temple and the tip of her nose. “This isn’t the time or place for this.”

  Mumbling to himself, he started the engine. Paula lowered her gaze to her lap. Unspent passions throbbed in her breast.

  She glanced at Bard’s profile. He turned his head to face her, and their gazes locked. “It’ll be all right, Paula.”

  All right? Was he crazy? Or was she? How had she been able she respond that way after Charlie’s shocking confession? What must Bard think of her? It was impossible to explain it even to herself. She should be mad at him for kissing her like that, for starting the whole thing. But she couldn’t arouse even a smidgen of righteous indignation. She was the one in the wrong here.

  She touched her lips. They were still warm, tingly, and slightly swollen. Did Bard kiss her to calm and comfort her as she’d thought? Or did he feel the same overwhelming attraction that she’d been fighting?

  As the car lurched into gear, Paula grabbed Charlie’s letter off the dashboard. Now that Bard had opened Pandora’s Box, she had to know the whole story. Vaguely aware of the background of the roaring engine and the whir of the tires against concrete, she quickly scanned the letter to find the part Bard hadn’t yet read.

  Afterwards. Charlie had written. I didn’t know what to do. I was barely eighteen—known for my hot temper. I couldn’t claim self-defense. You know from all the crap we went through why I didn’t trust the system. You’re asking yourself why I didn’t trust you. I did. More than anyone. I know it doesn’t look that way, but I didn’t want to go to jail, and I didn’t want to ask you to lie for me.

  I had slipped away from the army post to check on you, so if I had stayed around and called the police it would have looked like an AWOL soldier had committed premeditated murder. I’d be in trouble with the army and the police, and that would have been the end of any chance to make something of myself.

  They weren’t supposed to hang it on you. If they hadn’t let you go, I would have been there. I haven’t been able to forgive myself, but I pray you can forgive me. Your big brother, Charlie.

  He’d done a terrible thing. Murdered a man. But if she’d had a gun, she might have killed Frank herself. Charlie had risked everything to save her.

  Of course she forgave him, the big goon. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away and turned her head, pretending to look at the acres of gentle rolling farmlands that their speed was transforming into a green blur.

  She shuddered and shook her head. It was all true. Still, it was hard to accept that her idol had clay feet. What hurt most was that he’d kept things from her. Big, serious things.

  Guilt washed over her. It was her telephone call for help that caused the trouble. But she’d expected advice from Charlie, not for him to leave his post. Even now, she didn’t know how, at sixteen, she could have saved herself from a determined, six-foot, two-hundred pound, drunken monster like Frank. Nothing would have stopped him except that bullet.

  She sensed Bard’s glance and lifted her gaze to meet it.

  “Charlie had his reasons for what he did,” Bard said.

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Bard shifted in the seat. “Didn’t some part of you suspect it was him?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Think about it. Perhaps you saw him through your groggy haze, heard his voice? Maybe that’s why you were willing to take the blame.”

  Paula shook her head. Yet, slowly, her shell of protective armor fell away, leaving her defenseless and ready to consider the possibility. She rubbed her aching head. “If so, I blocked it out.”

  Bard took his hand off the wheel long enough to cover her hand with his. “We’ll find out who killed him. The murderer will pay. I promise you.”

  Right, she thought. We’ll find him. But I’ll make him pay myself. “What’s next?”

  “I’ll check out the names in the journal with Reed. I recognized one of them. Leroy Damas works for The Corps. Maybe he’s the lead I need.”

  “We need,” Paula corrected.

  A noncommittal look flicked across Bard’s face, and he became totally engrossed in his driving.

  Silence settled between them and Paula’s mind drifted back to Charlie. He’d kept so much from her. Had she expected too much? Perhaps people had a right to their secrets. She certainly had her own. She glanced at the March Air Force Base turnoff sign. In less than thirty minutes, she’d be home. The whole world had tilted off its axis since she’d learned Charlie killed Frank. Her feelings for Bard had gotten out of control, and she feared after those kisses she would never be the same. Then there was the inheritance of nearly six hundred thousand dollars.

  The closer Paula got to home, the stronger her foreboding that the money was going to bring her nothing but trouble. Not that she intended to keep it all; she’d see that a large percentage went to organizations that benefited children and…bird sanctuaries. Charlie would like that.

  She remembered Bard’s sharp glance when Lomas said he was under the impression that she knew she was the beneficiary. Did Lomas believe her? More important, did Bard believe her? She tried to tell herself she didn’t care what either of them thought. Paula touched her lips, reliving the thrill of Bard’s warm, searching mouth on hers. Unfortunately, she cared very much what he thought.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bard stayed in the fast lane of Interstate 15, eager to get back to San Bernardino. He wondered if his impatience was based on a desire to get the undercover mission over with so he could get on with his life. Or was there something deeper, more basic like a hunger to hunt down his prey? He dragged his hand down his prickly jaw. He and Paula had unearthed some important answers, but their investigations had also b
rought complications and more questions. He shifted in his seat and tried to tame his grasshopper thoughts. He’d tried to concentrate, to sort everything out, but after the sun went down fatigue set in. No wonder, he’d hardly slept last night.

  He rubbed his gritty eyes and glanced over at Paula. She’d been asleep for about fifteen minutes. Moonlight shimmered on her hair and cast light and shadows on her face. The brightness emphasized her cheekbones and soft feminine features. When the tires hit a rough place in the asphalt, she stirred slightly then stilled again, looking lovely, innocent. Innocent?

  Lomas had been under the impression that she knew about the inheritance. She had insisted Charlie hadn’t told her anything about it. But what if— No! She couldn’t have lied. Her shocked reaction to Charlie’s letter was too real.

  Bard shook his head, remembering their kiss last night. All doubt about Paula’s honesty faded with the memory of her soft lips moving beneath his, greedily accepting pleasure, giving pleasure.

  He’d rationalized the kiss was to calm her, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Lying less than a couple of feet from her all night, inhaling her womanly fragrance mingled with her damnably enticing scent of honeysuckle had ignited a slow burning fuse which exploded when he looked down at her trembling lips.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her when she was upset and vulnerable. Yet, at the time, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. When she returned his kiss with unexpected passion he was astonished. And pleased.

  Damn, he was confused. If only he could talk to her about it, but with what lay ahead he couldn’t. Until the undercover job was over, he wasn’t free to be open and aboveboard with her.

  This was the pits. Every fiber of him ached to tell her he loved her. Loved her? He jerked his head back, as if the realization had come in the form of a physical blow. His heart pounded. It was true. And he couldn’t do a damned thing about it. It wasn’t just that he had to hide being an undercover agent. Her inheritance of over half-a-million dollars complicated things. If he was to suddenly tell her he loved her, she might think it was because of the money.