Blind Faith (3 page)

"It's hard to say.
Miami
is a big city. They need time to check with the hospitals, and the jails." Kelly didn't say the morgue, but the look in
Victoria
's eyes told her that she, too, had thought of it.

A lazy Susan made of the same dark maple as the table stood in the center. Almost absentmindedly,
Victoria
began to spin it. "This is so unlike Jonathan." Her gaze followed the spinning tray. "He doesn't take one step out of his office without letting me know exactly where he'll be. And he's never out of touch."

That was true. Jonathan was one of the most reliable men Kelly knew. He was also well aware of
Victoria
's worrying nature and how quickly her anxieties could turn into raw panic. He would never do anything to aggravate that condition.

The possibility that he was having an affair and had somehow lost track of time was too absurd to consider Jonathan and Victoria adored each other and showed it in every possible way.

As though aware of the direction Kelly's thoughts had taken,
Victoria
searched her face. "You've known him almost as long as I have. Do you think he's doing this intentionally?
Because he's angry about something?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Kelly admitted. "That's why I asked if you'd had an argument. But even if you had, I can't imagine Jonathan being so spiteful. It's not his nature."

As the red light on the coffeemaker came on,
Victoria
stood up and went to fill two mugs before sitting down again. Kelly sipped, half listening for the sound of Jonathan's key in the front door, his cheerful voice as he called out his wife's name. But the house remained silent, with only the gentle bong of the grandfather clock in the living room breaking the silence every fifteen minutes.

During the next few hours, which passed like years, Kelly called Officer Brown two more times, but he had nothing to report. They were still checking.

At 4:00 a. m."
Kelly's cell phone rang. This time it was a Detective Quinn of the
Miami
police. At the official tone of his voice, Kelly's earlier confidence deserted her. "Did you find Jonathan?" she asked.

"May I speak to Mrs. Bowman,
please.
"

Kelly handed the phone to
Victoria
.
"Detective Quinn of the
Miami
police.
He wants to speak with you."

Her face ashen, her eyes full of fear,
Victoria
only shook her head.

"I'm Kelly
Robolo
, Victoria Bowman's best friend, Detective," Kelly said quickly. "I'm afraid she's in no condition to talk to you right now.

The detective hesitated but only for a moment.
"Very well.
At 1:52 this morning, a bomb exploded at the
Encantado
, a motel just off 1-95."

He paused. "Mr. Bowman's name was in the logbook, next to his check-in time--11:45 a.m. on Monday."

As Kelly realized the terrible implication, her hand went to her throat.

"All the injured have been accounted for, but your friend's husband was

not
one of them." The detective cleared his throat. "The bomb, however,

was
set in room 116--Mr. Bowman's room--"

"Oh my God!"
Kelly gave herself a mental kick for not controlling her reaction. Across the table,
Victoria
looked as though she was about to faint.

"The explosion destroyed half the building," Detective Quinn went on, "scattering debris over a two hundred-foot radius. It's a miracle more people weren't killed."

At those words,
Victoria
let out a moan and covered her face with her hands. Moving swiftly, Kelly walked around the table, grasped her friend's hand and held it.

"We can't be sure just yet--" the detective said in reply to the question.

"Only parts of a
body,
badly burned and mixed with debris from several adjoining rooms. It could be days until we make a positive ID."

"You said Jonathan's name was in a logbook. Did he fill out a proper registration form? With his home address, phone number and so forth?"

"The
Encantado
is known as a drug drop. Miss.
Robolo
, a place where drug dealers come to do business. All the management requires from its customers is a name--any name--to put down in the book, and the price of the room, in advance and in cash."

"You must know who checked him in."

"I do. Unfortunately, the desk clerk is in the hospital with third-degree burns and a fifty-fifty chance of making it. Until he's off the critical list, I can't talk to him." He cleared his throat.

"Because the major part of the
Encantado's
trade is from out-of-state visitors who come to
Miami
to buy drugs from a drug cartel we've been trying to apprehend for months."

Kelly let out a short laugh. "And you think that's why Jonathan was there?
To buy drugs?"

"I have to investigate every possibility. Miss.
Robolo
, especially since someone seems to have wanted him dead."

"But that's crazy!" Kelly cried, momentarily forgetting that Phoebe was upstairs sleeping. "Jonathan is a family man, a devoted husband and father. He would never associate himself, much less be involved with, drug dealers."

"I hope you're right.
Miss.
Robolo
.
For his sake.
And his family's."

He didn't believe her, Kelly realized with a mild jolt. In his eyes Jonathan was already guilty or dead-or both. "Is there anyone who can identify Jonathan?" she asked, refusing to accept Quinn's version of this insane story.
"A maid?
Or a maintenance man?"

"The motel employs three full-time maids, one maintenance man and one coffee-shop attendant. All make it a practice to mind their own business, which means they don't see who comes in or out. Or so they claim. We've already had three homicides at the En cant ado over the last six weeks, all victims of drive by shootings. And we don't have a single eyewitness."

Detective Quinn laughed. "Look,
Miss.
Robolo
. I don't know how they do things in
Philadelphia
, but down here, we keep material witnesses in a murder case away from reporters."

At the risk of annoying him even further, Kelly made one more attempt to gain some ground. "I've had experience questioning reluctant witnesses.

Detective."

"So has the local press who's beating down my door right now. Believe me, the last thing I need is an out-of-town reporter complicating my investigation."

"I told you I'm not acting as a reporter."

"You're a close friend of the family, yes, I know. My witnesses are still off-limits, no matter what hat you're wearing. Tell Mrs. Bowman that as soon as I have something to report, she'll be the first to know.

You want more
information,
you can contact the
Philadelphia
police, which I'll keep fully informed. Good day.
Miss.
Robolo
."

Kelly had no time to reply. He had hung up.

"What did he say?"
Victoria
asked as Kelly pushed the End button with an angry little jab. "Is Jonathan all right? Is he hurt?" Her fingernails dug in Kelly's arm as she finally willed herself to ask the dreaded question, "Is he dead?"

"They don't know." Her eyes gritty from lack of sleep, Kelly repeated what Detective Quinn had told her, word for word.

Victoria
asked, outraged. "He loathes drugs."

"The
Encantado
is a motel where drug dealers come to do business," Kelly explained. "Anyone staying there would be under suspicion. I'm sure Quinn put each guest through a long, merciless interrogation."

The anger in
Victoria
's voice slowly ebbed and worry returned. "What was Jonathan doing in a place like that, Kelly?

Whenever he travels, it's always first-class." When Kelly didn't answer, she frowned. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? You don't believe that garbage Detective Quinn fed you, do you? You can't possibly believe that Jonathan went to
Miami
to buy drugs."

"No," Kelly replied, carefully choosing her words. "I don't believe it, but we have to be fair and look at Quinn's side. At the moment all evidence seems to point to the possibility that Jonathan was staying at the
Encantado
. If he was, we need to know why, and if he was set up, we need to know by whom."

Victoria
closed her eyes. She looked exhausted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Kelly smiled. "Now we're even, for all the times I've snapped at you."

Instead of returning the smile,
Victoria
watched her intently. "Kelly, I want you to find Jonathan."

Kelly fell back against her chair. "Oh,
Victoria
, I can't"

"Why?"

"I'm the wrong person for the job. I'm too close."

"That's why it has to be you,"
Victoria
said earnestly. "You know

Jonathan and you've looked for missing persons before. Remember the

Bonner kidnapping?"
'

Did she remember? It had taken Kelly three months to locate the trail of the eighteen-year-old
Philadelphia
debutante. The FBI, who was even less patient than Quinn when it came to reporters, had come down hard on Kelly.

During a particularly unpleasant confrontation, they had even arrested her, claiming she was sabotaging their investigation. Lou had bailed her out within an hour, but she had learned to stay out of the feds' way.

"Please,
Kel
,"
Victoria
pleaded as tears threatened to erupt again.

"Help me."

Kelly's own eyes began filling up. She and Victoria had been friends since their first year at the
University
of
Pennsylvania
. Throughout the years they had been there for each other, dropping whatever they were doing to fly to the rescue of the one in need. How could Kelly turn her back on her friend now, in the worst moment of her life?

Kelly felt a tug in her chest and nodded. "Yes, of course, I'll ... do what I can."

"Thank you."
Victoria
smiled,
a sad, tentative smile that was filled with uncertainty. Then, rising again, she walked over to the phone. "I have to call my aunt and uncle and tell them what happened before they hear it from the police, or worse, from the newspapers."

Four.

Ward and Cecily Sanders arrived twenty minutes later, looking as elegant in their casual clothes as if they had come from one of the many social functions they attended throughout the year.

A reporter had once dubbed them
Philadelphia
's charmed couple, a label they wore with grace. Cecily's blond, sophisticated looks were the perfect foil for Ward's tall stature and patrician features. Both were successful in their own right. As CEO and president of one of the nation's largest charitable trusts, Cecily wielded a tremendous amount of clout not only in the
Philadelphia
community, which was certainly indebted to her, but with the
Washington
elite as well.

More low-key than his flamboyant wife.
Ward was nonetheless a successful businessman who had managed to keep the small bank founded by his grandfather in the early 1920s not only private but thriving. In a world of mergers and hostile takeovers, that task hadn't been easy. The only one of the Sanders children to show an interest in banking, he was also the least appreciated by Monroe Sanders, his formidable, irascible father.

Victoria
adored her aunt and uncle, with good reason. When her parents died in a
Chesapeake Bay
boating accident twenty-eight years ago, the couple had opened their arms to the grieving child and raised her as if she were their own.

Becoming a father hadn't been difficult for Ward, who came from a large family and had always longed for a child. Cecily, on the other hand, had been filled with doubts and anxieties at the thought of raising her sister's eight-year-old daughter. Childless by choice, she had worried that she wouldn't be able to meet the demands of her high-powered job as vice president of the Norton Charitable Trust and be a devoted mother at the same time.

She had surprised everyone, including herself. Within a few weeks, she had assumed the role so perfectly and effortlessly that Ward had fondly nicknamed her June Cleaver, after the ultimate TV mom of the fifties.

Six years ago, impressed by
Victoria
's extensive knowledge of art, Cecily had bought the antiques shop on
Rittenhouse Square
and put her niece in charge, a decision neither had ever regretted.

The only clash between the two women had occurred when
Victoria
had announced she was in love with Jonathan Bowman, then the general manager of the
Chenonceau
Hotel and Casino in
Atlantic City
, and that she intended to marry him.

Ward, practical to a fault, had immediately investigated Jonathan's background. When the
Wilmington
,
Delaware
, native turned out to be a decent, hardworking young man who was very much in love with
Victoria
, Ward had given his unconditional blessings.

Not Cecily. Though she herself had come from modest beginnings, she had lofty ambitions for her beautiful niece and those ambitions did not include marrying a man whose boss was suspected of having ties to the mob.

It had taken Ward weeks to convince his wife not only that the charges against
Syd
Webber had been dropped for insufficient evidence, but that Jonathan's job as a casino executive in no way reflected on his integrity or his ability to make Victoria happy.

Watching Cecily now, as
Victoria
told her about Jonathan's disappearance, Kelly was forced to admit that in spite of Cecily's occasional shortsightedness, her only goal had always been to make
Victoria
happy.

When
Victoria
was finished.
Ward turned to Kelly. His attractive features were tight with concern and confusion. "Kelly, is that true?