Carolina Heat (18 page)

Ashby grabbed a beer off the table. “South Carolina’s a small state. One of these days my numbers are bound to work. And don’t think I’ll share any of it with those who mock me.”

“Please—I could buy a new car with all the money you’ve thrown away over the years on those stupid tickets. Any sane person would make fun of you.”

Annabelle was amused by their easy bickering. “I can tell you two have been friends for years. You snipe at each other like an old married couple.”

“This is nothing,” Jillian added. “You should see them play racquetball. You’d think the fate of the free world rested on the outcome of every game.”

“Jillian, please stop sharing all our secrets with the pretty lady. You might scare her away.” Mark laid the burgers on the barbeque. The patties gave up their juices and a steady, constant sizzle came out of the grill. “I swear there is nothing finer than the smell of barbecue on a warm summer night.”

Annabelle stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. He was as handsome as a magazine ad, and clearly in his element working over the shooting flames. The hair on his arms glinted over flexing muscles in the light of the fire as he wielded various tongs. “Such a Southern male stereotype, right here in front of me in living color. Strangely sexy, I must admit.”

Ashby made several throat clearing noises. “I thought the plan was a brainstorming session,
not
a make-out session.”

“I don’t know about the plan, but nothing gets my brain cells revved like a good make-out session.” Jillian batted her eyelashes at Ashby. Annabelle saw, and was surprised to see, Ashby appear completely oblivious to the gesture. She sent Jillian a look of commiseration.

Mark clanged his spatula against the grate. “To clarify, the original plan was to kick back with friends, break in my new barbeque, enjoy a few beers and relax. Whoever wrecked my plan by using us for target practice is in a heap of trouble. Shooting at us is one thing, but potentially ruining a backyard barbecue, well, that crosses the line, ladies and gentlemen.” He pulled the cordless phone out of his pocket and tossed it at Annabelle. “Call your brother and find out if he knows anything. I think I saw your cell phone floating behind me in the river. He might’ve tried to call.”

She hadn’t even thought to check her pockets. “Are you kidding? It’s the fourth phone I’ve lost in three months.” Annabelle nipped inside to grab her notepad while she dialed Jonathan’s number. He picked up after only one ring.

“Jon, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for your call all day!”

“I’m fine, thanks. And how are you?” he asked with false sincerity.

“Knock it off, Jon. I don’t have time to stroke your ego with the fact you’re a computer genius, not to mention the best brother in the world. Did you find anything on the laptop I sent?”

“I did. I’ve been trying to call you. Did your phone get run over by an ice cream truck again?”
“No, this time a river swallowed it whole. But you’ve got me now, so tell me what you found.” Annabelle paced in the small kitchen, impatient for any shred of a lead.

“Before you get too excited, there wasn’t much there. Some notes about a trip to Richmond, but I don’t think she made it there or she would’ve written more.”

“Richmond, Virginia? Any specific person there, or the city in general?” Annabelle heard the screen door slam as Mark came in. He peered over her shoulder as she scribbled in her notebook.

“Varina Howell was mentioned, but since she’s been dead for a while, I doubt Vanessa was planning to go have tea with her. Which brings me to my next topic.” His voice held an angry edge. “Why didn’t you tell me this is Vanessa’s computer? And why the hell did you make me hack into Vanessa’s computer? I felt like a pretty lousy friend once I figured it out.”

Annabelle sighed and leaned against Mark’s chest. “Jon, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything until I had concrete news.”

She told him of Vanessa’s disappearance and gave him a quick synopsis of her investigation so far, omitting only Mark’s involvement. She couldn’t explain him to her baby brother when she couldn’t explain him to herself. But it was a little easier to talk about Vanessa with Mark’s arm around her waist. It was warm and strong and carried the oddly comforting reminder she wasn’t going it alone. Against her better judgment, sure, but it seemed to be working.

Annabelle might have wasted another day or two going down false alleys trying to make the connection to Varina Howell. On the other hand, seeing Mark in the river with bullets whizzing past his head might have sprouted her first gray hair. Taking chances when someone else’s life was on the line along with hers was a whole new experience, and one she didn’t relish.

When Jonathan spoke, his voice was subdued. “You should’ve told me sooner. Vanessa’s my friend, too.”

“I know.”

Mark tapped on her arm to get her attention. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “They keep records of the Confederacy in Richmond.”

Annabelle squeezed his arm in thanks. “Jon, you’ve been a huge help. Completely backs up the disgruntled relative theory. Fax the notes you recovered to my hotel tonight, please. First thing tomorrow I’ll go to Richmond. I need you to work on a family tree starting with Varina Howell, and bringing it forward to today. Oh, and you’d better do Jefferson Davis, too.”

“Genealogy web sites are hot right now.” Sounding smug, he added, “I might even have it wrapped up by the time you get to Richmond.”

“One more thing—I’m looking for a book, but I don’t know the title.”

He groaned. “Knew you couldn’t stop at the easy request. Do you know anything about this book?”

“It lists everyone who ever served in the Confederate Army. I’m fairly certain it’s out of print. Can you find it?”

“I can try. What about booksellers down there who specialize in that field?”

“If you can’t find anything by tomorrow night, it’ll be my next step. As soon as I get to Richmond I’ll call you with the number of my hotel.”

“Be careful. Somebody isn’t playing by the rules. Watch your back.”

“My cell phone was the last innocent victim of this nutcase, I promise.” She hung up just as Ashby banged on the window.

“Burgers are ready. Last one out has to clean the grill.”

Mark snorted as he followed Annabelle out the door. “I can tell you really wore yourself out plating the meat after I did all the cooking. Cleaning the grill would require a Herculean effort on your part.”

Ashby beamed at him. “I love it when you show off all your PhDs. One Greek myth reference and I’m proud all over again I let you copy my homework in the seventh grade.”

“Once! It was one lousy time, and after twelve years and three universities, I’ve made up the work load somewhere along the line.”

Ashby set the platter of burgers on the table and sat down. Jillian did a quick two step around the table to nab the seat next to his. While the buns and meat were passed, Annabelle brought the others up to speed on what she’d learned from her brother.

“So now I need to go to Richmond tomorrow,” she finished.

“You mean you and Mark need to go to Richmond tomorrow,” corrected Jillian.

“Before Annabelle says anything to shrivel my ego to the size of an acorn, let me jump in and say that she’s completely capable of handling both the research and any possible bad guys without help from me or anyone else.” Mark raised his beer in a silent toast.

Annabelle surprised herself by touching his arm gently. “Actually, I
would
like to have some company on this little jaunt. Especially Civil War buff type company.” It was a leap of gigantic proportions for her. She was astonished the words had come out of her mouth. Her heart raced, her skin was clammy, and there was a huge knot where her stomach used to be.

His answer was to wipe his hands calmly on the paper napkin in his lap. She closed her eyes in sheer torture. They flew open the next moment, when he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her thoroughly. She leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. The way the man kissed was truly sinful. Dark, sweet and heady all at once, like eating a triple chocolate brownie covered in rich, hot fudge. Having a partner had some worthwhile perks.

CHAPTER TWELVE

There was an initial flurry of passing condiments and side dishes. The table was crowded with corn on the cob, coleslaw, chips, and of course the legendary potato salad. Mark halted all discussion while they busied themselves with filling their plates. It was quiet for a few minutes as they dug in.

“Mark, this potato salad is everything you promised and then some.” Before even finishing what was still on her plate, Annabelle took another big scoop. “It’s absolutely scrumptious.”

“Good enough to go in your article as a reason to visit Charleston?” Jillian asked.

“Well, it’s certainly a reason for
me
to visit Charleston.”

His heart did a weird flip flop at her words. In order to visit a place, first you have to leave it. In the back of his mind, her departure had always been inevitable. But for the past few days he’d ignored it and simply enjoyed being with her. His entire life had been leading up to the day he met Annabelle. Every other woman paled in comparison to this beautiful, loyal, passionate, prickly and captivating bundle of energy.

When he’d opened his eyes on the rolling boat deck, straining for breath, the first thing he saw was Annabelle. Her hands were patting down every inch of his body, searching for bullet holes. Even half drowned and in shock, a certain part of his anatomy registered the softness of her touch on his legs.

His chest was tight, but not from the near-drowning. It was as if his heart was expanding, pushing past his lungs and ribs until it filled him from the top of his head to his waterlogged shoes. And that’s when he knew he was in big trouble. Logic and caution flew out the window. He’d fallen for the scrappy Yankee.

She not only understood but shared his devotion to work. She liked both his friends
and
his cooking. Mark set his teeth. There was undeniable chemistry between them, and he was damned if he was going to let a little thing like living in two different states get in the way.

He realized everyone was staring, obviously waiting for him to speak. He took a big bite of his hamburger.

“Can’t talk—starving!” he mumbled.

“I’m not surprised. It’s well known almost being shot right before almost drowning can really work up an appetite,” Ashby drawled, with a pointed glare at his best friend.

“That’s just about enough out of you, Ashby Haley.” Jillian’s voice was soft, but carried an undertone of steel. “I think we all can tell you wish Mark had asked for your help a few days ago.”

“I never said—” Ashby was cut off as Jillian rapped her fork against his knuckles.

“I don’t believe I was quite finished. First of all, it was Annabelle’s choice to keep this quiet, and I don’t blame her one bit. Why risk telling someone else she barely knows? Anyone and everyone in Charleston is a potential suspect to her. If it was your friend who was missing, you’d feel the same way. And second of all,” she twisted to look him straight in the eyes, “do you honestly think your knowing would’ve made a difference? Oh, except it would’ve been obvious you were helping Annabelle and Mark, so there probably would’ve been an extra bad guy hiding at Charles Towne to shoot you, too.”

Ashby took a long, slow pull from his beer. “You’re right, Jilly. I was just shooting my mouth off.”

“I know. And Mark knows you only got huffy because you care in the strange, Neolithic way men have of sharing affection.” She rubbed her hand down his arm in a comforting gesture. He murmured a quick apology for crowding her and scooted his chair away.

Mark watched the byplay in amazement. He’d heard of getting signals crossed, but could Ashby really be that thick? Against his better judgment, he might have to step in and talk to Ashby. Either way, Jillian had her work cut out for her.

“Believe me, I had no intention of dragging anyone into this mess,” Annabelle added.

Mark had heard enough. It was time to stop this before they ended up in a group hug. “Okay, quit talking as if I’m an inanimate object. Choices were made all around and now we move forward.” Mark stood up and pushed back his chair. “Anyone else want seconds?” Ashby followed him to the grill. He flipped burgers onto both their plates

“My sense of geography is rotten. Embarrassing to admit with the amount I travel, but true. Is it faster to fly or drive to Richmond?” Annabelle joined the men, plate in hand.

“It depends on how soon you want to go. Our airport isn’t a hub, and flights book up quickly.” Jillian nabbed another pickle as Mark came back and began to load up on sides again. “Plus, there’s a long stopover in Atlanta.”

“How ridiculous! Why go in the completely opposite direction, double back…never mind.” Annabelle rubbed her forehead as she slid back into her chair, clearly frustrated. “This always happens. What should be a two hour flight ends up taking all day, three airports, four gate changes, and then my luggage goes missing. Screw it, I’ll drive. Maybe rent a snazzy little convertible and play Aerosmith really loudly.”