“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bring up painful memories for you. But it sounds like your father-in-law has a temper and might be prone to violence.” He tapped the letter again. “What we have here is a motive. The insurance thing could have stirred up some old emotions—very potent, and possibly deadly.”
The size of the annuity was immaterial—people killed for fifty dollars. The idea that Raleigh might profit from her husband’s death could have sent Jason’s father over the edge, from ugly to criminal.
It was just a theory, but one that ought to be looked into.
Griffin also couldn’t rule out that Raleigh had faked the phone call to make herself appear more like a victim. She might have spotted his car and launched her dramatic act. A courtroom lawyer like Raleigh would be well versed in theatrics. He couldn’t let her beautiful face—and she was beautiful, even if she tried to hide the fact—distract him into dumping his reporter’s skepticism.
“My father-in-law doesn’t have any connection to Anthony Simonetti,” Raleigh pointed out, her voice stronger now. “The phone call I received doesn’t really fit.”
“Could be a smoke screen. After all, the caller doesn’t want to broadcast his identity to you.”
Raleigh shivered. “I hate this idea. Let’s not jump to any conclusions. The caller could be a lot of people.”
Griffin frowned. “Like who?”
“Anyone who wants to see me and/or Project Justice go down. It could be someone from the victim’s family. After his arrest, Michelle Brewster’s family was very vocal in their desire to see their daughter’s killer executed.”
“People do a lot of not-nice things in the name of grief,” Griffin agreed. “Do you think a cop or a lawyer could be responsible? They arrest criminals and get them convicted, you put them back out on the street.”
“A few of them do resent us. I wouldn’t rule it out.”
Griffin hesitated to voice his next thought. But it had to be said. “What if our perpetrator is the real murderer? Because
someone
shot Michelle Brewster. And if Anthony is innocent, as you believe, the gun could point right to the guilty party. That would explain both the frame and the call.”
Raleigh set down her wineglass. “So the real murderer tries to discredit me, disrupt my case, distract me and scare me so I can’t do my job. Plus, the police think I’m a cheat or in cahoots with organized crime figures, and they ignore me.”
“It could get worse than that, Raleigh. We could be dealing with a cold-blooded murderer. He’s not someone to underestimate.”
She nodded, looking more and more uncomfortable as the conversation progressed.
“Any problems on the job? Professional rivalries, jealousies—”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate about that answer, he noticed. “Although I don’t have a lot of close friends at the office, we all respect and admire each other. It’s the best place to work I can imagine.”
Griffin wouldn’t know. His world was fraught with jealousies and backbiting, sniping and passing the buck. Reporters vied for the same job, like he and Paul Stratton. Even within his own organization, he was constantly competing with other reporters over hot stories, the best beats, and story placement within the newspaper.
“I don’t know what I would have done if Daniel hadn’t come along when he did. I was struggling, trying to find a job, getting into financial hot water—”
“Wait. Wasn’t your husband…I mean, didn’t he come from a wealthy family?”
“He did. But everything he had was in trust so nothing went to me when he died except a few personal belongings. His parents made sure of that. Daniel gave me a chance no one else was willing to. He handpicks every single person who works there. If anyone at work had a problem with me, they wouldn’t handle it with an anonymous smear campaign. Trust me on this.”
He would. Daniel Logan might be a good judge of character, but so was Raleigh. Her work depended on knowing whom to trust, and she was good at her work.
“Maybe I should call the police after all,” Raleigh said. “At least there would be a record of what’s going on. If things escalate, I mean.”
He wished she wouldn’t. The moment she made an official police report about the threats, her situation became a public record, and he no longer had an exclusive. But if Raleigh was in danger, the police should know.
Raleigh pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, but she hesitated before dialing. “If the police get involved, this guy might back off.”
“That would be a good thing…wouldn’t it?”
“I want to find out who it is!” she said passionately. “Otherwise, he’ll always be a threat to me.”
“I’d like to get my hands on the guy myself.”
Raleigh took off her glasses, which left a red mark on the bridge of her nose. She massaged the area briefly with thumb and forefinger.
“Why do you wear those glasses?” he asked suddenly.
“Um…so I can see?”
“You used to wear contacts. Those pictures in the living room—no glasses.”
“Very observant of you.” She shrugged. “Glasses are less trouble, and they make me look smarter. That helps in the courtroom.”
“They’re also easy to hide behind. You go to a lot of trouble to make sure men don’t notice you.”
“Is that any of your business?” she asked sharply.
“Maybe not. But reporters are naturally curious. Other men might not look past the frumpy lawyer facade, but I have. You’re a beautiful woman, Raleigh. Why don’t you let the world see that?”
As he’d spoken, her eyes had grown wider and wider. He fully expected hot denials to follow. Then she would throw him out, call the police to deal with her unseen enemy, and that would be that. Sometimes his runaway mouth got him in trouble.
But she didn’t deny anything. The anger he saw reflected in her eyes gradually receded, replaced by a look of perplexity, her brow furrowed, her luscious lips, moist from the wine, parted slightly.
Griffin touched her chin with one forefinger, leaned forward and did what he’d been thinking about since walking through the front door.
Funny, when he kissed her he could almost taste the surprise on her lips along with the wine. She didn’t resist, didn’t pull away, but neither did she soften or close her eyes.
As much as he wanted to continue, this wasn’t working. He broke contact, backed off slightly.
“I guess you didn’t want that,” he said ruefully. Women had turned him down before, but never quite like this.
In answer she threw her arms around his neck and renewed the kiss, and this time he was the one who sat there in stunned surprise.
But not for long. He wrapped his arms around her lithe body and kissed her back, matching her fervor. Her mouth was warm and hungry beneath his, and her whole being seemed to vibrate with the power of her response to him.
It was the best kiss ever, sexy and unbearably sweet at the same time, and it ended far too quickly. Raleigh broke it off, backed away until she ran into the stove, and looked at him as if he were an unwelcome alien being that had just materialized in her kitchen.
Talk about mixed signals. He had to say or do something fast, because this meeting was going south.
“Just tell me, Raleigh,” he said gently. “You want to forget this ever happened, it’s forgotten. But I think it’d be a shame.” He would enjoy loosening up the straitlaced attorney—fogging up her glasses, pulling the hairpins out of her bun and watching her hair fall to her shoulders and beyond, taking off that suit of armor one piece at a time. But only if it was something she wanted.
He wasn’t into making women feel uncomfortable, and that was exactly what he’d done.
His words seemed to reassure her. She lost that cornered-bunny look and relaxed a fraction. “Yes, please,
please
can we forget this ever happened? I don’t blame you, because you only did what I was thinking about. But I was letting the wrong part of me do my thinking.”
He nodded, disappointed. “It’s forgotten. But could you at least tell me why?” He picked up her wineglass and extended it. “Finish your wine.”
Cautiously, she resumed her seat at the island and accepted the glass, taking a big swallow of the pale liquid.
“I had my one great love,” she said wistfully. “He meant everything to me. No one could ever replace him in my heart.”
He hadn’t asked for her love; he’d merely wanted to explore what they could have together on a physical basis, become friends and lovers and see where it led.
But now he knew how erroneous his thinking had been. Raleigh Shinn was not a woman who engaged in casual affairs. If she ever decided to take on a lover—and that was a big “if”—she would do so deliberately, after due consideration. The relationship would be serious and committed from the get-go.
But even that would never happen if she continued to worship her dead husband. What mortal man could compete with St. Jason?
He wisely decided not to voice his opinion, which would have landed him on his ass on the sidewalk.
Griffin hoped her grief would ease up someday, allowing her to have another serious relationship, maybe another marriage. But it wouldn’t be with him. He wasn’t the serious, committed, true-love type. Maybe when he was more settled in his career, but not now.
“Fair enough. Friends?” He thought about extending his hand, then decided touching her in even the most innocent fashion was a bad idea.
She nodded. “Friends. But I think you should leave now.”
“What about my story?”
“I don’t want the whole world reading about my problems. I can’t stop you from writing a story, but I hope you’ll use some discretion. And that you’ll keep in mind that with anything you write, our shared enemy might react negatively to it.”
“Meaning he might escalate. Raleigh, I won’t do anything to put you in danger, okay?”
“Thank you.”
As he rode down the elevator, Griffin knew he’d lied to her. Not about the story—he wasn’t ready to write it, anyway. But about that kiss… It was nowhere near forgotten, and it never would be.
All these years, faithful to the memory of her husband, faithful in body, mind and spirit. Today all that had gone out the window.
She could live with the fact Griffin had kissed her. But when he’d backed off, she’d lunged for him, kissing him as if he were oxygen to a drowning swimmer. And she had wanted to do more. She still did.
Desire was understandable. She was, after all, an adult woman with all the requisite body parts and hormones. But acting on that desire, even in a small way, was not. Her whole life, she had been praised for her discipline and self-control. She was the one who stayed in her dorm room and studied while everyone else was out partying. She was the one who held her tongue around her in-laws, refusing to rise to the bait they cast again and again, trying to prove to their son she was unworthy.
She was the one who saved her money, who eschewed instant gratification in favor of a sound retirement plan.
Yet she’d just let herself practically jump the bones of the first handsome man to show any interest in a very long time.
After sitting on the floor sobbing like an idiot for a couple of minutes, Raleigh pulled herself together. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t had sex with Griffin, after all; she’d merely kissed him.
She pushed herself to her feet and walked purposefully to the table where she displayed Jason’s pictures and a few of the mementos that were important to them as a couple. Jason smiled back his perpetual smile. He had always smiled. He’d been the happiest, sunniest person she’d ever known, and he’d never expressed a moment of disapproval about anything she did.
But if he could see her now…
She picked up one of the framed photos—the one she liked best. They’d been on their honeymoon in the Florida Keys, enjoying a fresh fish dinner at a seaside café. The sun was setting, and she’d said something to make Jason laugh just before snapping the picture. He looked tan and carefree.
Simply looking at that picture could conjure the smell of the ocean, the call of seagulls, the lemon and spices of the snapper she’d eaten that night.
Closing her eyes, she tried to bring those sensations back now. She couldn’t.
She was losing him. Little by little, the memories were slipping away. After his death, she had spent hours writing down as much as she could remember, wanting to hold on to every single piece of their lives together. Now she knew that was impossible. She hadn’t imagined she could tune him out so completely, as she had while kissing Griffin.
She hugged the photo to her chest. “Oh, Jason. I’m sorry. If you’re out there watching me, you’re probably shaking your head at how silly I am, trying to hold on to a marriage that ceased to exist more than six years ago.”
She didn’t know what else to do. Her professional life was satisfying, but as for her personal life, she had this. She didn’t want another relationship, because it could only be a pale imitation of the happiness she had shared with Jason. Better to cherish her memories.
Memories won’t keep you warm on a cold winter night.
She had no idea whose voice that was—Jason’s, her mother’s, maybe her own. Or Griffin’s. But she wasn’t going to listen. Houston rarely saw cold weather, and she had an electric blanket, just in case.