And then she saw the card behind it.
Oh ho!
This time, she didn’t hesitate. The card bore not only Dave’s name, but the imprint of the Hunter Agency. The family business credit card. She’d bet anything he hardly ever used it; he might not miss it at all. And an agency like Hunter had expenses pouring in all the time. A few more would hardly be noticed—at least, not until it was too late.
She pulled the card, tucked it away in her jeans pocket and replaced it with another of his second-layer cards. He might not notice if a different card sat behind his preferred AmEx, but he’d sure notice if there wasn’t anything there at all.
That done, she gave the room a quick look to make sure she hadn’t left anything out of place, and returned to her bedroom with silent steps.
It could have been nice, the two of them working this job together. She already knew they partnered well; she’d been looking forward to riding the jazz with him beside her. And all for a good cause—the
best
of causes. No beating that.
But looking back meant she wasn’t looking ahead. Karin dumped her thoughts at the threshold to her room and quickly packed what little she’d pulled from her snazzy von Furstenberg carry-on. She wasn’t quite through when she heard bumping-around noises that could only mean Dave was on his way up. She stashed the case and sat on the bed, pulling out her journal as she followed his progress.
By the time he made it upstairs, she was writing to her sister.
Dear Ellen, you’re gonna love this…
I’m sorry.
Dave said the words in his head one more time. He hoped they sounded better out loud. The truth was, learning about Karin’s life…about her stepfather…about her
warrant
…
It had done a number on his head.
He told himself—again—that a warrant wasn’t the same as a conviction. He told himself she’d come here to help. That she’d started a new life in her sister’s name, working that little homestead with dedication. He reminded himself how he had been the one to shove her back into the middle of things, and of how he’d admired her grit the night she’d gone over the cliff. He recalled the shivery feeling of locking gazes with her, from his nape all the way down his spine to tingle through his—
Halfway up the stairs he stopped short, closed his eyes to tell himself what an idiot he was and moved forward with a determination to forget that part.
No, not to forget it. Some things…you couldn’t. But to put it aside long enough to get through the next moments, the next days.
To catch Longsford.
He found her sitting cross-legged on the bed, writing in her leather-bound journal. Small, precise writing. “Still more than just a diary,” he commented, leaning in the doorway.
“Letters to my sister.” She spoke without looking up, her tone so matter-of-fact that Dave was taken aback. She’d been so private about it before….
Of course, at that point she’d been calling herself Ellen.
Karin straightened her shoulders, still looking down at the book. “Dear Ellen,” she read. “You won’t believe where I am. Or what I’m about to do.” She looked up at him for the first time since his arrival in her space and he blinked at what he saw in her eyes. He couldn’t quite name it, but it struck him deeply. Those smoky gray eyes had a confident intensity that momentarily left him without words.
“What would she say?” he asked her.
“She’d worry. She’d say to tell her about it when it was over. But she’d be glad I was doing it,” Karin answered easily, and then laughed a little at his surprise. “I’ve been having daily conversations with her for over a year. You think I don’t give her a chance to talk back?”
Not much to say about that. But plenty left to say. “About what happened downstairs—”
She looked straight at him. “You mean, when you were snide and rude to me?”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Things have gotten…complicated.”
“You don’t say.” She didn’t seem in the mood to be forgiving. He supposed things had gotten complicated for her since he’d arrived in her driveway. But there was no anger in her voice, seemed to be none on her face. Just determination.
“We okay?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
He didn’t quite believe it. But he figured he’d pushed her as far as she’d go for one day. “I’ll go change. You wanted the suit?”
“What I’d really like are the codes you use to get outside.”
That took him by surprise. “The point is that you don’t go outside. It’s a safe house.”
“Right,” she said. “But if someone’s out there watching us, we’re blown either way, don’t you think? And I’d rather not feel like a prisoner. Unless maybe I am?”
“If you wanted to get out,” he told her drily, “I’m sure you’d find a way.”
“Ah. Another dig?”
“I just meant you don’t give up easily. And I’m doubly sorry about this morning if it means you’ll hear everything I say to you through a snide filter.”
She was quiet on the bed. Quiet in body, quiet in voice. “It’s easier to put that particular filter on than it is to take it off. And I’d really rather just use the alarm code.”
So he gave it to her, and she closed the book and set it aside. “I’ll get dressed,” she said. “Go do something with your hair.” And as his hand went up to check his hair, she grinned. A small grin, but better than no grin at all, and much better than a snide filter. “It’s fine,” she told him. “It just needs to be a little more conservative for the morning’s work.”
“Can do,” he said, and went off to see to it. Her door was shut as he passed by on the way back, and he went on to his own room to dress the part of the boy-toy chauffeur. When he came back out the door was still shut and he knocked; no answer.
The knob turned under his hand, and the door opened wide to an empty room.
Chapter 16
K
arin moved quickly, cutting through a manicured yard to reach the next street over, heading south to reach Duke Street and then west toward the small business center. There she found a public phone, a phone book from which to tear a few key Yellow Pages and a place to lurk out of sight until the taxi she’d called arrived. Dave’s unmistakable Maxima drove by twice.
Too bad it worked out this way. I’d have liked to see you in that suit again.
But she’d done the right thing. He was too conflicted to pull off this scam. When she’d gathered enough information to sink Longsford, then maybe she’d see Dave again.
Or maybe not. Maybe she’d take her new nest egg and head off to Alaska. Or maybe to one of the little Caribbean islands that didn’t have extradition. They had plenty of jobs for a woman who knew how to work people, how to keep them happy. For that was what it was all about—that was what a good long con did. Kept the mark happy. Some of them never did realize they’d been taken at all…just chalked it up to bad luck when their big opportunity didn’t come through.
This was one opportunity that Karin would
make
come through.
Look out, Longsford.
When the taxi arrived she directed it to her new destination, the Embassy Suites in Old Town. Maia Brenner checked into a room on the first floor at the end of the hall. Easy to come and go unseen. The place had everything she needed—the fridge, the microwave, the coffeemaker, a complimentary breakfast.
And the phones. She hadn’t had a chance to check in with Amy Lynn since leaving home the second time. Later she’d get herself a prepaid cell phone, but for now she’d eat the hotel long-distance charges. She flopped onto the suite’s sofa and pulled the phone close, dialing Amy Lynn’s number from memory.
“Be there,” she said to the phone after it rang three times. “Just
be there.
”
She was composing a voice-mail message in her head when the phone was snatched up, fumbled, and finally made it to someone’s ear. Amy Lynn’s breathless voice said, “Hello?”
“Thought I was going to miss you,” Karin told her.
“Ellen! Thank goodness. Are you okay?”
The question surprised her. She’d been okay when she left; Amy Lynn hadn’t known a thing about the night on the cliff. “I’m fine,” she said. “Is everything okay there?”
Amy Lynn hastened to reassure her with the understanding of a woman who also owned a bevy of farm animals. “The animals are fine,” she said. “Agatha’s milk is wonderful—you really should have me start it on cheese.”
“Drink it or sell it,” Karin said. No need to think twice about that one. Amy Lynn might think Karin was off wrapping up old business from before her move with plans to return imminently, but Karin herself no longer assumed she could pick up where she’d left off. “What about Dewey?”
“He’s fine.” Amy Lynn had caught her breath; her voice sounded more casual. “I adore him, as ever.”
Good thing. Karin knew he’d have a good home if she couldn’t get back to him. But she suddenly missed him, a great big unexpected wave of longing for a canine friend who’d at first been wary of her but now watched over her as if he’d always been hers, his tail wagging at every glance she gave him.
It wasn’t enough to deter her from what she’d first heard in her friend’s voice. “Something’s up,” she said. “Out with it.”
“Never could hide anything from you,” Amy Lynn grumbled. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. First you leave, then you’re back and you’ve hurt your wrist, and then you’re off again. And I saw that car in your driveway.”
They’d had this talk before. The one where Karin made it clear that “Ellen” would gently decline to talk about the past she was trying to leave behind. “Amy Lynn—”
“Okay, okay. I’m not asking. I’m just telling you I’m not blind. Anyhow, this morning I went in to water plants and your answering machine had a message. I checked it—I thought it might be important.”
Sudden dread replaced the lingering homesickness. “Who was it?”
“Really weird, that’s what it was. Some guy named Gregg. Said he’d had some inquiries about you, and the attention would be a problem for him, and if it didn’t stop he’d come out to talk about it in person.”
Karin’s hand clenched on the phone.
Cree-ap.
Rumsey.
Longsford must have dug into Ellen’s past, probably even while they were dating. Might even have been why he stayed with her. Not only was she a nonconfrontational and unwitting ally in his disgusting personal pursuits, he probably felt he had the means to control her if she got out of hand. He probably didn’t realize that Ellen was the only one with nothing hanging over her head.
And now Longsford was looking for Ellen, so he’d gone to Rumsey. Karin could only imagine Rumsey’s rage—no con man wanted a spotlight shining his way. And the man was perfectly capable of turning down a finder’s fee if it meant he might gain that unwanted attention in the local community, just as he was perfectly capable of showing up at Ellen’s farm if he thought it would put an end to the inquiries.
“Ellen?” Amy Lynn sounded worried again. “Does the message mean anything to you? Do you know who it was?”
She kept her voice casual. “Just a strange little man from too many years ago,” she said. “No telling what got into his head. Don’t worry about it. He lives on the West Coast. There’s no chance he’ll just show up at your place.”
“Hmm,” Amy Lynn said. Then she offered, “That was my unconvinced noise. But the animals are all fine and the weather here is perfect. You’re gonna be sorry you missed it.”
“I’m already sorry I’m missing it,” Karin told her, somewhat more fervently than she’d planned. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. No doubt after I miss most of the spring planting.” She glanced at her watch and winced. The day would get away from her if she wasn’t careful. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll check in again as soon as I can. I should have a cell number for you the next time.”
“Alrighty. You’re gonna owe me for this one, you know.”
“Already do,” Karin said. “Tell your hubby ‘hey’ for me.”
“Will do. And Ellen…whatever’s going on, be careful, okay?”
“Nothing like that,” Karin said, putting the breeze back in her voice. “But I will.”
But when she hung up the phone she found herself staring at it balefully, as if it was at fault.
Rumsey, back in her life. Rumsey, the man who’d rigged those felony charges against her. Rumsey, the single person who could take one look at her and know exactly who she was.
Crap.
She changed into one of the suit outfits—the short skirt, barely there camisole and tailored jacket. It was a lean combination and it made her legs look impossibly long; the unusual chocolate brown shade brought out her contact-colored eyes. From her room she called a limo service and hired them for the day on Hunter’s credit card, requesting a luxury sedan and a driver who knew how to keep appearances.
She had the limo pick her up at a nearby flower shop, where she acquired several small daisies that she tucked into her hair above her ear. Put-together and yet confidently carefree, that was Maia Brenner. She leaned forward to hand the driver one of her Yellow Pages. “I need to visit some printers.”
“All of them?” he said in doubt. He was as advertised—trim and neatly dressed, one of those spare men who would never flesh out, his hair silvered at the edges of its conservative cut, his tie precisely knotted and his currently wrinkled brow holding just the right amount of deference for the question.
“That depends on how fast we find the right printer,” she said. “I’m looking for someone with high standards and creative, impeccable work on invitations and announcements.”
He gave a decisive nod. “That’s better, then. I can narrow that down for you.”
“That would be wonderful,” she said, using her warm Maia voice. “Also, I’ll need a driver frequently during my visits here. Would it be all right to ask for you?”
“It would be a pleasure, ma’am. You can ask for Bill Chantrey.” He put aside the Yellow Pages, checked his side view mirror and pulled smoothly into traffic.
“Please, Bill—may I call you Bill?—I’d feel much better if you called me Maia.”
“Miss Maia,” Bill allowed in a broad Coastal accent, unwittingly becoming part of her deliberate trail through town. Before she was done, she’d have him convinced she was throwing her own party, complete with the implication that the occasion would offer a select group of people an opportunity of some sort.
If Longsford checked her out—and he should—he’d learn just what she wanted him to. Maia Brenner was in town to do business, and if Longsford wanted in on it, he’d get the distinct impression he’d have to move fast.
The first printer was a bust; she knew as soon as she entered the shop that they weren’t of the caliber Longsford would use. In these high-tech days where genteel formality often fell by the wayside, he always sent beautifully printed invitations. One of the national entertainment magazines had gone so far as to print a photo of one in their piece on a recent party.
Dave had been thorough in his research, she’d say that for him.
At the second printer’s she walked in and caught the proprietor’s eye in an instant. Maia was a woman with class, someone used to buying what she wanted and used to making things happen. She said nothing, nodding a fractional greeting before she put the printout on the counter and pushed it toward him.
He put a finger on it, pulling it closer, and pretended to examine it before he nodded. “This is one of ours,” he said, and pushed it back to her.
She smiled, guileless and relieved. “I’m so pleased to have finally found you,” she said. “I love the look of the invitation, and would like something similar for an upcoming event. I’d choose my own font, of course—this has a lovely bold, masculine look, but that’s not quite me.”
“Not quite,” he said, somewhat bemused at her take-charge approach. Good. The less time he had to think, the better.
“But if we could use the same paper, and that ink—the embossing is perfect, and I love the matte surface—I’d be delighted. Do you have a font book I could look through? And I’d love to see that paper.” She dug through her fashionably petite purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This isn’t so much an invitation as it is an announcement, but I think it’ll look wonderful in a small fold-over version, don’t you?”
He traded his font sample book for her carefully printed words about a cocktail party at a swanky hotel. Peering at them through the glasses sitting near the end of his nose, he gave a little nod at the simple lines of invitation, but then looked up at her in question. “That’s it?”
She smiled as if quite delighted with herself. “It’s enough. They’re going out by hand.” She pushed the font book back at him. “This one. What do you think?” Also a bold font, but arguably feminine. Perfectly appropriate, even though the cards would never be distributed. She couldn’t come in asking for the details of Longsford’s invitations without a good backstory, and she had to support the backstory with action.
Not to mention that should Longsford hear about it, he’d only be more convinced that she intended to follow through with her efforts to sell the Ranchwood property. Her proposal would suit anyone on the hunt for charitable donations and eventual profit on the side, and he’d know it.
Opportunity knocks once, and then moves on….
The printer was nodding at her choice. Karin pulled out a tiny notebook and flipped it open, also producing a classy, expensive pen that Dave might or might not have missed by now. “And what’s the name of that paper…and the ink?”
“Arches Cover, slate,” he murmured, making his own notes. “How many of these would you like printed?”
“Two hundred,” she said. “I know it’s not much…I could do the same on almost any desktop these days. But the quality…the impression the invitations give…it just wouldn’t be the same, don’t you agree?”
“A rhetorical question, I assume,” he said. “And do four-by-five-inch cards suit you?”
“Perfect. What was that ink again?”
And he told her as he finished writing up her order, even making sure she had spelled it right. He promised the results within a week, and he gladly took her credit card number for a deposit.
Her own credit card this time; this was an expense likely to stand out to any Hunter accountant’s eye, especially should the sudden activity on the card bring the account to anyone’s attention. She’d already transferred most of her Ellen accounts into Maia’s holdings, but she didn’t have nearly enough to finance this gig and then still move on. She might well have to pay herself back by completing the scam.
She waited for the thrill at the thought, but it didn’t come. She still managed to smile at the nice man behind the counter, and she left the printer with the information she’d come to get. It was as she was leaving that she suddenly understood. She’d planned to have someone at her side for this job…and she didn’t.
Bill the driver didn’t open the shop door for her, but he did spring from the car to open the back passenger door. “You stayed a few moments, Miss Maia,” he offered, as he slid back behind the wheel. “Was that the jackpot?”
Karin smiled. “That was indeed the jackpot. Now…I have a little shopping to do. Women’s accessories, that sort of thing. Can you recommend a spot?”
“Just leave the driving up to me,” he promised, and deftly navigated the thickening traffic.
Karin lost herself in the details, staring at the note in her hand. Now she needed an entirely different sort of printer to forge an invitation for Longsford’s party two evenings from now.
After that it was just a matter of wooing him, and the wooing wouldn’t be hard. Not with an investment tailor-made to suit both his greed and his need to establish control. It might take a week or so…and she certainly still had details to sort out. People to hire as extras, a few more technical things to sort out. If she’d been on her home turf, she’d have known exactly who to go to. Here…
She’d know more before the evening was over, one way or the other.