The Witness (12 page)

She blinked and laughed. “Find me another soda, okay? I’m parched. Then let’s enjoy the roses and walk paths that I apparently now partly own.”

“See, wealth is going to fit like a nice glove sooner than you think. You want another diet soda or something flavored?”

“Orange if they have it.”

Connor pointed to the bench by the trellis of climbing roses. “Sit over there. I don’t want to be losing you.”

“Sure.”

She watched him head back inside, and she turned toward the roses he had pointed out. It was lovely out here in the covered walkway. She was aware even as Connor left that she still wasn’t entirely alone. The man Daniel had introduced earlier as one of the Silver Security, Inc. staff was standing off to one side of the door, near enough he’d be between her and anyone coming through those doors who wasn’t on the cleared list. She smiled at him briefly, and he smiled back but stayed where he was at. She supposed she’d get used to that kind of quiet, polite watcher eventually. He looked deadly professional and had rather spooked her when first introduced; she’d noticed even Connor had given him a second glance to make sure he knew where the man was standing.

She walked around the trellis toward the waterfall. She was wealthy, she knew who her father was, and all those crazy if-only plans she’d thought of over the years were possibilities for her now. And she wasn’t ready for this. Tears wanted to fall for no reason at all, and she pulled in a deep breath and then another. She trailed her hand through the water cascading down carefully stacked rocks and smiled rather sadly at her own falling sense of joy. All her dreams come true but one, and she was too overwhelmed to take it in and enjoy the moment.

She turned away from the water.

Connor sat on the bench by the trellis, patiently watching her. The second soda she’d requested sat on the bench beside him, and he looked to about have finished the one he had gotten for himself. He smiled and held out a couple napkins. “Your fingers are going to turn blue; that’s practically ice water.”

“You explored it earlier?” she asked, taking the offered napkins.

“This entire place is an exploration wonder. Did you know Daniel has heated lamps under the bench seats so they stay nicely warm on cold winter days?”

“That I didn’t know.”

“The gardener told me. And there are butterflies released within the walkway to help the roses grow, though I don’t know about that rationale. I think they’re just pretty creatures to go with pretty flowers.”

She took a seat beside him on the bench.

“Want to spend the day exploring? This place, maybe drive out toward the lake and find some ducks to watch? You’re not dressed for walking far, not in those shoes, and there’s not a mall in the city that didn’t have a few hundred TV sets turned to that interview, so wandering in to get new footwear is probably not a good idea.”

“Peter’s going to be a while with the construction?”

“Even if he’s done, I bet a good portion of that reporters pool just moved to camp outside your gallery for your return home.”

“Daniel already asked me to stay for a late lunch.”

“Ask him to make it for dinner instead. He’ll understand. It’s not like you aren’t going to be seeing him just about every day for the rest of your life.”

She smiled. “An exaggeration, but there’s a point in there. I’d like to change, but I can do that at the gym where I keep a bag, rather than brave the construction work going on at the gallery.”

“Problem solved. Come on, Marie. Let’s blow this place and have some fun. It’s not every day you announce to the world you’re the luckiest lady around.”

“Tracey is too.”

“I guarantee she was watching that news conference and beaming with pride at your answers. She’s probably got Marsh entirely too flustered at her joy.”

“They’re coming home early, she said. They’ll be back tomorrow midday.”

“Yeah, I talked to Marsh last night a few minutes after you did.” Connor got to his feet and held out his hands. “Today there’s no more business to deal with, just time to let it settle.”

She slid her hands into his, wishing she understood this man and why he was willing to be the counterbalance to the craziness she had going on in her life. As far as she could tell he was doing it because he wanted to, and that hadn’t often happened in her life with guys. And on him the money wasn’t sticking as a fascination or a problem, and that just didn’t fit.

“You’re wealthy, Connor, aren’t you? That’s why all this kind of slides past you as no big deal.”

He smiled. “I’m a cop, Marie. No one gets wealthy on what the city pays.”

“You’re ducking the question.”

“My grandfather owns a few of the buildings we passed today; would that do? I’m not wealthy, but there’s enough to do what I want, and beyond that, money isn’t something I particularly worry about. Though I admit your cousin probably holds a few of the family pennies in that investment pool he manages. My grandfather was never a man to let a building project go by without betting a couple bucks on its success.”

“You’re one of those guys who drives a pickup truck, hunts on weekends, watches NASCAR races, and has a couple million sitting in the bank?”

He laughed. “Watching the NASCAR races I’ll admit to. Quit trying to figure me out—my mom hasn’t done it in thirty-odd years—and just take what you see as what you get. There really isn’t a lot of layers to figure out.”

“Right, and I’m a natural in front of cameras.” But she smiled. “I’ll quit trying so hard if you promise tomorrow I can wipe away all the embarrassing points of today and you’ll kindly forget they happened. I get too chatty after a morning like this one.”

“I can be as forgetful as needed.” He directed her toward the walk path and gave a quiet nod to the security man. “How about a perfect rose to press into your scrapbook to remember today by?”

Marie glanced back, and the Silver Security employee was gone. “What was that about?”

“Transportation. They even do fill-ups if you ask very nicely.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well, maybe a little.”

“Connor—”

He squeezed her hand. “Cops and security guys, we do our own thing. It’s best not to ask until we’re somewhere over a very long meal. There’s nothing wrong—I promise you that—just well-done planning clicking like it’s supposed to.”

“You’ll explain that sometime.”

“Yep.”

“Then I’ll ask later. I’d like a pink rose for the scrapbook. Something so pink it makes the color pink proud.”

“And try to say that tongue twister ten times fast.” He chuckled and pointed out a rosebush. “There.”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

Connor tried to remember the last time he’d eaten a waffle cone with just plain vanilla ice cream and couldn’t place it, short of maybe a state fair when he was a teenager and an occasion equally designed to impress a girl. “The fudge would have helped.”

“It hides the vanilla,” Marie protested. “They make the smoothest ice cream in the state, and you want to hide it under a layer of sugar.”

“Tell me you at least like mustard on your hot dogs.”

She laughed and reached up to wipe his chin with a napkin as the ice cream dripped. “I do. And I love corn dogs on a stick and saltwater taffy and cotton candy.”

“So next time we’ll come back to the fair when it’s actually open.” He hadn’t known the fairground had a few concession stands open year-round to serve those who worked at the livestock barns and managed the grounds and staffed the weekend convention hall, but Marie had known. So he was wandering across the racetrack trying to avoid stepping in horse droppings while eating a very cold, very plain, vanilla waffle cone for an early dessert.

“Hold on; your sleeve is about to come down again.” She stepped close enough to turn up the cuff twice.

He got in the last two bites of the cone while she finished squaring the corners of his shirtsleeve. The sun was warm on his back and the afternoon pleasant; it was good to be outside with her. And since it was incredibly hard not to just tip her head to the side and kiss her as he’d like to, Connor kept his eyes above her head on the clouds lazily floating past and thought about his odds of maybe talking her into canceling on Daniel for dinner too.

“There, that’s better.”

Connor rested his arms on her shoulders rather than let her step back and checked his watch behind Marie’s head. His grandfather should be done with the security changes by now. He looked down to meet her startled gaze. “I’m seizing the opportunity presented to me.”

She had a nice blush; he liked that about her. “Want to find dinner to go with that dessert?”

“I promised Daniel I’d be there at seven.”

“Phones are good for apologies; I can stick a pocketknife into a tire and give us a flat so you can have a real excuse.”

“That wouldn’t be fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“He’s my cousin; the analogy doesn’t fit.”

“Then how about time is of the essence? I go back to work on Monday. No more days off for way too long in my future.”

She smiled. “Why not just say it was a great afternoon and we’ll go out on top?”

He sighed. “We could do that if we must. I could even call you late, late tonight to chat if you give me that new private number you’re not supposed to give out to anyone.”

She rested her head against his chest and laughed. “I feel like a teenager on a date again, Connor. It’s been an incredibly long while since I could say that.”

“I’m kind of enjoying the flashback too. You, lady, can be very good company.”

He dug out his car keys and pushed the button to remotely unlock the car doors. “Want to pull through McDonald’s and order like a zillion french fries to go and pass them out to every kid we pass?”

“You’re not a cop; that’s got to be a fake badge or something. Your sense of humor never grew up.”

“Or something. It’s a nice gold shield, and they only give those out to boys that play well together. If you don’t want to do the zillion french fries, how about finding a speakerphone and calling Tracey and Marsh? We can compare notes on who goofed off the most today. All they probably did was ski or something tame like that. We did duck calls.”

She swiped the keys out of his hand. “I’m leaving while I can still breathe. I’ve been laughing so much my ribs ache.”

Connor followed her, pleased to see the joy was real and all the traces of nerves were truly gone.

Those nerves would be back this weekend, when she realized the Silver Security guys were still around her, when the chief told her Amy was still alive, when the inevitable cutting words were said by someone who envied the money—he couldn’t stop those things, but he’d done what he could. For a brief few hours he’d forgotten about being a cop and the murder cases on his desk, waiting for his return. And she’d forgotten about the risks that came with the changes in her life. He wouldn’t have given this day back for anything.

He walked to join her. “You’ve got the keys, but I’m not letting you drive. It goes against the guy’s code of honor or some such rule in life.”

She perched on the hood of his car and held out the keys. “I changed my mind; let’s stop by McDonald’s for some fries.”

“I was kidding, Marie.”

“I know. I’m not.”

He took the keys and flipped the ring around to find the one for the trunk.

“What are you doing?” She turned to watch him as he circled the car.

“Getting my bullhorn. If you want to attract a crowd of kids, just call, ‘Free food.’ It works every time, and I don’t feel like shouting.”

“You’d actually do it.”

He smiled.

“We need cash.”

“Daniel floated you a loan for the day; it’s in your purse.”

“What? And you didn’t tell me?”

She retrieved her purse and spotted the envelope. “There’s … oh my—” she turned an odd color of pale—“at least five thousand dollars in here. And it sat in the car with the doors unlocked most of the afternoon while we fed the ducks.”

“Not many people think to steal from a squad car, at least not on this side of town.”

“You really should have said something.”

“Holding that much money makes you go kind of yellow pale; I don’t think you’re entirely sure it belongs in your hands yet. It was easier not to tell you than to see the reaction.”

“I know it’s just money, but it’s not just money, you know?”

He came around to lean against the car beside her, and the teasing disappeared. “I know.”

“What am I supposed to do with being rich? Leave it sit in a bank account when so many could use a helping hand? Give it away, and in a few years find I’ve done nothing but give it away? Spend it all on things I enjoy?”

“There’s no right answer. God might be wise enough to judge the intents of your heart and what you choose to do over the next years, but the rest of the chorus of voices you’ll be hearing saying do this with it or that will just be random noise. Follow your heart. It’s your money, not someone else’s, and uniquely your task to sort out.”

“I wish the situation was reversed and you had inherited the money.”

“I don’t.” He smiled at her. “You’re a thinker; your gallery reflects that, your love of painting. Major money takes thinking to figure out what to do with it. I’d rather be out chasing car thieves and answering old ladies who hear cats and think prowlers have come by.”