Silent Masquerade Page 15

  “Am I under arrest?” He needed to close his eyes, to gather his strength so that he could think clearly, figure a way out of this. Even if he got that rest in a cell on a jail cot.

  The detective seemed to come to a sudden conclusion. “You’re all we’ve got, Hamlin, and you had the child. That’s all the evidence we need to hold you for now, fella.”

  “Do I get a phone call?”

  “Sure. After we run through your story one more time.”

  * * *

  CARA STOOD by a heavily screened window, hugging her arms around her waist. She felt cold, even though sunshine flooded the room and a warm breeze blew in through the open window.

  “Cara, thank goodness you came.” He rushed to the window, and they embraced, but Bill could tell Cara’s heart wasn’t in it. He stepped back and lifted her chin with one finger.

  “What’s wrong, love?”

  Her teeth were chattering. “I can’t believe they’re holding you in here.”

  Bill grunted. “Yeah, well, I knew all along it was a risk.” He extended his arm behind her and put his hand on the window frame, bracing his weight. He bowed his head so that she could hear his whisper. “Did you bring the briefcase?”

  Cara nodded. “Do you think it will come to that? Court and bail and everything?”

  “I hope not. Most of it will depend on how much they believe you, how convincing you are. Or if they actually go looking for the Hoyts and find them.”

  “The Hoyts?”

  “Yeah. Kelly told me that was the name of the couple who had her. I told the cops that, but I’m not sure they believed me. Anyway, I haven’t seen any signs that they’re out beating the bushes for those weirdos.”

  Cara shivered again. “What if they don’t believe me, Bill?” Her eyes and voice were bleak.

  “They’ve got to believe you, love. It’s my only chance of getting out of this without having my name splashed all over the papers and TV and before the FBI shows up to take over the investigation.”

  “Yes, but Bill, I only know what you told me.”

  “Cara, you know the child wasn’t anywhere near me before yesterday. Also, you were there when I asked Kelly who she was, so you know I didn’t know the kid before that.”

  Cara frowned and rubbed her forehead. “Why can’t they just ask Kelly? Surely she would be able to tell them she never saw you before yesterday.”

  “Cara, she’s got to be one very traumatized child. They aren’t going to let anyone—not even the cops—grill her before she gets some counseling. It could take weeks before any doctor would consider her well enough to be questioned.”

  Before Cara could respond, the door opened and Inspector James, the detective who’d booked him, came into the room.

  “We’re ready for you now, Miss Davis.”

  They’d agreed the night before that Cara should drop the married act, given that the police would be less apt to believe testimony given by a man’s wife, should it come to that.

  Now that it had, Bill began to doubt that Cara’s word would be enough.

  Another cop was there to escort Bill back to the lockup. They parted company outside the visitor’s room, hands and eyes clinging with quiet desperation—Cara fighting back tears, Bill biting back a stream of epithets at the unfairness, the stupidity, of the whole thing.

  And then a small miracle happened as Bill was being led back through the detective’s room to the lockup beyond.

  The Partons were signing papers at a desk in the corner. Kelly Parton was sitting on her mother’s lap, her head laid back against the woman’s bosom, her thumb in her mouth. But when she spotted Bill being led toward the door, she left her mother and went running to Bill.

  She threw her arms around him and craned her neck to look up and give him a huge smile. “Bill, Bill! I remembered them! I did! And they remembered me! Thank you, Bill, thank you!”

  There were tears in Bill’s eyes when he bent to touch Kelly’s head. “You’re welcome, honey. And I’m glad you remembered.”

  That little scene with Kelly was all that was needed to support Bill’s story. Cara’s corroboration was the icing on the cake.

  Detective James released him.

  “We just located the Hoyts a half hour ago, and we’ve taken them into custody. The feds are going to be here this afternoon to question them and do what they have to in order to tie up the loose ends of the case,” he told Bill. He signed a paper and then lifted his head to meet Bill’s eyes. “And as soon as the story breaks, this town is going to be overrun with media.”

  He glanced over at the Parton family. “The computer didn’t turn up anything on you, Hamlin, and we haven’t had time to run you through the feds’ records, but I have a hunch you’re hiding something, even if you had nothing to do with the Parton snatch.”

  Bill held his breath. Was the guy going to go looking for some reason to detain him?

  James threw his pen down and stood up abruptly. “They parked your car down on the street in front of the station.” He pulled Bill’s keys from his desk drawer and tossed them to him.

  “You’re out of here, Hamlin. If I’m right about you, you don’t have much time to cover your tracks.”

  * * *

  THEY LEFT the police station together, holding hands and congratulating one another in whispers, unaware that the whole scene between Bill and Kelly had been photographed by a free-lance photographer, and unaware that he snapped a picture of the two of them holding hands on the steps of the police station.

  “What now, Bill?”

  “It’s not over yet, love,” Bill warned. “When this story breaks, I may be headline news.”

  “Does that mean we have to leave Santa Cruz?”

  Bill led her toward the car. “I’m not sure. Listen, what did you tell personnel in terms of our working today?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t know, so I left it that you’d call if you were going to be late.”

  Bill glanced at his watch. “Good. We have over an hour before I’d have to report in. Let’s go have breakfast, and we’ll brainstorm.”

  They found a café a few blocks from the station that contained only a few patrons. They took a back booth and ordered, and Cara waited impatiently while Bill made a trip to the men’s room to wash up.

  When he returned, he looked more relaxed. He slid into the booth across from Cara and reached for her hand. “I think it’s going to be okay.”

  “Really? How?” She massaged the knuckles of his hand with the pad of her thumb, enjoying the contrast of crisp hair against smooth skin.

  “We’re going to take a chance that James isn’t going to blow my cover to the press. If he doesn’t, we’re right where we were before Kelly Parton came along. Since the media wasn’t around when I was brought in, I think it’s safe to trust that we may be able to stay.”

  “Then we can go back to work, and home tonight?”

  The waitress brought their plates, and Bill let go of Cara’s hand and raised his fork. “You got it, dude. Let’s eat. I don’t dare be late for work again, or I won’t have a job to go to.”

  “I guess I’ll go to the park with you and just hang out down at the beach until it’s time to go to work myself,” Cara said, pushing her eggs around on her plate.

  Bill looked up from his own plate, surprise etched on his face.

  “Why? You could take the car and go home and grab a couple more hours of sleep.”

  Cara stopped pretending to eat and put her fork down. She met his eyes with a look of naked emotion. “I don’t want to go too far away from you today.”

  Bill stared at her. “Why?” he whispered.

  Cara slid her hand into his and clung to it fiercely. “Because I love you, Bill.”

  Bill felt his insides lurch with a mixture of excitement and panic. He slumped back against the booth wall, though his hand continued to cling to Cara’s.

  “I know I’m the one who started this, Cara, but have you ever really thought about the dange
rs inherent in this situation?”

  Cara looked puzzled. “I had the feeling that we were sort of out of the woods. I know now you’re not a murderer and you’re not a kidnapper or a child molester. I guess that means that whatever’s left, I can live with.”

  Bill laughed. “But you’re still dancing with the idea that I’m some kind of criminal.”

  A puzzled look crossed Cara’s face. “Bill, we’re lovers, we’re in love, and I’ve proven I’m on your side. Can’t you trust me even now?”

  “Cara, can’t you get it through your head that it’s not a case of trusting you? It’s as much to protect you as to protect myself that I haven’t told you anything.”

  Cara nodded. When she spoke again, her voice mimicked his. “I know—the less I know, the less danger I’m in if whoever or whatever catches up with you.”

  She knew that stubborn look that tightened his features. Bill wasn’t going to budge. But then he surprised her.

  “I guess I can tell you some of it. But not now. I have to get to work.” He took money out of his pocket and threw it on the table. “Come on, love. We’ll talk later, I promise.”

  * * *

  ACROSS THE STREET, Gordon Lefebre watched and wondered. He’d been surprised when he followed Cara and observed her entering the police station that morning. Then he’d been even more surprised to see her come out with Bill Hamlin. He’d debated whether to go into the precinct and nose around or follow the couple.

  What had decided for him was the way the couple were behaving with one another. This was the real thing. He had no way of knowing exactly when, but sometime between that building exploding and his locating them at their new address, Cara and Bill had become lovers.

  Now he had to decide if this was something he wanted to report to his client. He knew what he should do. The trouble was that his feelings kept getting in the way.

  Hell, he didn’t really know anything about their business with the cops, so there wasn’t anything new he could report to the client, anyway. He’d already given the guy their new address and checked the premises to assure himself they still had no phone.

  Still, this had been a lucrative assignment. Who knew when the client would need him again or have occasion to recommend him to someone else. He got into his car and eased into traffic, keeping Cara and Hamlin in his sights from a safe distance.

  He’d make sure they were going to work, and then he’d check in with his client. Maybe their business with the cops had something to do with why the client was having them tailed.

  * * *

  CARA KEPT GLANCING across the boardwalk, trying to catch a glimpse of Bill, but the crowd that passed between the bumper-car concession and her ice-cream cart had thickened. The sun had been shining that morning, but now the sky was overcast, and it looked as though they might have another bout of rain later in the day. It was almost as if people had rushed to be here for the few hours of good weather.

  Every now and then Cara would spot Bill’s dark head above the crowd, or a flash of his blue shirt. A couple of times they had a clear view of one another and waved, Bill’s eyes sending warm, seductive messages.

  Cara was surprised that her feverishness didn’t melt the ice cream before she could mold it onto the cones she sold. She kept thinking, We’re in love, but that doesn’t mean all our troubles are over. There’s so much I need to learn about him, so much he doesn’t know about me.

  And yet, when she’d glimpse him through the passing parade, her heart would do flip-flops in her chest and her breathing would become erratic. And then she’d remind herself, He’s going to tell me. Maybe not everything, but something. And then I’ll tell him about Doug and Mom and, who knows, maybe we’ll be able to help each other through our problems.

  On the other side of the fairway, Bill was in his own little world. In fact, a couple of times, in his dazed state, he’d forgotten to set the timer and the ride had run way over the designated allowance.

  He couldn’t help thinking, I love her, but the best thing I could do for her is to leave her. Only, God help me, I have to be with her just a little while longer. I need just a little more time before I have to give her up.

  He used his afternoon break to go home and take a nap. When he started back to the park, he saw that the clouds had thickened and the sky had darkened.

  He stopped at the ice-cream cart, and the way Cara looked at him made him shove his hands in the back pockets of his jeans to keep from touching her right there on the job.

  “You’re some hot-looking tootsie,” he whispered.

  “You silver-tongued rascal,” she whispered back. “You keep talking like that and I might start groping you right here in front of everyone.”

  “Oh, man, I love when you talk grope,” Bill said, with a groan that proved he was only half kidding.

  “You want me to talk ice cream?” Cara asked teasingly. She flipped open one of the wells, scooped some strawberry onto a cone and moved it toward her mouth, her tongue flipping out to start the first lick.

  Bill snatched a hand out of his pocket and pulled her hand down toward the cart before the cone reached her tongue, causing the ice cream to fall off the cone. “Stop that, you little tease! I’ve still got a couple of hours of work ahead of me.”

  Cara threw the cone into the trash and wiped her hands. “Okay, I’m on my best behavior now,” she said calmly. She lifted her face and gave Bill one of her sunniest smiles.

  Bill cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “It looks like we might get rain tonight. If we do, I’ll get off early. Why don’t you wait for me at Antonio’s, and we’ll have dinner together?”

  Cara shook her head. “Why don’t I go on home and fix us dinner?” Her grin was wicked. “That way, we’ll already be home if we find we can’t wait to finish dinner before we start on dessert.”

  Bill groaned. “You make it very difficult for a guy to concentrate on his job, lady.”

  Cara laughed and then glanced around before chancing a brief tug on Bill’s beard. “Go be stoic, Hamlin. I’ll see you at home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gordon Lefebre was sitting in the the bar area of a restaurant when the news bulletin came on. “Turn it up, quick,” he commanded. The bartender obeyed and went back to the blender where he was mixing cocktails for a party of bridge players.

  “Our sources tell us that at first Mr. Hamlin had been mistakenly tagged as the kidnapper of Kelly Parton. However, not only did Mr. Hamlin find and return Kelly to her parents, but information he gave the police led to the arrest of the real kidnappers, Grace and Clarence Hoyt. We will continue to update you as more information comes to our attention.”

  Lefebre drained his glass with a sigh of satisfaction, both for the drink and for the turn of events.

  The irony! Only this afternoon the client had discharged him from the case, telling him his services were no longer needed.

  And only this morning he’d wondered about their business at the police station. And now the information had been handed to him, gratis.

  He chuckled and raised his hand. “Barkeep, let’s do this again,” he called out.

  His end-of-assignment dinner—the treat of a fine meal at a rather elegant restaurant, nowhere near the beach. He was growing weary of the grittiness of sand on every surface, the smell of fried foods clinging to his clothing, the sight and sounds of the tourists bringing themselves to mental orgasm over the inane rides and games.

  Now he stared at the screen, musing over this new turn of events. Should he call the client one last time and tell him about this? He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling it would piss the client off. He wouldn’t mind one last jab at the guy, who, though faceless, had come across the wires as all ego.

  “Emotional poop is not acceptable, Gordo,” he whispered over the rim of his glass. The surface of the liquid shimmered under the force of his breath. He thought about the girl. Cara. How he’d love for her to join him in just such a place, sharing a decent decan
ter, a gourmet meal. He’d spoken with her only briefly, asking directions, back in Utah, at the motel. He had no idea if her intelligence warranted getting to know her, but he’d heard her voice, with its husky quality, and that alone had intrigued him.

  “I do believe you’re smitten, Gordo,” he said under his breath.

  The barman looked over, eyebrow quirked.

  Lefebre waved off the barman. “I’m fine,” he mouthed. He’d enjoy the remains of his drink and then allow the maître d’ to show him to his table for a leisurely dinner. Plenty of time. Cara’s shift didn’t end until eight, so he still had a couple of hours. He could always catch up with her later. After all, he wasn’t officially on the case any longer. He was marching to his own drummer now, and for his own motives.

  * * *

  SHE’D FELT as though someone were following her from the time she left the boardwalk, passing the Coconut Grove, where Neptune’s Kingdom was situated. There hadn’t been the usual blast of noise from the place, because the crowd at the park was less dense than usual. It was only eight o’clock, but it was already dark out because of the overcast sky. She’d heard footsteps, but when she turned to look, she’d seen nothing. Across the street, an elderly couple had been hurrying toward the corner, huddled in their jackets as if the mere misting were a downpour.

  Cara tried to think about how much she’d always liked this kind of fine rain when she lived in New England. Her dad had taken her for walks in the rain when she was little, and when she got older, she’d enjoyed going out alone in it, letting it cleanse her face and spirit. Nothing depressing about rain, as far as Cara was concerned.

  She looked over her shoulder again. She was almost away from the bright lights of the amusement park, almost to the street where she turned to get to the little house. It was what she missed about the apartment building. It had been only a couple of blocks from the park, with the walk well lit all the way.

  The damp air had caused her hair to pull loose from its braid, and it kept falling across her eyes. She pushed it away and looked back again. There was nobody nearby. No tourists, no residents. The lights from the boardwalk seemed to blur behind the curtain of fine rain.