Cancelled Vows Page 14

  “Quite,” Mac replied.

  With a dare in his tone, Lieutenant Hopkins asked, “Any other questions, Faraday?”

  “No.” Willingham grasped Mac firmly by the arm and turned him away from the police detective. “Thank you for your time, Lieutenant.”

  Looking over his shoulder back at the police detective, Mac’s eyes locked with Hopkins before his lawyer managed to usher him and Gnarly outside the squad room.

  “What was that all about?” Willingham asked. “Do you want to be a suspect in Yvonne’s murder?”

  “There were no gloves in that stairwell,” Mac said, “and Hopkins didn’t answer my question about gunshot residue on Rubenstein’s clothes.”

  “Maybe Rubenstein was hiding behind a piece of scenery when he fired the shot and the residue didn’t get on his clothes,” Willingham said. “As for the gloves, you simply missed them. You were looking for a killer, not gloves.”

  “Dallas says Rubenstein had no reason to want Yvonne Harding dead. He was suing both her and ZNC for wrongful death in his wife’s murder,” Mac said. “With Yvonne dead—”

  “He can sue her estate,” Willingham said.

  “But why kill Yvonne for causing the death of a woman he wanted rid of anyway?” Mac asked. “This whole investigation stinks. Hopkins knows who killed Yvonne and is covering it up. Whoever killed Yvonne has the power to make Hopkins a star, so he’s crawled into bed with her murderer to cover it up.” He shook his finger at his lawyer. “I’m going to find out who that is.”

  “Find out next week, after we get David back to Spencer and married.” Willingham took his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling the airport to schedule your flight. You and David are going to be back in Deep Creek Lake by dinner.”

  “What about Dallas?” Mac asked. “She’s going to continue to dig into Audra’s murder. We can’t leave her here alone. My gut is telling me that they’re going to go after her next. Didn’t you say you had someone you could call to find out about that off-duty cop who was killed last night?”

  With a tired sigh, Willingham slipped his phone into his pocket. “If I get you information on that murder, will you call in David, get on the plane, and go back to Spencer like a good boy?”

  His face filled with innocence, Mac held up two fingers in a sign of scout’s honor.

  “I happen to know you were never a boy scout.” His lawyer punched the elevator call button to take them up to the top floor of the police station.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you okay, puddin’?”

  In the confines of the elevator silently speeding up to the thirty-fifth floor, Dallas’ question to David came out of the blue.

  David was immersed in thoughts about Chelsea’s continued cold shoulder toward him. The only time she had spoken to him since the news of his marriage to Yvonne had been when she’d answered his call the day before. That was because the nursing home had left a message for him on his voice mail about his mother becoming increasingly difficult to manage. Chelsea should have been relieved to hear the news that he was free to go through with the wedding due to Yvonne’s death. But how could she have been happy without coming across as cold hearted? Chelsea had known Yvonne. She hadn’t hated her, even though Yvonne had been friends with Katrina, who had broken him and Chelsea up.

  Talk about ancient history!

  Still, Chelsea had not answered the phone when he had called that morning to wish her a good day, which he knew would be especially needed since she was visiting his mother.

  How can I marry a woman who won’t even speak to me? How can I be married to a woman who doesn’t trust me? Thoughts of his own parents’ relationship made him shudder.

  “Havin’ second thoughts ‘bout tyin’ the knot?” Dallas’ low, sultry voice sounded almost unearthly to him.

  Lost in his thoughts, he replied in a low voice, “Yes.”

  “That was easy.”

  Realizing that the voice was coming from the lanky brunette standing next to him, David jerked his head to see Dallas was gazing at him. He saw an extra sparkle in her light brown eyes that brought an involuntary smile to his lips.

  “Would you’ve still married Yvonne if you hadn’t been drunk in Vegas?”

  “Probably not,” he said with a shake of his head. “You can love someone with all your heart, even if they’d be the worst person for you to marry.”

  The elevator chimed to signal that they had reached their floor. David held the doors open so Dallas could step out.

  “What made Yvonne the worst person for you to marry?” she asked while slipping past him.

  Within the space of the elevator doorway, she stopped to face him, her body close to his, her eyes locked with his, for only a few seconds—long enough for David to feel the electricity of her body drawing him to her.

  “Hold that elevator, please!” called out a woman galloping down the corridor in high heels.

  Breaking his gaze from Dallas’, David slipped his arm around her waist to usher her off the elevator so the speeding woman could rush on. After releasing the door for her to descend, he hurried Dallas in the direction of Yvonne’s corner office.

  “We wanted different things,” David explained. “I’m happy being a small-town police chief in Maryland. She wanted to be a star in the big city. The two lifestyles can’t exactly sync with each other.”

  A grin came to her lips. “You’re pretty young to be a police chief. You must be darn good.”

  “It’s a small police force,” David said. “I only have a dozen officers under me.”

  “My grandpappy on my mother’s side was a Texas Ranger,” she said. “His pappy was a county sheriff. Another great-grandfather was a Pinkerton. He was part of the posse that chased Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid into Mexico.”

  “With all that in your genes, why didn’t your mother become a police officer?”

  “Grandpappy wouldn’t let ’er,” she replied before stepping into the office. She stopped to look at the gaping hole where her mother’s body had been discovered only the day before. “Said she’d get ’erself killed.”

  “I guess that’s where your mother’s and your thirst for justice came from.” David went over to where the yellow tape was marking off the closet. The crime-scene investigators had done all that they’d needed to do. Now the tape served to warn people of the debris left behind.

  After taking off her trench coat and hanging it on a coat hook, Dallas stepped over to the coffee maker to pour water into the carafe and prepare a pot. “Coffee?” she asked him while filling the pot from a jug of filtered water.

  She was standing so close to where he was studying the closet as best he could without moving beyond the yellow tape that she could feel the heat from his body. Involuntarily, she swallowed down the excitement she was feeling.

  Too quickly, he turned around and collided with her. The water in the pot spilled down the front of David’s jeans. Startled, Dallas dropped the pot, and it clattered to the floor, spilling the rest of the water at their feet.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She grabbed several paper towels from a roll on the break table and pressed them against the wet spot on his pants.

  “Ali, are you okay? I heard you scream!” Ryan Ritter rushed into the doorway in time to see her pressing her hands against David’s privates.

  “I’ll do that!” David snatched the paper towels out of her hands and turned away from her.

  “But—”

  “I’ve got it!” He hurried past her to go in search of the men’s room, only to find Ryan Ritter blocking his escape.

  Folding his arms across his chest, the noted journalist said, “David O’Call—is it O’Callaghan?”

  “That’s right, Mr. Ritter,” David replied. “We met last night.”

  Instead of moving out of the way, Ryan offered David his
hand. “I overheard you and Faraday talking last night. About you and Yvonne being married?”

  “Which you, of course, told the police,” David said.

  “As a police chief, I’m sure you understand the importance of witnesses being straightforward with information they have. I couldn’t not tell Hopkins.”

  With a sigh, David had to admit that Ryan Ritter was right.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” As they shook hands, Ryan chuckled. “Why she kept you a secret from everyone, I’ll never know. Maybe she thought she’d go further in her career if everyone thought she was single. I knew her since her first day here at ZNC and had no idea. She certainly didn’t act married.”

  “Yvonne was very good at keeping secrets.” Gesturing in the direction of the hallway, David excused himself and hurried out.

  Once David was gone, Ryan turned to Dallas, who had just pressed the button to get the coffee brewing. “You really had me worried last night, Ali.”

  After spending the morning with Mac and David, who had been calling her by her real name, it took a full moment for Dallas to recall that everyone at ZNC still knew her as Ali Hudson.

  “My dentist was backed up with appointments,” she said. “By the time I got here, the buildin’ was in a lockdown. I told you that when you called.”

  “I mean after that,” Ryan said. “I tried calling you later, but you didn’t answer. I thought whoever killed Yvonne had gone after you.”

  “Because I turn my cell phone on to airplane mode at night so I don’t have to listen to it beepin’ and dingin’ all night long.” She fought to keep the annoyance she felt out of her tone. When she had turned her phone on earlier to call her brother, immediately several missed phone calls from Ryan Ritter spilled into the log. She grit her teeth to keep from pointing out to him that he was old enough to be her father.

  He stepped up behind her. “I almost called the police,” he said softly into her ear. “I worry about you—young small-town girl in the big city. Bad things could happen. Look at what happened to Yvonne.”

  Dallas scurried around her desk to move out of his reach. “Sir, I can take care of myself.”

  “I can see that.” Ryan stood up straight. “You may not be aware of it, but you have a problem now that your boss is no longer with us.” A slim smile crossed his face.

  Trying to figure out his angle, Dallas stood up straight and studied him with her eyes narrowed.

  “Ms. Hudson,” said the chief of building security as he stepped through the open doorway and up to Dallas’ desk. “I’m sorry about Yvonne Harding’s death, ma’am. From what I’ve seen on Crime Watch, you two made a good team. She really appreciated your go-get-’em attitude.”

  “Thank you, Hank.” Dallas eyed the official-looking envelope he was clutching in his hand. She had seen the security chief deliver identical envelopes in the past. Between the envelope and Ryan’s comment about her being in trouble, she sensed what was coming next. “I believe you have something for me.” She held out her hand.

  Clearing his throat, Hank placed the envelope in her open palm. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hudson.”

  With one quick motion, Dallas ripped open the envelope and extracted the single sheet of paper. The language was formal and to the point. With the death of her supervisor, Yvonne Harding, who had hired her as her assistant, Ali Hudson’s services were no longer needed.

  She’d been fired.

  “I’m to escort you out of the building,” Hank said. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to collect your personal items.” He turned to leave only to have her stop him.

  “I don’t need twenty minutes. I can have my stuff together in one-half less than no time.”

  “Huh?” Hank looked over at Ryan.

  “She’s telling you to wait.”

  Dallas yanked open the side drawer of her desk and tossed her belongings into the bag. “Is Ian Griffith in yet?”

  Hank shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t be expecting him in until this afternoon,” Ryan said. “I saw him walking out with Preston Blakeley around eleven last night. They were going out for drinks to calm their nerves about Yvonne’s murder.” He added with a shake of his head, “Ian’s not letting any grass grow under his feet as far as campaigning to host that new program ZNC was planning for Yvonne.”

  “The incompetent snake,” Dallas said. “Ian Griffith doesn’t have enough sense to spit downwind and Blakeley knows it.”

  “What does that mean?” Hank asked.

  David stopped in the doorway when he returned to find Dallas packing and Ryan Ritter and another gentleman standing over her. “Is everything okay in here?”

  “Looks like we can have that brunch you offered me, sugar,” she said with a wide grin. “I’ve been fired.” She grabbed her coat off the hook.

  “Not necessarily,” Ryan said. “Ali, I can have you back on staff by lunch. I’ve been needing an executive assistant.”

  “You have Betty,” Dallas said with a laugh while David helped her put on the trench coat. “She’s been with you for over eight years.”

  “I could use two.” Ryan scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ryan Ritter is ZNC’s top-rated show and has been for the last ten years running. If I need two executive assistants to keep me happy, ZNC will approve it like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Yvonne claimed that you were the best in the business, and from what I’ve seen, she wasn’t lying. I’d be a fool to let you get away.” He held out his hand for her to grasp. “Now you just come along with me upstairs, and we’ll have a little talk with Preston.”

  Dallas refused to take it. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Ritter, but I’ve already got a new job.” Casting a glance in David’s direction, she added, “Mac Faraday offered me a job this mornin’. As a matter of fact, I was comin’ in to give my notice to Mr. Blakeley.”

  David’s eyes grew wide at the news, which he knew was a bold-faced lie—a lie that Dallas had said as effortlessly as if it had been the truth. She was convincing enough that he had to pause to replay the events of the morning to see if he had indeed missed Mac’s hiring her.

  “Mr. Faraday hired me to be his executive assistant.”

  David jumped in. “Yvonne was raving about how thorough Ali is and about how she pays attention to the most minute details. So he called her this morning to offer her a job with a significant increase in pay and full benefits.”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Looks like you made out with Yvonne’s murder. Better hope the police detective investigating the case doesn’t find out.”

  Dallas slung the strap for her bag over her shoulder. “I have no doubt that he will.” She reached out for David’s hand. “You ready to go tie on the feed bag, lamb chop?”

  “Sounds good to me, dear.” David took her hand into his. “It was nice seeing you again, gentlemen.” With that, they left the office.

  In the corridor, Hank hurried to pass the two of them and to call for the elevator. Making his way toward them, a clerk was pushing a mail cart filled with stacks of bound envelopes and packages.

  Dallas was eying the cart.

  Grasping Dallas’ hand, David was aware of Ryan Ritter following close behind them.

  “Are you moving to Deep Creek Lake to work for Mac Faraday?” Ryan asked her.

  “That is where he lives,” Dallas replied as they closed in on the cart.

  “Exactly what does he need you to do for him?” Ryan asked while the three of them passed the cart.

  With a cry, Dallas toppled to the side directly onto the mail cart. On her way to the floor, she grabbed the end of the cart, which rolled over and landed on top of her.

  David was the first one to reach her. “Are you okay?” Tossing the mail cart aside, he bent over in time to see Dallas shoving something into her oversized bag. Ryan, Hank, and the mail clerk hurried to offer Dallas their h
ands to help her to her feet.

  “I’m fine,” she gasped out while rolling over onto her knees. “I fell off my heels. Lucky thing this cart was here to catch my fall.” She tossed her purse strap over her shoulder before holding out her hand to David.

  Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he lifted her to her feet. While helping her straighten her clothes, he took notice the large brown padded envelope she had shoved into her bag. The return address read “Roberts.”

  The mail clerk didn’t see that she’d taken the envelope—he was too busy eying the mess of letters scattered all over the floor like fallen leaves in the autumn.

  “Sorry ’bout the mess, hon,” Dallas apologized while David ushered her onto the elevator.

  On the ground floor, Dallas quickly turned in her building security badge and the key to Yvonne’s office. Then, amid good wishes from the security staff, she trotted out of the building as fast as she could without attracting attention.

  “What did you just steal off that mail cart?” David asked her in a hushed voice once they were out onto the street.

  Her hand still in his, Dallas continued up the street at a brisk pace. “Just keep walkin’, darlin’, an’ don’t look back.”

  The last place Archie Monday had expected to be three days before David and Chelsea’s wedding was the emergency room at Garrett County Memorial Hospital. She and Chelsea were supposed to be meeting with the music director at the church to go over the final music selection for that Saturday.

  Thinking about the meeting, Archie grumbled. Actually, it should have been Chelsea and David meeting with the music director, but since David was in New York … Her grumble turned into a growl.

  Archie had worked herself up to a full-fledged mad by the time she got to the waiting room, where she found Bogie playing patty-cake with a little girl who was there with her mother. “How’s Chelsea?”

  “She had a grand mal seizure.” After accepting a hug from the child, Bogie stood up from the old, faded sofa and turned his attention to Archie. “She’s come out of it already and is resting. The doctor is with her now.”