In the Running Page 12

  “Whether Danny’s there or not, Wilson Foster is probably running things.”

  “Tell me about Wilson.”

  “He’s the assistant manager. Poor Danny thought Wilson worked for him before he turned on him Sunday night. Danny was too trusting.” A look of pain crossed her face. “Wilson and I never got along. He’s too full of himself. He’s tall, in his mid-forties, works out with weights, thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Can be brutally sarcastic. Is that the kind of thing you mean?”

  “Perfect.” He picked up the telephone receiver from the kitchen desk. “What’s the lodge number?”

  As Reenie recited the numbers, Matt dialed.

  “Driftwood Lodge. Elizabeth speaking,” a polite, young voice announced.

  “Well, hello, Elizabeth. This is Scott Feldbridge from ABS.” It had been a long time since Matt had used the Feldbridge persona. But he slipped easily into the charming, well-modulated voice and the media standard mid-Atlantic accent.

  “Could you connect me with Wilson Foster, please?”

  After a short wait, an impatient male voice stated, “Wilson Foster, here.”

  “Mr. Foster, good of you to take time to speak to me. I was told you were the man in charge of Driftwood Lodge. I assume you’re in touch with your absent owner.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course I am.” Wilson sounded wary and as if he wished he didn’t have to be civil to reporters. “I already told the press we had a fax from Mr. DiMarco on Wednesday.”

  “Yes, and most of them accepted that.”

  Wilson sucked in an indignant breath at his rudeness, but Matt barreled on. “You and I know there’s more to the story than that, don’t we? We’d like to do business with you, Mr. Foster. ABS would pay top dollar for an exclusive interview with the man who could give us the details about Danny DiMarco’s elopement with Jon Casen’s fiancée.”

  “You… you’re mistaken.” Wilson’s sputtering response was gratifying.

  “If you could give us their location before anyone else gets the story, we’d make it worth your while.”

  “Mr. DiMarco is traveling in the Caribbean scouting properties and can’t be reached.” Wilson had pulled himself together but his voice was still tight. “And I have no idea where Maura Fitzpatrick is. They are certainly not together.”

  The connection was broken abruptly. But Matt had accomplished what he set out to do.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Reenie exploded. “What’s the point of all this smoke and mirrors?”

  “I’m sure Wilson is calling Casen this instant to tell him another pack of media hounds is going to be on their tails. This time it’s the tabloids. That should make them a bit more cautious about their actions. But I don’t think DiMarco’s alive. Wilson is too nervous.”

  That meant the stakes had gone up. Things were bad enough when the only damage Reenie could do was destroy Casen’s political ambitions with the photographs, but now she was an eyewitness to murder. With the doubts that had been cast on her credibility, however, she’d have difficulty proving it.

  They had a better chance of putting Casen behind bars for his money laundering activities. Somehow, Matt had to keep the killers from finding Reenie until he found the proof he needed. As soon as he could get a minute alone today, he’d call Ryan and have him see if they had anything on Danny DiMarco or Jon Casen in the files.

  The investigator in him that he thought was dead was eager to unravel the secrets of the computer printout, which was now secure in the small jewelry safe the previous owner had installed in the master stateroom of the Sailing Solution.

  “We forgot about Pete!” Reenie exclaimed, looking at her watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. Tell him I’ll have his breakfast on the table in twenty minutes.”

  Matt was back in ten.

  “He was already up, thank goodness. He doesn’t move too quickly in the morning.” He stood beside her where she was beating the eggs for Pete’s omelet and slipped an arm around her waist. “I told him I was moving in with you today.”

  “And?” She didn’t look up, but he could feel her muscles tense.

  “He said I was finally showing some good judgment and not to let you get away.”

  “I hate lying to him,” Reenie muttered under her breath.

  Matt had never in his life pictured himself as part of a cozy domestic scene. But standing here at the kitchen counter with his arm around Reenie didn’t feel strange at all. And for all her talk about this being an act, she wasn’t drawing away from him.

  He heard a chuckle from the doorway.

  “Kiss her and get it over with,” Pete suggested. “Then quit fooling around with the cook so she can make my breakfast.”

  Matt swung Reenie around and kissed her firmly.

  “Matt!” She pushed him away, blushing as if they really had slept together last night.

  While Pete ate, Matt loaded some clothes and his computer and peripherals out to the Jeep and drove Reenie over to the apartment. There was an awkward moment when they entered the space they would be sharing, but they were in enough of a hurry that it passed. She quickly changed from her coffee-stained shirt into a fresh one while he stowed his equipment in the second bedroom. They had just returned to the main house when the back door burst open.

  “Stay! Lotte, Berta, stay!” a child’s excited voice shrilled. “Uncle Matt, I’m here.”

  Tommy had arrived.

  “Hi, sport,” Matt greeted him, catching the small bundle of energy that had hurled itself at his chest. “Where’s your Mom?”

  “She and Gus are coming in the front. I had to get Lotte and Berta from the boat storage barn. They missed me.”

  “Me, too,” Matt said, giving the child a big hug and swinging him around before he set him back on his feet.

  “Reenie, this is Tommy,” he said. Every line in his face softened when he looked at his nephew.

  “Wow!” Tommy gasped. The black Hanson eyes were wide and impressed. “You’ve got a neat fat eye. Does it hurt?”

  “Not much.” Reenie squatted in front of him and held out her hand. “Hi, Tommy.”

  He put a grimy hand in hers. “I’m seven.” He peered up at his uncle. “Is she really your girlfriend?”

  Matt laughed, tugged Reenie up beside him, and clamped his arm firmly around her waist. “You’re not seven until next Friday. And yep, she sure is.”

  Tommy nodded his head wisely. “That’s what Mom said.” He shoved a lock of blond hair impatiently out of his eyes. “Can I have a cookie?”

  “You just had breakfast,” Bronwyn told him as she entered the kitchen. “No treats for a couple of hours. Then you have to ask Reenie very politely.”

  “Why don’t you get the frisbee from the mudroom and take the dogs for a run?” Matt suggested.

  The fair-haired whirlwind was out the door almost before the words were out of his mouth.

  “Don’t go past the parking lot,” his mother shouted after him.

  “Who was that masked man?” Matt asked.

  “He’s been flying high ever since I told him last night that he could come along. Don’t get a swelled head. He’s glad to see you, but he’s really missed visiting the dogs.”

  Bronwyn turned to give Reenie a broad, knowing smile. “So… from what my little brother tells me, I gather you’re much better.”

  “Are Jeff and Donna helping with the phoning?” Matt jumped in. He fixed his sister with a look that told her clearly to lay off the teasing innuendo.

  “Jeff is. Donna’s working on the newsletter. You met Jeff, our mechanic, didn’t you, Reenie? You’ll have to meet his wife, Donna. I don’t think the local GEL could function without her.”

  “I’ve reconsidered, Wyn,” her father said. “Since you’re going to be working full time and Donna’s already doing so much. I’ll do our area’s hot line shift for the next few weeks. I’m real curious to see how many people think they’ve spotted that little girl.”

  “That’s terrific, Da
d.” Bronwyn looked relieved. “Well, if we’re going to get the line operational, I’d better get going. I hate to leave you with all the unpacking and Tommy, too.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Reenie offered. “Pete has enough to do.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind?” Bronwyn looked relieved.

  “Go. Go. Don’t dither, girl,” Pete said, as he shooed her out.

  Bronwyn had no sooner cleared the doorway than Pete turned to Matt. There was a tentativeness in his manner that was absent in his affectionate if gruff dealings with his daughter.

  “Gus is out front unloading my stuff from his pickup. He’d probably appreciate a hand. Your lady love is safe with me.”

  He lowered himself into his armchair at the head of the kitchen table and groaned happily. “Oooh, yes! It is good to be home. And it’s thanks to you, Reenie. I know your accident seemed like a tragedy for you, but it was a stroke of good luck for both the Hanson men.” There was wisdom and understanding in his eyes. “I hope you discover it was lucky for you, too, and you’ll decide to stay on with us.”

  Reenie swallowed hard; then, impulsively, kissed the old man on the cheek. “Thank you, Pete.”

  She spent the rest of the day at the dead run. She made meals, helped Pete to unpack his clothes, kept track of Tommy and made sure she had some place else to be whenever Gus came near her kitchen. For a good part of the day, Matt did a pretty good job of distracting the sheriff by taking him out to the boathouse to help with the apparently infinite amount of sanding necessary to get the hull of his sailboat the way he wanted it.

  Bronwyn’s phoning crew finished early enough to allow her to join them for an early supper. The GEL members she’d spoken to were enthusiastic about having a mechanism in place for the instant reporting of any environmental infractions they observed. Most of them had promised to look out for Jon Casen’s unfortunate fiancée.

  “We all feel so sorry for him,” Bronwyn said as they finished up the last of the pots and pans. “Everyone thought they made such an attractive couple. And now to find out she’s unstable. Well, it’s a shame.”

  “That’s only a rumor. The only absolute fact is that poor, dear Jon backed off the injunction,” Pete stated. “That poison is still being dumped into the waterways while he moans to anyone who’ll listen about his love life.”

  Matt took Reenie by the hand. “We’ve heard this argument before, sweetheart,” he said. “What do you say we go home?”

  She might not be comfortable about being alone with Matt or the idea of having a “home” with him but she was ready to escape this conversation. Matt seemed uneasy, too. All the way to the apartment, he kept up a steady flow of stories about Tommy’s capers with the dogs and his earnest labor with him and Gus in the boathouse. Once inside, however, Matt became serious.

  “Gus says there’s some real political pressure coming down to find you fast,” he told her, sitting down on the couch beside her.

  “Gran has a lot of clout,” Reenie said with a twisted smile.

  “I know it hurts to have her write you off and sic the dogs on you the way she has. Try not to let it get to you. I don’t know what she was like when you were growing up, but right now, she’s a confused old woman.”

  “She hasn’t been herself this past year. Her housekeeper lives in, but Gran’s nervous when Jon’s out of town. And the robbery a couple of weeks ago really upset her. At the time, I flew to Lansing but I could only stay a few hours. I was going to spend this past week with her and hoped have a chance to talk to her doctor. She’s totally obsessed with Jon’s career.” She shook her head and sighed deeply. “I wish I knew how heavily that bastard has involved her in his illegal business.”

  So she was trying to protect her grandmother, too.

  “I’ve set up my equipment in the large bedroom, Reenie. I’m going to look at the printout again tonight and see if I can make any sense of the memos. But from what I saw last night, I’m afraid we’re going to have to call in some outside help.”

  “I thought you understood why we can’t.” Reenie threw up her hands. “We have no idea who else could be involved. There seems to be an organized crime connection, but, as well, Gran has some very powerful people in government already solidly supporting Jon’s unofficial campaign for the nomination. Those people don’t like to be made look foolish. And Jon has some influential buddies in local law enforcement.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” She looked beleaguered and discouraged and in dire need of a hug. “The help I was talking about is my buddy Ryan. He still works for the agency I was with. He should be able to help me get access to some data bases I need without involving anyone else.”

  He changed gears. “But let’s wait and make that decision in the morning. We’ll both be fresher.”

  He gave her a quick kiss and walked briskly towards the second bedroom before he gave in to the fierce temptation to really complicate their lives. He suspected Reenie would be so relieved to have the sleeping arrangements taken care of that she would take his lead.

  She did.

  He set up his computer and printer on the wooden table under the window and plugged the modem into the phone jack. He needed to get his mind on the puzzle of Jon Casen’s papers and off the tantalizing woman on the other side of his bedroom wall. Then, he remembered that the papers were in the Sailing Solution’s safe. He rapped once on the closed door of Reenie’s bedroom, and said, “I have to go out to the boathouse to get something, Reenie. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’m going to shower and wash my hair before I go to bed,” she called back. She wanted to be sure Matt knew the shared bathroom between their rooms would be occupied when he returned. When Bronwyn had checked her wound this morning, she’d agreed that Reenie could finally get her whole head wet.

  “I dropped off a special ‘Care Package’ in your room,” Bronwyn had whispered with a suggestive wink when she’d arrived.

  Reenie had found a huge carton on her bed tonight. She almost called Matt in to open it up with her, but decided to leave well enough alone. He was in his room. She was in hers.

  The box contained a couple of Bronwyn’s tee shirts, a sweat suit, and a thoughtful collection of feminine products, hand cream, bath oil, and shampoo. In another box inside the carton, Reenie discovered gold sandals, a white nylon nightie and a large, white terry cloth robe. Underneath them all, was an embarrassingly large box of condoms of assorted vivid colors. They made the little package Reenie had thought was daring in Manitowoc look tame. Bronwyn was dead wrong, but apparently there was no doubt in her mind about why Matt had moved in with her.

  Reenie smiled and cheerfully prepared for a nice hot shower. She would save the long soak in fragrant bath oil for tomorrow night. She refused to consider the very real possibility that she could be running for her life again by tomorrow night.

  She drew the heavy plastic shower curtain around the old-fashioned tub and surrendered herself to the relaxing pleasures of her shower. Hot water pounded on tight muscles and rinsed away the last horrors of the car crash in bubbles of floral shampoo.

  She had towel-dried her hair and was shrugging her damp body into the thick terry cloth robe when the telephone rang in Matt’s room. It had rung twice more when she realized that Matt must still be out in the boathouse.

  Dear Lord! What if Pete had fallen trying to get into bed on his own? She ran and snatched up the phone off the table in the next room.

  “Hello,” she said.

  There was a short pause before a pleasant male voice said, hesitantly, “Bronwyn?”

  “No. She should be home by now. Have you tried her house?”

  “This is Ryan Bergstrom. I’m trying to reach Mattias Hanson. Are you a .. friend of Matt’s?”

  Ryan was the friend who worked for the government. Her spirits plunged. Matt had called him even though he’d said he wouldn’t until they’d discussed it. Why should she expect Matt to be more trustworthy than any other man she’d cared about?


  “I’m the housekeeper,” she said as crisply as she could manage. “He’s not here at the moment. Would you like to leave your number?”

  “He knows where I am. Please tell him I have some information he should know.”

  She was just replacing the receiver when Matt walked in. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. It wasn’t hard to read his reaction at finding her in his room, barefoot, fresh out of the shower, in a hastily donned bathrobe. The heat in his gaze warmed her damp flesh as it slowly moved over her body. The air between them pulsed with electricity.

  “Reenie?” he said, a wondering smile softening his lips.

  She took half a step towards him, then remembered that he had betrayed her. She jerked at the knotted belt of her robe, pulling it more tightly around her waist.

  “Ryan Bergstrom returned your call,” she said through tight lips.

  Chapter Twelve

  Matt tossed the manila envelope onto the computer table, grabbed Reenie’s shoulders and whirled her around to face him. Their faces were only inches apart.

  He’d had enough. This hot-tempered, sexy woman had been driving him crazy for the better part of a week. Trying to function normally in a state of constant semi-arousal was next to impossible. Being understanding and supportive was getting him nowhere. He wanted to shake her for doubting him, then he wanted to make love to her until his frustrations and her fears and mistrust melted away.

  “Trust is a two-way street, Maura Irene Fitzpatrick,” he bit out slowly. “When I tell you I’ll wait to call Ryan until morning, that’s what I’ll do. We trust each other or we don’t. I am not Jon Casen. And I’m sure as hell not your grandmother.”

  Reenie’s steady gaze was as hot and angry as his own. Matt released her shoulders and cupped her stormy face with his hands before kissing her hard. He intended only to show her that he meant what he said, but her soft lips parted under the onslaught of his tongue and he was lost.

  He pulled her tight and rolled his hips against her abdomen to show her the state she had him in.