Part 4 (1/2)

Inside the house, silence allowed suspicions to pummel his brain with questions. He found himself sneaking down the hall, his own breath sounding like an ocean in his ears.

He eased quietly into Morgan's bedroom and looked down at his sleeping wife. His eyes gradually adjusted to the gloom that was relieved only by a few stray beams of light that managed to sneak between the blinds that covered the small, high window.

At fifty-two, Morgan was still beautiful. Her shoulder-length platinum hair fanned across the oversized pillow. One immaculately manicured hand rested on the lavender coverlet.

The room pressed down upon him with more than the weight of darkness. It was well-ventilated, yet he felt a shortness of breath. Part of him was relieved that he no longer shared this room with Morgan. Since Dee's death, Morgan's health had spiraled downward, and Nate had taken to sleeping in a guest room so as not to disturb her. For a migraine sufferer, the slightest sound was a stab to the temple. He hoped this would pa.s.s, but the doctors had given little encouragement. Migraine was an insidious ailment.

As he watched her face, Morgan opened her eyes. Soft coffee brown, lashes to match, in contrast with her pale hair. She smiled weakly at him, then reached for his hand. ”Back early?” she whispered.

He seated himself carefully on the bed beside her. ”How are you feeling?”

As he bent to kiss her, she turned away. ”The meds finally kicked in. I slept.”

He remembered the warm car hood. ”Sam said you needed your prescription refilled.”

Morgan shook her head slowly. ”Kevin took care of it.”

”Kevin is here?”

”Was. I let him drive my car to the pharmacy. Never again.”

”Where'd he go? I'd like a word with him.”

”When I wouldn't let him use my car for his date tonight, he slammed out of here in a temper fit.”

”Kevin has a girlfriend?”

”I really didn't ask the s.e.x.” Morgan turned away frowning. ”Nate, I don't want him back here. He'll have to make other living arrangements.”

”But he's hardly ever here.”

Morgan gripped his hand fiercely. Her nails dug into his flesh. ”I want the locks changed. He's not to have a key to this house.”

”Take it easy. I'll see about it tomorrow, if that's still what you want.”

”No. Today. I want a locksmith out here now!” She threw back the bedcovers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. ”Do I have to do this myself or will you?” Her strident tone chilled his feelings. Then his eyes tripped over the knee-high stocking marks visible on her legs, where haste had swept aside her nightgown.

Now, on the following day, that b.i.t.c.h cop at Wheat Ridge had closed the window on him, making him even more determined to know what Morgan and Sam were hiding. Then he remembered and almost ran a red light. There were two reports. When Dee was held by that slime-bag drug dealer, Sam had first called Lakewood P.D. to check up on her. Those cops had rescued her only to have her run right back to her drug source. How many times had he told Morgan that Dee was a lost cause? A crack-head who let men use her.

There was a report sitting somewhere in the files of Lakewood P.D. in addition to the one from the night she died. The first welfare check. With a little luck, he'd soon have copies of both reports. Now, just what the h.e.l.l was that code section the clerk had quoted to him? He'd written it down. Better not ask the estate lawyers. The internet should have the text of CRS 24-72-304. Colorado Revised Statutes. He'd check it out, then hit Lakewood P.D. with a clearer idea of what he could and could not demand of them.

Sandy Robinson's Boulder office was on the fifth floor of an early nineteen hundreds building on the Pearl Street Mall. Danny watched Rae feed the parking meter, and then they headed for Sandy's building under a gray afternoon sky that really wanted to rain. Over the Flatirons, virga hung in gauzy tatters of moisture that would never reach the ground.

”How was he on the phone?” Rae asked.

Danny was surprised that she hadn't already talked with Sandy. ”Pretty decent, considering.”

”Considering?”

They pa.s.sed Cafe Francais, and the smell of freshly-brewed coffee pulled at Danny, but Rae was pacing off rapidly toward their destination, now just a short block away.

”I still owe him for my divorce. Jolene wiped out what was left of my trust fund. We lost our house. Our medical policy only covered one rehab confinement for Jolene. It didn't help. The bills still had to be paid. No guarantees from hospitals.”

As they paused at the building's side door, Rae asked ”Did Jolene even try? She's got to help herself.”

”Sure. She helped herself to my credit, which is ruined. Forged my signature and wrote a ton of bad checks.”

Rae frowned. ”You paid our lunch tab with a credit card the other day.”

”It's the business card. The LLC that holds Dee's real estate.”

They entered the building and paused beside an ancient elevator. Rae looked at the rickety old elevator, then at the stairs. ”Let's walk up.”

Danny led the way, with the feeling Rae hadn't been in this building before. Sandy had moved his office here just about the time Danny had divorced Jolene.

He observed that Rae was definitely moving more slowly than usually suited her. They cleared the second floor and continued upward. Then she stopped and pulled at his sleeve.

”What were you thinking when you married Deidre? You repeated your mistake with Jolene.”

Tell me about it, thought Danny. Over and over. ”I think we've been down this road, Rae. Believe me, it won't happen again.” He was relieved that she let the matter drop.

They continued past floors three and four, made the final turn and headed for Sandy's office suite.

”Does he know I'm coming with you?”

”Of course.” Danny's steps slowed and he wondered what he'd wondered way back when they'd all worked together on his dad's embezzlement. Was there anything between these two besides business? Sandy was married and Danny thought that would've cut anything off at the pa.s.s for Rae. Maybe he'd just idealized her. Maybe she'd been human after all.

They reached Sandy's reception area. His office was not as fancy as RS and E's, but definitely a cla.s.s act. Sandford Robinson and a.s.sociates.

A middle aged, utilitarian secretary, new to Danny, sat at an antique desk. As Danny approached her and gave their names, he glimpsed Rae eye-balling the place. He was sure now she hadn't been here before.

The secretary buzzed Sandy, and he quickly joined them. A big man who worked out and kept his weight at bay, his thatch of white hair tended to be on the long side, even for Boulder. His hooded eagle's eyes found Rae before they found Danny, and he wrapped her in a bear hug. Danny watched her stiffen as she nearly disappeared in Sandy's arms. He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, and then turned to shake Danny's hand.

”Danny, I'm sorry for your loss.”

Danny looked at Rae again. Her face was more composed than Sandy's as he led them toward his office.

”How about some coffee?”

”Thanks,” Danny replied. ”I thought you'd never ask.”

Sandy smiled, perhaps remembering Danny's old coffee craving. ”How do you take yours, Danny?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, prompting Sandy to instant recall: ”Oh, with sugar, hold the cream.”

He didn't ask Rae. Danny guessed Sandy remembered that she took hers black.

Sandy nodded toward several boxes on the floor under the windows. ”Gil Doucette had these couriered over yesterday.”