Play Dead

It took a second for his words to register. Images of car bombings she’d seen on television burst in her brain. It could not be true. “You’re making this up. I’m calling the police.” She lunged for the wall phone but he blocked her with his powerful body.

“Wait. You have some explaining to do.”

“Me? You’re certifiable! I haven’t done—”

“Where have you been for the last ten days? Didn’t you hear about the car bomb?”

Another scathing retort was on her lips but it vanished as she realized he was dead serious. Shock seeped from every pore, spreading through her body with a mind numbing punch. “Car bomb? My car?”

“Didn’t you park your car at the back of Gulliver’s lot under the trees last Tuesday?”

“Oh, my God!”

Ryan gently guided her into the living room. He eased her down onto the sofa and set the flashlight on the glass coffee table. The amber light barely illuminated the dark area.

“I’ve been in Costa Rica doing a huge wall mural in Ramon Estevez’s new resort. I lent my car to my friend, Lindsey Fulton.” Hayley could barely choke out her next question. “Where is Lindsey?”

Two beats of utter silence from Ryan Hollister. The rain drummed on the glass windows like a flock of pecking birds, but he didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t have to; she knew.

“Apparently she died when she turned the key in the ignition.”

Hayley felt as if her breath had been choked off. Holding raw emotion in check, she assured herself this could not be true. But Ryan’s troubled expression told her something terrible had happened to her friend. “No, please! It’s not fair! She had so much talent, so much to live for.”

“Everyone assumed it was you. No one knew you were out of town. Why not?”

A paralyzing numbness spread out from her chest. If she closed her eyes, Hayley could see Lindsey. She envisioned the way her friend’s eyes would narrow as she stood back and studied a painting. The anxious habit she had of checking her cell phone for messages from her husband. Her toothy, endearing smile.

It took a minute before Hayley could muster a response. “I had a couple of reasons. First, my parents were killed in a small plane crash. I flew down to Costa Rica in Ramon Estevez’s jet. I didn’t want Aunt Meg to worry about the plane crashing so I made up a story to cover my absence. Second, I didn’t want Trent to know that I’m planning a career switch. I’ve always wanted to be an artist, not a designer.”

“Didn’t you hear about the car bombing?”

Hayley shook her head. “No. I painted almost nonstop. I didn’t watch TV once. I wanted to finish as soon as I could and get back before anyone realized I was gone.”

“Okay, but I don’t understand how airport security didn’t have you on a flight log. There’s a whole task force working on this. I’m sure they checked the airport.”

“We left from the private Million Air terminal. The limo was late picking me up at the restaurant. I had to run for the plane. No one looked at my passport until I arrived in Costa Rica.”

Ryan shook his head, clearly disturbed. “It’s lapses like this that leave the country vulnerable.”

She barely heard him explaining about security cameras with shots of her and the bar receipt. All she could see was the look of hope in Lindsey’s eyes as they had talked about her future.

“Do you know anyone who would have wanted to kill your friend?” he asked.

“Lindsey’s husband. He beat her up several times—that I know about. He’d threatened to kill her if she left him.”

“She was the woman in the bar with you?”

“Yes. Lindsey lives—lived—in San Francisco but we met at Gulliver’s because it was so close to the airport. I was leaving as she was arriving. I told Lindsey that she could stay at my place and use my car while I was gone. When I returned, we planned to figure out what to do next.”

“We’d better call the police and let them know. They believe the car bombing has something to do with your family business and drugs. They don’t know it was a domestic dispute.”

She put a hand on his forearm as he rose and was surprised at its firmness. He tensed powerful muscles beneath her fingers. “Wait. There’s no way Steve Fulton could have known where Lindsey was. She took an express shuttle to San Jose then flew from there. That was my idea in case her husband checked the flight rosters out of the bay area.”

A puzzled expression appeared on Ryan’s face. In that instant she realized how much he did look like his father. They had the same inquisitive blue eyes and angular features. He really wasn’t scary looking. He’d just taken her by surprise.

“You can’t imagine how closely Steve watched Lindsey. She tried to leave him once before but he found out and beat the hell out of her. It kept getting worse and worse. The last time I saw her, which was a month ago, we sewed one hundred dollar bills I brought into the lining of her jacket. That way she’d have money to get away.”

“Why didn’t she go to the police?”

Hayley shook her head. “I know it’s crazy but Lindsey felt she owed Steve big-time. You see, she’d been hooked on drugs, living on Haight Ashbury’s streets when she met Steve. He helped her get clean, paid for her art lessons, then married her. She believed he loved her but was just too obsessive. She didn’t want to get him into trouble after all he’d done for her.”

He leaned closer to her, looking at her intently. “You don’t think the husband had the chance to kill her.”

“No. How could he? Lindsey left Wednesday afternoon. That’s the day her husband, who’s an engineer, goes into the office. He works at home the rest of the week. Besides, Lindsey has relatives in Oregon. Last time, he caught her with a plane ticket to Portland. I’m sure that’s where he’d look first.”

“He didn’t know about you?”

“Not really.” Hayley explained how careful they’d been since they’d met at Ian’s gallery and become friends. “I always called her on Wednesday when Steve was out of the house. She never called me because he checked the phone bills.”

“You’re right,” Ryan said, his voice measured. “How would the husband get explosives through airline security? He would have had to fly to make it here in time to plant the bomb. It wouldn’t have been possible—assuming he could smuggle the bomb aboard—unless he had known in advance—”

“He didn’t. Lindsey called me, wondering what to do. I came up with the plan on the spot.”

Ryan nodded slowly; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“You don’t suppose someone was trying to kill me.” The first hint of tears broke in her voice as she expressed the unimaginable.

Again, he didn’t answer. She knew what he was thinking. “That’s absurd! Why would anyone want me dead?”

“Isn’t your parents’ estate in probate? Wouldn’t Trent and Farah receive a lot more money with you gone?”

“They would never—” She caught herself wondering if it could possibly be true. “I’m an important part of the company. Trent relies on me for designs. Farah has her own successful business.”

“People have killed for amazingly small amounts of money.”

She just didn’t believe it. “There isn’t that much money at stake. The business is successful in a small way. It supports us nicely but we’re not rolling in dough. Since my father didn’t have a trust, the state will get a big chunk.” She shook her head, saying to herself, “I can’t believe Daddy didn’t have a trust.”

“What about that Laird guy? He offered to buy the business. Wouldn’t selling out generate more cash?”

“That’s news to me. I didn’t know Laird offered to purchase Surf’s Up.”

“I thought you opposed the sale.”

“No way. Surf’s Up was my father’s dream. I’d like to get out from under it and concentrate on my art.” It occurred to her that this man knew an awful lot about her business. “How do you know so much about my family?”

“Your aunt strong-armed me into using my contacts to investigate your death.”

A surge of fondness swept through her. Strong-armed. That was Aunt Meg, all right. If Hayley had died, Meg Amboy would have moved heaven and earth to find the killer.

“Can you think of anyone else who would want you dead?” he asked.

“No. Of course not.” Hayley thought about the car bomb and her friend. Her relief at having escaped death was blunted by guilt about Lindsey. If Hayley hadn’t loaned her the car, Lindsey would still be alive. “I guess there was nothing left of Lindsey’s body or the police wouldn’t have thought it was me.”

“Nothing,” Ryan confirmed.

Her breath caught as her heart lurched painfully in her chest. She was frightened but not as much as she should be. This whole thing had a surreal quality to it. Whoever heard of anyone in this country dying in a car bombing? It didn’t seem real, but Hayley had no reason to doubt Ryan Hollister. He was an FBI agent and he was far too serious—and convincing—to be putting her on for some weird reason.

“What about your relationship with Chad Bennett? Was he angry enough to want you dead after you broke the engagement?”

“No. It was his fault. He’d cheated on me. He keeps trying to get back together. I don’t think he’s given up hope. He wouldn’t try to kill me.”

“Somebody did.”

“Couldn’t it have been a mistake?” It had to be, she told herself. Nothing else made sense. A bleakness, a hollow sensation settled over her.

“That’s a long shot. Someone had to get under your car to attach the device. They risked being seen. People are usually careful in those circumstances to make certain they have the right vehicle. Plus the killer deliberately dismantled the security camera that records activity in the parking lot.”

“I need to call my aunt right away. I—”

“Not yet.” The currents in his eyes eddied and she wondered what he was thinking. “Aren’t you concerned about your dog?”

“Has something happened to Andy?” Oh, God, she couldn’t lose him, too.

“Wasn’t he in the car?”

“No. I didn’t want to board him. My neighbors volunteered to take him for two weeks to their place on Bass Lake. I knew Andy would love it.”

“Good,” Ryan responded. She thought he looked unusually relieved, considering it was her dog.

“You thought Andy was in the car when it exploded?” She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the golden retriever blown to bits. This just kept getting worse and worse. She was having difficulty putting it all together. Weary from a long plane ride, Hayley didn’t seem to be able to think as clearly as usual. All this seemed to be a bad dream. Surely she would wake up and things would be the way they’d been when she’d left sunny Costa Rica.

Estevez had offered her a contract to do murals in several of his hotels. That, combined with the art Ian was selling in his gallery, meant she could start her life over—doing what she loved. Now this.

“The lab found canine fur in the debris. What were they supposed to conclude?”

Hayley tried for a laugh, but it sounded more like a witchy cackle. “I haul Andy everywhere with me. Friends call it ‘the fur mobile’ because it smells like a rolling kennel. The backseat has a dog liner but Andy sheds a lot.”

A blue-white bolt of lightning followed by a crack of thunder that rocked the loft made Hayley flinch. She rose and walked over to the bank of windows facing the bay. With the power out and clouds obscuring the moon, there wasn’t much to see, just rain beating a tattoo against the wall of glass. The fresh scent of rain filtered into the loft.

Lindsey dead. Someone might have wanted to kill her. Hayley was having difficulty keeping her mind on track but she did realize her life would never be the same. Hot salty tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks like the rain against the glass.

Unexpectedly, the lights came on across the cove at the Blue Water Grill. She heard the snick of a lamp as Ryan turned on a light in the loft. She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, then turned to face Ryan.

Her eyes swept across her loft. Everything had been shoved out of place and the surfaces were covered with a charcoal-colored dust. “Oh, my God! What happened?”

“The Task Force searched your place, dusted for prints.” He walked toward her. “Searched for evidence.”

If she’d had any lingering doubts about him making this up, they evaporated. The loft had been thoroughly tossed and dusted. Now she realized the acrid smell was the fingerprint powder. She watched Ryan as he strode over to her.

Ryan Hollister was nothing if not sexy. He had an effortless masculinity that must be irresistible to most women. Where had that thought come from—at a time like this? Considering what she was going through, it was unnerving to realize she was attracted to this man. But she couldn’t deny the ripple of heat that swept through her body as Ryan halted in front of her. Close. Way too close.

Now that the lights were on, she had a better look at him than just an initial impression. Evidently, the Hollisters had Nordic ancestors. That would account for their height and masculine jawlines. And Viking-blue eyes. His gaze met hers and Hayley suddenly felt light-headed. What was wrong with her?

“Do you understand how serious this is, how much danger you’re in?”

“Yes,” she whispered. It had been dawning on her by degrees, but seeing the physical state of her loft made it too real. The hollow ache in her chest would not go away. She was in terrible trouble and didn’t know what to do about it.

“Let me help you.” He looked into her eyes with an intimacy she found disturbing. “I’m a pro. I have contacts.”

The air was fraught with tension and an undercurrent of something she couldn’t define. Maybe this situation was too much for her and she was merely imagining things.

“Can’t the police—”

“Come on. I have an idea.” He took her arm and she was stunned at how reassuring it was to have him touch her. In a situation that seemed so unreal, this man was a lifeline.

They sat on the sofa again. Hayley looked down at her hands and saw they were smudged with the charcoal powder from where she’d touched things as she came into the dark loft. She self-consciously rubbed them on her raincoat. It helped a little.

He was studying her in that disturbing way of his. What was he thinking? His face was utterly expressionless. If he’d been a card shark, she wouldn’t have a clue if he held a winning or losing hand.

“Wait a few days before you tell anyone you’re alive. Otherwise you’re exposed and the killer might try again. There’s a really talented FBI agent who’s working on your case. See what he and I can find out. The task force might also be able to solve this without putting you in danger.”

“I’m not worried,” she fibbed. “I’m sure the police will provide protection of some sort.”

“For how long? Not indefinitely. If this isn’t solved, you’ll be looking over your shoulder until he kills you.”

He had a point, and she couldn’t deny it. Catching this maniac was essential for her safety. Even if she had protection, how could she live with someone dogging her every move? “All right. I’ll stay out of sight here for a few days.”

“Not here. Not only is the place a mess, the cleaning lady is coming tomorrow. It’ll take a couple of days to clean up this mess.”

“I’ll call my aunt—”

“No way. I’m the only one who will know you’re alive and where you are or you won’t be safe.” He said this with such conviction that she couldn’t argue.

“How will I pay for a hotel? Credit card activity can be traced, can’t it?”

“You’ll stay at my father’s place. No one will think to look for you there.”

“Good idea. If someone should be looking for me, I’m sure they’ll check friends and the hotel, not your father’s home.”

He stood up and reached out a strong hand to help her rise. She took it, wondering if she’d made the right decision. She shuddered, fear rising inside her like a rogue wave about to engulf her.

“Let’s get the things you absolutely need. Nothing more. We don’t want to tip off anyone by removing too much.”

CHAPTER SIX

MAYBE BLOWING up Hayley’s car so close to an airport hadn’t been the most brilliant idea. Who knew it would activate the Joint Antiterrorism Task Force, which included the FBI and every other police agency on the planet, including Homeland Security? They were asking endless questions, looking at all kinds of records and poking into things that were absolutely none of their business.

The good news was the arrogant pricks hadn’t discovered squat. They were convinced the car bombing was drug related and were currently pulling Surf’s Up’s records apart, examining every shipment, every business transaction.

The best news was Hayley Fordham no longer walked the earth. A car bombing might have been overkill but it did the trick. She was dust. There hadn’t been enough to bury.

The killer wasn’t worried that the forensic team would trace the bomb. The small device had been purchased in Mexico well before the killing. It had been tempting to use it immediately, but waiting and anticipating the murder had been more exciting.

If the authorities did ID the bomb, they would blame one of the Mexican cartels because one of their men had sold the bomb. Making contact with the sleazy Mexican had been a fluke. But fate was like that. It played into your hands, if you were intelligent enough to take advantage of the situation.

A smart person went with the flow. A smart person didn’t panic at such an intense investigation. A smart person concentrated on what was important.

Hayley Fordham was dead. That had been the goal. Mission accomplished.

THE FRAGRANT AROMA of coffee awoke Hayley on the morning following her return from Costa Rica. For a few seconds she didn’t recognize the room decorated in tan and black where she had slept. A partially open window brought in the rustling of palm trees and the whump-whump of waves battering the shore. She instantly remembered where she was.

Her limbs seemed leaden as she tried to get out of bed. It was like waking up in someone else’s body. Suddenly, she recalled the car bombing that had killed Lindsey. Her emotions unraveled like an old sweater as she stumbled out of bed and toward the adjacent bathroom.

A weariness so deep it went beyond the physical gripped her. Shell-shocked. Now she understood what that expression meant. Like a distant star, her past seemed faraway, untouchable. She felt adrift, empty.

She clutched the counter and gazed at the disheveled face in the mirror. Dark circles limned her eyes and her hair hung in tangled hanks around a haggard face. She didn’t care. Guilt had a stranglehold on her emotions.

Like a serrated blade, despair ripped through her chest. Lindsey was gone. Someone wanted Hayley dead and had killed her dear friend by mistake. She was precariously balanced on the jagged edge between anger and tears.

“Pull yourself together,” she told her reflection. “This isn’t helping.” She had a purpose—find Lindsey’s killer. And save yourself.

She relieved herself and walked back into the bedroom. She found the small suitcase with the few things Ryan had permitted her to take from her loft. Don’t let anyone suspect you’re alive, he’d told her. Take only what you absolutely need.

She’d allowed him to bring her to his father’s home, not knowing Ryan was living there as well. By the time he’d opened the door of the oceanfront house, her body had shut down, succumbing to weariness and anxiety. She’d realized Ryan was staying there, but she’d merely followed his directions and stumbled into the downstairs guest room while he’d gone upstairs to spend the night.

Hayley had crawled into bed in her underwear, surrendering to her body’s demand for sleep. Her eyes had closed immediately as she admitted to herself that having Ryan in the same house made her feel safe.

She quickly showered and brushed out her tangled hair. The situation didn’t call for makeup, she assured herself, but she brushed a little mascara on her eyelashes. She walked out of the guest quarters toward the kitchen area, now smelling bacon as well as coffee. Her stomach rumbled.

Ryan stood at the counter, his head tilted forward. Seen in profile, his nose and jawline appeared even more chiseled than they had last night. A hairline fracture in her self-composure opened and a knot of pure sensation formed in her chest. Last night had not been a reaction to her grim plight. Sexy didn’t begin to describe him. Ryan Hollister was an extremely appealing guy.

The faded blue T-shirt he was wearing emphasized shoulders even wider than she’d remembered. Well-washed navy sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips. She was fairly certain he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them. He had a great butt—tight, well rounded. At the thought, she felt herself blushing. Why? She rarely blushed.

Mentally she gave herself a hard shake. You’re in terrible trouble. Forget Ryan is a hottie. She was grateful for his protection. Nothing more.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked without turning.

“I was out the minute my head hit the pillow.” She walked into the room and saw he was beating a bowl of eggs with a fork. “I hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours.”

“Good.” He turned to greet her with a smile that would have tested a nun’s vows. “Coffee’s made. I’m working on scrambled eggs. That okay?”

“Sure. I’m starving. I was the only one on the jet. I didn’t want to make the flight attendant mess up the galley, so I just had a soda and yogurt.” Hayley hoped she sounded nonchalant but she felt incredibly awkward. Staying with a man she hardly knew—a guy too hot for words—made her uncomfortable.

“Fix the toast, will you? I’ll cook the eggs.” He moved over to the range and poured the eggs into a frying pan.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she placed four slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster. He seemed perfectly relaxed. Well, why not? A guy like Ryan probably had women over all the time.

“There are some newspapers on the counter,” Ryan told her. “I pulled them out of the recycling bin so you could read about the car bombing yourself.”

She moved to the stack of papers and stared at the picture of the charred remains of cars in the parking lot, then scanned the front-page article. Not that she doubted Ryan, but she wanted to see for herself what had happened. As she read, emotion gathered force inside her like a hurricane. So much damage! So many cars destroyed. It was a miracle only one person had died. Lindsey.

Another wave of guilt engulfed Hayley and she had to force herself to concentrate or she would dissolve into tears. Why? Why? Why? kept echoing through her brain. Why would someone want her dead?

“I’ll butter the toast,” Ryan said, breaking into her thoughts. She hadn’t heard the toaster pop.

“It’s okay. I’ll do it. I’ve read enough.” She turned, blinking back tears, and removed the slices from the toaster.

They sat at the kitchen table that was already set and had orange juice at both places. From the window, Hayley saw the storm was long gone. The air had been washed clean, the sky a resplendent blue above a wind-ruffled ocean. She’d bodysurfed this area so much as a child that she instantly recognized the stretch of beach near the Wedge. Wow! This was the Gold Coast of real estate. Ryan’s father must have made a fortune.

She looked down at her plate of bacon and eggs. Her appetite had suddenly vanished. All she could think about was Lindsey turning the key in the ignition. Hopefully Lindsey hadn’t felt any pain.

“Eat,” Ryan said. He was shoveling a heaping forkful of eggs into his mouth and holding a piece of bacon in his other hand. His dynamic eyes catalogued her every move.

She tried for a smile and speared some eggs. “Do you think Lindsey died instantly?”

“Yes. No question about it.”