Silver Sparks Page 10

  “Classy.”

  He smiled. “I knew you were a snob.”

  “You have to admit, it doesn’t look anything like the Alpine Sky.”

  “I can follow De Luca around, but I can’t live like him. I don’t have a trust fund or a pretend job that pays me a million dollars a week. The place is clean; that’s good enough.”

  She laid her bag on the kitchen table, checking for crumbs first. “When’s this Grady guy coming?”

  “About fifteen minutes.” Cal stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around, as if just noticing his limited entertainment options. His gaze settled on the kitchen counter. “Want an apple?”

  “No thanks.”

  He scanned the room again. “Watch TV?”

  She stood and opened one of two kitchen cupboards, taking down a glass. “I think I’ll water your flowers.”

  She filled the glass at the sink as he watched, bemused. “What flowers?”

  They were sitting on the deck when they heard the crunch of tires on gravel. She kept her eyes on the heavily treed drive as an ancient Honda appeared around the last bend and parked next to Cal’s truck. A man with shaggy dark hair got out, slammed the door, and shaded his eyes as he walked toward them. Maggie thought he looked studious with his dark-framed glasses, and handsome in an absentminded-professor sort of way. His eyes lit with curiosity when he saw her, and darted questioningly between her and Cal as he walked up the steps to the porch.

  He went right to Maggie and stuck his hand out. “Rick Grady. I recognize you from the papers.”

  She gave him a halfhearted smile as she shook his hand. “Not my best moment.”

  “I thought it was brilliant!” Rick beamed in admiration. “Exactly what De Luca needed. I only wish I’d seen it myself.”

  She gave Cal a triumphant look. “He thinks I was brilliant.”

  Cal scowled. “I never said he was smart.” He cocked his head at the door to the cabin. “Come inside. We don’t want to risk someone spotting us. So far, the media haven’t found me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Rick nodded, suddenly serious. “Right.”

  “Intrigue,” she murmured happily, following them inside.

  They sat at the small kitchen table and Rick re­counted his experience with the damning photo of Rafe for Maggie’s benefit. He seemed to revel a bit at being the unsung hero of the story, and Maggie couldn’t blame him.

  “Thank God you were there to catch him in the act!” Fury raged through her at the thought of Rafe charming some young girl with his wealth and star power, then slapping her around, maybe even forcing himself on her. “You did a service for women everywhere by selling that photograph.”

  “And for himself,” Cal pointed out. “He made a lot of money.”

  “Cynic,” Maggie accused, then told Rick, “He’s good at finding the negative side of anything.”

  Rick looked resentful. “I lost money over it, too. The De Lucas can buy loyalty, and some publications avoided me after that.”

  “You didn’t say that before.” Cal finally looked interested. “Do they still refuse to deal with you?”

  He brushed it off. “I have no idea, because it doesn’t matter. I have other outlets to write for. The point is, the incident opened my eyes. Rafe De Luca likes young girls and is sexually abusive. His family hates that I know it. Up until now, they’ve had enough money and power to cover it up.” He curled his lips over the words money and power as if finding them personally offensive. “We have to let people know what sort of man Rafe De Luca really is before he hurts more young women.”

  “Exactly!” Maggie agreed. Finally, someone else who believed in being proactive. Why couldn’t Cal be this directed?

  “We will,” Cal said. “But only if we can connect him to the disappearance of those two missing girls from this area.”

  “We can try. We will try. But I’ve been thinking about this ever since we talked.” Rick leaned forward, intent on selling his point. “Maybe we don’t have to watch him as closely now, because Maggie planted the idea that he takes advantage of women, and the press will be watching for it. So we’re free to figure out how to connect him to the missing women.”

  “But what if we can’t find any evidence?” Maggie asked. “We can’t just give up and let Rafe kill again.”

  Cal frowned. “Who’s giving up?”

  “I say we mount a two-pronged attack,” Rick continued. “We try to find evidence that links Rafe to the missing girls, sure. But we could also try to catch Rafe in an unguarded moment, like I did before, but something so bad it will mark him forever. Use the power of the press against him.”

  Destroying Rafe had appeal, and Maggie had a new respect for the power of the press, but Cal looked annoyed. Before he could reject the idea outright, she offered her support. “It could work,” she told him.

  “It could also get someone killed. You’re talking about putting Rafe in a situation where he’ll respond with violence.”

  “A controlled situation,” Rick emphasized. “Scripted by us. A setup.”

  She couldn’t read Cal’s expression as he took a long look at Rick. “You plan to lure him into it?”

  “Why not? We know what he wants,” Rick said.

  She looked from Rick’s confident expression to Cal’s closed one, not following. “What does Rafe want? A girl?”

  “You.” Cal turned to her. “Rick’s talking about using you to tempt Rafe into violence.”

  “Oh,” she said slowly, trying not to reject the idea out of hand just because the thought of Rafe touching her made her skin crawl. “But you guys would be right there to make sure he can’t hurt me. Right?”

  “Of course—”

  “No, we wouldn’t,” Cal said, squashing Rick’s reassurance before it left his mouth. “If Rafe did those kinds of things with other people around, he would have been caught by now. He wouldn’t respond violently unless he felt no one was around. And we aren’t in Mexico,” he added sharply, forestalling Rick’s objection. “We’re on his home field. If he wants to get kinky, or thinks a woman might resist, do you think he’ll try something at The Aerie? Or maybe in the Alpine Sky lobby, while you lurk behind a potted plant with your zoom lens? He’ll take her to the family estate, where no one can follow him.”

  He was right. Maggie sat back in her chair, dejected. “Damn.”

  Rick didn’t give up that easily. “It doesn’t have to work that way. Think outside the box,” he urged, the cliché drawing another annoyed look from Cal. “Maggie could entice him to a place where he thinks they’re alone, like her store. At night.” He warmed to the idea as he talked. “But we would already be there, hiding and watching.”

  Rick gave her an encouraging look, waiting for her approval. Maggie didn’t want Rafe to touch George the trilobite, much less her, but for the chance to humiliate and destroy him, she might be persuaded. “Maybe,” she equivocated.

  “No.” Cal’s forceful answer made it clear he didn’t care if she approved. He looked between them, like they’d both lost their minds, then focused his irritation on Rick. “In your little scenario, exactly when do you plan to step in—when Rafe slugs her for the first time? Is that when you snap a picture? If he just breaks a rib, or cracks her cheekbone, that won’t show on camera, you know. Will you let him keep going until she’s black-and-blue and dripping blood?”

  Maggie flinched, feeling bruised already.

  Rick frowned and started to reply, but Cal talked over him. “What if he shoves her across the store and you don’t have a good angle because the display case is in the way? Do you sit quietly and hope Maggie can drag her battered body back into the shot? Exactly how much are you willing to put her through to get that million-dollar photograph?”

  Rick’s gaze darted to Maggie, as if to explain, but Cal wasn’t done. Arms on the table, he leaned toward Rick. “And here’s one more thought—what if he comes after you, too? When he killed my sister, he slit her throat. Is your ca
mera going to be enough defense against a raving lunatic with a knife?”

  Rick frowned and held up a hand. “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re right, my plan has a few bugs.”

  “Your plan is shit.”

  For a few seconds Rick pressed his mouth into a stubborn line, then gave a reluctant nod. Maggie blew out a sigh of relief, surprised to find she’d been holding her breath. Cal’s description had seemed all too real. His anger was real, too, and palpable. She wondered if it was because Rick had proposed a poorly constructed plan, or because it involved putting her at risk.

  “So what’s your plan?” she asked him.

  “Good old-fashioned detective work.” He gave them each a look as if assessing their capabilities. “The two missing girls I want to investigate are Rachel Anders and Tara Kolinowski. Rachel was eighteen and from Barringer’s Pass. She disappeared almost a year ago. Tara was twenty-three, from the Denver area, but was vacationing here when she disappeared eighteen months ago. I’ve already determined that Rafe was here during those times. He overlaps Tara’s visit by only two days, but that’s enough. We need to find witnesses who can put the girls with Rafe on the day they vanished.”

  Maggie had to admit that Cal’s bossy attitude lent itself to leadership. He just needed a dry erase board to make it feel like a police briefing. Thankfully, Rick listened as attentively as a rookie cop, taking notes in a spiral notebook. “How do we know he even met them?” he asked.

  “It’s a weak link right now. I’ve talked to people who can place both Rafe and Tara at the Glacier Pass resort on the last night she was seen. She was staying there, and partying with a large group of people in their lounge. If she left with Rafe, someone must have seen them, but I haven’t found anyone who can swear to it yet. Rachel, the local girl, will be harder to pin down. She didn’t hang out at the resorts, since they were too expensive for her. But she was well known at the bars and restaurants in town.”

  “So how do we pin her disappearance on Rafe?” Rick asked.

  Maggie hid a smile at his wording, which made it sound as if Rick was willing to blame Rafe whether or not it was his fault. No question, he was on their side.

  “I think it’s likely she met him that night. Maggie can help confirm this,” he said, glancing at her. “A lot of celebrities have vacation homes or permanent residences in the mountains around Barringer’s Pass, so it’s not uncommon to see them around town. Right?”

  She nodded.

  “And even though most of them hang out at the high-end resorts and restaurants, a few of them are known for slumming at the cheaper bars and clubs.”

  “Some do, especially a few rock stars and comedians I can think of. I don’t know about Rafe.”

  “From what I’ve been told, and what I’ve seen, he does. Rachel told her friends she intended to meet Rafe De Luca the next time he showed up in town.” The corners of his mouth tightened a bit. “She made a bet with her best friend that she could get him in bed. Apparently the two of them had a contest to see who got him first.”

  Maggie winced and muttered a few select words under her breath about teenagers and bad judgment. Only sheer dumb luck had kept her from a similar fate.

  Under the table, Cal squeezed her hand. She looked up, surprised to see understanding and reassurance in his steady gaze, the kind of empathy she got only from her sisters. Something warm and fluttery bloomed inside her.

  She never felt fluttery. Flustered, she pulled her hand away and pressed it to her breastbone, trying to rub out the strange sensation.

  Cal went on. “I have a list of Glacier Pass employees, both current and former, who might remember Tara. I’ve eliminated six so far. Technically, Rachel still lived at home, but her parents said she often stayed with friends. They don’t seem to have a clue about her social life. I think her friends are the way to go there.”

  “Wouldn’t the police have already talked to these people?” Maggie asked.

  “Probably, especially the employees at Glacier Pass. But they weren’t asking about Rafe De Luca, and some might not volunteer that they saw him there even if they did—I’ve found that most of the townspeople try not to piss off the De Lucas. Except for you, of course,” he added dryly.

  “I happen to think it’s one of my best qualities.”

  Cal clearly disagreed, but Rick gave her an enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got guts. Good for you.”

  Guts, but no brains. She knew Cal was thinking it. Whatever attraction he felt for her didn’t extend to the decisions she made.

  Cal consulted a small notebook. “I suggest we divide up my list of names and cut the work in half.”

  “There are three of us,” she pointed out.

  “You’re with me. You don’t go anywhere alone.” When she bristled, he added, “Unless you can’t wait to go another round with your latest admirer.”

  Rick looked between their resentful glares. “What are you talking about?”

  “The guy who jumped out of her bushes this morning, nearly choked her to death, and threatened to slit her throat.”

  Rick straightened, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “Rafe?”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered, still disgruntled that she couldn’t pin it on him.

  “Rafe, or someone doing his dirty work,” Cal said. “And he’s still out there, which is why she shouldn’t go anyplace alone.” He gave her a hard stare.

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “Then you two work out a schedule of who talks to whom. You don’t need me.” She grabbed her purse and took it to the couch, not caring if she looked like a pouting thirteen-year-old. It might be Rafe’s fault that she couldn’t walk around in public without drawing a crowd of reporters and couldn’t walk around alone for fear of being assaulted by some De Luca goon, but it was more convenient to be pissed at Cal.

  Rummaging in her purse, she pulled out the five pink while-you-were-out slips that Holly had thrust at her as she left Fortune’s Folly. She read the large, looping script on the top one: Mrs. McNabb changed her mind about the velociraptor.

  Damn. But it wasn’t too surprising. Mrs. McNabb had dithered for forty-five minutes over which fossilized dinosaur claw her son might like for his birthday. Personally, Maggie wouldn’t have paid nearly three thousand dollars for anything for an eleven-year-old’s birthday, but she wasn’t married to a wildly successful real estate speculator, so she didn’t have to worry about those decisions.

  She flipped to the next pink slip: Alyssa Burke canceled on the rugs.

  For a moment, Maggie felt the blood rush from her head. The Burkes were adding a recording studio to their mountain retreat, and Alyssa had selected three of Maggie’s best Persian rugs to provide the proper ambiance. The order had been Maggie’s largest in months, and totaled over $45,000.

  Even in her light-headed state, she made the connection—Aaron Burke was a music producer for one of the De Luca labels. Maggie didn’t know if they were friends with the De Lucas, but it wouldn’t matter, not when their income depended on the De Lucas’ goodwill.

  Frantically, she flipped through the last three message slips. Each one was a canceled order, totaling another $12,000 in business.

  Stunned, she stared at the message slips. Almost $60,000 in sales had disappeared in a matter of a couple of hours this morning. Who knew how much since then? The panicked thought jolted her, and had her digging into her purse for her phone.

  One bar. It disappeared as she watched. Crap, she was tucked too closely against the mountainside. “Be right back,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked outside. The sky was overcast with a bite to the air, but it felt good against her fevered skin. She kept an eye on her phone as she stalked past the cars onto the gravel drive. Two bars—good enough. She dialed the store.

  “Fortune’s Folly, may I help you?” Holly sounded tired.

  “It’s me. Are you busy?”

  The sarcastic laugh was sharp in her ear. “Hardly. It’s dead here, except for the phone calls and returns. Even
the reporters are gone. There’s no point in you coming back today.”

  “Damn.” Returns, too. She kicked at some stones, which didn’t work well with pointed toes. They moved a couple of inches. “How many more cancellations?”

  “A few.” Holly hesitated, then changed it to, “A lot. But no more big ones. Most of them are small.”

  “How small?”

  “A few hundred dollars.” Another hesitation, this time longer. “Including returns, they total about fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Shit.”

  “It’s the De Lucas, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.” Definitely. She sighed. “Thanks for holding down the fort, Holly. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t hurry. I hate to say it, but you could probably just close up early.”

  She could just imagine the De Lucas gloating over that. “No way. I’ll see you soon.” She snapped the phone shut with renewed vigor and marched back up to the cabin.

  Cal was looking at her expectantly even before she slammed the door, which startled Rick into looking up, too. “What’s wrong?” Cal asked.

  She wasn’t surprised it showed; she probably had steam coming out of her ears. “The De Lucas,” she said, tossing her purse on a chair. “They must have put out the word, because I’m getting lots of returns and canceled orders, like you said.” She winced. “Including one big order that I really needed.”

  Cal’s face was grim. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. It was better than “I told you so,” which he had every right to say. “I have to get back to the store.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “Just take me to my house and I’ll get my car—”

  “I said I’ll take you.”

  She rolled her eyes. Fine. If he wanted to spend all his time chauffeuring her around, let him.

  “What are you going to do about the De Lucas?” Rick asked.

  Cal shot him a dirty look, but it didn’t matter, her mind was already working on the problem. The trouble was, she didn’t have any ideas.

  Rick couldn’t leave it alone. “I didn’t think they had that many friends around here.”