The Stolen Bride Page 9

  The comforter slipped, admitting a chill that slapped him like a warning. “You’re on the Pill, right?” Joseph murmured.

  “What?”

  “The Pill,” he repeated hoarsely.

  The reluctant answer whispered out of her. “No.”

  “Don’t you have some other kind of protection?” It had been a while since he’d needed any, but surely she’d tucked something into her purse.

  “I didn’t think about it.”

  Joseph stopped moving as he tried to grasp the situation. “It’s supposed to be your wedding night. Surely you planned ahead. I mean, you and Chet…” He didn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t like to think about the two of them together.

  “We didn’t,” Erin whispered.

  “Didn’t what?”

  “I never…” Her eyes shone large in the moonlight. “I never slept with him.”

  That was a relief. And a bolt from the blue. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

  “Well, yes.” After a pause, Erin added, “Worse than that, I’m a virgin with no birth control. You don’t happen to have any, do you?”

  “Sorry, no.” Joseph sat up and began buttoning his shirt with stiff fingers. He was grateful for the blanket shielding his midsection. “This is great. Just great.”

  Erin yanked her jeans into place. “Well, it was great until you got all practical on me.”

  As his ardor cooled, his better judgment reasserted itself. “It’s for the best. I’ve got no business deflowering a virgin, especially under the circumstances. What’s more, you’re in no state to take such a big step.”

  “I may not be thinking clearly,” she retorted, “but on this particular occasion, I might have preferred it if you weren’t thinking clearly, either.”

  “This has a familiar ring,” he said. “I was right to wait when we were kids. Wasn’t I?”

  “I suppose.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “I would never have risked getting you into trouble.”

  “You got me in plenty of trouble!”

  “Like when?

  “How about the time we deliberately missed the bus so we could hang out at the mall?” They’d walked the few blocks from the high school. “I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that Mom would call out the Marines when I didn’t show up.”

  They’d been battling bad guys at the arcade when the mall security guards, every one of whom probably had an image of Andrew Marshall’s daughter imprinted on his inner eyelids, rushed up and grabbed Joseph. They’d nearly hauled him off until Erin convinced them he hadn’t kidnapped her.

  It had been doubly embarrassing that the guards reportedly directly to Joseph’s father. Lewis Lowery hadn’t had to say a word that night. His father’s look of disappointment had cut deeper than any scolding.

  They were lucky they hadn’t been forbidden to see each other again. According to Erin, her father had stood up to her mother, pointing out that they were merely having some innocent fun. Perhaps he’d held Joseph’s misbehavior against him in later years, though.

  Erin fumbled with her sweater. “Could you help me with this?”

  Joseph felt an urge to acquiesce, to touch the tempting swell of her breasts. They could start over with slow kisses and the gratifying experience of undressing each other, then enjoy each other in ways that didn’t require birth control.

  Was he out of his mind? They weren’t kids to indulge in heavy petting. Besides, sex between them could never be taken lightly, even if it weren’t technically consummated.

  “You’re kidding, right?” He tried to keep his tone light.

  “Just making sure you really meant it.” She fixed her garment unaided.

  “You’re a temptress!”

  “Actually, I’m feeling kind of giddy.” Erin peeked up at him in a manner part seductress and part waif. “But I’ll admit, it’s getting cold out here.”

  Although southern California autumn days might be warm, the nighttime temperatures dipped into the fifties. “Come inside and I’ll make hot chocolate.”

  She pretended to weigh his offer. “With marshmallows?”

  He didn’t have any. “How about chocolate sprinkles?”

  “Done!”

  They trailed inside where, without a word, they each gripped the ends of a comforter and folded it together, then fixed the other one. They’d honed their skills years ago during picnics at the park and summer trips to the beach fifteen miles from Sundown Valley.

  They settled at the small kitchen table. As they sipped the hot liquid, Joseph broached a subject that bothered him. “I’m wondering where Chet really got his money.”

  “Investments, according to Gene.”

  “Maybe in the long run, but it takes money to make money,” Joseph pointed out. “His family isn’t wealthy, so where’d he get his investment capital?”

  “He earns a six-figure salary at the Marshall Company.”

  He shook his head. “He didn’t get rich that quickly. He’d have needed to be investing money over a period of years.”

  She savored a spoonful of sprinkles. “What are you getting at?”

  Joseph wasn’t sure he wanted to voice the idea that occurred to him. It was, he had to admit, implausible, maybe even twisted. But today he’d started thinking about his father’s case and it refused to leave him alone.

  He could tell Erin wasn’t going to let him put her off, so he might as well pursue it. “When did Chet arrive in Sundown Valley?”

  “Ten years ago, I think.” Her forehead creased. “He spent five years as a stockbroker at H&B Financial and five years working for us.”

  “And before that?”

  “He earned his master’s from UCLA.”

  “What year?”

  She gazed into the distance. “I’m trying to picture his résumé. I got it!” She named the date. It was eleven years earlier.

  “Is that right?” Joseph said. “Is there really a year’s gap or did we miss something?”

  “He took a year off to travel around Europe,” Erin told him. “He wanted to experience a little freedom before his career got under way. He said he financed it with money he’d saved from summer jobs and a teaching fellowship.”

  “Did he ever show you any pictures? You know, him standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, that kind of thing?”

  “No, but I didn’t ask.” She licked a chocolate sprinkle from the corner of her mouth. “Wait. He did play me some CDs he bought over there.”

  “Maybe he went to Europe for a few months,” Joseph speculated. “That would still leave some time unaccounted for.”

  “During which you suspect he did what?”

  “It’s a long shot. Probably crazy.” He might as well go all the way with it “Eleven years ago, whoever framed my dad made off with $2.5 million in jewels. That’s a lot of money, even allowing for the fact that they couldn’t be fenced for full value.”

  “Oh, come on!” Erin smacked the table. “You believe a guy with an MBA is going to risk his entire future by hooking up with some petty criminals to pull a robbery?”

  “People have done stupider things.”

  “Chet isn’t a criminal and besides, how would he have known what target to hit? He had no connections here,” Erin said. “Come on, Joseph, I’d love to see your dad’s name cleared, but this is preposterous.”

  He couldn’t let it go that easily. “Chet must have known someone in town. Otherwise, how’d he get the job?”

  “How does anybody get a job?” she countered. “Besides, Gene’s a campaign manager. I’m sure he exaggerated how much Chet has.”

  “All right.” Joseph had to admit he’d pushed the theory as far as it would go. “Let’s look at this another way. Chet lied and tricked you. People don’t usually manipulate and lie in only one area, so even if he didn’t steal his money, he may be up to something else as well.”

  “Such as?”

  He gave his imagination free rein. “Gene said your mothe
r and stepfather are contributing to Chet’s campaign. What if Chet and Lance are in league somehow? They’re both from L.A. so they might know each other.”

  “Lance is a lot older,” she pointed out sleepily.

  Joseph couldn’t resist following the idea to see where it might lead. “Lance was in business—” he’d owned an industrial video company that had folded shortly before he met Alice “—so let’s suppose their paths crossed at a UCLA seminar and they kept in touch. Chet had to have known your mother was going on that cruise, and he could have told Lance. Marriage to a rich widow who was also Chet’s boss could benefit them both.”

  “You sound like one of those conspiracy theorists,” Erin said. “Besides, it doesn’t make sense. I mean, if there’s some huge plot, then the attack on me has to be part of it, right? Six weeks ago, Chet had no reason to want to kill me. I hadn’t said no to him yet, remember?”

  Joseph tried to find grounds to argue. He failed. “You’re right. It doesn’t work.”

  She stifled a yawn. “You’re too hard on Chet. According to you, he plotted with Lance and he framed your father. Maybe he was behind the Kennedy assassination, too.”

  “Okay, okay!” He raised his hands. “I concede defeat.”

  Erin didn’t gloat. “We got sidetracked from the issue of who framed your dad.”

  “Did we?” He couldn’t remember where this conversation had started.

  “I’m curious,” she said. “Over the years, you must have looked into it. Did you come up with any suspects?”

  “A couple, but nothing of substance.” Joseph told her about Alfonso Lorenz, the guard who’d testified and then left the country, and Todd Wilde, the robber who’d later gone to prison. “It’s possible they cooked up the scheme between them. Lorenz would have known about the jewel shipment. Still, I’ve always believed they must have had help from somebody smarter than they were.”

  “Why?”

  “They got away with pinning a murder rap on a former police officer. It’s hard to imagine they had that much dumb luck,” he said.

  Erin’s hand barely made it to her mouth in time to cover another yawn. “I’m sorry. It’s not lack of interest, believe me.”

  “You’ve had a stressful day,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “I’ll get myself to bed.”

  That, he mused, was a good idea. “Sleep well, then.”

  “You, too.” She set her mug in the sink and half stumbled away. Joseph considered going to her aid but decided that getting anywhere near Erin and a bed, even in her exhausted state, wasn’t a good idea.

  A few minutes later, he sat listening to the sound of water running in the bathroom. That morning, he’d armored himself against the knowledge that she was soon to be another man’s wife and here she was, ensconced in his bathroom. Who could have predicted it?

  Joseph had dropped by the country club when it occurred to him that this might be his only chance to question her without interference. He’d also wanted to see her for one last time while she was still Erin Marshall and not Erin Dever.

  He hadn’t expected to achieve anything. Or to wreck anything. Certainly not to find himself nearly making love to her tonight.

  Her light scent lingered in Joseph’s nostrils. He could feel the smoothness of her skin and the silken flow of her hair against his cheek.

  From the next room came the murmur of fabric. She had to be stepping out of those jeans in the bathroom. Lifting her sweater, unsnapping her bra…

  His groin tightened. He wanted to wipe away any effect Chet might have had on her, even the impression of his mouth on hers. He wanted to replace it with an experience so intense it blotted out anything that came before.

  That’s just what she needs. A hot and heavy relationship that’s going nowhere.

  When he was younger, he’d believed himself to be the right man for Erin. In some ways, he still believed it. But even if his family’s reversal hadn’t give him a jolt of reality, sooner or later he’d have learned better.

  To make a marriage work, two people had to share their lives and their goals. Neither he nor Erin fit into the other’s future.

  Police officers had a hard time maintaining relationships, considering their long hours and the stress of dealing with danger, hostility and tragedy. Home had to be a sanctuary. Their work might not be the sole focus of the family’s life, but it had to take a high priority.

  Erin faced the responsibilities that came with her immense fortune. The battle she was fighting now, which he suspected had to do with control of the Marshall Company, might be only the first of many power struggles. She needed a husband who moved easily in society, who commanded the respect of her peers and whose main focus corresponded to hers.

  Marriage would pull them apart and leave them both feeling like failures. The fact that the community already mistrusted Joseph wouldn’t help, either.

  To redirect his thoughts, he fetched a pen and notebook and took them into the living room. Working was the best way to keep his mind off Erin.

  He wrote down everything they’d discussed that evening, looking for patterns. Despite plenty of tantalizing hints, nothing conclusively linked the jewelry store robbery-murder with recent events. As for the incidents involving Erin and her mother, he’d uncovered no convincing evidence that they’d been anything but unrelated mishaps.

  Putting away the notebook, Joseph turned on the local news at low volume. He watched the end of a car chase and a report on a missing child found safe at a neighbor’s house. It was ordinary police business. His business, in a sense. No, not his business, not for the next month.

  On Monday morning, he wouldn’t wake up and head for work. He wasn’t going to start his shift by grabbing a cup of coffee before briefing. The guys and women in blue would be attending to their duties without him.

  For five years, he’d been a cop. As long as he could remember, even during high school, he’d worked at one job or another. It went against Joseph’s nature to sit idly by.

  But then, he didn’t intend to. Tomorrow, with Erin’s help, he’d figure out whom to talk to and how best to approach them.

  The chief had given him a month’s leave on full salary. He planned to earn every penny of it.

  ERIN AWAKENED to a ringing on the nightstand. Barely in time, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to answer.

  The electronic chime came again, insistently. It was her cell phone, not the house line, she realized foggily. After some groping around, she found the device and pressed the right button.

  “Hello?” The word came out raspy.

  “Erin?” The crisp female voice didn’t immediately ring a bell.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Jean Van Fleet. I regret calling on a Sunday morning, but I must speak with you immediately.”

  It was her mother’s best friend. Oddly, there’d been no sign of her this past month, but she had been on the wedding’s guest list. “It’s good to hear from you. I’m sorry about the inconvenience yesterday. I mean, at the wedding.”

  “Courtesy to your guests doesn’t require you to marry the wrong man,” Jean said. “I see in the paper that your family claims you had a relapse. It’s a good story, but I’m not that gullible. Are you staying at your mother’s house?”

  “No.” Erin decided not to volunteer more information until she learned the reason for this call. She’d given Jean her cell phone number after her father’s death in case she had any concerns about Alice. This was the first time Jean had used it.

  “Good,” her caller said. “I don’t want Alice to know about this discussion. And it has to be in person. I have several things to say, and they’re not the sort of thing I care to communicate over the phone.”

  “I’m not sure when—”

  “My husband’s at a medical convention and I’m not going to church this morning, so you can come over as soon as you’re dressed.” It was a command, not a request. Jean and Alice had a lot in common.

 
“I haven’t eaten.” It was the first thing that popped into Erin’s mind.

  “We have pastries and coffee. My daughter barely touched them. She’s always on a diet.” The Van Fleets had a son in college and a daughter, Beverly, in high school.

  Erin wanted to hear what her mother’s friend had to say. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Say an hour. I’ll be bringing someone with me.”

  “Who?”

  “Joseph Lowery.” There was no need to explain. Jean couldn’t have forgotten Erin’s high school romance or the town’s major scandal.

  “These are private matters,” Jean said.

  “I can’t drive until my doctor certifies I’ve recovered from my head injury.” Realizing that didn’t preclude her calling a cab, she added, “Also, it’s possible that what happened to me wasn’t accidental.”

  “You mean someone ran you down deliberately?”

  “We’re not sure,” Erin said. “In any case, I feel safer with Joseph around.”

  “I suppose it can’t hurt to bring a bodyguard,” Jean conceded. “Very well. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  They said goodbye and clicked off.

  Erin supposed she should have consulted Joseph before making plans. But whatever Jean Van Fleet had to say, she suspected it was important.

  DRIVING UP THE HILL to the Van Fleets’ home, which had formerly belonged to the Marshalls, brought back the turbulent but happy years of growing up. Erin half expected her father, who’d had the house built to his specifications, to be waiting for her at the door.

  They cruised by the rose garden whose planting Andrew had supervised. Set into the emerald lawn, the bushes rioted with blooms. She recognized the pale blush of Pristine and the proud, white Honor blooms, as well as dark-red Mr. Lincoln flowers so rich Erin could almost smell them.

  At the top, the mansion gleamed like a pearl in the morning sun. The smooth columns of the portico added a touch of Greek elegance to the clean architecture.

  “I hope we’ll sit outside,” Erin said. “It’s such a pretty day.”

  “If we do, I might be tempted to dive in with my clothes on.” Although rarely comfortable under her mother’s watchful eye, Joseph had enjoyed the pool parties Erin used to host. “Too bad she didn’t invite us to bring our swimsuits.”