“Probably because he was involved in the drug scene,” Hayden muttered with exaggerated patience. “Maybe he had a history with the law. You know it’s not uncommon for someone to fake a résumé.”
“A few details maybe, but not an entire identity.”
“It happens.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah. It happens. And I admit there is no direct connection between Kendle and Tyler Page. Kendle didn’t even work in the same lab. But I don’t like the coincidence.”
Elizabeth went to stand behind the nearest chair. She gripped the back with both hands. “The point here is that it’s possible this thing is escalating beyond the normal parameters of high-tech, white-collar crime. In which case it would behoove all three of us to stick together.”
Hayden threw a sour look at Jack. “Forget it. I offered you a deal, Elizabeth, but it sure as hell doesn’t extend to Jack.”
“I’m not interested in going into partnership with you, either,” Jack said. “But you’re here. That means you’re involved. Tell us what you know about this mess, Hayden.”
Hayden hesitated and then shrugged. “Even if I felt like helping you out, which I don’t, I couldn’t. I don’t know anything useful. I’m here because I got a phone call inviting me to an auction. That’s it.”
“Has anyone contacted you since you arrived?” Elizabeth asked sharply.
“Once. The night I got here. I was told that I would get a call just before the auction was scheduled. That was all.” Hayden’s mouth thinned. “Until someone tried to run me down tonight, that is.”
“It wasn’t me,” Jack said. “But I will give you a warning, Hayden. If, by some bizarre chance, you do get your hands on that specimen, I’ll tie you up in court for years even if I have to pay for it out of my own pocket. You’ll never be able to use the technology in your own labs.”
Hayden gave him a beatific smile. “Jack, Jack, you just don’t get it. I don’t give a damn about Soft Focus. All I care about is keeping it out of your hands long enough to kill the deal you’ve set up with Veltran.”
Elizabeth frowned. “You know about the Veltran presentation?”
Jack took a step toward him. “Who told you?”
“The same person who called to invite me to the auction,” Hayden said. “Guess he wanted to make sure I’d have a good incentive to take part in the bidding. Timing is everything here, isn’t it? If you don’t get Soft Focus back by the presentation date, you might as well scrub the whole project.”
“Tyler Page.” Jack glanced at Elizabeth. “He’s the only one who could have known about the timing of the Veltran presentation.”
“We’ve known all along that he was the thief,” Elizabeth said. “Nothing new there.” She looked at Hayden. “One more thing. Did you ever meet with Tyler Page in a hotel room?”
“Hell, no, I’ve never met the guy anywhere. Didn’t even know he existed until I got that phone call telling me that a specimen of a crash-research project at Excalibur had disappeared.”
Elizabeth traded glances with Jack. He shrugged but did not say anything.
She looked at Hayden. “Think about what you’re doing here. If you keep us from making the Veltran presentation, it won’t be just Jack who gets hurt. Excalibur will go down the tubes, too. A lot of innocent people will be put out of work. A family heritage will be destroyed.”
“You know what they say about making omelets,” Hayden murmured. “Gotta break a few eggs.”
“What a perfectly disgusting thing to say.” Elizabeth picked up her purse. “Jack was right. You’re so obsessed with your need for revenge that you’re willing to do something stupid and vicious. And you’ve got the nerve to accuse your brother of being ruthless.”
“How the hell can you defend him after the way he screwed you over not once, but twice,” Hayden demanded.
“My differences with Jack stem from the Galloway takeover,” she said tightly. “I didn’t like what happened two years ago and I didn’t like the way he handled it. But I can understand his motive.”
“To make a nice profit,” Hayden drawled.
Elizabeth threw her hands into the air, beyond exasperated now. “I told you, he did it for your brother Larry’s sake.”
Hayden’s expression tightened again. “You might be willing to buy that story, but I’m not.”
“Why don’t you pick up the phone and ask Larry for the truth?” Elizabeth suggested through her teeth. She looked at Jack. “I’ve had enough of this. Let’s get out of here.”
“Whatever you say.” He followed her to the door.
Neither of them looked back at Hayden as they went out into the hall. They waited for the elevator in silence. When the cab arrived, Elizabeth stepped inside. Jack followed.
She gazed determinedly at the closed doors. “That was my fault.”
“Your fault?”
“That scene with Hayden. I’m sorry about it. I honestly thought I could talk some sense into him. I didn’t realize he would be so . . . so rigid.”
“Told you so.”
“Yes. You did mention it once or twice.”
Jack exhaled slowly. “He hates me, Elizabeth.”
“I agree that something is eating him up inside and he’s projecting it outward, focusing those feelings on you. But I don’t think he really hates you.”
“Has anyone ever told you that your naïveté is quite charming at times?”
“Vicky mentioned it this afternoon. She seemed to think it was an unfortunate character flaw.”
Jack smiled slowly. He caught her chin on the edge of his hand and leaned down to kiss her briefly, a quick, hard, hungry kiss that left her slightly breathless. She gazed at him, wide-eyed.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“For championing my honor and my integrity back there in that hotel room.”
She flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We both know you didn’t try to scare off Hayden by nearly running him down this afternoon.”
“I know it.” Jack’s eyes gleamed. “But how can you be so certain? You weren’t with me.”
“That kind of thing just isn’t your style,” she said brusquely. “You might confront him. You did confront him, in fact. But you wouldn’t use scare tactics, especially not the kind that could result in physical injury or . . . or worse.”
“Not my style, hmm?”
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“Nothing. It’s just that I recall saying something very similar to you after we watched that video.”
Silence fell again. Elizabeth said nothing as they walked through the lobby and out into the resort parking lot. She waited until she was in the car and Jack was behind the wheel.
“About Garth Galloway,” she said quietly.
He paused, his hand on the ignition. He glanced her way, his eyes concealed behind his sunglasses. “What about him?”
She gazed straight ahead at the row of parked cars in front of her. “For the record, Garth and I had begun to have problems before you launched your assault on Galloway. I suspected that he, well, it’s not important now.”
“You knew that he was seeing someone else?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is that the engagement would have ended even if the takeover had never occurred. I delayed the inevitable because I didn’t want to abandon Garth and Camille while they were under siege. It just didn’t seem right, somehow. They were old friends of the family. I had known them both for so long, you see.”
Jack folded his hands on top of the steering wheel and stared out over the hood of the car. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you love him?”
“Whatever it was I felt for Garth, it was founded on lies and errors in judgment. My judgment. As Vicky Bellamy once told me, nothing is ever quite what it seems in the movies or in real life.”
He turned with unexpected speed, whipping around in the seat, catching her by the shoulders, hauling her toward him. “Don’t give me that bul
lshit. Did you love him?”
She went very still, hardly daring to breathe. “Back at the beginning? Yes, I loved him. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
His jaw tightened. She could see her own reflection in the lenses of his glasses.
“No,” he said. “It’s not what I wanted to hear. But I had to know the truth.”
“Stop it,” she ordered gently.
“What?”
She touched his taut jaw with her fingertips. “Garth killed my love for him before you came on the scene, Jack. You’ve got some things to answer for because of what you did to Galloway, but wrecking my engagement is not on the list. You don’t have to assume responsibility for destroying the great love of my life, okay?”
“Was it the great love of your life?”
“No.” She hesitated. “It was nice while I thought that it was real. But looking back, it never was great.”
He did not move for a long moment, just sat there studying her intently from behind the shield of his sunglasses.
“I told you once that if I had to do the Galloway deal again, I would,” he said, as if he wanted to be certain she understood.
“I know. Because of your brother Larry.”
He looked as if he wanted to say something else but changed his mind. He bent his head and kissed her instead.
It was a different kind of kiss, unlike any of the others she had received from him. There was a deeply buried hunger in it, not for sex, she realized, but for something else. Something more. Absolution?
Whatever it was, she sensed the need and could not resist the appeal. She put her arms on his shoulders and kissed him back, not with the fire and passion that his kisses usually induced in her, but softly, gently. Offering him the forgiveness he seemed to be searching for in the embrace.
He wrapped her close against him and held her very tightly. It was a long time before he released her, turned the key in the ignition, and drove out of the parking lot.
He said nothing, but she saw the grim, unyielding plane of his jaw and she knew a sense of failure. He had not gotten whatever it was he had wanted from her.
If it wasn’t forgiveness he had been seeking, what had he been searching for in that kiss?
SHORTLY BEFORE EIGHT the following evening, Elizabeth took her seat in the first row of the balcony and watched the festivalgoers arrive for the awards ceremony. It had been her idea to attend this evening. She was convinced that Tyler Page would want to be here to see if his film or Vicky Bellamy won an award. Jack had agreed that it was possible Page would break cover for the event.
She glanced at him as he took the aisle seat beside her. He wore an expensively cut, deceptively casual jacket, black pullover, and black trousers. His attire was similar to that of a number of other men pouring into the theater, but unlike the majority of them, he looked as if he really did wield power and control. It wasn’t a question of money or industry influence, she thought. It was that impression of self-mastery that radiated from him. That was what made him both dangerous and compelling.
She was still wondering what she had misunderstood about the kiss in the resort parking lot yesterday. One thing was for certain: She was not about to ask for explanations. Jack had made it obvious that his only concern was his mission to find Tyler Page.
She studied his hard profile as the other ticket-holders streamed down the aisles to their seats. During the drive to the Silver Empire Theater this evening, he had been silent. He had handled the car and the narrow, winding road with his usual flawless precision and control, but she had sensed the cold determination in him. She had known that the scene with Hayden had disturbed him, but she was somewhat surprised by the return of this chilling reserve.
Just like the old days, she thought. She had seen a lot of this attitude during the past six months.
“Are you going to stay in this mood all evening?” she asked pleasantly.
“Depends.”
“On what?’
“On whether or not Tyler Page shows up.”
“It wasn’t wondering if Page would show that turned you surly tonight,” she reminded him. “It was that conversation with Hayden last night. Want to talk about it?”
He frowned and turned briefly to look at her. She was startled to see a flash of surprise in his eyes.
“No,” he said.
She sighed. “That is so typical.”
He slanted her a brief, derisive glance. “Of the male of the species?”
“No, of you, in particular. You always act like this when things don’t go just the way you planned them.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” Bright little flashes of crimson danced before her eyes. Her nails. He had her waving her hands again. She checked the telltale movement and quickly folded her fingers neatly in her lap. “You go all distant and cold and watchful. It makes it difficult to carry on a meaningful conversation.”
“Really? I hadn’t realized that we were involved in a meaningful conversation.”
Anger sparked through her. She covered it with a steely smile. “You know, a shrink could have a field day analyzing the relationship between you and your brother.”
“I doubt if any therapist would touch our case.”
“Why not?”
Jack’s smile was devoid of all amusement. “Because neither Hayden nor I would ever pay anyone real money to analyze us. And I can’t see any therapist worth his or her salt doing the job for free. Can you?”
“No. Especially if he or she knew that the clients weren’t interested in the results.”
THE FILM CLIP from Fast Company, the audience was told, was a scene that took place three-quarters of the way through the movie. The dramatic lighting gave Vicky Bellamy’s spider-woman character a luminous glow. It wasn’t Rita Hayworth in Gilda, or Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep, Elizabeth thought, but it wasn’t bad.
Unfortunately, the dialogue wasn’t Casablanca, either.
“But I didn’t kill him. Eden, for God’s sake, you’ve got to tell the cops the truth.”
“I make it a habit to never tell the truth, Harry. I believe in living a simple life, and the truth always seems to complicate things.”
Under cover of the enthusiastic clapping that followed the clip, Jack leaned toward Elizabeth.
“We’re wasting our time. He’s not here. I’ve checked every damn seat in the house.”
“I don’t understand it,” she whispered. “How could he stay away? He might not have expected Fast Company to win Best Picture at the festival, but what about Vicky?”
“I told you that you were putting too much stock in the theory that Page is a victim of passion.”
“I still think he’s here somewhere,” she insisted.
“The ceremony is almost over. Only Best Actress and Best Film left. If Page is here, he’ll probably try to leave just before the houselights come up.”
“Then it’s time for my fallback plan,” Elizabeth said briskly. “Ready?”
Jack hesitated, then reluctantly got to his feet. Elizabeth collected her coat and followed him up the darkened aisle. A moment later they emerged into the plush, red and gold upstairs lobby. It was empty except for a couple of idling ushers and the waiter lounging behind the wine bar.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jack asked.
“It’s not like we have a lot of other options,” she reminded him.
“All right. You take this exit. I’ll take the other one.”
He turned to the left, as though he intended to go to the men’s room. Elizabeth hurried in the opposite direction toward the women’s room.
Once in the dimly lit hall she kept going past the door marked “Ladies,” all the way to the emergency exit. She was relieved to see that it was not equipped with an alarm.
She glanced over her shoulder to make certain that no one was watching her. Then she opened the door. Unlike the lush Victorian lobby, the stairwell was starkly utilitarian. The harsh, fluorescent lighting reveal
ed a set of concrete steps. She grasped the handrail and went quickly down to a door marked “Exit.” When she pushed it open, the brisk night air swirled around her.
Outside she huddled into her coat and walked swiftly down the alley toward the back of the theater. When she got there she saw a small parking area. Jack stepped briefly into the weak yellow glare of the single streetlamp that illuminated the rear of the theater. He raised a hand to let her know that he had seen her. Then he moved back into the shadows on the opposite side of the building.
She pulled up the collar of her coat and prepared to wait. The plan was simple enough, she reminded herself. She would watch the emergency exits on this side of the theater. Jack would watch the exits on the other side. Between the two of them they would be able to see anyone leaving via one of the side doors.
Jack had bought into the scheme with something less than enthusiasm, and only after she had pointed out that they would be within easy hailing distance of each other. He considered the vigil a waste of time.
Minutes ticked past at a relentlessly slow pace. Elizabeth scrunched deeper into her coat and clenched her gloved hands inside her pockets. Eventually the dull, muted thunder of applause broke out inside the theater. The Best Actress Award. She wondered if Vicky had won.
Next up would be Best Picture.
A few minutes later, muffled applause again echoed through the old theater building. Elizabeth tensed in expectation and peered into the alley. If Tyler Page had attended the ceremony, he would no doubt try to leave quickly and quietly now that it was over. With any luck, by a side entrance. She watched the alley door, waiting for it to open.
There was another rumble of applause inside the theater. The ceremony was over. Still the alley door did not open. Frustration rose inside her. She had been so sure of her analysis of Page’s motivation. The man had done what he’d done for love of Vicky Bellamy, his femme fatale. How could he bring himself to miss his lover’s big night?
People were leaving the theater now. She heard laughter and conversation from the vicinity of the front entrance. But the emergency exit door on her side of the building did not budge.