Trust No One

Agnes climbed to her feet. She had the heavy pepper mill in one hand.

  “Hang on, I’ll take care of everything,” Grace said.

  She looked at Agnes as she spoke. Agnes got the message and hung back.

  Grace turned toward the counter as if she were going to try to tamp down the blaze. But she seized the handle of the pot instead, swung back around and hurled the scorching soup straight at Kristy.

  Distracted by the smoke and fire, Kristy didn’t see the hot soup coming her way until it was too late. Her scream of rage and panic was louder than the shrill squeal of the fire alarm. She fell back, swiping madly at the soup that had splashed across her face and chest.

  The gun roared. The shot went wild. Grace sent the heavy pot sailing across the room. It struck Kristy on the shoulder, spinning her sideways.

  She was frantic now. In her desperation to get the soup off her skin, she dropped the gun.

  Agnes moved quickly and seized the weapon. She aimed it at Kristy with the steady calm of a woman who is accustomed to handling dangerous implements.

  “You’d better do something about that fire, dear,” Agnes said to Grace. She pitched her voice above the screech of the fire alarm. “Or you’ll lose the house. That would be a shame.”

  “I’m on it,” Grace said.

  She rushed to the counter, grabbed the long-handled soup spoon and used it to push the blazing roll of paper towels into the sink. She heard the SUV engine in the drive just as she turned on the faucet.

  Footsteps thudded on the back porch. She glanced out the window, heart pounding, and saw Harley Montoya. He had a gun in his hand. He kicked open the door before she could get to it and stormed into the kitchen.

  Simultaneously, Julius and Devlin arrived through the front door with the ferocity of an invading army. It had clearly been a move the three men had coordinated.

  Julius, Devlin and Harley slammed to a halt and took in the situation. They lowered their weapons.

  The last of the flames died in the sink. The draft created by the open doors took care of the smoke. The screech of the fire alarm stopped abruptly.

  Devlin moved to take charge of the gun Agnes was holding on the sobbing Kristy.

  “Thanks, Agnes,” Devlin said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “She’s all yours,” Agnes said.

  She sat down abruptly on the nearest chair. Harley went to stand behind her. His fingers closed around her shoulder. She reached up and touched his big hand.

  Julius looked at Grace. His eyes burned. The right side of his hospital gown was wet with fresh blood.

  “You might be interested to know that I did a hell of a lot of positive thinking on the ride from the hospital to this house,” he said.

  She walked straight into his arms. He caught her close with his free arm.

  “I told you, it works,” she mumbled into the hospital gown.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was raw.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think so. I’ll probably have an anxiety attack when this is all over but I’ll postpone that for a while.”

  “Grace.”

  That was all he said. But it was the only thing that needed saying.

  Forty-Eight

  Trust no one,” Grace said. “Everyone has a hidden agenda.” She shook her head. “I hate to admit it but in this particular case, your affirmations are the ones that seem to fit best.”

  “You were the target of a carefully planned and executed strategy,” Julius said. “It almost worked but it failed because you managed to outmaneuver your opponents.”

  “Because I had your help.”

  “Well, it was three against one, if you count Millicent,” Julius said. “Seems only fair that in the end you had reinforcements. Even if they did show up late.”

  They were on the sofa in the living room of her house. Julius was back in jeans and a worn denim shirt that fit loosely around his freshly bandaged side. His sock-clad ankles were stacked on the coffee table.

  Grace had her legs curled under her. Earlier Julius had built a fire in the big stone fireplace. Dinner had consisted of takeout and a bottle of wine. It should have been a very cozy, very romantic setting, she thought. There was even an affirmation that suited the scene: Recognize the good moments and cherish them. But night had descended on Cloud Lake and in spite of the wine, she was still wired. She did not think that she would sleep. She did not want to sleep.

  That afternoon she had worried about Agnes spending the night alone after the disturbing events. But Agnes had declined the offer of the spare bedroom, saying somewhat vaguely that she had a friend who was coming over to stay with her. Grace had understood when she saw Harley’s old truck pull up in front of Agnes’s house. For the first time in the recorded history of Cloud Lake, Harley had arrived at the Gilroy house with what appeared to be an overnight bag.

  “I know Millicent was conspiring with Burke but it was all about the money as far as she was concerned,” Grace said. “She had nothing to do with Sprague’s murder. I’m sure she had no idea that Kristy is Burke’s sister, let alone that Kristy was plotting revenge against me.”

  “That’s certainly Millicent’s story,” Julius said.

  “You don’t believe her?”

  Julius’s smile took a grim twist. “The woman is an embezzler, Grace. Are you sure you want to think of your relationship with her as a friendship?”

  “Okay, maybe friendship isn’t the right word. But she left all of her ill-gotten gains to me, if you will recall.” Grace looked into the fire. “She did that because she literally has no one else in the world. That is just so sad.”

  “Something tells me she’ll make all sort of friends in prison, assuming she actually ends up doing time.”

  “You are so cynical.” Grace thought for a minute. “Maybe Millicent will become one of those white-collar criminals who gets recruited by the FBI to detect other embezzlers.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she manages to talk her way into a job like that.”

  “I still can’t quite believe that this was all about revenge,” Grace said.

  “And money,” Julius said. “Two of the most compelling forces in the world.”

  “No.” Grace pulled away from the protective embrace of his arm. She knelt on the cushions and caught Julius’s face between her palms. “I refuse to believe that revenge and money are the strongest forces in the world.”

  He watched her with the controlled hunger that always shadowed his eyes.

  “Are you going to tell me that positive thinking is the strongest force in the world?” he asked. “Because if you are, I need another drink first.”

  She smiled. “What I’m going to tell you is that love is the strongest force on the planet and maybe in the entire universe.”

  “Is that one of your affirmations?”

  “Nope. It’s just the truth, at least for me. I love you, Julius Arkwright.”

  He went very still. For a moment he looked at her as if she had spoken in some language that he might have known long ago but had forgotten.

  Then he moved. He took his feet off the table and set his glass down with great precision.

  “Grace.”

  He said her name as if he could not quite believe that she existed. As if it could work magic.

  She put her own glass on the table and leaned into him—careful not to touch his freshly bandaged side. She brushed her mouth against his.

  “I know you’ve got trust issues and I know that you don’t go for the feel-good, positive-thinking stuff,” she said. “I get all that because I’ve got some issues of my own. None of our issues are as important as the fact that I love you.”

  “Grace.”

  He kissed her with a desperate passion. It was the kiss of a man who had been thirsting for love for so long he did not know how
to ask for it politely. Instead, he seized it with both hands.

  “I’ve been looking for you all of my life,” he said simply. “I love you.”

  The truth was there in the stark wonder that infused his words. The night would be a long one but she would not be alone. Neither would Julius.

  “We will hold on to this,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. “We’re both fighters. We know how to hang on to what is important.”

  • • •

  She awoke from a ragged dreamscape that involved darkness, a flight of stairs and an empty doorway.

  She sat up, suddenly wide awake but not in the shaky, breathless way that indicated an impending panic attack.

  “Julius?” she whispered.

  “Over here,” he said.

  She looked toward the window and saw him. In the glow of the night-light she could tell that he was wearing his T-shirt and jeans.

  “Bad dream?” he asked.

  “Started out that way.” She sat up on the edge of the bed and automatically went into the breathing exercises. “What about you?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Every time I closed my eyes I thought about that damned vodka bottle sitting on your kitchen table.”

  “Yeah, the vodka thing was creepy. Kristy is creepy. But when I think about what a dreadful childhood she had—”

  “Don’t,” Julius said. It was a command. “Don’t go there. I am not going to listen to you make excuses for a psychopath.”

  She thought about that. “You’re right. Sometimes there are no excuses.”

  “Zero in this case. How’s the breathing going?”

  She did an internal check. “Okay, I think.”

  “Need your meds?”

  “No. No, I’m fine, really.”

  “Was your dream the old one that you told me about?”

  “At first. I was back in the basement of the asylum, trying to get to the top of the stairs. Trager grabbed my jacket but I broke free. This time I made it through the doorway. I found what I was searching for on the other side.”

  Julius came toward the bed and took her into his arms. “So, your dream is changing. That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Yes, I’m sure it is.”

  Her nerves were still on edge but the sensation—like the dream—was different this time. A great rush of expectation sparkled through her.

  “What did you find on the other side of the door?” Julius asked.

  She smiled. “You.”

  “Good,” he said. He sounded pleased.

  “And my new career path,” she added.

  “I’m your new career?” He sounded more than pleased now. He sounded exultant. “I can definitely live with that.”

  “No, no. Sorry for the confusion. You aren’t my new career. Well, not exactly. More like my first employee. I’m going to offer you a job.”

  Julius considered that for a couple of beats.

  “You want me to work for you?” he said finally.

  “Not full-time, of course. I can’t afford you full-time.”

  “Honey, you can’t afford one hour of my time, at least not in your current financial situation. However, I am willing to negotiate.”

  “That’s good because I’m going to need a first-rate consultant.”

  “I see.” He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose. When he got to her mouth he put his hands around her waist. “Why don’t you come back to bed and tell me all about this new career of yours?”

  “Sure,” she said. She wriggled out of his arms and headed for the hallway. “But first I’d better make a few notes. You know what they say, inspiration often strikes in the middle of the night. If you don’t write it down, you’ll forget it by morning.”

  “I’ve never heard that. But as it happens, I’m feeling inspired, myself, at the moment. Inspired to go back to bed.”

  “Wait,” she yelped.

  He started to scoop her up in his arms. He stopped suddenly, his eyes tightening in a spasm of pain.

  “Shit,” he said. He took a deep, careful breath. Gingerly he touched his right side. “Okay, let’s talk about your new career path.”

  She told him all about her vision of her glorious new future.

  His reaction was swift and certain.

  “That’ll never work,” he said. “Forget it. Find another career path.”

  “No,” she said. “This is what I was born to do. You’ve got two options, Julius Arkwright. Either you agree to consult for me, or I’ll find someone else who will.”

  His mouth curved faintly. “Is that a threat?”

  “Definitely.”

  He appeared to give that some thought.

  “Well?” she said after a moment.

  “You do realize that you’ll be the first client I’ve ever had who got away with blackmailing me.”

  “Really? Others have tried?”

  “Sure. Not often but, yes, occasionally one has tried to put me in a corner. And failed.”

  “Don’t think of it as blackmail,” she said earnestly. “Think of me as a protégée.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure this is blackmail. What I’m thinking is that I’m going to let you get away with it.”

  “Excellent decision,” she said.

  He kissed her. Then he raised his head and smiled his lion smile.

  “Now, let’s discuss my fees,” he said.

  Forty-Nine

  Irene poured more coffee into Grace’s cup. “You’re back on the high-octane stuff today. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, really,” Grace said. “Didn’t sleep a lot last night but that was only to be expected under the circumstances. I was more concerned with Agnes, to tell you the truth.”

  They were in Irene’s office. On the other side of the window business in Cloud Lake Kitchenware was brisk. The sun had come out and so had the locals and tourists. Customers browsed the elegantly displayed pots and pans and the gleaming kitchen knives with the same pleasure that was usually reserved for art galleries and jewelry stores.

  “Agnes is a tough lady,” Irene said. “Which reminds me—word around town this morning is that she did not spend the night alone, either.”

  Grace smiled. “I can report that for the first time ever, Harley Montoya did not leave before dawn. In fact, he stayed for breakfast. I saw them in the kitchen together.”

  “About time. Maybe they’ll finally get married.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that. I think last night was a special-circumstances thing. Agnes always says that she and Harley like things just the way they are. Gardening club rivals by day, lovers by night. After all these years, I’d say it works for them.”

  “Each to her own, I suppose.” Irene sipped her coffee. “What about you and Julius?”

  “Julius needs a home and a career,” Grace said. “I plan to help him make that happen.”

  “He’s got both.”

  “They aren’t working for him. I’m going to fix the problem.”

  “Why would you do that?” Irene asked. “I thought you had decided to get out of the fixing business.”

  “Turns out, I need some of the same things fixed in my life that Julius needs fixed.”

  Irene laughed. “I’ve been aware of that for a long time. Why do you think I went to the trouble of arranging that blind date?”

  “You’re a good friend. I take back everything I said about blind dates always being a bad idea.”

  “Next question. Why Julius?”

  “Discovering that someone wants to kill you has a way of focusing the mind,” Grace said. “It has become clear to me that I love Julius.”

  “I see.” Irene leaned back in her chair. “And Julius?”

  “He loves me, too.”

&n
bsp; Irene looked pleased. “I knew it. It’s in his eyes every time he looks at you. Heck, it was there that first night. Devlin tells me that it’s usually like that for men. Hard and fast. So tell me about this new career path of yours and the job you’ve lined up for Julius.”

  Grace told her.

  Irene laughed. “I can’t see Julius going for it, not in a million years.”

  “It’s a done deal. I applied Arkwright’s second rule—Everyone has a hidden agenda. I found out what Julius really wants and I intend to give it to him.”

  Fifty

  The office of the president and CEO of Hastings, Inc., was located in the southwest corner of the forty-seventh floor of a gleaming office tower. The rain had stopped but it would return soon. The rain always came back in Seattle. But for now the clouds were scattering. Sunlight sparkled on the snow-capped peak of Mount Rainier and flashed on the waters of Elliott Bay.

  The wraparound view made for an iconic postcard, Julius thought. This was Seattle at its most spectacular. Sure, Mount Rainier—an active volcano considered one of the world’s most dangerous—was only sixty miles away. And the waters of the Puget Sound were cold enough to kill you within half an hour if you fell off one of the picturesque ferries. It was also true that the region was laced with major seismic fault lines. The experts were always warning that it was just a matter of time before the next Big One struck. So what? That just made life all the more interesting.

  “What are you doing here?” Edward asked.

  “Consulting,” Julius said.

  “No one asked you to consult for Hastings.”

  “That is not entirely accurate,” Julius said. “Someone did ask me to do just that. My client.”

  Edward sat forward and clasped his hands on top of his desk. “I hope that your client is paying you because I sure as hell don’t intend to. Can’t afford you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Julius said. “My fee will be covered. Now, do you want my advice or not?”

  Edward thought that over for a moment and then he sat back in his chair.

  “All right, I’ll bite,” he said. “What’s the free advice you’re offering?”