Beautiful Triad (17 page)

Regina’s disappearance had made national news.

Right there on goddamned CNN, the echo of the brief report on the local news on both broadcasts. That her purse was found in Georgia and the authorities there had taken dogs out to look for her were mentioned, and then it had been over, just one brief view of the park and several uniformed officers with canines and it was gone.

The sheriff had stopped by. No suspicious prints in her car, none on the opener for the boat house, either. There was no cash in her purse—anyone could have taken that—but her credit cards all there.

Quite the dead end, the man had said apologetically, looking uncomfortable immediately at his choice of words. They’d keep looking and since the investigation had moved across state lines, he’d turned over information to federal authorities, also.

The easiest way to deal with all this was to write. If Ben worked on his new book, he didn’t have to worry over anything because his mind was occupied.

The Beautiful Triad right now had him perplexed. He’d christened them that because it fit. They were all good looking—from their cars, speech, and demeanor, also well-educated and successful—and presented a nice variety. Blond surfer boy with his slightly irreverent Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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123

air and overt masculinity. Tall, dark and more serious second guy, who could be a Hollywood stand in for any handsome male lead, and of course, the main attraction, Lauren Hanes with her perfect body and striking feminine beauty...

The arrival of the second woman bothered him. He was so sure he was right, that there was something going on between the three of them and then a fourth party—of the correct sex to balance it all out—

had appeared on the scene.

It threw him off.

He plopped down on the couch and stared at the computer screen.

Socially acceptable male and female relationships are governed
by a variety of motivations: physical attraction, procreation,
companionship (especially important among the elderly) and all too
often, monetary considerations.

The last point didn’t sound impartial. Maybe he should delete it.

Actually, he thought with cynical amusement, maybe he should instead devote an entire chapter to it.
Married for their Money: Is it
Prostitution
?

That idea had merit, he decided. He knew about half a dozen men—and a few women, too—who could give him excellent testimonials on the subject. He’d been to the country club and seen those old men with the young luscious girls on their arms, and known there was only one reason those pretty little things would spread their firm thighs for a withered pecker and that was money.

Bitches.
If there was one thing that struck him wrong it was a venal woman.

He doubted Lauren Hanes fell into that category. He’d guess her two lovers both made a good living but he also knew she did, as well.

Two discreet phone calls and he knew she worked as an actuary for a top company in Indianapolis and despite how young she was, he had a fair idea of her salary.

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124

Kate Watterson

If
they really both were her lovers. The idea he was wrong depressed him, made him lose perspective and focus. If the assumed scenario was true, who was the tall blonde? He’d watched the house all day—tomorrow he needed to use sunscreen because his nose and forehead were burned from staying on the deck for so long—but he really hadn’t seen much except for the two young men out fishing and then the BMW pulling in mid-afternoon. They’d eaten dinner at seven on the deck, but it was casual, burgers and potato salad and a few beers. The dark-haired one—Hanson—had taken the blonde for a walk later on but they hadn’t even as much as touched each other and it seemed like they were arguing. In the damned dark it was hard to tell.

Yes, the blonde was a loose thread he didn’t like.

* * * *

Heltonville wasn’t exactly brimming over with industry, but it did have a decent grocery store, and at midday on a Wednesday the place was pretty quiet. Drew pushed the cart down the aisle, scanning shelves and trying to figure something inventive to make, since it was his turn to come up with a plan for dinner.

His cooking skills were underdeveloped to say the least, but he’d cheated the last time and taken them all out. Lauren had cooked at least part of very meal each night but the first one, so he was determined to somehow pull an entire menu together on his own.

At least Karen had left that morning. Bright and early. He’d been awake, Lauren’s very tempting warm body next to him, an early morning erection making a persuasive case for him to wake her in a very satisfactory way. The sound of the car starting surprised him, but then again, maybe it shouldn’t have. Even though he wasn’t present didn’t mean he didn’t have a pretty good idea how the conversation between Rob and his now very definite ex-girlfriend went. With or without Lauren, the woman wasn’t right for him anyway, in Drew’s Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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125

opinion, so the fact things worked as they did was just fate as far as he was concerned.

He stopped at the meat case, the selection not exactly staggering, and debated boneless chicken breasts versus salmon steaks. Surely he could grill either one and not screw it up too bad…

“Hello…Fletcher, right?”

Drew glanced up. He saw a man in his mid-fifties, medium height, fair hair thinning hair brushed back, expensive khaki slacks and casual light blue shirt, fashionable glasses without rims perched on his nose.

“Hello, Dr. Heaton.” He automatically put out his hand, not sure of the protocol when running into a man he’d last seen inquiring about his missing wife. No to mention that Drew was pretty sure the professor had been the one on the deck with the telescope. The guy had been pretty far away but he’d been blond.

Heaton took it and the shake was little more than a brief pressure.

“You have the same blank look I do, I think, when trying to decide on something that might eventually involve cooking. Gino’s is a pretty good alternative. Have you tried it?”

“The Italian place? Yes, just a few nights ago.” Drew grimaced.

“I’m supposed to actually make something tonight. My turn.”

Behind the clear lenses on his glasses, something flickered in Heaton’s eyes. “Is it?”

Why was it the question sounded a little like a sly innuendo?

Drew smiled pleasantly. “I’m not exactly a crack chef, but I can suck it up once in a while and manage something edible.”

Under the circumstances, small talk felt a bit wrong, but what the hell else could he do? Should he ask about Regina Heaton? No, he decided, because if she’d been found, he doubted the professor would be wandering around the grocery store and chatting up strangers.

Usually Drew watched the news on a pretty religious basis because he went out of the country often enough it was nice to be clued in on what was going on around the world. Right now he was on vacation, Ebook piracy is stealing. It is a federal offense.

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126

Kate Watterson

though, and other than watching a movie or two and the baseball game that had put him right to sleep, he hadn’t switched on the set or bought a paper.

“At least you aren’t cooking just for one. For whatever reason, that seems to be the most difficult thing of all.” The older man gestured at his still empty cart. “It’s a bit hard to find inspiration. I’d go back to Louisville, but I’m…well…waiting, I guess.”

It would be a bitch, Drew acknowledged with an inward wince, trying to imagine how difficult it would be to sit around, unable to do anything to find your missing spouse. The telescope thing aside—and he couldn’t be sure Heaton was actually watching them—the guy seemed nice enough and he was Rob’s uncle’s neighbor.

Heaton said without inflection, “It’s lonely.”

Well, shit, it probably would be, Drew thought. “If you’d like to join us for dinner, you’d be welcome, Dr. Heaton. Keep in mind you are taking a risk because I’m the one cooking, so I make no promises, but—”

“I wasn’t fishing for an invitation, but actually, I’d be delighted.”

He did look pleased, almost pathetically so, and maybe Drew didn’t blame him for he wasn’t sure what could be quite so awful as being in the helpless position of just
not
knowing what had happened to someone you love.

“Since you’re going to be there, chicken or salmon?” he asked, giving the case a dubious look, a little surprised he’d issued the invitation to a virtual stranger, but what the hell. He had.

“Salmon,” Heaton said in succinct decision. “I’ll bring the wine.”

Drew had to admire the guy’s ability to make up his mind.

Though it wasn’t usually his problem either, grocery shopping was definitely not his forte. “That sounds like a plan. Say…uhm, seven?”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you then.”

The professor pushed his empty cart away, the wheels rattling on the linoleum floor.

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Drew ordered the fish, then moved on down to produce and picked out some asparagus at an exorbitant price, and some new potatoes. Grill the veggies, boil the potatoes and add butter and parsley, yeah, he could do that. For dessert, ice cream and hot fudge sauce was about as easy as it could be. Besides, he thought with a grin as he checked out, maybe Lauren would reward him for slaving away in the kitchen.

Well, not the kitchen. On the deck maybe over the grill, beer in hand. It was the thought that counted, right?

The inner smile faded. He hoped she wasn’t going to be uncomfortable with Heaton coming over. She was sensitive, sometimes to a fault, and he knew the possibility of foul play in the man’s wife’s disappearance bothered her. For his part, he was a little surprised the police hadn’t started some kind of process to drag the lake. If that happened, he was going to be the first one to suggest they cut short their stay and go back to Indianapolis. She didn’t need to witness that drama and they had only a few days left anyway. Grisly crime scene investigations were better left to prime time television.

Pure fiction was not as terrible as the real thing sometimes.

If there was even a crime, he thought as he loaded groceries in the impractical trunk of his sports car. Heaton’s demeanor struck him as a little strange, but then again he’d only been around the man twice, very briefly at that, and how did a man act under those particular circumstances anyway?

If it were Lauren suddenly missing, he’d be frantic.

Jesus, he didn’t even want to think about it. The very idea of it made him break out in a sweat and he was glad Rob was with her once the thought crossed his mind.

He got in the car and slammed the door, starting the vehicle and backing it up slowly as he cranked up the air-conditioning. They were supposed to have storms again. It was always a possibility when it was this hot and muggy and it just
felt
like rain though the sky was currently clear as a bell.

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128

Kate Watterson

It took him forty minutes to go twenty miles, but they were winding miles, part of it through state forest, and when Drew did pull into the long drive, he felt a sense of coming home. Not the house—it wasn’t that, but when Lauren set aside her book and came down the steps off the deck with a welcoming smile on her face—now
that
was home.

* * * *

The bottles had quite the fancy French labels. Rob had opened the first one and let it breathe, and he picked it up from the granite countertop. Heaton sat on the leather couch, one leg causally crossed over the other, looking impressively relaxed under the circumstances.

Oh, the man was a little wired. It wasn’t overt, but instead subtle in the way his hands twitched a little and the sometimes intense focus of his gaze, usually when he looked at Lauren.

Drugs?

He didn’t seem the type, but then again, people could fool you.

Rob knew nothing about Regina Heaton but he wondered a little if she might be a beautiful brunette with midnight blue eyes and a stunning figure. Or maybe the guy was just like the rest of them and thought Lauren was a gorgeous girl, hence the fascination.

God knew Rob did.

“So how did you meet?” Heaton asked her the question with a bland smile as Rob came into the room, wine bottle and glasses in hand.

Lauren seemed a little nonplussed. “Uhm…Drew and I?”

Professor Heaton lifted a brow. “I’m not trying to be personal.

Forgive me. I get used to asking people direct questions in the course of my research.”

She evaded answering. “It must be an interesting way to make a living. Being an author, I mean.”

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He chuckled. “So is being a gambler. It’s sort of the same thing, really. You take the time, write the book, and then just pray. No one, not even your agent or publisher, can predict true success. There’s a certain level of expectation, but the public is whimsical sometimes about what they want to read.”

“Isn’t sex a surefire hot topic?” Drew took a drink of beer from the bottle in his hand and lowered it. “That’s what your books are about, aren’t they?”

“The last one,” Heaton conceded. “And the one I’m working on now.”

The professor was definitely urbane, that polished sort of older man with a distinguished air. Rob could see undergrads falling for Heaton maybe, if not for the string of letters after his name and the money, maybe the author mystique. He said, “Do you still teach?”