Big Shot (13 page)

“So you’re new here?” Meghan asked.

“Yes. Sara Cunningham. And you have to be Meghan Sinclair.”

“The bruises and bandages wouldn’t let me deny it if I wanted to. This is Durk,” she said, nodding his way.

“Are you two married or…”

“We’re friends,” Meghan answered.

“I’d heard you were single and that you were a famous P.I. Our neighbor, Bill, said he was the one who came to your rescue when you were attacked.”

“Yes, and I haven’t had a chance to thank him.”

“As soon as I heard, it changed my mind about wanting to live here, but we’d already signed the paperwork. So, here we are.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the attack,” Meghan said. “I’m sure it wasn’t random.”

“That’s what your brother said.”

Durk had already unlocked the door and his hand was on the doorknob. He let go of it and stepped back into the hall. “Did you say you’d talked to Meghan’s brother?”

“Yes. He was here yesterday morning, really early, before my husband went to work. He was super friendly and it was sweet how concerned he was about you, Meghan. My brother was never that caring.”

Confusion shadowed Meghan’s face. “Are you certain he said he was my brother?”

“Absolutely. He said he was here to pick up some things you needed in the hospital. He must have brought them to you.”

“No, I don’t think—”

“It could have been your brother,” Durk interrupted, keeping his voice steady and his tone nonchalant. He needed to keep Sara talking. One inkling on her part that she’d talked to the killer and she’d clam up before he could blink.

“I can tell for sure if it was him or not,” Durk bragged. “What did he look like?”

“He was nice-looking. Tall, but maybe not quite as tall as you. Light brown hair. Not heavyset but not thin, either. Kind of average. I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“That sounds like him,” Meghan agreed, quickly picking up on Durk’s motives. “I was kind of out of it yesterday. I’m sure I saw him and just don’t remember it. Did he stay long at the condo?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see what time he got here. I just saw him leave. He had some files you needed.”

That explained his visit.

“Was he dressed for the office,” Durk asked, “or was he wearing those grungy jeans he wears on his day off?”

“He didn’t look grungy.” She put a finger to her cheek as if she were trying to remember. “He looked good. Muscular. Nice personality, well-spoken. But he’s scared of dogs. You should have seen how upset he was when Bitsy jumped up to give him a kiss.” A phone rang inside Sara’s condo.

“Sorry,” Sara said. “That’s probably the furniture store with my dining room table. We’ll need it for Thanksgiving Day. I have to buzz them up. Nice to meet both of you, and I hope you get better soon, Meghan.”

She disappeared inside her own condo before Durk could question her more. But he figured he’d already gotten as much out of the new neighbor as she knew.

The attacker had been here before Durk yesterday. His return had been risky, so he must have been desperate to retrieve specific files.

“I don’t have a brother, do I?” Meghan asked.

“Not that I’ve ever heard you mention.”

“So it had to be Ben’s killer that Sara met.”

“That would be my theory.”

Durk couldn’t help but note that since he’d told Meghan about Ben, her concern had totally shifted from the attack on her to his murder. And this was when she had no memory of him.

“The killer’s nervy,” she said. “And overly confident. That would suggest he’s either gotten away with murder before or he thinks he’s smarter than me or the police.”

Her P.I. skills were kicking in. That worried him. He knew firsthand what she was like when she was on someone’s trail. Only this time her reasoning and body might not be up to the task. He had to get her out of Dallas and down to the ranch where he could protect her from the killer and herself.

“There’s no proof as yet that your attacker killed Ben,” he reminded her.

“But there are valid reasons to suspect it.”

Meghan pushed open the door and stepped into her condo.

He worried that the sight of the chaos on top of everything else might push her over the edge. Instead he heard the voice of the Meghan of old.

“Somebody’s head is going to roll for this.”

“I warned you that the place was a mess.”

“This is more than a mess. It’s a train wreck.” Meghan stooped and picked up a piece of the shattered glass from the broken lamp. She turned it over several times in her hand before finally dropping it back to the floor to glisten among the other gem-like shards.

She trailed her hand through a buildup of fingerprint dust and then stared at the back wall. “And that must be my blood.” She touched the edge of her bandage with the tips of her fingers. “You’d think if I were such a hotshot P.I. I’d know how to defend myself.”

“You’re alive,” Durk said. “You must have done something right.”

“I screamed for help and had the good fortune to have a neighbor who was willing to come to my rescue. Good thing I was attacked before the weekend. I might have ruined Sara’s party.” Her voice broke as the forced bravado wore thin.

Impulsively, Durk slipped his arms around her waist. The touch instantly fanned the flames of desire he’d been trying so desperately to ignore.

He let his arms drop back to his side and stepped away from her. “Do you want to call Detective Smart and tell him your
brother
stopped by for a visit?”

“Not yet. He’s already indicated he doesn’t want me to do his job for him.”

“And he’s right. You need to let him handle this investigation. Getting your strength and memory back is enough for you to deal with right now.”

“Right,” she said without a hint of conviction.

She turned slowly, studying the mess from every angle. “There’s a silver clutch on the coffee table, open, obviously already examined by the cops and maybe my attacker, as well.”

“I doubt the attacker got the chance once your neighbor showed up.”

Meghan dropped to the couch and went through the small bag’s contents. A tube of bright red lipstick, a mirrored compact, a tissue and two twenty dollar bills. Her spirits fell. “No phone. No car keys. No scribbled name or phone numbers.”

“The phone and keys could still be around here somewhere.” Durk took out his cell phone and called her number from memory. The phone rang six times before a computerized voice said the connection could not be made at this time. He repeated the message for Meghan.

Her hands flew up in frustration. “The murdering slime has my phone.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Reasonable conclusions.”

“I can’t argue that, except we’re not even sure at this point that I called your number. You could have changed to a new number in the last two years. But I do think we should call Smart,” Durk said. “If your phone is in the perp’s possession, the cops should be able to use it to track him down.”

“I’m sure Smart is already on that,” Meghan said. “In the meantime, the murderous rat’s probably already stolen any information I had stored on the phone.”

“Knowing you, your phone is the latest and smartest available and enhanced to guarantee your info is secure.”

“I’ll still have it disconnected.”

“First, we should make certain that was your current number and that the phone isn’t here.”

“If it were here, I would have heard it ring.”

“Not if the battery has run down. Shall we start the search in your home office?”

“I have a home office?”

“You have a desk and shelves upon shelves of true crime books.”

“Lead the way. Wait. Is that a dead cat under that chair by the window?”

Durk dropped to his knees and rescued a wig in a shade of blond previously unknown to mankind. He tossed it to her. “You’ve just embarrassed every cat in the world.”

Meghan held it up in front of her. “Was I a P.I. and a hooker?”

“Now you’re insulting hookers.”

She set the floozy wig on the chair. It was time for real work to begin.

* * *

O
NE LOOK AT THE
open drawers of the desk and the files that had been rifled and left askew and Meghan knew their quest was futile. The killer had come back and taken everything that could have possibly tied him to the crimes.

She bit back tears of frustration as the nagging headache set in again. Even though nothing looked familiar to her, she felt violated. It was her condo, after all. This was the space that should be her haven.

Instead it had been contaminated and turned into just another disjointed faction of her perplexing existence.

Durk was the only constant in her life, and even he was temporary. They’d had their go at a relationship and failed, a relationship she couldn’t even remember.

She studied the pictures on the wall, nighttime scenes of Dallas area landmarks. Cowboys Stadium. Reunion Tower. The John F. Kennedy Memorial. All more familiar to her than her own home.

Durk looked up from the files he was perusing. “Here’s a recent copy of your phone bill. You do have the same number you had when we were dating.”

“Good. Give me the bill. Now I can at least talk to the company and request a printout of all the calls made to and from my phone for the last month.”

Durk handed her the bill and his cell phone.

After being transferred to three different representatives, she finally got the definitive answer. And now she was really ready to boil.

“That didn’t seem to go well,” Durk said.

“They can’t provide me with a printout because the DPD has blocked the account. The police are now the only ones with access to the records.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll find a way to get a list. Do you still have Smart’s business card?”

She reached into the trench coat pocket. “I do. Why?”

“I’m giving him a call to see what’s going on with your phone. If he has it, it’s possible he also has your laptop.”

“Put it on speaker,” she said. “We’ll make it a conference call.”

Smart answered on the second ring.

“Durk Lambert. Speak of the devil. Sorry, make that the Good Samaritan. I understand from Dr. Levy that you’re providing our friend Meghan with a week in the Bent Pine Recovery Center.”

“I’m also on the line,” Meghan said. “So you might want to keep your comments about me on a professional level.”

“Hello, Meghan. Nice to hear from you, but I would have thought you’d give me a call before you left the hospital.”

“I had nothing new to share with you. I’ve told you everything I know until the amnesia runs its course.”

“So what can I help you with now?”

“My laptop is missing and I can’t locate my cell phone or my car keys. Do you have them?”

“No. When police searched your condo and your office yesterday afternoon, they didn’t find computers or cell phones in either place.”

“Yet you found her office answering machine with the strange message intact?” Durk commented.

“We questioned that, as well, but the killer must have simply overlooked it.”

“Or he intentionally left it there for you to find that message.”

“That’s also possible.”

“I just called my service provider,” Meghan said. “They told me my account had been blocked by order of the DPD.”

“I made that decision after realizing your phone was likely in the hands of the attacker.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

“We tracked the location of the phone.”

“Are you saying you tracked it to the killer?” Durk asked.

“Unfortunately, no. We found the phone in the middle of a soccer field in Garland. It’s busted up pretty bad, but you can have it back if you like.”

“I’d like,” Meghan said, though she had no idea what good it would do her now.

“I’ll send someone by your office to pick it up,” Durk volunteered. “What about Meghan’s car? Do you have any idea what happened to it?”

“No, only that it’s not in the condo parking garage.But we checked your registration, Meghan. We’ve put out a description of the car and the license plate number. Every law enforcement officer in the state is on the lookout for it.”

“What kind of vehicle do I own?”

“A silver Mercedes, this year’s model. Hopefully, we’ll find it with our perp behind the wheel.”

“I hope the same.”

Smart stressed again that she should call if she remembered anything at all that might help ID the suspect.

When the call ended, Meghan dropped to a modern chair that she’d obviously chosen for style over comfort. She massaged her neck and tried to break the tension that was tightening her muscles.

“You’re running out of steam,” Durk said. “Go throw together a few items of clothing and let’s get out of here. Next stop, the Bent Pine Ranch and a long nap for you.”

The Bent Pine Ranch and a man she was growing more attached to by the second. A gorgeous, rugged, hunk of a cowboy CEO who had once been her lover. She dared not think of what would happen when those memories returned.

* * *

M
EGHAN WAS RELIEVED
to find that the bedroom held no new discouraging surprises. The beautiful Tiffany lamps that bracketed the king-size bed were intact. A few of the drawers in an antique chest were ajar, but no clothes were scattered about the floor.

The sleigh bed with its snowy-white coverlet and multitude of pillows looked so tempting, it was all she could do not to crawl into it and sink into the luxury.

Meghan walked to the closet and started to open the door. A shiver of dread stopped her. Suppose she opened the door to yet another nightmare? Like a body. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Goose bumps broke out on her arms.

This was ridiculous. She couldn’t play into this kind of crippling fear. She would not be intimidated by her own home.

She yanked the door open and stared into a roomy walk-in closet. Nothing but rows of clothes, all neatly coordinated.

And there were shoes—dozens of pairs in every color and style displayed on a revolving floor-to-ceiling built-in rack. She kicked out of the horrid slippers in anticipation. Her feet sank into the thick carpet as she picked up a pair of strappy black heels. This was more like it.