Colorado Bodyguard (4 page)

“We ran into each other in the bar after the dinner,” Prentice continued. “She'd clearly had a little too much to drink and I was concerned, so I offered to take her for coffee. We ended up talking for quite a while. She confided her troubles to me—the end of her marriage, her recent diagnosis of mental illness and her worries over her job.”

He definitely knew a lot about Lauren, though he could have gleaned all that from newspaper accounts of her disappearance. “Did you stay in touch?” Sophie asked. “Have you talked to her since that night?”

“A few times. Just casual phone calls.” He leaned forward, one hand on Sophie's knee. “I hope it doesn't distress you to know this, but your sister was a very troubled woman. She tried to keep a positive face on things around the people she loved, but she was able to let her guard down more with me. I urged her to seek professional help, but she resisted the idea.”

Sophie shifted slightly and gave Rand a warning look, perhaps sensing that he'd been ready to take Prentice's hand off at the wrist. “Lauren did struggle with depression, especially in the months immediately following her separation and divorce,” she said, the words carefully measured. “But recently she was on medication to control her mood swings and was doing very well.”

“Perhaps she wanted you to think that.”

“When was the last time you spoke with her?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed and he might have frowned, but his forehead remained perfectly smooth—the result of BOTOX, or merely remarkable self-control? “We spoke briefly on the telephone perhaps a month ago. She called to ask if I knew of any job openings in television. She was convinced she was about to lose her position. She sounded desperate. I wanted to help her, and told her I would ask around. She promised to call me back, but I never heard from her again.”

Rand had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on the fact that Prentice had failed to tell the Rangers any of this. In fact, he'd denied knowing Lauren Starling at all.

Sophie knotted her hands in her lap. “The last time I talked to her, she said she was working on a new story—something big that would show the station how valuable she was to them. She sounded very excited.”

“She never mentioned anything like that to me. What was this story about?”

“She didn't say. I was hoping you'd know.”

“I'm afraid I can't help you. I'm sorry.” He stood, signaling the meeting was at an end. “I don't mean to rush you, but I have other business I must attend to.”

“Of course.” Sophie rose also. “I won't keep you. But do you have a powder room I can use? I just need to, um, freshen up.”

This was part of their plan, too—to get her into another part of the house to look around while Rand kept an eye on Prentice.

“Certainly. Back into the hallway, and it's the first door on your left.”

She crossed the room quickly, leaving them alone. Prentice turned to Rand, his expression hard. “I hope I've satisfied you that I have no designs on Ms. Montgomery's person.”

Did this guy rehearse his stilted dialogue in the mirror? Or did everything he knew about acting come from old black-and-white movies? “Sophie is worried about her sister,” Rand said, doing quite the acting job of his own, playing the role of mild-mannered innocent boyfriend. “And your wealth and power intimidate her.” Maybe flattery would make him lower his guard a little. “You can understand her wanting a little moral support.”

“Since you're such good friends with her, perhaps you can persuade her to give up this fruitless search and accept that her sister has most likely succumbed to depression and taken her own life,” Prentice said. “That's what the authorities believe, isn't it?”

“That's what they've told her.” What he had told her, though her staunch refusal to accept such a verdict—and Prentice's insistence that she do so—was adding to his doubts. “But she says she won't stop until she's tracked down her sister. That's why she's here, tracing Lauren's last known whereabouts.”

Something flashed in Prentice's eyes—alarm? But too quickly the expression was gone. “Lauren did not come to the Black Canyon to see me,” he said.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” Sophie rejoined them. Her voice was bright, but she was paler than before, and when Rand took her arm to escort her out of the house, he felt her trembling.

Outside, she handed him the keys and walked around to the rental car's passenger side. She waited until they were in the car, driving away, before she spoke. “He's lying,” she said. “Lauren has been in that house, and recently. Today even.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I smelled her perfume. It's a very distinct scent—Mitsouko. Not very many women wear it.”

“Maybe he has a girlfriend who does.”

“It would be a big coincidence.”

“Coincidences happen.” Though less than some people liked to believe.

“Lauren was there. I can feel it.” Her voice broke and she turned to him, her face a mask of anguish. “We've got to find her and we've got to help her, before it's too late.”

Chapter Four

“Tell me everything, exactly as it happened.”

Graham spoke softly, his expression neutral and nonthreatening, but Rand thought Sophie looked ready to bolt. They were back at Ranger headquarters, in the conference room with Graham, Carmen and Simon. The rest of the team—border patrol agent Michael Dance and Montrose County sheriff's deputy Lance Carpenter—had joined them. In her blue dress, Sophie looked like a bright bird in a sea of brown uniforms, but he couldn't tell if her obvious agitation was from fear or excitement.

“I already told you,” she said. “Prentice said a lot of nonsense about how upset Lauren had been. Then I excused myself to go to the bathroom and I smelled her perfume. She's been in that house recently. Maybe she was even there while I was there.” Her lower lip trembled and she fought to control her emotions. “We're wasting time sitting here. We need to go get her.”

“Richard Prentice said he'd talked to Lauren on the phone a month ago?” Graham asked.

“He said ‘about a month ago,'” Rand confirmed.

“That's the first time he's admitted even knowing her,” Michael said.

“He said they met at a charity function for Guatemalan orphans,” Sophie said. “He gave me the impression they were good friends.”

“Yet she'd never mentioned him to you?” Simon asked. “Who's going to resist dropping the name of a famous billionaire if he's their buddy?”

“Lauren wasn't like that,” Sophie said. “She wasn't a snob. She didn't care how much money you had or how powerful you were. She was as likely to have morning coffee with a panhandler she met on the street as with the bank president.”

“But are you sure you'd never heard her say anything about Richard Prentice before?” Graham asked.

“I'd never heard of him before I found his business card in her apartment.” She gripped the sides of the chair, knuckles white, as if ready to leap up. “What does it matter if she knew him or how? Lauren was in his house. I'm sure of it.”

“He said she was very depressed about her divorce, and afraid of losing her job,” Rand said.

“Of course he said that,” Sophie said. “He wants us to believe she committed suicide.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she ducked her head. Rand offered her his handkerchief, wishing he had something more to give her—some proof that her sister was all right. She shook her head, refusing the handkerchief.

“I don't think he was telling the truth, either,” Rand said, turning to the others. “He was too glib, as if he'd rehearsed what he would say. And he was volunteering too much. Usually, Prentice plays it closer to the vest.”

“When we talk to him, he knows he's talking to a police officer,” Carmen said. “He thought you were the jealous boyfriend or whatever.”

“Are you sure about the perfume?” Simon asked. “Couldn't it have been air freshener or something?”

“Lauren has worn Mitsouko for years,” Sophie said. “It's a very distinctive scent, not like air freshener.”

Carmen leaned toward her, her voice gentle. “Sometimes, when we want something very badly, the senses play tricks on us,” she said.

Sophie stiffened. “Are you suggesting I hallucinated it?” she asked. “I didn't.”

Everyone turned to Rand. He gave Sophie an apologetic look. “I don't have a very good sense of smell,” he said. “I leave that to Lotte.”

“Then your dog would have recognized this,” Sophie said. “Anyone would have.”

“Where were you when you smelled the perfume?” Graham asked.

“I was in the guest bathroom, downstairs, just down the hall from the library where Richard Prentice met us.”

He nodded. “Did you say anything to Prentice about this?”

“No. I'm not stupid.”

“I'm not questioning your intelligence, Ms. Montgomery,” Graham said. “I only want to be sure of every detail.”

“Why are we wasting all this time?” She shoved back from the table and stood. “All this talking isn't going to help Lauren.” She fled from the room, heels striking the tile floor in a rapid cadence, the door slamming behind her.

Carmen started to go after her, but Graham held her back. “Let Rand talk to her,” he said. “She's spent more time with him. Meanwhile, we need to discuss what we're going to do with the information she's given us.”

Rand hurried after Sophie, hoping to catch her before she drove away. But apparently she hadn't intended to leave. He found her in the gazebo between the Rangers' trailer and park headquarters. She stood with her back against one of the posts that supported the structure, staring out across the canyon. He climbed the steps into the shelter and stood a few feet away, saying nothing, letting the silence seep into him, soothing as the warm sun. No RVs rumbled by on the road out front, no tourists talked excitedly as they gathered around the Ranger station. He and Sophie might have been the only people around.

“I still can't picture my sister here,” she said after a moment. “It's so empty and desolate.”

“Some people find the solitude peaceful,” he said. When he was in the city he felt too crowded, unable to hear his own thoughts for the clamor.

“I think it's intimidating.” She turned toward him, arms hugged across her chest. “It's so vast, it reminds me of how insignificant we are. How alone.”

“You're not alone.” He took a step toward her. “We want to help you. I want to help you.”

She nodded. “I know I need your help. And that means working on your timetable, not mine. But it's hard. I've been looking after Lauren by myself for so long—I can't flip a switch and stop feeling responsible.”

She spoke about her sister as if she was still a child. “When you say looking after her—do you mean because of her illness?”

“Yes. I know people look at her and see a grown woman with a successful career and everything going for her—but that was just on the surface. Underneath that shell, Lauren was always fragile. She'd be fine for months, even years, and then something would happen to unbalance her. She needed me there to help her through—to be her advocate when she wasn't able to care for herself, to get her the help she needed and just...just to believe in her, when other people didn't. A mental illness isn't like any other chronic condition. If you have diabetes or cancer, people are understanding. They want to help. When it's your mind that has something wrong, most people judge you harshly—as if you'd get better if you'd only try harder.”

“In law enforcement, we only see the bad outcomes of mental illness,” Rand said. “We get a lot of training that's supposed to help us understand, but I don't know if that's really possible if you haven't experienced it yourself.”

“It's been better since she found this new doctor and has been getting the help she needs, but for so long, I've had to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Maybe it's time you let someone else be strong.” He moved closer, almost—but not quite—touching her. He wanted to put his arms around her and pull her close, to tell her he would protect her, but he wasn't sure how she'd react to that. Maybe she didn't feel the attraction between them that he did. Maybe she was too distraught over her sister to feel anything else.

She looked up into his eyes, and the force of her gaze hit him like a knockout punch. “I believe you want to help,” she said. “And I appreciate it. I do. But I'm not used to relying on anyone else.”

“You can rely on me.” He did put his arms around her then, and she didn't resist, some of the tension easing from her body as he held her. He let his gaze shift to her lips—soft and pink and slightly parted. Lips he wanted very much to kiss...

A flash of red out of the corner of his eye startled him. Sophie took a step back, out of his arms, as a red convertible turned into the parking lot, a woman in dark aviators behind the wheel. Rand regained his composure and nodded toward the new arrival. “That's Emma Wade,” he said. “Let's go talk to her.”

The captain's fiancée was a tall, curvy redhead who favored formfitting dresses and four-inch heels. She waved to them, then entered Ranger headquarters. Sophie and Rand followed. Inside the trailer, everyone had gathered around Emma, who stood very close to Graham. The captain's normally stern demeanor softened considerably whenever he was around his fiancée, his expression closer to besotted schoolboy than grim commander.

“You must be Sophie.” Emma greeted them, both hands extended. “I'm Emma Wade. I've been looking forward to meeting you.”

“I'm sorry I didn't return your phone call when you contacted me last month,” Sophie said. “I was so upset over Lauren's disappearance, and then I lost your number.”

“It's all right. Why don't we sit down and talk?” Emma led the way back into the conference room. The others followed.

“Emma wrote a profile of Richard Prentice for the
Denver Post
,” Graham said. “She spent a couple of weeks at his house and followed him at his various businesses. She knows as much about him as anyone.”

“Which isn't that much.” She made a face. “Prentice is very skilled at letting people see only what he wants them to see.”

“Did he ever mention Lauren to you?” Sophie asked.

Emma shook her head. “No. I know they attended some of the same social functions, but he never said anything about her to me.”

“Ms. Montgomery visited Prentice this morning, at his invitation,” Graham said. “While she was there, she thought she smelled her sister's perfume. In the downstairs guest bathroom.”

Emma's eyes widened and she leaned toward Sophie. “Did your sister own a set of cosmetic bags in a pink-and-gold paisley pattern—three bags, all matching?”

Sophie looked confused. “I don't know. I don't remember ever seeing anything like that, but...”

“These looked new,” Emma said. “They were full of cosmetics and hair accessories—mousse, hair gel, a smoothing iron.”

“I don't understand,” Sophie said. “Where did you see these? Why do you think they belong to Lauren?”

“I thought they belonged to a Venezuelan fashion model, but now I wonder.” At Sophie's confused look, Emma patted her arm. “I'm sorry. Let me back up and explain. The last time I visited Richard Prentice's house, about two weeks ago, I went into the downstairs guest bathroom. As you know, it's quite a room—steam shower, double vanities, the works. Being a reporter, I'm naturally nosy, so I looked in all the cabinets. Nothing that interesting, until I came to a cabinet that was locked. I couldn't imagine why he'd feel the need to have a locked cabinet like that, so I picked the lock. Inside were those cosmetic bags. I thought they might belong to a woman he was seeing at the time—the Venezuelan model—but it still seemed odd to keep them locked away. So I took a photograph.”

“They might have been Lauren's.” Sophie's expression grew more animated. “Can I see the picture? Maybe I'd recognize something.”

Emma sat back and sighed. “Unfortunately, I lost my phone and I don't have the picture anymore.”

“She ‘lost' the phone because someone kidnapped her and threw her down a mine shaft.” Graham rested his hand on his fiancée's shoulder, his expression grim. “We can't prove Richard Prentice had anything to do with the abduction, but since it happened on his property, we suspect he was involved.”

“Maybe that's what happened to Lauren,” Sophie said. “Maybe he kidnapped her and kept her cosmetics as some kind of sick souvenir.”

“We don't know,” Graham said. “But we intend to find out.”

“Why can't you arrest him now?” Sophie asked. “Aren't the perfume and the cosmetics enough to tie him to Lauren?”

“They're not,” Graham said. “We need more solid evidence. Right now we have nothing to place Lauren at his house. The cosmetics might not be hers.”

“I'm pretty sure Prentice knows I saw them,” Emma said. “So they're probably not even there now.”

“And you only have my word that I smelled the perfume.” Sophie sagged in her chair. “What are we going to do now?”

“We'll start with trying to find the man Lauren met at the Country Inn,” Graham said. “We'll take a look at the surveillance video from the motel. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something. We'll ask the clerk to review some photographs, see if she recognizes the man. And we'll need your sister's cell phone number, and the name of her provider, if you know it.”

“Of course,” Sophie said. “How will that help?”

“We can review her call records in the days before she disappeared. Maybe we'll find a pattern, or someone who knows something about her disappearance.”

“What can I do to help?” Sophie asked.

“That's the tough part,” Rand said. “You'll need to be patient while we work all the angles. Things seldom happen as quickly as we'd like.”

“If you think of anything else that might be significant, call us anytime,” Graham said.

She nodded. “I'll do that. And thank you.”

“Give Rand a number where we can reach you.” Graham turned away.

“I'll be in touch,” Emma said. “We can have lunch.” She squeezed Sophie's arm, then followed Graham into his office.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Rand took her arm.

She hesitated, as if she wanted to stay, but the last thing they needed was her hanging around. Not that he wouldn't appreciate her company, but he didn't need the distraction. Finally, he was able to coax her toward the door. “Where are you staying?” he asked when they reached the parking lot.

“The Ramada. You'll let me know as soon as you find anything?”

“Why don't I stop by tonight and give you an update?” he said. “I might not have much to tell you, but at least you won't have to spend the night wondering what's going on.”