Point of Attraction (25 page)

The
food
word did a flip-flop in her
tummy, and Georgie made a quick dash to the bathroom. The little
there was left in her stomach to heave, was torture to get out.
When the last of the torment was done, she took slow easy steps
down the hallway to the kitchen, fearing her head would drop off.
Or maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. On the counter sat a glass of
orange juice and a glass of water. She took them as told. There was
no arguing this morning.

Though she tried to ignore
the food, it would not spare her. The bacon wasn’t sizzling, it was
hissing, and the eggs were just not friendly. Instead of
looking back at you
,
they were glaring at her.

“Go take your shower. You look like
hell.”

“If I were alive, I would put you in
your place,” she said, and started for the hallway. “I would feel
better if you hadn’t kept me awake last night. Who were you talking
to?”

“Me? I slept like a log, thank you very
much. Don’t go putting me in your erotic dreams. Take your shower
and wake up.”

God, how she wanted to banter, but she
was certain it would hurt her head and kill some brain cells. She
just didn’t have that many left to lose, and she made her way to
the shower... showers always made things better.

By the time her hair was dry, Georgie
did feel almost alive and hunger was taking hold. She would have to
keep Nick’s hangover remedy on file. A sweatshirt and matching
sweatpants was all she could manage. Daisy greeted her when she
emerged from her bedroom while Max waited at the end of the hall to
the kitchen.

The phone rang, a little too loudly,
she thought, and Nick quickly picked up.

“She’s awake,” Nick was saying as she
entered, and looked over at her. “Oh, yeah, very big head, but
she’ll make it.” He held out the phone. “It’s Mason. He’s on his
way here. Both Paula and Steven already called.”

Before she could say
anything, Nick raised both hands, the phone still in one, and
popped out his explanation. “Lying wasn’t going to work here,
Georgie Girl. So I told the kids only what we know for sure. Until
CST confirms our suspicions, the kids don’t need to have that
worry.
And
, they
don’t have to
come by
to check on you. Okay? So, did I do good or what?”

“Tell him he did good,” she heard Mason
say.

Georgie looked at the phone still in
Nick’s hand, snatched it, held it face up between them, and said,
“Yes, you did good. Now, did you both hear that?” When they both
answered, she sat down at the table. “How soon will you be here?”
she asked Mason. “Nick can add more bacon and eggs to
breakfast.”

“I’m just up the road.”

“Good. See you in a bit.”

Georgie heard the little blip at the
other end, but she hesitated pushing the END button on her phone.
Odd, she thought. Wednesday evening, Mason was BADGE 747, a
classmate, a handsome face, but just someone she knew. Now, Sunday
morning, she hated even the thought of hanging up the phone while
he was at the other end, could still feel the touch of his hand...
his lips. A little flip to her stomach almost made her laugh, and
it wasn’t last night’s tequila.

“And you’re smiling, why?”

Georgie cleared her thoughts and put
the phone back on its base.

“Ah, jessuz, you’re
blushing,” Nick laughed, catching her chin between his fingers,
from which she pulled free. “Okay, back to my cooking. Why don’t
you have
real
bacon instead of this turkey stuff? At least the eggs are
real.”

“What did the kids have to say?” she
asked, ignoring his remark.

“Since yours truly is still here,
they’re resting easy with this. So long as they don’t find out what
CST suspects, it’ll be fine. Cause Paula was already dressed and
ready to come over.”

“Oh, no.”

“Calm down,” he said, waving the
spatula like a maestro at an orchestra. “Ryan is backing us on this
and made her see she should keep herself ready for when you really
need her. He was a good catch for Paula.”

“I beg your pardon. My Paula was a good
catch for him.” She pointed a finger at him. “Top of her class in
law. Let me tell you...”

“Not disputing that. Not disputing
that,” he agreed and set his sight on the task at hand. “They make
a good match.”

Georgie studied his features, that
intense stare of his set on the noisy bacon in the pan. “You didn’t
have Ryan checked out, did you? No! Never mind. I don’t want to
know.”

“I think you over estimate my...” Again
the spatula baton waved. “My, my... powers.”

“Hmmm.” Georgie took a deep breath, a
thousand thoughts drifted through her mind. She sipped her coffee
slowly, let its flavor wake up her taste buds, and remembered the
months on end Nick disappeared, then popped up out of nowhere.
There were so many scenarios there. “I wonder.”

“Put your writer’s mind away,” he said,
openly shuddering. “And stop staring at me. Gives me the
creeps.”

“How come you never say where you’ve
been?”

“I always tell you where I’ve been,” he
said, eyes set on the food going from the pan to a plate then into
the oven to keep warm. “I’m known worldwide for my tales of where
I’ve been. One day, I might even write a book of places I’ve
been.”

“Uh huh, yet I could not
name one actual place you’ve been, let alone show a
post card,
that you’ve
never sent, by the way.”

“Bad Pennies don’t write. They just
show up.”

“Why has no woman latched on to you?”
she asked, giving him a long speculative glance, her mouth pressing
then pursing in appreciation. “You’re not that bad
looking...”

“Now there’s a compliment to be
cherished.”

Georgie laughed, sipped her coffee, but
when her sight moved to the kitchen window, the shadow of last
night crept over her, and she yanked her thoughts back to now. “You
make good coffee,” she said, trying to bring back the mirth of
their morning. “I mean... good coffee, cooking breakfast. Women
like that.”

“They could never put up with you and
Cassie.”

“You’ve never brought one
around.”

“And if I did?”

Georgie rubbed her hands
together and clasped them with joy at the prospect. “Then it would
be Cassie’s and my turn to
check
her
out.”

“Hence... no girl.”

“But seriously, where...”

He jerked his head in the direction of
the front yard. “That would be Mason’s car coming.”

“I didn’t hear a car,” she said,
leaning, trying to glance out the slender window. All she saw was
the shrubbery.

“Trust me,” he said.

Georgie finally heard the tires
grinding the gravel as they came up the drive, and Mason’s car came
to a stop, but her body wouldn’t move, anticipation battling
logic.

“Don’t just sit there,” Nick said.
“I’ll have the plates on the table by the time you two stop cooing
and come back in.”

“Yes,
Daddy
.”

“Your father spoiled you. You won’t get
that from me. Go on.”

Georgie rose to the limit the tips of
her toes would allow and gave Nick a kiss on his cheek. “Ahh, a
reprieve from direct answers. One day, Nicholas Underwood,” she
waved a finger as she went through the door, “one day, you will
answer for me all those questions.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

His words followed her out the door
into the garage.

Chapter twenty-one

Mason was already opening the 4Runner
door and setting down a leg to get out of his car. Georgie smiled,
eager to see the rest of him, to have his arms around her. He
didn’t disappoint her.

“What are you doing out here without a
coat?” he asked.

The protective circle of his arm was
becoming a place Georgie liked occupying, the scent of his leather
jacket a cologne she could get used to, day in day out. She looked
to the ground, not wanting him to see what an easy mark she had
allowed herself to become.

“Did you hear from Roberts?” she
asked.

He wove long fingers through her hair
in a caress, and guided her toward the house. “I’m afraid so. But
Nick needs to hear this too.”

“Is it that bad?” she asked, wondering
just how much more twisted this could get.

“Still speculation, but Roberts isn’t
buying the suicide at all, not with what they found in the
house.”

The gravel crunched beneath
their feet while the breeze whipped up. A distant low rumble made
them turn. Neither said it, but Georgie knew they both felt the
impending storm; a
twister
of a storm. Georgie refused to close her
eyes.

“Let’s go inside,” Mason said, urging
her on and into the house.

~0~

Nick placed the turkey bacon and eggs
on the plates. “So someone was in Jeffrey’s house?” he asked, while
giving them toast.

Georgie looked at the breakfast that no
longer interested her. Mason also showed disinterest in his
offering, but nodded in answer. Nick dove right into his
food.

“Listen you two,” he said with a
pointing fork. “Starving isn’t helpful here, and I spent a lot of
time cooking and keeping this warm. So eat up.” After he swallowed
and drank from his coffee, he looked to Mason. “So what did they
find, and what did Roberts say?”

“They found cigarette butts,
ammo.”

Georgie froze, fork half
way to her mouth. She swallowed hard, her mouth empty and dry. It
wasn’t until her fork clinked on the plate that she realized she
had set it down, the food still speared on its prongs. Cigarette
butts and ammo? How could she have been that wrong about Jeffrey?
Those of her customers who stopped smoking and restarted, her nose
quickly told on them. Yet, Jeffrey’s Durango was clean of any
odors; not just
car-wash
or
detailed
clean, but truly free of any tobacco odors. She
spent two evenings inside it. Though the time had been brief,
surely she would have detected signs, left over traces, something.
And ammo?

“And?” Nick asked, cutting into her
mental speculating.

At that one word, Georgie also looked
to Mason. His face was drawn, his gray eyes dark, lacking any hint
of his normal good nature. “Problem is, there were no ash
trays.”

“What?” Georgie said.

“Remember the garage?” Mason
asked.

Sterile clean, Georgie thought, not a
tool out of place, not even an oil spot.

“Ashes were found in saucers, not ash
trays. There were even ashes on the floor, but no cigarette butts.
The ammo was found not in its box but scattered in a kitchen
drawer.”

“No,” Georgie said. She could not
listen to this. “Jeffrey would never ever...”

“We know,” Mason said.

“That’s the point here, Georgie Girl,”
Nick added, and leaned back in his chair. “This simple stalking has
definitely taken its ugly turn.”

“Uglier than you think,” Mason
said.

Mason reached over and took her hand.
Georgie nearly pulled away before contact. She had the ridiculous
notion... if he didn’t touch her, what he was about to say wouldn’t
be said, but he merely cupped his hand gently on hers, no grip, his
fingertip giving her knuckle a tapping slide.

“George, have you any idea what Jeffrey
might have been into?” he asked.

“I don’t understand.”

Mason looked into her eyes, then at
Nick, then back at her, then down at her hands. He thought a moment
and swallowed before lifting his sight to her and saying, “Roberts
was in the perimeters of the CST investigation last night, keeping
the neighbors away.” He took a deep breath, his brows twitching
before the right one arched high. “Two unmarked, black, Suburbans;
official plates, arrived. Four men from each car got out and
flashed some IDs. Roberts went in and got Bentley, head of the CST
Team. Bentley made a phone call. At the end of the call, Bentley
pulled his men out while the eight arrivals went in. An hour later,
they came out. Had a few plastic bags with them. Declared the scene
was not compromised, gave Bentley a list of items taken, and
left.”

“Oh, my God,” Georgie heard herself
say, but there seemed no connection between the sound and her
lips.

“Roberts said he recognized their
government seal, but it was neither Portland Police, FBI or CIA.
Bentley’s toes were clearly squashed. Roberts said Bentley was on
the phone, but each call cut him off at the knees. Roberts said
Bentley was fuming by the end of the last call.”