Tempting the Devil (43 page)

They stayed two more hours, at one point going into the ocean. She held out her hand to him and tempted him into the water. “We're tourists, remember,” she said. “Beach lovers.”

She was right. They did need to act like vacationers. He swam out beyond the breakers and she followed. She was a strong swimmer and he'd learned to swim in the army. They treaded water, moving with the swells, as they kept an eye on the cottage. Still no movement. If anyone was inside, they were hunkered down.

He touched her, relishing the feel of her wet and salty skin. Then a wave hit them and swept them under. She came up laughing, looking like a beautiful sea sprite. Tenderness hit him like a sledgehammer. It had been a long time since he'd felt that emotion that strongly. He'd forgotten how painful it was.

“Time to go,” he said.

Her grin disappeared, and she followed him out of the water. He used one of the towels to dry himself off. He didn't offer to wipe her off. Proximity had a disastrous effect on him. He needed all his attention on the case at hand.

When they were through, he took her hand again and instead of returning along the beach, he ignored a Private Property sign and led her straight through the property. To the road. They passed trash cans hidden from the road by a decorative fence.

He stopped at one, put on his shoes. She followed suit. Then he lifted the top off the can and peered inside as she glanced around. One small bag. How often did they pick up the garbage? Once a week? Twice? This was Friday.

Probably just trash from a routine cleaning.

Nonetheless, he reached inside and took it.

They walked out on the road. Civic-minded citizens carrying their own garbage from the beach.

They looked through the contents in the car. Rags. Shredded papers, probably from a wastebasket. A crumpled paper bag from a fast-food restaurant. Then an empty envelope from a property management firm.

“Bingo,” he said.

But Robin was disappointed. She had hoped for more.

Her skin was hot from the sun, despite the lotion, and her body still hummed from last night and his touches today. She might have a taste of sunburn but she didn't care. Despite the pressure to find something, she'd never enjoyed herself as much as she had today.

Watching him relax for the first time, really relax, had made her heart thud harder. She wanted him to grin far more often, to laugh, to enjoy watching a flower grow.

But she'd been caught up in the chase again when he found the garbage, and she hoped for some dramatic television moment. Something far more substantial than the name of a management company.

Still … it was a beginning.

She flipped on her cell phone. She'd had it off for the last day, not wanting anyone to be able to trace it. But she had been gone three days now, and she needed to know whether there were any emergencies.

She checked the voice mail system. There were several messages. A list of them, in fact, since yesterday. Two were from the U.S. attorney, one from her paper's attorney, and two from her editor. She wasn't going to answer any of them. She didn't want to explain anything. Not yet. Then there was a text message from her editor. “Urgent. Someone says they have information about the murders. Will talk only to you. Needs answer this afternoon.”

It was after noon. Just shortly, but after.

She relayed the message to Ben.

His lips thinned. “Could be a trap.”

“I know. But I can't pass on it, either.”

“I don't want you calling from here. Not yet. We can't be sure Ames can't get telephone records for the newspaper. It's not that difficult now to get warrants these days under the RICO statutes. I don't want anyone to know we've been here until we're gone.”

“There are hundreds of calls going in and out of the office,” she said.

“And your editor has one extension.”

“I have to call,” she said stubbornly.

He offered a compromise. “We'll stop at the management company first. Then I'll drive up into Georgia. A few miles away but hopefully if anyone's tracing the call, they'll think we're still lingering around Brunswick.”

They changed clothes in the restroom of a fast-food restaurant. She changed back into slacks and a shirt, he to jeans and flowered shirt he bought at the beach shop.

Then they found the management company. The firm was located in a real estate office. They were met at the door by an associate. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I hope so. Looking to buy a beach house. Ruthie and I just came into an inheritance. We always wanted a beach house and, well, now we can afford it.”

The woman stuck her hand out. “We can certainly help you. I'm Carolyn Sawyer.”

Ben introduced them as Bob and Ruthie Diddley from Atlanta, formerly from Texas. “Just call me Bo,” he said. “Everyone does. Hell of a name, but what can you do.”

Robin tried to look like someone named Ruthie Diddley.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“Ruthie here found just the house she wanted.”

A gleam came into the associate's eyes. “Come into my office.”

It was more a cubicle than office. The woman sat down at her terminal. “What's the address?”

Ben gave it to her, and she sat down at a terminal and entered it. “I'm sorry,” she said. “We manage the property, but it's not for sale. We have other great houses right on the beach.”

“Everything is for sale,” Ben said. “For Ruthie here, I'll pay just about anything. Maybe you can get in touch with the owner and make an offer.”

He saw her write down a name on a pad. “Let me ask the property manager who handles it. If you'll just wait …”

“Maybe Ruthie can look at other properties while you do that.”

“Sure,” the woman said. She pressed a couple of buttons, then slid from the seat. “I'll be right back.”

Robin quickly took the associate's seat, waited until she left the office, then pressed the back arrow. Nothing. The woman had closed that window. She typed in the address of the house, as Ben went to the door.

It came up on the screen, along with a corporation name and contact name. She pressed a key for billing information.
Access denied
. Apparently the woman's password would get her to the address but wouldn't go further.

“Darlin', you just might have to decide on something else,” Ben said in a loud voice. She pressed the escape button, then pressed Listings on the menu.

The woman returned. “The person handling the property is out right now, but I'll pass on your offer. Or have you found something else you like? There's some outstanding values.”

“Ruthie has set her heart on
that
house.”

“I would be happy to show you others.”

Robin managed to bring a tear to her eye. “I dreamt of a house just like that. Maybe you can convince whoever owns it. Like it doesn't seem anyone
really
lives there. Maybe,” she added hopefully, “you know him.”

“I don't,” she said. “I asked several other people. They don't, either.”

“Well, thank you, ma'am,” Ben said. “We'll keep in touch.”

“If I can have your number and address …”

“We'll be moving right fast,” Ben said. “And I don't believe in cell phones. Takes away your peace of mind, always screaming at you. Don't you think?” He paused, then added, “We'll check back with you, though. My Ruthie is as stubborn as they come. If she wants that house, no other will do.”

Then he was ushering her out of the office before the woman could stop them.

Once in the hot car, she turned to him. “Bo Diddley?”

“Better than John Smith,” he said. “No one would make up a name like that. Shouldn't alert anyone.”

“And Ruthie?”

He grinned. “I always liked that name.”

The grin went straight to her heart. In the two weeks she'd known him, he'd never grinned. A slight, pained smile, maybe. But a sense of humor?

Never would have guessed it.

The smile left his face. “Did you get a name?”

“I did.” She told him.

And watched his face change.

chapter thirty-one

“Say that again?” Ben asked.

“James Edward Kelley. You know it?”

Yes, he knew it. Everything was beginning to fit.

“James Edward Kelley,” he said, repeating her words. “He's president of a company called Exotic Imports. He's also one of the developers of a ‘fly-in' community in Meredith County.” He paused, then added, “He's involved in other developments throughout Atlanta. A mover-and-shaker type. Active in politics.”

“I've heard of him,” she said, “but I've never met him.”

“We're beginning an investigation of his companies in a money-laundering case. There were hints he might have connections with Hydra. I was just assigned to that case when the murders happened. You sidetracked me.”

“Why would he use his own house for something that could be traced back to him?”

Ben shook his head. “That doesn't make sense unless it's his private home and for some reason let it be used one or two times.”

“Would it help to find a connection between him and our fishing boat captain?”

“It would be a trail, but only that. All we know is that someone has been providing free trips for county deputies. On the face of it, nothing too sinister.”

“Except one of those deputies thinks it is,” Robin said. She looked at him curiously. “Why didn't you tell the Realtor you were FBI?”

“And alert them? Give the bad guys time to clean up the books? There's a good chance that the realty company will take us at our word. Two new obnoxious millionaires with more money than sense.” He paused, then said, “Robin, it's time to tell me who your source is.”

She wanted to. She wanted to yell out the name. She wanted to tell him every word Sandy had said. But Jack Ross's experience had burned a hole in him, a hole that destroyed his career. It wasn't her secret to give. “I can't. You'd have to tell a judge if asked. Your boss. I just can't do it.”

“You've been nearly killed twice—and Mrs. Jeffers almost died, too. I think you've respected your promise long enough. And I won't reveal it unless you agree. Now I feel like I'm fighting with one hand tied behind me.”

She was silent.

His face turned grim as he started the car. “Time to get out of here,” he said.

The companionship between them was broken. She sat in stiff silence as he drove off the island. He'd trusted her with what he knew. She hadn't done the same.

Why couldn't he understand that it wasn't her secret to share?

They stopped on the other side of the Georgia line, and Robin used the pay phone to call Wade Carlton, her boss.

As soon as she said “Wade,” he demanded, “Where are you? Everyone's going crazy looking for you, including me.”

“I needed to get away. You said I could.”

“I didn't tell you to stay out of contact,” he said. “The U.S. attorney has called Mason a dozen times, and myself a few more, demanding to know where you are and threatening to throw all of us in jail for obstruction of justice.”

“That's interesting.”

“It's more than interesting. It's weird. Even Mason thinks so.” He slowed down long enough to ask, “Now where are you?”

“On my way back. Any progress on the story?”

“No. Bob still hasn't been able to break through the maze of corporations. The sheriff's department says they have leads but none they can make public.”

“I got your text message. Someone's trying to find me?”

“I don't know whether it's genuine or not. Maybe a trap. I do know I don't want you to go anywhere on your own.”

“Someone's with me now,” she said, “The FBI agent you met. Ben Taylor.”

Silence on the other end. Then, “How did
that
happen?”

“He found me. I thought I might have discovered a lead in Brunswick. Ben Taylor tracked me down and saved me from some thugs.”

“You told me you were going on vacation.”

“I lied.”

He chuckled over the phone. “I should fire you.”

“It's a big story, Wade. Bigger than any of us thought.”

“And more dangerous. I don't want you to do anything else on your—”

“What did the caller say?” she interrupted.

“Just that he had information, would only talk to you and wanted to know how to reach you. I knew he couldn't do it via your cell phone because you've turned the damn thing off.” He paused again. “I think you should send him to Joseph Ames. He's certainly going after the case.”

“No!”

“Why not? It's time for you and this paper to stop being the story and report it. I'm sure Ames will give us an exclusive.”

“Whatever you do, don't go to him. Don't talk to him.” She felt her voice rising.

A pause on the other end. “Are you implying what I think you are?”

“Yes.” She had to get him off the idea.

“My God. Is that the big story?”

“I don't know yet. But we can't take the chance.”

“Get back here, Robin.” Wade's voice was flat.

“I'm on my way. Should be back late today. If that guy calls again, give him this number. It's a disposable cell phone. I've not been using it much because I didn't want it to be picked up by the bad guys.” She read off the number of her throwaway phone.

“Can I reach you there, too?” he said ironically. “You worried the hell out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I really am. I just didn't want to leave a trail.”

Wade sputtered for a moment, then said, “I'll do it. But I swear if you try to meet with this guy alone, I'll fire you. I don't care how good the story is.”

“It's nice to know you care.”