Thieves Like Us (25 page)

F
ive hours later Janet was pleasantly sore, exhausted, and more pleased with her life than at any time in the past eighteen months. Rocky was a passionate and experienced lover, better than she could have imagined, even if he did have a few misguided ideas about her. Like his notion that marrying a psychopathic liar said nothing about her ability to choose men. He obviously gave her too much credit. But since that seemed to be his only major flaw, she was willing to overlook it.

Rocky dropped her off at the Westfield mansion with still-damp tresses after a hasty shower at Ellie’s house. She’d done a half-assed job drying it, what with putting the freshly laundered sheets back on the bed and still being a bit foggy after he’d blown her mind. As they stood at the front door, he reached up to rearrange a few tendrils near her face, like a fussy hair dresser making final adjustments.

She raised a self-conscious hand to her hair. “Does it look awful? Do you think Libby will know that my night out ended with a shower? That kid notices everything, especially if it has to do with sex.”

“It’s fine,” he told her, fluffing a spot over her ear and smiling at the results. “I’ve developed an affection for that tousled look. Makes it look like you just got out of bed.” His smile turned roguish. “With me.”

She slapped his hand away. “Grow up.” But she couldn’t help indulging a thrill of delight at his smug and very masculine look of conquest. She was feeling a bit smug herself, like the plain Jane high school girl who somehow snagged the popular quarterback.

“Thanks for taking me out, Rocky. The DIA was fun.”

“Anytime.”

“Good.” She gave him a warm kiss. “See you in the morning?”

“Except then.”

She blinked, surprised at how quickly she’d been rejected.

“I have to work tomorrow,” he explained. “I’ve been putting off clients all week, and I need to get a few security jobs done. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

He drew her in for a long, soulful kiss that probably curled a few more hairs on her head. “I’ll call you, babe. ’Night.”

“Good night.” Damn, she really had to get over this feeling that her day wouldn’t be as much fun unless he was with her. Surely she wasn’t
that
far gone.

Janet slipped in the front door as quietly as possible, careful not to draw attention to her arrival. She’d prefer to get to her room without having to answer a dozen well-intentioned questions about her evening. She’d nearly made it when Libby came around the corner of the upstairs hall, rushing forward as she spotted her.

“Janet! You’re finally home!”

Great, the girl had been lying in wait. Maybe she could plead exhaustion and make a quick escape. “Hey, Lib. How’s it going?”

“Awful.” Her huge brown eyes expressed her misery, wide and worried.

Janet paused. It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected from the perpetually bubbly teenager. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She took a closer look as Libby stopped in front of her, with her hands tucked deep in her jean pockets and her shoulders hunched beneath her glossy brown hair. Concern showed in her eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth. The kid was obviously miserable. And worse, she looked scared.

“Come here.” Janet grabbed Libby’s arm and pulled her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Turning the girl to face her, she dipped her head down to force eye contact from Libby. “What’s wrong?”

Libby shrugged and bit her lip. A dozen possible fears ran through Janet’s mind and chilled her to the bone. Was something wrong with Elizabeth? No, she would have gotten a call. Bad news from Jack and Ellie? Traveling through Europe by car, train, and who knew what else exposed them to a frightening list of possible accidents. A tragic encounter between the cats and the young dog? They’d left Elizabeth with a menagerie of pets perfectly primed to explode. Janet’s mind invented disaster after disaster and her stomach clenched nervously as she waited.

The girl finally pushed aside her curtain of hair and peered at Janet. “Did you hear them when you came in?” Libby’s near whisper made the question seem almost sinister.

“Hear who?” Janet had snuck through the foyer and up the stairs as fast as she could. “I didn’t hear anyone.”

Libby’s lips pressed together before she spit out the answer. “Grandma and Grandpa B. They’ve been fighting for
hours
.”

“Oh.” Rocky had mentioned a disagreement between them, and Elizabeth had seemed a bit more edgy the past couple days. She doubted they’d literally been arguing for hours, but it definitely had been long enough to upset their granddaughter. “All couples have disagreements,” she told Libby. “It doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”

As soon as she’d said it, she realized what a weak platitude it was for a girl with Libby’s background. Starting life abandoned by a drug-addicted mother had been just her first disadvantage. She had grown up with maternal grandparents who didn’t have the money or inclination to raise another child, leaving Libby with a ton of insecurities. If her mother’s younger sister hadn’t shouldered the responsibility of raising the girl no one else wanted, Janet didn’t want to think about what path Libby’s life could have taken. Finding Jack had been lucky. Not all birth fathers would have offered the unconditional love and security she’d found with him, and Libby knew it. People couldn’t always be trusted to do the right thing. This kid had seen the worst life could offer; she wasn’t going to buy into hearts and rainbows.

She rubbed Libby’s arms, hoping the physical contact would be reassuring. “Come on, let’s sit down. Tell me why you’re so worried.” She led the way to the bed, thinking they could settle against the headboard for an intimate chat, but Libby dropped to the floor instead, legs folded and back propped against the bed. Janet smiled to herself; she’d forgotten that floors were the same as furniture for thirteen-year-olds. She sat down, too.

“So what’s going on? Are they yelling at each other?” As hard as it was to imagine Elizabeth Westfield raising her voice, she knew it would be scary for Libby if she overheard something like that.

“My grandmother doesn’t yell,” Libby stated flatly.

So much for that theory. “Is Ben yelling at her?” That was a little easier to picture, even though she’d never seen it happen. But she had seen him get furious over some of the things Banner had done, and knew he could be intimidating.

“Not exactly. He doesn’t have to yell. You can tell he’s mad.”

She could believe that. “Do you know what they’re mad about?”

“Yeah, I listened for a long time.” She said it without a trace of shame, as if she had every right to eavesdrop. “Grandpa Ben wants them to get married, but he won’t live in this house. He says it’s pretentious—I looked it up, and I guess he’s right. Plus it’s Banner’s house, so he says it’s a conflict of interest for the chief of police to live here. He wants Grandma to sell it and buy something smaller so they can start fresh.”

It was hard to imagine Elizabeth selling the Westfield mansion. Janet knew the elaborate house and grounds had been Banner’s idea, but Elizabeth had always seemed to belong here. Maybe because she’d grown up with wealth it was difficult to imagine her living without all the trappings, right down to the butler and the koi pond.

“I guess your grandmother likes it here,” Janet said.

Libby shrugged. “Maybe.”

The indifferent response surprised her. “Isn’t that why she doesn’t want to sell the house?”

“No.” Libby’s voice grew more miserable. “It’s because of me.”

She would have refused to believe it, but Libby was more perceptive than the average kid. And the crushed look on her face wasn’t due to some imagined problem. She almost hated to ask. “What did you hear?”

Libby picked at the carpet as she talked. “Grandma thinks people might hate me for my background. ’Cause I lived in Detroit and ’cause my dad was in jail, and mostly ’cause Uncle Banner did all those things and will probably go to prison for the rest of his life. Everyone at the club whispers about her and says our family lost all its money because of Banner, and we might lose the company, too.”

“That’s not true, Libby.”

She shrugged. “That’s what people think.”

“It doesn’t matter what people think.”

“It does to Grandma.” Janet couldn’t argue with that. “She grew up here and she says appearances are everything. And now our lives are a train wreck, and everyone in Bloomfield Hills is watching.”

Janet could see how that would mortify Elizabeth. “How does that affect you?”

“Grandma said I won’t get invited to the right places or meet the right people. I don’t even care about that stuff, Janet! But she said I don’t realize how people think, and it’s more important than I know.”

Shit.
That sounded just like Elizabeth Payton Westfield. Libby hadn’t been kidding when she said it was because of her. And the hell of it was, Elizabeth had a point.

Janet hadn’t thought about it before, but she’d been raised in a well-to-do community, too, and knew what Elizabeth said was true. For many people, money equaled status. And for a kid with Libby’s questionable background to fit in and be accepted, it took a lot of money. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, but it was a fact. Libby shouldn’t suffer because her earlier life had been less than perfect, or because she had the misfortune of being related to Banner—but she would.

Though not with everyone. Janet had no doubt some shallow and vain people would reject Libby, but Janet had lived in this town long enough to know there were plenty of open-minded people who would never judge Libby by those standards. Elizabeth had to know that, too. So, her reasons for not wanting to sell the house went deeper than her granddaughter’s social life. Startling as it seemed, beneath that confident exterior, Elizabeth buried a lot of insecurity.

Libby raised suddenly watery eyes and asked, “Do you think Ginny’s parents won’t like me if Grandma sells the house?”

Janet’s heart nearly broke. She didn’t have the first clue who Ginny’s parents were and what they were like, but she put an arm around Libby’s shoulder and reassured her. “Oh, honey, of course not. They know you’re a good person, and they’d never be that mean.”

Libby chewed the inside of her cheek, considering. “Grandma thinks so.”

As much as Janet wanted to stay out of it, she was going to have to have a talk with Elizabeth. “I guarantee that your grandma is exaggerating. She’s just worried about you and wants to be sure no one talks trash about her precious granddaughter.”

A reluctant smile touched Libby’s mouth. “I don’t think Grandma knows what that means.”

She faked a shocked expression. “Are you kidding me? She and her girls are always sittin’ around the club, givin’ props and dissin’ the bitches. Don’t tell me Elizabeth Westfield isn’t down with the talk.”

Libby giggled and Janet relaxed at the small concession. Sighing, she got to her feet. “It’s been a long day, kiddo, and I’m going to get ready for bed. How about you go get into your PJs and come back here? We can have a sleepover and talk about boys.”

That one earned her a grateful smile. “Okay.”

Libby was almost out the door when it occurred to Janet that the room was a little too quiet. “Hey, Lib. Have you seen Jingles?”

“He and Fluff are watching Freddie in the kitchen. I think they’re all going to be friends ’cause Freddie wags his tail and barks at them, but Grandma said he has to sleep in the cage tonight. The cats keep walking by to check him out.”

Flaunting their freedom. She winced. Between the competitive cats, the clueless dog, and the feuding grandparents, tomorrow was going to be interesting.

Interesting wasn’t how Rocky would have described the next morning. “Fucked up” was more like it. He stared at his four flat tires and ground his teeth.

He knew who was responsible for the deep slashes and that there was nothing he could do about it. The message was clear: what you do to us, you get back— times four. No doubt Rocky’s security system had restricted their efforts to his car. Thank God Janet was beyond their reach.

Getting new tires set his schedule back two hours. By the time he finished the backlog of Red Rose Security jobs and headed over to see Janet, it was already dark out.

He ran up the front steps to the Westfield mansion, then stopped midway as the door opened and noise poured out, a rolling mixture of laughter, barks, and excited squeals, followed by Ben Thatcher’s heavy footsteps. Slamming the door behind him, the police chief stomped toward Rocky.

One look at Ben’s expression and he stepped aside, leaving far more room than necessary for the chief to pass on the wide stairway. Instead, Ben stopped one step above Rocky, hands on hips, ready for a confrontation, and leveled a stare that had surely intimidated many a criminal. Rocky swore under his breath, realizing that he was about to catch the backlash of another lover’s quarrel between Elizabeth and Ben.

“I hear you’re the one I have to thank for bringing another goddamned animal into that house,” Ben snapped.

Rocky took a judicious step back, determining how much evasion he could get away with. Not much, probably, since Ben was glaring at him like he was smuggling gerbils in his pockets. He held up both hands, palms out. “Hey, it’s just one homeless puppy. And it’s temporary.”

“That’s what animal shelters are for. Ever hear of them?”

“Um—”

Ben stabbed at his chest with a blunt finger. “You might want to think of that next time some sorry little dog rolls its eyes at you, instead of running right over here to the Elizabeth Westfield Animal Shelter.”

Rocky knew he should keep his mouth shut and let Ben vent, but it was an unfair accusation. “Weren’t you the one who suggested bringing over more animals?” he challenged.

Ben stopped mid-rant, head cocked and one eye squinting a laser beam at him.
Damn.
Rocky hoped the man wasn’t carrying his gun. “That’s right, I did.” Ben nodded. “My mistake. So you know what? Why don’t you just find a few more cats and dogs in need of homes and bring ’em on over. The mangier the better. Introduce them to the good life. I’m sure if you cruise the alleys you can find plenty.” His finger jabbed back toward the front door. “Let her see that turning that house into a goddamned zoo won’t make any difference. She’ll be doing our granddaughter more harm than good by hanging on to Banner’s house.”