Trouble In Spades (25 page)

I took a step back, already envisioning the transformation. The water garden would be exquisite. This little nook was the perfect place for it. I couldn't wait to see the end result.

My crew milled around, everyone focused on their individual tasks. It wasn't long before Verona came out with a plate of cookies. I pulled off my gloves and took two. Okay, three, but I don't think anyone noticed.

Verona looked scared. "It's such," her nose wrinkled in dismay, "a mess. You really think it's going to be done by tonight?"

"Positive." I was used to dealing with shocked homeowners. "It's going to be beautiful."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ian set his shovel down and mosey toward the house.

To stall, I took Verona around, introduced her to everyone. Kit mentioned he remembered her, and she blushed. He took four cookies, so I felt less guilty about my three. After inhaling them, he picked up Ian's shovel and took up where he left off.

Over my shoulder, I glanced toward the house. No sign of Ian yet. I steered Verona toward Deanna. Deanna could keep Verona busy for hours.

"I heard about Nate's disappearance on the news," Verona said. "I'm so sorry. Has anyone heard from him?" Ack. Ian had said for
me
not to mention Nate, but he didn't tell me what to do if Ver
ona
mentioned him.

"I, er . . . No," I said, lying. Ian never said anything about telling people about Nate's calls. And it would be just like me to blab something I shouldn't.

"Oh." She kept tight hold of the cookie plate with one hand, but the other went to her neck, straight to her pearls.

"That's too bad."

I kicked the ground with my toe.

"Maria sounds like she's holding up well."

I felt my eyes widen in surprise. "You talked to her?"

Verona nodded. "Last night. She said you found the guest list. I can't tell you how relieved I am. Do you have it with you?"

I was going to kill Maria with my bare hands. I'd told her
I'd
take care of the guest list. I couldn't very well give it back to the Fryes when I didn't know why Nate was hiding it in the first place. "Actually, I don't . . . I gave it to—"

"Nina!"

I spun, my pulse kicking up a notch at the tone of Kit's voice. He was leaning on the shovel, muttering under his breath.

Verona and I rushed over. "What's wrong?" I asked. Kit nodded downward.

I followed his gaze, gasped when I spotted the upper torso of a body lying facedown in the ground. I gasped, recognizing that blue hair.

Looked like Kit had found Stella Zamora, aka Fran Cooper, FBI.

Swallowing hard, I wished I hadn't eaten those cookies. Verona screamed and dropped the plate. She backed away in horror. Coby came running. "Holy—"

"Go find Ian," I told him. "Now."

"Ian?" he asked, confused.

I'd forgotten about the alias. "Leo! Leo! Find Leo."

Something red near Stella's hair caught my eye. I knelt down.

"Dude," Kit said to me. "Don't get too close."

I'd been a cop's wife too long to go touching anything. But I didn't need to. I recognized immediately what that bit of red was.

Roz Phineus's fingernail.

Two hours later it was chaos of a different sort at the Frye house. Somber FBI agents swarmed the property, cordoning off the crime scene and questioning everyone, including me. Twice.

Verona hadn't let go of her pearls since Stella's body had been found. She stood just inside the French doors at the back of the house, peering out.

I wondered what she'd had to say about all this, but I wasn't privy to that kind of information, and really, I didn't want to know. All right, I'm lying. I wanted to know, but I hated that I wanted to know so I was lying to myself. I tended to do that, lie to myself, which was why I hadn't made it a commandment, because I knew I'd never be able to keep it.

And I was rambling to myself too, which was never a good sign.

Biting my lip, I wondered at the coincidence of my crew finding Stella's body. Had it been a mistake? Or planned all along?

Again I questioned Verona's innocence in all this. She brought me here, to this spot, and she had motive to kill Claire. How involved was she? Had she killed Stella? Or was she truly innocent? Completely oblivious to the evil around her?

One thing I knew for certain was that Roz Phineus had been involved—information I gladly passed on to Ian's superiors.

An APB was out for Colin and Roz, so far with no luck. Verona had said they were off to New York for a business meeting, but all attempts to reach them had failed. I'd questioned whether they were even
in
New York, but apparently they were, having landed at LaGuardia late last night. The hotel staff where they were staying also confirmed that they had checked in. So much for my detective skills.

How involved was Colin? I wondered. Was he as clueless as his wife seemed to be, or was he up to his eyebrows in murder?

Or were all three of them in it together for some reason? One happy murdering family?

I shook my head, sick of thinking about it. There was a lot to be done, cleaning up the supplies we wouldn't be using and figuring out what to do with everything. What a nightmare.

My cell phone buzzed.
Fre
edom, Ohio
. Frowning, I flipped the phone open. "Nina Quinn."

"Mrs. Quinn, this is Vice Principal Robert MacKenna at Freedom High."

Oh no. His icy tone coupled with his full title told me all I needed to know. "Is Riley in trouble?"

"I have him in my office. I need you to come down here as soon as possible."

Ack. This didn't sound good. Not good at all. If Robert had put a little warmth into his voice—after all this was the same man who sent me Almond Joys on a regular basis—I wouldn't have been so worried.

"I'm at a site," I said, looking around for Kit's bald head, "but I can be there in forty minutes or so." If I ignored the posted speed limits.

"We will be waiting." He disconnected. Without even saying good-bye. Dear Lord, what had Riley done now? And after I went to bat for him with Katie's father and everything.

I found Kit, begged him to take care of everything here, found Ian/Leo and asked him if I could leave.

His eyes were haunted, and they snapped me out of my denial. Stella was dead. Claire was dead. Brian Thatcher was dead. And Nate . . .

I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and forced myself back into oblivion. The FBI would find Nate. Everything had a good explanation, and everything would be fine. Just fine.

"If I find anything out, I'll let you know," he said.

"I'd appreciate it."

I watched him walk away, toward Verona, who was still watching from the doorway. She looked my way and quickly turned from me. I tried not to take it personally.

Hurrying, I sprinted down Verona's narrow driveway. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to park on the street instead of running the risk of being blocked in again. As I drove toward Freedom, thoughts swirled in my mind, giving me a headache. Attempting to drown them out, I flipped to the Oldies station on the radio. Within minutes I was singing "Do You Want to Dance?" at the top of my lungs.

When the song ended, I turned the radio down and realized my phone was ringing. I made a grab for it.
M
aria
. "Nina," she said in a loud whisper. "I think someone's trying to break in. I keep hearing noises and Gracie keeps coming out from under the couch to bark. Do you think my stalker is back? Do you think maybe Mr. Mustard has come for my lace panties?"

"How many Dramamine have you had today?"

"None! Seriously, Nina, someone's out there."

"Is the alarm set?"

"Yes, but I'm freaking out."

"Go to Mom's."

"Okay, so maybe I had one Dramamine . . . I don't think it's a good idea to drive."

"I think it's time to throw the Dramamine away, Maria. Obviously, you don't tolerate them well."

"But—"

"No buts."

She whimpered.

I sighed. "I'm on my way to get Riley. I'll swing by to check things out at home." I couldn't dismiss her worries. After all, the last time she thought she heard someone outside, a dead body had turned up. "How long?" she whimpered.

I could picture her crouched behind the couch with a can of hair spray. "Thirty minutes."

"That long?"

A girl could only do so much. "I'm going as fast as I can."

"All right. Just hurry."

She genuinely sounded freaked. But between the alarm and the hair spray, I figured she'd be okay until I got there. Tucking my phone away, I turned the radio up again and sang away some stress.

Twenty-eight minutes later I pulled up next to Maria's Mercedes, and frowned when I spotted Ana's SUV at the curb.

Ana was holding a cloth to Maria's head when I went inside. Gracie raced around, her sharp
yip yip yips
making me question why I had actually missed her cold snout last night.

"I looked around," Ana said, "but I didn't find anything. Or anyone."

I looked at Maria. "I told you I'd be home. You didn't need to call Ana."

Maria pouted. "
She
came in five minutes."

Argh.
"I don't have time for this. I need to go pick up Riley." I relayed the message I'd gotten from MacKenna. Ana grabbed her purse. "Hubba-hubba? I need to see this."

Maria sat up. "What? You're leaving me?"

"You're welcome to come," I said.

She looked like she was going to argue, but had the good sense not to, Dramamine and all. She grabbed her keys. "I'll drive."

I snatched the keys away from her. "Dramamine," I reminded.

She pouted.

Dread filled my stomach as I paced the high school office. Maria and Ana were flipping through dusty yearbooks, making fun of old hairstyles.

Riley had been doing so well. School was out in less than a week . . . Why would he mess up now?

The secretary said, "You can go on back, Mrs. Quinn."

Ana jumped up and followed me. I turned to her. "Maybe you should stay here with Maria." I peeked over Ana's shoulder. Maria had gone more than a little pale, and was currently muttering about bad perms.

"What? And miss all the fun?"

Maybe reinforcements weren't a bad idea. After all, there was no telling what I would do if left alone with Robert MacKenna.

My cheeks heated just thinking about what kinds of things. I grabbed Ana's arm. "Don't leave me alone with him." A physical relationship between us would only complicate my life. Which was already complicated enough, thank you very much.

MacKenna's door was open. He behind his desk, his back to me, tossing a baseball from hand to hand.

I felt my eyebrows dip. "Where's Riley?"

He jumped up, dropping the ball, and spun around.

MacKenna shrugged as he walked toward me.

Flabbergasted, I barely noticed him nudge Ana out the door.

"Wait a minute," I protested.

Ana beamed. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She finger waved to me as MacKenna closed the door, leaned against it.

My mind searched for something Ana wouldn't do and couldn't find a single thing. Ack.

I looked up at MacKenna, trying to ignore the way my heart beat triple-time. "You set me up, didn't you?" I accused.

He treated me to a half smile. "You've been avoiding me. I had to think of some reason for you to come in."

"So Riley isn't in trouble?"

"Not that I know of."

"I'm leaving," I said, though I didn't know how since all six feet of him still blocked the door. "Nina, we really need to talk."

He wore a baby blue button-down that matched his eyes, light brown twill pants that weren't creased, and a pair of soft suede shoes.

I kind of missed his snakeskin cowboy boots.

His blond hair had grown out since the last time I saw him, falling in soft waves onto his forehead and over his ears.

My palms started to sweat. He looked even better than I remembered, and I remembered him looking damn hot. Taking a big step away from him, I asked, "Are we going to sit down?"

He didn't budge. "I don't trust you not to bolt."

Damn. How did he already know me so well?

I was still grimy from working at the Fryes'. I wish I'd taken some time to, oh, I don't know, shower?

"Robert, there's really nothing to say." I gestured between us. "This, whatever this is, isn't going to work. You're married. Off-limits."

He looked down at me, his eyes all soft and warm and inviting. I took another step back, out of the danger zone. "Nina, there's four things I want you to know."

Four? I swallowed. "All right."

"One. My friends call me Bobby. Feel free to call me that anytime. Or plain old Robert is fine."

Bobby. Oh my God, how the name fit. All-American with just a hint of mischievousness.

"Two," he continued, "this wedding ring is my father's. It came to me after he died. Mostly I wear it because I miss him. Partly I wear it to keep the horny divorcées at bay." I wasn't sure if I should be offended, considering I was somewhat (all right, a lot) horny and an almost divorcée, but he didn't seem to mind, so why should I?

"Three?" I asked weakly.

He stepped toward me. I went to take a step back, but somehow (imagine my surprise!) I went forward, straight into his arms.

"This." He cupped my face, leaned in and kissed me.

When we finally broke apart, my heart was hammering, my knees were weak, and my brain was screaming,
Ke
vin, who?
He didn't let go of my face. "And four . . . I like you, Nina. Like you a lot."

"It'll be complicated. And messy. I'm on the rebound," I felt necessary to explain, though I didn't want to. He grinned a sheepish smile that had my heart flopping. "I was the best rebounder on my high school basketball team."