Trust No One (13 page)

A
soft rustling sound brought her out of a restless sleep and vaguely menacing dreams. She woke up breathless, her pulse skittering. It took her a few seconds to center herself.

You are the eye of the storm—you are calm and in control.

She had left the bedroom door partway open. As she watched, a dark shadow moved along the hallway. Panic shivered through her. She sat up quickly and pushed the covers aside, instinct warning her to get on her feet so that she could choose fight or flight.

Reason took over. It was Julius out there in the hall. It had to be Julius. Perhaps something had awakened him.

Her pulse rate steadied and her breathing calmed. The problem was that she was not accustomed to having a man in the house—not at this hour, at any rate. She reached for her robe, slid her feet into the slippers and went out into the hall.

The front room lay in unexpectedly deep shadows. It took her a few seconds to realize that the night-light in that room was no longer
illuminated. The bulb must have burned out, she thought. She made a note to change it in the morning.

Then she saw Julius. He stood at the window watching the night through a crack in the curtains. He was wearing a dark crew-necked T-shirt and the khakis he’d had on earlier in the evening. His feet were bare.

“What is it?” she asked quietly. She moved farther into the room. “Do you see something?”

“No,” Julius said. He turned back to the window. “I just had a feeling—”

“That someone was watching?”

Julius shrugged. “Something woke me. Probably a car going past on the road. It’s pretty damn quiet out here at night.”

“You turned off the night-light in this room, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t want to be silhouetted against it. I’ll switch it on when I go back to bed.” He glanced at her. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, certainly.” Grace hugged herself. “I’ve had a creepy feeling that someone was watching every night since I started receiving those damned emails. I’ve been telling myself it’s just my imagination.”

“Someone
is
watching you—we just don’t know if that person is here in Cloud Lake or at some other location. When we find out why, we’ll know the identity of the watcher.”

Julius walked across the room and came to a halt in front of her. He kissed her forehead.

“Go back to bed,” he said. “You’re not alone tonight.”

“I know. Thanks.”

The atmosphere was once again charged with edgy tendrils of anticipation. It was as if she was standing on a high cliff above a crashing sea, she thought. She longed to take the dive into the deep, mysterious waters but she was very sure now that becoming involved in an affair with Julius would be a high-risk endeavor.

The silence between them lengthened. It was as if they were both waiting for something momentous to happen.

It was then she realized that she was the one who would have to make the first move. Julius was leaving the decision up to her. He knew how to wait for what he wanted. He possessed the patience of a hunter.

This man is different. Not another stray. You need to think about this.

She pulled herself together.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

“I’ll be here.”

It was a promise.

Grace made herself go back down the hall to her bedroom. This time when she climbed into bed she fell into a dreamless sleep. Julius was standing guard against the monsters tonight.

I
t was cold and the dampness in the night air warned of rain but the watcher in the shadows was not quite ready to leave the cover of the trees.

The night-lights in the lake house had shifted a few minutes ago. Someone had gotten out of bed—Grace, probably. She was finally becoming aware that she was being stalked. It had been fun watching her dash out to buy a new refrigerator today. Bonus points for that move. Talk about an overreaction. The woman’s nerves must be shredded now.

The hunt had gone according to plan until recently. Who knew that the game would prove to be so addictive?

Julius Arkwright was an unforeseen complication, but a minor one. He was what the military described as a soft target.

Grace would be an even softer target.

T
he muffled crunch of gravel announced the arrival of a car in the drive. Grace hit save on the keyboard. Following the instructions of her new consultant, she had been attempting to create a skill-set list. She had been working diligently ever since Julius had left that morning but she had not made much progress. She was afraid that there were not many employers who would leap at the opportunity to hire someone whose chief skill was the ability to write affirmation-themed cookbooks and blogs.

There had been other obstacles to productivity that morning as well. Memories of breakfast with Julius kept interrupting her attempts to focus on her project.

She had found the experience of waking up to a man in her kitchen—one who was making coffee, no less—disconcerting. She had always told herself that when the right man came along, she would reconsider her policy of not allowing a man to spend the night but somehow that had never happened.

That morning, however, she had been confronted with the reality
of Julius, and she still could not decide if he was the right man or the wrong one.

For his part, Julius had not exhibited any such uncertainties. He had settled in as if he got up and made coffee for the two of them every day of his life. Due to the empty refrigerator, breakfast had consisted of toast and peanut butter and a couple of oranges. Eating the meal with Julius had been an unexpectedly gratifying experience. She wondered if she ought to be worried about that.

There had been no way to handle his departure discreetly. Agnes was an early riser. She had come out onto her back porch to wave cheerfully at Julius when he left to take the footpath to his place. Grace had watched from the kitchen window as he stopped and chatted briefly with Agnes. Everyone involved had acted as if it was all very routine.

Grace had known then that Harley Montoya was right. The news that Julius had spent the night at the Elland house would be all over town by noon. Sure enough, shortly after nine, Agnes had departed in her tiny, fuel-efficient car. She liked to run her errands early in the day.

She had returned from her mission an hour ago.

Grace got to her feet and went to the window. It had rained early that morning but the storm front had passed and the clouds had broken up. The forecast promised more rain that afternoon but for now there was some winter sunlight.

She watched the BMW come to a halt in the drive. She did not recognize the vehicle but when she saw the man who climbed out from behind the wheel, a frisson of uncertainty made her catch her breath.

“Crap,” she said aloud to the empty room.

No
, she thought in the next breath, she ought to take a much more
positive attitude toward her visitor. He was probably the only potential employer she knew who might be interested in her unique skill set.

Larson Rayner was also a suspect in Sprague’s murder.

She opened the door just as he reached out to stab the doorbell with one elegantly buffed nail.

Larson smiled at her with his patented I-can-make-your-life-better-in-ten-easy-steps smile. Blue-eyed and dark-haired, with a lean, athletic build, a square-jawed profile, very white teeth, a touch of gray at the temples and a sincere, straightforward manner, he was perfectly cast for the role he played in real life. He had been born to be a motivational speaker.

“Hello, Grace,” he said.

Sprague had mentioned that Larson had taken elocution lessons at the start of his career. The results had paid off in a warm, resonant voice that worked as well in person as it did with a microphone.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Larson,” she said.

“Great to see you again.” His eyes warmed with deep concern. “How are you holding up? I’ve been very concerned. You went through a traumatic experience.”

“I’m doing fine, thanks,” she said. She infused her voice with all the perky, upbeat energy she could summon.

The front door of Agnes’s house opened. Agnes stepped out onto her porch with a pair of pruning shears in hand. Grace made a point of waving at her enthusiastically. Agnes returned the greeting, the big shears gleaming in the sunlight. She smiled cheerfully and went down the steps to go about her gardening tasks.

Grace had a hunch that Agnes would be heading back into town that afternoon to run a few more errands. Two male visitors at the Elland house in less than twenty-four hours was bound to stir up interest.

It occurred to Grace that she might as well take advantage of Agnes’s curiosity. It was hard to imagine Larson as a killer but one thing was certain, there had been no love lost between Larson and Sprague. The rivalry between the two men was long-standing. It was not inconceivable that Larson might have been driven to murder. The idea of being alone with him raised a few red flags. Agnes made a very convenient witness.

Grace went out onto the porch, allowing the door to close behind her. She moved to the railing.

“Agnes,” she called, “I’d like you to meet Larson Rayner. You may have heard of him. He’s a very popular motivational speaker. Larson, this is Agnes Gilroy.”

“How exciting,” Agnes said. She bustled through the garden to the hedge that served as a fence. “I’ve seen you on TV, Mr. Rayner. Such a nice-looking man. You are just as handsome in real life. A pleasure to meet you.”

Impatience glittered in Larson’s eyes but there was no hint of it in his warm voice.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Gilroy,” he said.

“Oh, do call me Agnes. How nice of you to come all this way to see our Grace.”

“I consider Grace a colleague,” Larson said. “She’s had a terrible shock, as I’m sure you’re aware. I wanted to see how she was getting on.”

“That is so thoughtful of you,” Agnes said. She chuckled and winked at Grace. “So many interesting gentlemen looking after you these days, dear. Take advantage of it while you can. The older you get, the leaner the pickings.”

Grace felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Thanks for the advice, Agnes,” she said. She turned to Larson and lowered her voice. “Just to clarify, I think that if you had been deeply
concerned about me, you would have shown up here sooner. So why don’t you come inside and tell me the real reason for your visit today?”

Larson blinked, evidently both surprised and deeply hurt by the casual manner in which she had brushed aside the possibility that his intentions were of a friendly nature. Tiny creases appeared briefly at the corners of his eyes and his jaw tightened but he followed her into the house.

She led the way into the kitchen and set about making coffee.

“Have a seat,” she said.

Larson hesitated and then lowered himself into a chair on the far side of the table.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Thanks,” he said. “I could use a cup. Long drive from Seattle. Traffic was bad this morning. There was an accident on the interstate.”

“I hope you don’t take cream in your coffee,” she said. She watched his face while she ran water into the glass pot. “The refrigerator is no longer functioning. I’ve got a new one coming this afternoon. Meanwhile, I had to toss out all of the food that was inside this one.”

“I don’t use cream or sugar,” Larson said. He glanced at the refrigerator. “It looks fairly new.”

“I’m going to sell it,” she said, avoiding the question of warranties.

She paid close attention but as far as she could tell, Larson immediately lost interest in the refrigerator. Dead rats didn’t seem like his thing, anyway, she thought. She poured the water into the machine, measured the coffee and hit the on switch.

“I’ll come straight to the point,” Larson said. “I’m here because I want to offer you a position on my staff.”

Her first real job offer and she hadn’t even finished her business plan. She couldn’t wait to tell Julius.

“I see,” she said. “I’m flattered, of course, but I’ve been doing a lot
of thinking and I’m not sure I want to stay in the motivational field. It might be time to move on to something different.”

“I agree,” Larson said.

“You do?”

Determination gleamed in his eyes. “Look, I had my differences with Witherspoon but I have nothing but admiration for you and your abilities. You were an invaluable asset to the operation but Sprague didn’t give you the credit you deserved. Furthermore, I’m sure he also underpaid you. I guarantee you that I’ll double your salary.”

It was Larson’s air of desperation more than the offer of a better salary that piqued her curiosity. In her experience, he had always been supremely confident and sure of his own charisma.

“That’s very generous of you,” she said. “But the thing is, I’m considering another career path entirely. I really don’t think that I’m cut out to be an assistant to a motivational coach for the rest of my life.
Life is enhanced when we seek fresh challenges
, as we in the Witherspoon Way like to say.”

That clearly irritated Larson but he kept the sincerity vibe going.

“It’s natural that you would want to consider all your options,” he said. “But I disagree with your negative analysis of your own potential.”

“I wasn’t being negative.” She folded her arms and lounged against the counter next to the coffeepot. “I said I’m looking for fresh challenges.”

“Your talents lie in the motivational field. The problem is that you haven’t had a chance to fully explore the opportunities. That was Witherspoon’s fault. I knew him better than anyone else did. He was slick, I’ll give him that. But he used people. What’s more, he did it so well, most of them never realized how they had been used until it was too late.”

“That sounds personal,” she said coolly.

Larson grimaced. “I admit that I’m one of the people he used on his way up. Look, I know that you and everyone else in the Witherspoon office heard that last argument I had with Witherspoon. Losing the McCormick seminar was the final straw. It was the fifth time in six months that I’d had a call from a client informing me that a certain firm would not be doing any more business with my company. On each occasion I found out that the Witherspoon Way was booked, instead.”

“You think Sprague somehow stole those contracts from you?” Grace asked.

Larson’s right hand clamped into a fist on the kitchen table. He seemed unaware of the small action.

“I
know
he stole those seminars from me,” he said.

Footsteps sounded on the back porch, startling Grace. She glanced out the window and saw Julius. He opened the door and entered the kitchen with the air of a man who had every right to be there. He crossed the floor to where Grace stood, gave her a quick, proprietary kiss and then turned to Larson.

“You’ve got company,” he said to Grace.

But Larson was already on his feet, smiling broadly. The hand that had been curled into a fist was now extended in greeting. “Larson Rayner. Grace and I are colleagues.”

“Not quite,” Grace said.

But she could tell that neither man was listening to her. They were too busy circling each other, metaphorically speaking. There was a lot of testosterone in the atmosphere. Julius and Larson were assessing each other the way men did when there was only one woman in the vicinity and they both wanted to lay claim to her.

It would have been more flattering, she thought, if Julius and Larson had been vying to carry her off into a hidden bower to ravish her. But she knew that each man had a somewhat different agenda. Larson
wanted to take advantage of her rather eclectic skill set. As for Julius, she was pretty sure his protective instincts had been aroused.

“Julius Arkwright,” Julius said.

The men shook hands briefly. The gesture was short and brusque.

A gleam of interest sharpened Larson’s expression. “Arkwright Ventures?”

“That’s right,” Julius said.

He said it easily, as if everyone owned a thriving venture capital business that raked in millions. But there was something else infused into the words—a quiet possessiveness that made it clear he could and would protect what was his. He might be a bored lion but he was, nevertheless, a lion.

Larson’s smile widened and his eyes brightened with what was probably intended to look like admiration. Grace thought the expression bore a striking resemblance to that of a shrewd salesman who has spotted a potential client.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m a fan. I admire what you’ve done with your company. You’ve got a major talent for spotting up-and-coming markets and trends.”

“I’ve got good people working with me,” Julius said.

Larson nodded sagely. “A good leader gives credit to his people.” He switched his polished smile to Grace. “I’m here today because I fully respect Grace’s abilities. I’m hoping to add her to my own staff.”

Julius’s eyes went a couple of degrees below freezing. “Is that so?”

She shot him a warning frown. “Larson came to see me today to offer me a job.”

“Doing what?” Julius asked.

“I was in the process of describing the position to Grace when you arrived,” Larson said. He smiled at Grace. “I hope you will consider joining Team Rayner.”

“I’m really not much of a team player,” Grace said.

“You’ll have your own office and all the freedom and support you need to give free rein to your creativity,” Larson said. He was very earnest now. “I repeat, I will double whatever Witherspoon paid you. What’s more, if you guarantee me a minimum of one year of service, I’ll give you a commission on all of the seminars that you book.”

“That’s a very generous offer,” Grace said. “But I really do need to think about it. I’ve got a lot of things going on in my life at the moment and I have this feeling that it’s time for me to move on to another career.”

Larson’s smile lost some of its sparkle. “I understand that you’re ready for a new challenge. I’m in a position to make that happen for you. If you aren’t ready to join my team as a full-time member of my staff, will you consider consulting for me?”

“What kind of consulting?” she asked. “You’re a leader in your field. Actually, now that Sprague is gone, you’ll probably become the premier motivational speaker in the Pacific Northwest—maybe the whole West Coast. I don’t think you need me.”