“I thought we could use it as leverage to persuade the stubborn broad to sign some papers. Then the doc’s credit history would be clear, and they could buy a new house. Ashley told me the ex had already agreed to this settlement, but she refused to sign it now.”
Adam kicked himself for not figuring this out on his own. He’d run off Fordham while he’d been physically attempting to force Whitney to sign. “What made you return the dog in the middle of the night? Doesn’t sound like part of the plan.”
His gaze lowered, as did his voice. “The doc figured out Ashley was responsible for the dog’s disappearance-”
“Fordham didn’t know anything about it?”
“Christ, no. He went ballistic when he discovered what she’d done. He insisted Ashley have her girlfriend return the dog.”
“Girlfriend? He doesn’t know about you?”
“Nah, he wouldn’t understand our friendship.” His expression clouded. “Look, the dog’s back. No harm, no foul. Right? Don’t tell anyone what really happened. It’ll only hurt Ashley’s marriage.”
“I think Whitney deserves to know the truth.”
“What’s the point?” Block shot back. “She should do what’s right. Sign the agreement and move on. I’ll bet you anything, Whitney won’t believe her ex wasn’t involved. She’ll use it to stir things up even more. Ashley deserves a chance.”
Adam wondered if Block didn’t have a point. Whitney was seeing an attorney this morning. She expected him to okay the agreement, and then she’d sign it and return it to her ex-husband. What good could it possibly do for her to know Ashley’s personal trainer had deliberately taken Lexi? She probably would think Ryan was involved.
All right, all right. He wanted Whitney to move on with her life. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he wanted her to make a clean break now. He believed Preston was telling the truth. Whitney’s ex hadn’t taken Lexi. Whitney had her dog back. She didn’t need to know all the details.
Leave well enough alone, he told himself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I CAN’T IMAGINE why Miranda would say she was going to marry Rod Babcock. What do you think?”
Whitney was sitting in Trish Bowrather’s gallery and eating a salad. She’d come here directly after leaving the attorney’s office. She’d walked Brandy again while Trish ordered lunch. Lexi and the other dogs were safely locked inside the cottage.
While she’d exercised Brandy, Whitney kept asking herself: Why? Why? Was Miranda in some kind of trouble? Could she be running from an abusive boyfriend? Debtors?
Whitney ruled out creditors. There hadn’t been any dunning phone calls or collection agents hovering around. True, they could still appear, but Whitney doubted it.
What was so wrong that Miranda couldn’t share it with Whitney? She’d poured her heart out to Miranda and told her the details of Ryan’s betrayal. Miranda had never mentioned any problems and seemed really happy about her upcoming “wedding.”
Of course, Whitney now knew why Miranda had never introduced her “fiancé” and why she wanted to keep the honeymoon secret. If Whitney hadn’t been prompted by her encounter with Ryan and Lexi’s disappearance, she never would have gone to see Broderick Babcock. She wouldn’t have missed Miranda for at least another two weeks. Had Miranda been buying time?
Trish toyed with the romaine leaves in her chicken Caesar salad for a moment before replying, “I can’t even begin to guess why your cousin would make up such a bizarre story then disappear. You’re sure she took all her clothes?”
“Yes. I helped her pack them. She put books and office stuff and-I don’t know-junk in the garage.” She thought a moment. “She took her laptop computer, too.”
“If she took all her clothes and her computer, she planned to relocate somewhere. She left in her car, right?”
“Yes.” Whitney remembered her cousin driving off at dusk in her Volvo.
“Miranda must have car payments and credit card bills. I think there are ways of checking on the Internet but I’m not sure how.”
Whitney nodded slowly. She thought Adam would know how to track down her cousin. How could she impose on him yet again?
“Don’t make Miranda’s problems your problems,” Trish cautioned.
“You’d think she would have told me something.”
“Not necessarily. You said you two hadn’t been close in some time. Maybe she didn’t want to involve you.”
“Anything’s possible,” Whitney admitted. She remembered how she’d felt in bed last night with the dogs. There wasn’t much in her life except Lexi. She’d counted on reconnecting with Miranda, but now that seemed impossible.
“What’s Rod Babcock like?” Trish asked, unexpectedly changing the subject.
“He’s older. Mid-forties.” As she said it, Whitney realized this was about Trish’s age and hoped she hadn’t insulted her. When Rod and Trish each smiled, little fanlike lines appeared at the corners of their eyes. She rushed on. “Attractive. Really smart. It was nice of him to agree to check over that document for me.”
“It’s been my experience that men-especially lawyers-don’t do anything without expecting something in return.”
Trish’s horrendous experience with her ex-husband had clearly made her distrustful of all men. Perhaps that was why she’d never remarried. It certainly wasn’t her looks; Trish was strikingly attractive.
Trish rose, went over to her desk and returned with several envelopes. “Here are some invitations to my next exhibition this Friday evening. You were admiring Vladimir’s work. Come meet him at the opening.”
“Great,” Whitney said. The Russian artist who used just one name had painted the malevolent eye she’d once associated with Adam. The enormous eye was watching her even now.
Trish handed her the envelopes. “Bring a friend, and give one to Rod Babcock. I’d like to meet him. I’m sure he can afford Vladimir’s work.”
“I’ll try,” Whitney replied. “I’m not sure I’ll see Rod again. Someone on his staff-”
“You’ll see him. Mark my words.”
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON WHEN Tyler returned to the office. Sherry had told Adam that his partner had been out on “reviews” with several homeowner associations.
“Yo, Adam.” Tyler stuck his head in Adam’s office door. “You wanted to see me?”
Adam looked up from the computer analysis of security equipment that he’d been reviewing. “Come in and shut the door.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds serious.” Tyler closed the door, then sat in the chair beside Adam’s desk. “What’s up?”
“The guard at Ocean Heights walked off his post last night. I-”
“I know. Sorry about that. Doesn’t happen often.”
“Shouldn’t we have guards on call?”
Tyler smiled sheepishly. “It’s hard on that shift, but I think I’ve got it worked out.”
“Good.” Adam didn’t ask any more questions. The guard business was Tyler’s baby. He’d developed it and worked with the accounts. “You were right about corporate security. We would need a lot more capital.”
“It might be possible later,” Tyler replied, but he didn’t sound all that interested.
“I have another idea. We could go for it right now.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Protecting buildings and offices has become a huge business since 9/11, right? I’m not talking about security personnel. I’m referring to security barrier systems like concrete barricades.”
“Gotcha. We’ve had people call to see if we have things like that in stock.” Tyler nodded slowly. “We might be able to move in that direction.”
“I’ve located a company up north that makes swinging security arms like the ones we already have at guard kiosks and parking garages. Instead of being the lightweight type we use now, these are reinforced steel. They can stop a five-ton truck going seventy miles an hour. No one can just barrel in and blow up a building.”