A Murderous Game (37 page)

Returning to his desk, he dropped
into the chair and glanced at the piece of paper he'd written Simms's number
on. Was it possible they'd discovered he'd been the one to bring the deal to
Dick so he could cash in on the property that had belonged to Abby?

He wiped the back of his hand
across his forehead. So what if they had? All he'd done was pass the word to a
friend that a developer was interested in the land. No crime there.

Picking up the phone, he started to
dial the detective's number. Screw it, he thought, slamming the phone back
down. He'd call in the morning. He needed to think through what he'd tell them
if the cops did start asking about the Florida
deal. Besides, he had a bigger problem to deal with, and this evening would be
the perfect time to take care of it.

~~~

"I'm sorry to do this at the
last minute, but Claudia just called five minutes ago to say she was suffering
a bad case of morning sickness, and no one else can do the cuts tonight. I
don't have a choice but to fill in for her."

"Don't worry about it,
Rach
." Abby hooked the phone under her chin so she
could sift through her desk file drawer for the account folder she needed.
"You can't control a pregnant lady's stomach." She spotted the one
she wanted and pulled it out.

"I suppose not," Rachael
agreed, "but shouldn't morning sickness be confined to the morning?"

"That would be too easy."
Abby took hold of the phone again and sat back in her chair. The prospect of
spending another night alone with only thoughts of Gage for company was almost
enough to make her turn the computer back on and put in a few more hours before
leaving the office.

"Well, if you want my opinion,
I think we've all suffered quite enough because Adam didn't have the willpower
to turn down that stupid apple."

Abby smiled. "Makes you just
wonder what Eve ever saw in the guy, doesn't it?"

"I
gotta
go,
Ab
. We're getting ready to start some of the cuts
for the ten o'clock."

A crack of thunder splintered
Abby's thoughts when she walked out of the building an hour later. She snapped
open her umbrella before stepping away from the protection of the overhang and
felt fortunate when she only had to wait a couple of minutes before snagging a
cab.

"Third and
Delancey
,"
she told the driver then leaned back and glanced out the side rear window.

In the week since she'd ended their
relationship, Gage had left her alone. He hadn't stopped by to see her or even
called to see how she was doing. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but the
ease with which he seemed to have put her out of his mind hurt in a way she
hadn't anticipated.

Despite the break up having been
her decision, she couldn't stop the old doubts. Perhaps, once given his
freedom, Gage realized his feelings for her weren't as strong as he'd said.
Maybe he'd gone out with someone else over the weekend and was already moving on.
She wanted him to move on. No matter how painful it was to think another woman
would be the recipient of his teasing grins, or smoldering gaze, or tender
loving, she wanted him to be happy.

She swallowed back the lump in her
throat. She hadn't known it was possible to miss someone so much. What had
filled that part of her that he now vacated?

Three months ago her life had
seemed full enough. She still had the same job, same goals. How could it seem
so empty now when much of what fulfilled her before was still in place?

The cab pulled to the curb across
the street from her townhouse. Abby paid the fare and climbed out, not even
bothering with her umbrella, and made a dash for the front door.

She'd survive. If nothing else, her
ordeal with Dick had taught her she was a survivor. People moved on, and so
would she…so would she.

Home, she thought after entering
and turning the deadbolt behind her, where she didn't have to smile at anyone,
or force her chin up, or pretend indifference. She could have a good crying jag
if she wanted, and no one would know. She wouldn't; she'd already cried too
many tears but she could if she wanted to. She was safe here from prying eyes
that darted away when met and voices suddenly hushed when she approached.

She bent down and picked up the
mail off the entry floor and headed for the kitchen to put on some water for
tea. She hadn't taken more than a dozen steps when her body went completely
still and her breathing halted. She spun around, her eyes darting around the
room.
Nothing.
She let her breath out slowly.

Whoa, that was weird
. She'd
just had the strongest impression of something, something that didn't belong.
An unfamiliar scent, she thought. She sniffed the air but failed to pick it up
again. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her. 

She dropped her briefcase on the
club chair then fingered through the mail.
Nothing but bills
and credit card solicitations.

She walked into the kitchen and
tossed the stack on the counter. After filling the teakettle, she set it back
on the burner to heat. Before she had turned fully around, she picked up the
same, unfamiliar scent again. Almost simultaneously, she was struck by another
powerful sensation, only this time it felt more like a presence, as if she wasn't
alone.

Okay, now she was spooked. No way
could she relax until she went through every room, checked inside every closet
and cupboard, under the bed, and walked off her small back yard in case someone
was hiding behind the rhododendrons she'd planted last April.

Not alone, though. She wasn't brave
enough or stupid enough to ferret out an intruder alone. It was probably
nothing more than her imagination. But if she didn't check it out, her
imagination was likely to conjure up every horror movie creep she'd ever
watched and hide them in her bedroom closet to wait for her.

She was going to get Carl, her
neighbor two doors down, Carl who topped off at six-five and packed about two
hundred and forty pounds of muscle beneath it. Carl would probably think she
was flaky. So be it. People were thinking a lot worse about her right now. She
could handle flaky…better a little crazy and safe than dead and sorry in her
book.

Abby turned the burner back off and
turned around. It was then she noticed the back door was slightly ajar. She
caught her breath when she saw broken glass on the floor.

She'd been burglarized. If she was
lucky, the thief was long gone, but she definitely was getting Carl now. She
hurried from the kitchen.

She was halfway to the front door
before she saw the man standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom with a gun
trained on her.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

S
imms crunched the paper
coffee cup in his hand and tossed it into the wastepaper basket beside his
desk.

"You're sure Harold Billings
was in the office all afternoon?" He hadn't expected Roger Norwell to pick
up
Billings
's
line.

"Yes. He was out on calls this
morning. Got in sometime around three and left sometime after five thirty or
six," Norwell confirmed.

"Do you happen to know if he
was going home when he left the office?"

"No. I only talked to him once
this afternoon and that was about business."

"How did he seem when you saw
him?"

There was a brief pause on the
other end of the line before Norwell said, "What's this about, Detective?
This whole scandal with Abigail Carpenter has been a public relations mess for
the firm. If you're going to start focusing on Billings now for some reason as well, I have
a right to know what the hell's going on."

"At this point I can't answer
that. But I've left three messages for Billings,
one yesterday and two today, and he hasn't returned any of my calls. I find
that a little odd considering you said he was in all afternoon."

"He was probably too busy
following up on things for clients after being on calls all morning. I'm sure
he'll call you tomorrow."

"Did he seem overly busy when
you talked to him earlier?"

"I don't know, a little
distracted maybe, like he had something important on his mind. So yeah, I
suppose you could say he seemed busy."

"You said distracted. Did he
seem more distracted or busy?"

"How the hell am I supposed to
know? Busy, distracted, what's the difference?"

Simms tapped his pencil eraser
against the edge of the desk.
"Maybe none."

Billings had had plenty of time to get back
to him. Something was up. Experience had taught Gene when people with something
to hide felt
threatened,
they usually acted in one of
two ways. They ran, or they tried to cover their tracks.

"I'll try to reach him at
home. If he happens to come back to the office, tell him to call me."

Gene called
Billings
's
home line but got the machine and decided not to leave
another message.

After talking to
Eldress
, Simms was convinced Billings
had been the one the developer had spoken with in Florida. The description fit the guy to a
tee.

If it turned out Billings had been involved in helping
Carpenter swindle his wife out of twelve million dollars, then it stood to
reason he would have expected some kind of cut for his part. Had the two men
argued over the money and the argument turned deadly?

Apprehension began to coil in his
gut. Maybe he should check in with Abby Carpenter. He'd discovered she usually
worked late so he tried her office first. He got Norwell again.

"Norwell, I'm trying to reach
Abby Carpenter. Is she there?"

"No. She left about a half
hour ago. And if you want to talk to anyone else at the firm, don't bother
calling back until tomorrow. If you haven't figured it out yet, Detective, I'm
the only one here, and I'm getting damn sick of playing receptionist."

"I'll try her at home,
thanks."

Simms checked his file for her home
number. Since he didn't have her cell number, if she wasn't home, he only knew
one other place to try.

~~~

Abby slapped a hand against her
chest.
"God!"
The air whooshed from her lungs,
a burst of relief born from recognition. "You scared the life out of
me."

It took a second to catch her
breath and another for her anger to spark. Narrowing her eyes, she put her
hands on her hips and turned to face him.

"Just what the hell are you
doing here, Billings?"
Her eyes strayed to the gun. He was still pointing it at her. She blinked, the
relief she'd felt a few moments ago evaporated when she remembered the broken
glass on the kitchen floor.

Abby's gaze snapped back to his
face.

"Get over by those
chairs," Billings
said, motioning with the gun. "Now," he ordered when she hesitated.

Abby sidled her way across the
room, keeping him in view as she went.

He moved away from the bedroom and
went to check the lock on the front door.

Turning, he smiled at her, a smile
that reminded her of Jack Nicholson in
The
Shining
.

"We wouldn't want to be
interrupted, would we?" 

"What's going on here,
Harold?"

Abby fought back her fear. She told
herself she couldn't be in any real danger. She didn't know why he'd broken
into her house, or why he had a gun, but she couldn't believe he'd actually use
the thing on her. But if by some chance she was wrong, she'd best keep her wits
about her.

"I didn't expect you. You were
supposed to be out having dinner with the queen bitch." He shook his head
at her. "You're always messing up my plans, aren't you, Abby?"

"I don't know what plans
you're referring to. But I do know breaking into other people's homes without
their permission is against the law."

The phone on the trunk between the
two chairs rang, and Abby darted a glance at it. It was less than two feet
away. She looked back at him, considering her chances, and he narrowed his
eyes.

"Don't even think about
it." He lunged toward her so quickly all she could do was step back.
"You're not going to ruin things this time," he said grasping her
chin in a tight hold and raising her head.

The machine clicked on. "Miss
Carpenter, this is Detective Simms. I need to speak with you. It's
important." Simms left his number and urged her to call him as soon as
possible.

Billings stared down at her. His eyes looked
wild. His fingers were digging into her skin, hurting her.

"Why are you doing this? What
do you want?" She heard the fear in her voice but could do nothing to
prevent it. She was scared. He wasn't acting rational. Rational people didn't
break into other people's homes and threaten them with guns and not let them
answer their phones.

He slowly loosened his fingers and
stepped back a few feet.

"Are you trying to find more
dirt you can pass on to that reporter?" she asked, voicing the only
possibility that came to mind. It seemed crazy he'd risk such a thing, but what
other reason could he have for being here?

She was sure he'd been Lerner's
source. He was convinced she'd stolen the
Riv
One
account from him so it wouldn't surprise her if he'd done it to get revenge.
But breaking into her house to find some juicy tidbit to use against her?

"It doesn't really matter now
if you know I was his source." Billings
narrowed his eyes as he studied her. "It doesn't matter what you know
about anything anymore. If you'd gone where you were supposed to tonight, I
would have been gone long before you got home, and everything would have worked
out the way it was meant to."