As Good as Dead (16 page)

Exhaustion had long since settled in, clouding her brain and bringing her close to tears. Leaving her car with the valet, she grabbed her one rolling suitcase and her bag, then walked through the door that the bellman held open for her.

She tossed a thank-you over her shoulder and made a beeline for the front desk. On the way, she passed several shops, lingering for a moment at the Summerfield Gallery. The knots in her stomach seemed to tumble all over themselves at the thought of seeing her brother again. If Nick was right and Luke had come
here, then this was her sister-in-law’s art gallery. What was she like? Did Luke work here with her? When Angel came down for breakfast tomorrow, would she see him?

Don’t get your hopes up. This may not be him at all. You’ll find out tomorrow. Right now you need to get some sleep. Or at least some rest.
Between the renewed adrenaline and the excitement of possibly finding Luke, she doubted she’d sleep all night.

The price of her room ended up being way beyond her budget. None of the smaller, less expensive rooms were available, but to her surprise, the desk clerk put her into an upgrade on the room for the same price. A nice gesture.

By the time Angel found her room, got into her pajamas, and brushed her teeth, she was more than ready for bed. Closing the curtains, she realized that her room overlooked the lake. Lights flickered in the harbor and across the dark water. “More than an upgrade,” she murmured. This was definitely in the two hundred dollar or more a night range. The room was spacious and had a couch and a chair as well as a table and a desk. Angel yawned and tossed back the covers. Her concerns about not sleeping faded into oblivion.

Angel awoke when someone knocked on her door.

“Housekeeping.”

The door opened, and a maid of Hispanic descent gushed out an apology in broken English. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—I knocked.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Angel sat up in bed, trying to get her brain engaged. “What time is it, anyway?”

“It is 11:00.” The young woman backed out of the room. “I come back later.”

“Right. Later.” Angel dragged herself out of bed and hung out the do-not-disturb sign. She smiled and waved at the maid, then closed the door and padded to the small kitchen area, where she found a coffeemaker and the coffee to go with it. Once she’d put the coffee on, she used the facilities and took a long, hot shower. Waking up more fully brought the excitement and anxiety back again. Still wearing only a towel, she poured her coffee and sipped on it while she dressed. Angel had packed casual and put on her
navy Dockers and a short-sleeved, lightweight sweater, white with a navy trim. What did one wear to confront a long-lost brother’s wife
?

If she is Luke’s wife.
Angel reminded herself that the woman might not be Luke’s wife at all. Even though Nick had made the connection and it made sense, Thomas Sinclair may not be her brother.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Angel.” She pulled a brush through her still-damp hair, then, making sure she had her key, picked up her bag and left. She’d get some food first, then think about what she’d say to this Kinsey person. Hopefully the woman would be available and willing to talk.

Angel had tucked away Thomas Sinclair’s name and address and the computer-generated picture of what Luke looked like now. Several things she knew, and those things were adding up, paving the way toward Luke. Luke had been at the funeral and talked with Nick. He’d mentioned Idaho in his discussion with the woman at the hotel where he’d stayed. And Nick seemed to think Luke was in serious danger from the same guy who’d tried to kill him. The reporter taking the photos at the funeral was dead. Possibly killed by the same man who’d shot at Nick. Faith’s house had been torn apart, and Angel suspected the killer had most likely been looking for a photo of himself. Nick felt certain the man who’d been gardening at the cemetery that day was the one who shot him. Angel had seen the man twice and had practically memorized his features. She felt certain she’d recognize him if she saw him again.
Unless he’s done something drastic to alter his appearance.

Angel went into the dining room on the main floor and was offered a seat at the window, where she could watch boats come in and out of the harbor. As she followed the waitress, she glanced around at the other customers. No one looked the least bit suspicious. And no one resembled the gardener.

All the way to Idaho, she’d checked the cars and people around her. She’d seen nothing to indicate she was being followed. Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been. Angel was well aware of ways to tail people without being seen.

Making herself relax, she studied the menu and settled for
eggs and toast with orange juice and coffee. Though her stomach rebelled at the sight of the food, she forced herself to eat. She needed the energy. And she needed courage—too bad that didn’t come in the form of food.

When she finished breakfast, she braced herself for her encounter with Kinsey Summerfield-Sinclair. Angel paid the bill and then, nervous as a first-time actress, walked across the marble floor and through the enormous lobby with its comfortable-looking seating areas. Again she scanned the occupants. No one looked out of place or familiar.

Her heart hammered in her ears as she approached the gallery. She took a long, settling breath and stepped inside. As she slowly walked through the place, she pretended to examine the artwork, almost wishing she didn’t have an agenda. She caught sight of a watercolor by Steve Hanks, one of her favorite artists. The scene depicted children examining something in a pond. So exquisite was the work that for a moment she was drawn into their innocence.

“Can I help you?”

The female voice jolted Angel out of her reverie, and she turned around quickly. She tried to smile and assess the woman all at once. She was close to Angel’s age and height, only heavier. She had warm brown eyes and rusty brown hair that went beautifully with her tan and the yellow top she wore.

“Steve Hanks is one of my favorite watercolor artists.” The woman’s gaze roamed over the painting, then settled on Angel.

“Mine too,” Angel said.

Reaching out a hand, she said, “I’m Kinsey Sinclair.”

“Angel.” The name drew no response from Kinsey. She wondered if “Delaney” would but decided not to try it just yet.

“Are you staying at the resort?” Kinsey asked.

“Yes. I just got in last night.” Angel found it hard to talk through the constriction in her throat.

“Welcome to Coeur d’Alene.” Kinsey’s smile seemed genuine. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the gallery. If there’s anything I can do or if you have any questions, let me know.”

“There is something.” The words gushed out before she could
stop them. “Do you know this man?” Angel pulled the photo out of her bag and held it up.

Kinsey stared at the picture, her features turning from surprise to wariness. Returning her gaze to Angel, she asked, “Who are you?”

Angel let herself breathe. “Angel Delaney. I’m... I think I may be your sister-in-law.”

Kinsey looked away. “That’s not possible.”

“You met my brother at a summer camp. His best friend was Nick Caldwell.”

She licked her lips. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I need to see him. He’s in danger. Nick has been shot.”

“I...” She shook her head.

“Nick’s okay,” Angel hastened to say. “But we’re concerned that whoever shot him is coming after Luke. Please, help me. Before it’s too late.”

“I can’t...”

“We need to talk, Kinsey. Is there any way you can get away from here for a few minutes?”

After a moment, Kinsey nodded. “I’ll close up for lunch.” She stepped outside and waited for Angel, then locked the door and hung a sign in the window that said she’d be back at 1:00. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Just ate.” She folded Luke’s photo and stuck it back into her bag.

“Let’s walk then.”

That was fine with Angel. She didn’t want to sit where they might be overheard. They walked to the end of the lobby, then outside and onto a dock, which would eventually take them all the way around the marina.

“How did you find us?” Kinsey asked when they were clear of the building.

Angel gave her the
Reader’s Digest
version.

“Thomas has been so worried about Nick.”

“You knew?”

She nodded. “You say he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. Hopefully he’ll stay that way. Right now I’m more
worried about Luke. This picture has been sent to law enforcement agencies all over the country. I’m surprised no one here has noticed.”

She sighed. “Actually, they have. The chief of police talked with Luke yesterday. The photo came into their office, and he saw the resemblance. Fortunately, he doesn’t believe the guy in the picture is Thomas—just someone who looks like him.”

At least something was going right. “You’ve known all along?”

She sighed. “I know my husband. I trust him.”

“And you went along with the phony name and...”

“It was necessary. Luke came here about five years ago. We’d communicated by email and letters before that, and then I didn’t hear from him for more than a year. When he showed up out of the blue, he told me what had happened to him, and I helped him put together a new life here.”

“Where is he?”

“Here.”

“At the resort?”

Kinsey nodded. “My father owns it, and Thomas is the CEO.”

“Does your father know about Luke’s past?”

“No. No one does. I introduced him as Thomas Sinclair, and that’s who he’s been ever since.”

“I need to talk to him. Nick wasn’t the only one who knew about his coming to the funeral. Someone sent a letter bomb to the house addressed to him.”

“Oh no.” Kinsey stopped at the railing and looked out over the water. “I told him it was too risky, but he felt sure no one would recognize him now. He so badly needed to make peace with his father.”

“Nick recognized him, and others might have as well. The guy who shot Nick might also be the one who sent the letter bomb. We’re lucky none of us opened the letter. I got suspicious as soon as I saw that it was addressed to Luke.”

“You’re right. Thomas needs to know. Should I call and have him meet us?”

“That might be too dangerous. I don’t think anyone followed me, but I can’t be certain. Where is he now?”

“In his office.”

“Take me to him. Don’t call.” They began walking again. She bit her lip. “Truth is, I don’t want him taking off again, and I doubt you’d want that either.”

“He wouldn’t do that, but all right.”

They looked at each other for several moments. Angel glanced at a couple coming toward them, then brought her gaze back to Kinsey. “Um... you and Luke, how long have you been married?”

“Four years.”

“Do you...” Angel licked her lips. “Nick said you have a little girl.”

The wariness left Kinsey’s eyes. “Marie. She’s three. You’ll love her.”

“I wish I’d known about her.”

“I do too. You don’t know how many times Thomas and I wanted to contact his family, but the danger was too great. I guess we’re about to find out just how much danger we’re in.”

“Let’s hope not. Like I said, I don’t think anyone followed me here. The police don’t even know about my trip. Nick and a close friend are the only ones who know where I am.”

Kinsey nodded. At the elevators to the executive offices, Angel hesitated before stepping inside. This was too easy. Could Kinsey really be trusted?

Angel’s suspicions of Kinsey were too far-fetched. Luke trusted this woman, and Angel needed to as well. More than likely, the Florida hit man had been keeping tabs on the Delaney family in Sunset Cove. The killer had guessed that Luke would come home and had gone undercover at the funeral.

Angel wished she knew more. The puzzle seemed far too complex, but maybe Luke would have the missing pieces.

God,
she offered up an urgent prayer,
please keep him safe. Keep all of us safe and let us get to this ruthless man before he gets to us.

TWENTY-SIX

C
ade held in his frustration as he always did when things didn’t go according to plan. Even if Angel Delaney did get to Luke before he did, it was nothing worth wasting energy over. He would merely alter his plan a little.

The flight to Spokane had been delayed, making the next flight overbooked. Being a frequent traveler, he was used to the undependability of airlines. He’d finally given up on getting a flight and rented a car. At midnight, he checked into the resort, choosing a lakeside room with a balcony.

His entire body ached from the long drive. He was getting far too old for this sort of thing. After all, he had a perfectly good job outside of killing people. From the moment he’d heard about Frank Delaney’s heart attack, he’d known Luke would surface. He wished at times he could have looked the other way, but that wasn’t an option.

Cade settled into the king-sized bed, intent on getting a few hours of sleep before confronting his old friend Luke Delaney, aka Thomas Sinclair.

TWENTY-SEVEN

L
uke paced his office like a tiger in a cage, sensing danger yet feeling helpless to do anything to stop it. Fortunately, his good friend, the chief of police, had shown him the circulating photo. “I know this guy isn’t you, Thomas, but you might want to shave off your beard.” Which is exactly what he had done. He’d never really liked it, anyway. And even without it he bore little resemblance to the young Luke Delaney who had run away rather than go to the police. His hairline was receding, and his glasses and expanded girth had changed him considerably.

The same old questions tormented him. If he hadn’t run, would the hit man have followed through on his threat to kill Angel? For so many years Luke had convinced himself that he’d done the right thing. But now... Now he was forced to open the door to that vast darkness, letting out all the demons he thought he’d left behind.

His life would be worthless if the authorities or the hit man found him. Had someone followed him back to Idaho after the funeral? He’d carefully assessed everyone who had been on the plane with him. He hadn’t told Nick where he was living, and even if he had, Nick would never tell anyone.