Betting on Grace (20 page)

They both looked at her. MaryAnn’s eyes were glassy and blank. Nick’s were filled with concern.

He cares, she thought. But a moment later, the gun sounded a second time. The gray mist turned red. The color of blood.

She opened her eyes, surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears. Her whole body was shaking. A vision or her imagination? Which was it?

Her mother would know. Grace started to get up, but the loud thump of a car door startled her. Off balance, she fell onto her elbow and let out a small whimper. Enough to catch the attention of the man storming her way.

Nikolai. Grace barely registered the fierce look on his face. Her only thought as she jumped to her feet was,
You’re alive.

She must have cried those words aloud because he stopped abruptly and gave her a questioning look. She raced to him and hugged him fiercely. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Nick pushed her back then yanked off his sunglasses. The piercing intensity she read in his eyes made her flinch. “What the hell are you talking about?” he growled.

“I had a vision. MaryAnn shot you. I saw blood.”

He made a disparaging sound. “MaryAnn has disappeared, Grace. Your mother said you were the last person to talk to her. Where is she? What did you tell her?”

Grace couldn’t feel her fingers. “N…nothing. I don’t know. Why are you being so hostile? My God, if anyone should be mad, it’s me. You lied to me about who you are, and you have the audacity to give me grief about my cousin’s wife’s whereabouts? What’s the big deal? She’s only a secretary.”

He snorted. “Nice try, princess. But she’s much more than that. She’s the key to keeping Charles in jail. We also suspect that she was blackmailing Charles.”

“MaryAnn? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s—”

“Romani?” His tone dripped of contempt. “In this case, that defense won’t fly. She’s in this up to her eyeballs, just like her husband and father-in-law. And if I find out you aided and abetted in any way…”

Grace looked away. She didn’t need to hear the rest of his threat. The worst he could do to her had already been done. He’d chosen sides. Nikolai Sarna was gone. He’d never really existed. The person gripping her arms as if she might attack him was Nick Lightner. Gaujo cop. Not a man she could ever love.

N
ICK KNEW
what she was going to say. He could read it in her face. She’d done something to warn MaryAnn. He didn’t know what—Yetta had insisted she hadn’t told Grace about his real purpose for being here until after Grace had talked to her cousin’s wife. But Grace looked guilty. And resigned. As if she knew their relationship was over.

Which it had to be, right? She’d made it clear how she felt about cops.

“I told MaryAnn that Charles was pressuring me into giving him the money in my trust. That he’d made threats against my family. I didn’t think she’d want to work for that kind of person.”

“What did she say?”

“That she knew he was a bad man, but she needed the job. She said she was a glorified paper pusher. That’s all.”

“She lied. I have handwritten notes incriminating her. Plus, the statements of her own husband and father-in-law.”

“Claude and Gregor turned against her?”

The how-could-you? look in her eyes made him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably Charles. “They’re trying to help us find her because they’re wor
ried that Charles will get to her first. Chuck has always been the big fish, but he’s clever. He knows that the only way we can make these charges stick is if we have MaryAnn to tell us where the bodies are buried, so to speak.”

She swayed slightly as if her knees might give out. He softened his tone as he added, “Things are under control at the moment. Alex is going to keep Gregor’s kids until your mother can arrange bail. Kate’s lawyer showed up. He’ll represent Claude and Gregor, and MaryAnn when we find her. Liz is helping Zeke process the foreign prostitutes.”

“The women I met in Charles’s apartment?”

He nodded.

“So there’s nothing for me to do?” she asked in a little-girl voice.

“You can tell me where MaryAnn is.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then give me the names of her friends. Family. Anyone she’d turn to for help.”

“Did you check at the ranch?”

“Yes. She’s not there,” Nick said, looking around. He’d been so caught up in finding Grace that he hadn’t noticed the headstone bracketed by two rosebushes. So this was where the patriarch of the Romani was buried.

The grass was just starting to turn green. Trees were budding. A sanctuary of several acres squeezed between some warehouses and the highway. Except for a smattering of shrubs, some neatly trimmed, some overgrown, the only ornamentation Nick could see was a number of artificially bright plastic flower arrangements.

“Listen, Nikolai…I mean, Nick. I’m sorry. I can’t tell
you where she is because I don’t know, but even if I did, she’s family. And—” Her shoulders rose and fell in a gesture he’d seen many times.

“And family trumps everything, right? The law comes second. Personal responsibility is a distant third. You can overlook breaking the law because she’s married to your cousin.”

Her dark eyes flashed with emotion. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Oh, come on, Grace. I overheard your sisters talking before I came looking for you. You’re heir apparent to your mother’s powers. Didn’t you just say you’d had a vision? Something about me getting shot?”

“I saw MaryAnn. With a gun.”

“Well, there were no guns drawn during the raid, so maybe what you saw is something that’s going to take place in the future.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to sit down beside him on one of the pillows. “Try again. Give me some kind of clue. Is it MaryAnn in the conservatory with a lead pipe?”

Her cheeks turned as red as the silk binding on the blanket. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Because I’m pissed off. I can’t leave town until this case is wrapped up. Now, I’ve got a fugitive. An
armed
fugitive according to your vision.”

Her eyes went wide with distress. “You’re making her sound dangerous. This is MaryAnn we’re talking about.”

“You’re the one who said you saw a gun.”

“I thought I did. I heard a sound and I…I…” She blinked back tears. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Nick flopped to his side and stretched out. “Grace,
she’s your cousin’s wife. If I post an APB, someone else might find her first. Charles’s goons are looking for her, too, you know. If he hired one hit man, you can be sure he’ll hire another if it serves his purpose. If you want to keep her safe, go into another trance and find out where she’s hiding.”

She threw out her hands. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Selective sight?”

“I…I don’t know. It comes and goes. I don’t have any control over it.”

“How do you know if you don’t try?”

She swallowed and looked down. “You don’t believe in visions so why are you baiting me?”

He sat up sharply. “This isn’t about what I believe. MaryAnn is a fugitive. People on the run make impulsive decisions. They get hurt. If you really care about your cousin and his family, you’ll help me find her before something bad happens.”

Grace knew she was being played. This wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. This was the stranger who’d stepped off the plane with the squint of a hit man.

But he did have a point. She still felt the lingering uneasiness from her vision. MaryAnn
could
have a gun. Gregor had collected pistols for years before the kids were born. He only had a couple left, but MaryAnn knew how to use them. Not that Grace planned to tell Nikolai that.

“Okay, I’ll try. But I don’t guarantee anything.”

She settled back on the cushion and closed her eyes. In her mind, she pictured herself sitting in the cemetery across from Nikolai. She saw her father’s grave site. Ernst was shaking his head at her current conundrum.

Hi, Daddy. Fine mess I’ve made of things, huh?

Oh, Princess, you always did worry too much. Things have a way of working out, now, don’t they?

She imagined her father sitting atop the marble headstone. Relaxed. Legs dangling. The way he looked when they were fishing off the side of their houseboat. He never caught anything, but he loved to “annoy the fish,” as he laughingly called the sport.

He smiled at her and winked.

A horn honked from the side street; Ernst disappeared.

Hot tears clustered behind her lids.

“Well?” Nikolai demanded.

Grace shook her head.

“You saw something. I sensed it.”

She blinked. “You did?”

“Your face changed. Your smile turned soft and indulgent like when…never mind.”

“When what?”

“Sometimes you use that smile when you look at me. Like when we were gambling and I called your bluff. I felt a connection.”

Grace was surprised by his perception. “I saw my dad,” she admitted. “He was fishing. On our houseboat.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “What houseboat?”

“Well, it’s nothing elaborate. More like an RV on pontoons. The main deck has a couple of bedrooms, a kitchen and living room. The top deck is open. The kids sleep there on air mattresses. It’s moored at Lake Mojave. Nobody’s used it in a long time, but Mom won’t hear of selling it. Dad loved the place.”

“Lake Mojave? Where’s that? The only lake I’ve ever heard of is Mead.”

She explained about the less well-known reservoir produced by Davis Dam, also on the Colorado River but seventy miles south of Hoover. “Lake Mead is closer and more popular. The marina is also more expensive. Cottonwood Cove, where we keep our boat, is directly east of Searchlight.”

Nikolai stood up and took his cell phone from his belt. “Give me the specifics. How do I find the boat?”

“Now, that’s a little tricky,” she said truthfully. “The last time I talked to the marina people they said they were going to move all the boats in our section to do some repairs. I could show you.”

“Or I could call the marina and ask.”

Grace shrugged. “You can try. But this is the off-season. And midweek. The owners are probably working in the dry-dock shop. When I need to communicate with them, I leave a message and they call me back. Eventually.”

He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her, but after a few minutes of placing calls and waiting, he lowered his phone. “Damn.”

She could tell he didn’t want to spend any more time with her than absolutely necessary. Which was fine with her. She wasn’t all that keen to spend time with him, either. She glared at him…and her heart softened, remembering the afternoon they’d made love. Dammit, they had feelings for each other. Sure, their problems were huge. Their differences enormous. So was their passion. Didn’t that count for anything? “I have the key,” she said, pulling her key ring from her pocket. She was
pretty
sure the small silver key opened the boat door.

“Damn,” he repeated. He punched in another number
on his cell phone and started walking toward his car. Grace scooped up her blanket and pillows and followed. She could only hear bits and pieces of his one-sided conversation.

“…a long shot.”

“She didn’t actually see…it’s more like a hunch.”

“Fine.”

“I will.”

“What about backup? Fine. Got it.”

She was breathing hard by the time she caught up with him. “Well?”

“You can come, but only to show me where the boat is. Zeke’s sending a couple of Nevada State Troopers to meet us there. You will have no interaction with the suspect if she’s present. Do you understand?”

Grace nodded. But beneath the blanket, her fingers were crossed. There was still the matter of the gun. If what she’d seen was a vision, then MaryAnn was armed. And very, very upset. Grace wasn’t going to lose Nick to a bullet, even if she lost him eventually to his other life in Detroit.

Y
ETTA HAD BEEN
waiting in Zeke’s office for what felt like hours. His small courtesy of allowing her some privacy had done little to appease her anger. Jurek had assured her that if family members were involved in Charles’s scams, the police would treat them compassionately until the truth could be sorted out. Too bad nobody had told Zeke and his henchmen.

“I must demand that you stop interrogating my nephew and brother-in-law until our attorney has a chance to talk to them,” she said, the moment Zeke
opened the door. He’d left to get her a cup of coffee, which she didn’t want, but the space had given her a few moments to collect herself. The man’s no-nonsense manner bothered her, as did his occasional display of humor. She hated to be teased, although Ernst had loved to get her all riled up then kiss away her ire.

“He’s with them, now. Kate brought him in. Your other daughter volunteered to talk to the two women we removed from Charles’s suite. Apparently, she speaks a little Hungarian or some Slavic language.”

That was news to Yetta, but Elizabeth had always been the most private child. The one with the hidden diary, friends she didn’t bring home to meet the family, problems she wasn’t willing to share. “Good,” Yetta said, staring at the watery brown liquid in the disposable cup that he’d handed her.

The moment she’d received Zeke’s call, Yetta had understood the gravity of the situation. In taking Jurek’s advice to contact his son, she’d expected only Charles to be arrested. She hadn’t thought about needing a lawyer to act on the family’s behalf. Thank heavens Jo’s son was licensed to practice law in Nevada, as well as California.

“I should be with Claude and Gregor. I’ve never met this attorney. Katherine said he’s very young.”

“Sorry. No family allowed. There will be an arraignment. It doesn’t take Perry Mason to ask for bail.”

“What are they being charged with?”

“That’s up to the D.A. If your family members cooperate with our investigation, their lawyer might be able to cut a deal. Probation. Fine. Maybe a little jail time with community service.”

Yetta couldn’t tell if he was being patronizing or not.
“Are you married?” she asked. Married men spoke to women differently than single men did, she’d noticed.

He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk. “I was. A hundred years ago. She decided being a cop’s wife wasn’t her cup of tea.”

Yetta could see why. Bad hours. Risky profession. An inability to trust people. She sensed that about him, even though they’d had very little direct contact. He was like a desert tortoise Elizabeth once brought home from school. Cautious and intensely focused, it took care of business but closed up shop when people got too close. Its hard shell was strangely beautiful and broke Yetta’s heart, even though she knew that solid barrier was the only thing that had kept the animal safe for so many years.

“By the way,” Zeke said, “just so you don’t think I’m withholding anything, I got a call from Nick. He and Grace are on their way to Lake Mojave.”

Yetta’s fingers went numb. “Why?” she asked in a voice that seemed to come from a far-off place.

“Something about a vision and a houseboat.”

The still-full cup tumbled to the floor. She looked at the stain on the floor. Instead of brown coffee, it looked red. Like blood.

N
ICK HAD
strict rules about involving civilians in police business. Particularly when he cared about the civilian in question. He wasn’t happy that Grace was standing at his side as they surveyed the horseshoe-shaped cove where the Lake Mojave Marina was located.

As Grace had predicted, the place was relatively quiet. Nick could tell that most of the people scattered about were fishermen. The motel to his right seemed
pretty empty. The parking lot contained mostly pickup trucks and a few RVs. MaryAnn’s car was not there.

Only one artery led to the floating marina. At the shoreline, a father and three youngsters were tossing bread to a gaggle of geese. Competing for food was a school of carp just below the surface. Huge fish that churned up the water like a boat propeller.

Nick stopped Grace before they reached the floating plywood dock. “Point out your boat, then go back and wait.”

She kept walking. Her sandals made a
shush-shush
sound against the weathered decking that was wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Nick was glad he’d worn soft-soled shoes. He was even happier that Zeke had given him back his gun.

“It’s either the second or third from the last in this row. I can’t be sure from this angle. The Petersons’ boat looks identical to ours, except for the name above the door.” She looked at him. “Ours is called the
Gypsy Moon.
”