Blood And Bone (9 page)

“How would you like to not make that payment?”

Was she kidding? He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to get away from this place, from Heddi. Still, he held himself rigid, refusing to give in to the tiny ember of hope flickering inside him. “Go on.”

“You do as I ask, and I’ll wipe the debt clean. Stopping that woman will be your final payment.”

“That’s a very nice offer, but like I said, I’m not the strong-arm type.”

She cackled and he half expected her to pull a broom out from under her chaise and fly away. “That’s not what I had in mind. I want to know to whom she’s talking to and what they’re saying. As for strong-arm tactics, I’ll take care of that.”

“More visits from Hudson?” He’d never hated anyone in his life the way he hated her. Not even his father.

“That’s not your concern.”

“You’re right, it’s not. I don’t want anything to do with this. If you want a spy, find someone else.” He didn’t want Shayne writing her book anymore than the old bitch sitting next to him did, but he wouldn’t get involved in Heddi’s craziness, not even if it meant his freedom.

“You are so much like Robert.” Her thin lips curled back in a sneer, but her words had remarkably little effect on him. Whenever he didn’t fall in line, she pulled out the same spiel. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. It could be worse. He could be like her.

“What do you think this book will do to Julia? God knows what she saw, what hell she survived so you would live.”

He stood and his stomach roiled from the ache in his head. He gritted his teeth, locking his jaw, determined not to throw up.

“I won’t do it,” he said once certain he could keep his stomach contents at bay. His voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears.

He turned away from the malicious little skeleton and made his way to the door.

“We’ll see.” Heddi’s voice, remarkably strong for someone so ill, followed him out.

Shayne pressed the doorbell, stepped back and waited. The midmorning sun glared down on her shoulders, turning her skin hot beneath the thin fabric of her blouse and pants, and casting her faint reflection in the leaded window mounted in the door. Despite the warped glass and watery image, she could still see dark circles bruising the flesh beneath her eyes.

She looked tired and worn out. Old. She sighed.

Well, why wouldn’t she? She hadn’t slept. After dropping Des off, there hadn’t been time to catch a few hours’ rest, not if she wanted to be on time for her appointment. Not that she could have fallen asleep, anyway. After that kiss, her mind had been spinning too fast, her thoughts too turbulent. Her lips still tingled with memory as if permanently imprinted with his mouth.

Pull it together, it was one kiss.

A decent sleep and she would no doubt have the situation back in perspective. Thankfully, this interview with Gwendolyn’s first husband was the only thing she had scheduled for today. Once she finished here, she could head back and take a nap.

The door before her swung open and Cal Warren’s imposing frame filled the narrow space. He had to be six feet tall, or more, his body trim beneath broad shoulders. His steel-gray hair, cut short, receded at the corners, creating a distinct widow’s peak. Hawkish features turned his already-stoic expression harsh.

Shayne plastered on her best smile and extended her hand. “Mr. Warren, I’m Shayne Reynolds. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

“My pleasure.” But he didn’t look pleased, just the opposite, actually. His large hand gripped hers briefly before he stepped aside. “Come in.”

Shayne nodded and stepped into a wide foyer. White walls, gray marble and a blast of frigid air conditioning left the room stark and cold. The sharp contrast from the blazing heat outside studded her bare arms with goose bumps.

“I thought we could speak in my office,” Warren said.

Her tight smile remained fixed in place, and her cheeks started to ache. “Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

He nodded and led her through a door off the foyer and into a long, narrow room with dark green walls and gleaming wood furniture. The rich, reddish-brown wood of his desk and bookshelves matched the wide mantel framing a dark, gas fireplace. The cool air smelled faintly of his spicy cologne and old cigars.

“Please, sit down,” Warren said, waving her toward one of the chairs before his desk.

The burgundy leather creaked beneath her weight as she eased onto the seat. Warren settled himself into the throne-like chair behind the desk, laced his fingers and rested his hands on the pale green blotter.

Shayne pulled her notepad and audio recorder from her bag. “Do you mind if I tape our conversation?”

“No.” Warren held himself rigidly. His blue eyes stood out against his tanned skin. “I’d like to make something perfectly clear before we begin, though.”

She stiffened, hoping he wouldn’t try to put restrictions on her work because he feared how he’d appear on the printed page. “What’s that?”

His eyes narrowed and creased at the corners. His face was remarkably unlined for his age. Maybe he’d had work done. “With Anderson free, this book had better not be about some imagined miscarriage of justice, that poor Robert Anderson was railroaded.”

Why would he even wonder? “I assure you, I work only with facts, not speculation.”

“Have you spoken to Anderson?”

“Yes.”

“Did he deny murdering them?”

Anderson’s so-called envelope of proof popped into her head. Not that the articles inside meant anything to her, and after three messages, the man still hadn’t called her back. “The evidence and his confession say he’s responsible for the murders. That’s what I’ll be working from.”

Warren nodded. “Good. Let’s begin.”

Shayne set the recorder on the desk between them and balanced her notepad on her knee.

“Can you tell me how you and Gwen met?”

“Through mutual friends in our final year of university.”

“Were you attracted to each other immediately, or did the relationship develop slowly?”

He snorted. “Our marriage was not a love match, if that’s what you’re thinking. No love at first sight or any of that nonsense. She wanted to annoy her mother, and I wanted a shortcut.”

Shayne looked up from her notes. “A shortcut?”

“Gwen was being groomed to take over Heddi’s companies and I thought marrying her would help me get my foot in the door. Perhaps even take my wife’s place once we had children.”

Shayne made notes on her pad, struggling to keep her expression impassive. Poor Gwen. Had she had any idea the man she married was merely using her? “And did marrying Gwen help you further your career?”

He shook his head. “No. Heddi wouldn’t let me near her little empire. Even once Christian was born, Heddi wouldn’t have it. The only person she wanted in charge was Gwen. Heddi wouldn’t let her own son have any real power, just stuck him with some broken-down realty office. What chance did a mere son-in-law stand?”

“When marriage and family didn’t get you what you wanted, how did you react?” Damn, even she’d heard the derision in her tone.

A hard smile lit his face. “I was using her—you’re absolutely right—but don’t kid yourself, she was using me too. She wanted out from under her mother’s thumb, a family of her own. Like I said, our relationship wasn’t about love. Neither of us wanted that.”

That may have been, but she had a feeling Cal had gotten the better end of the stick on that deal. “Gwen was aware of your feelings and motivations when you decided to marry?”

“Of course. I think after we eloped, Gwen was disappointed Heddi didn’t disown her. The old hag still wanted to control every aspect of Gwen’s life, and once Julia was born, Heddi became more demanding.”

“What changed with Julia’s birth?”

“You’d have to ask Heddi to know for sure, but I suspect she saw her legacy continuing in Julia.”

“Not with Christian?”

A dry bark of laughter burst from his mouth. “No, not Christian. Heddi hates men. She has no use for them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a clue, but she made no secret of her feelings for the opposite sex. She considered men weak and not to be trusted.”

“With Heddi’s interfering, and your own hopes of gaining access to the company dashed, did you ever encourage Gwen to resign?” Shayne was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“No. She was making a lot of money. More than me, and I was VP of Finance for a major holdings company.”

Right again. God, sometimes the predictability of human nature could be depressing. “What was happening in your marriage when Gwen met Robert?”

“Nothing. Business as usual.”

“How did you feel when you learned she was seeing someone else?”

He sat back in his chair, a faint smirk on his face. “I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have my concerns.” Warren kept his stare fixed on her face. Gauging her reaction, maybe. She refused to give him one. “After all, she only told me about Anderson once she was pregnant. She wanted a divorce so she could marry him.”

“You were upset to learn about the affair?”

“I couldn’t have cared less about her sleeping with the man. I’d been with other women almost from the word go.” He sounded like a high school kid trying to convince her he’d done the breaking up, not the other way around. “But I wasn’t pleased about the divorce. That wasn’t part of our arrangement. In the end, though, Gwen and I agreed to a settlement that was advantageous to us both.”

“Which was?”

“She gave me the money I needed to start my own business, and she took full custody of Christian and Julia.”

“Did you see the children?”

“A few times.”

“A few times in three years?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and pressing his steepled fingers to his lips. “To be honest, I saw the children rarely. I was a lousy husband, but I was an even lousier father.”

“Is that why you allowed Heddi to take custody of Julia after the murders?”

“What would I do with an eight-year-old girl on my own?”

Comfort her. Protect her. Be her father. For a moment her thoughts flitted to her own father. Critical he might be, but he loved her and her sisters. He would never have turned his girls over to someone else when they needed him most.

“I know this may be difficult.”
At least it would be if you experienced half-human emotion.
“But could you take me through the moment you learned of the murders, and what you felt?”

His rigid expression crumbled, and for a moment, he looked every one of sixty-four years, plastic surgery or not. But the flash of emotion was fleeting, his features turning hard so quickly she couldn’t be sure she’d seen it at all. “I was supposed to take the children that weekend, did you know that?”

Shayne shook her head.

“I canceled, as I had many times before. I had an important meeting with my investors the following Monday.” He swallowed hard and shifted his gaze. He was no longer looking
at
Shayne, but
through
her. “I was home working late, preparing for that meeting when someone knocked on the door. I felt sort of cold and sick. It was past midnight and no good news ever comes in the middle of the night. All the way to the door, I kept telling myself it was nothing, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful had happened.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and Shayne took back some of her mean thoughts about his lack of feeling for his ex-wife and children. She may not agree with how he behaved, but the memories obviously had stayed with him. Haunted him.

“I opened the door,” he continued. “There were two men standing there, one a uniformed police officer and another who introduced himself as Detective…somebody. I can’t remember his name now. I’m not sure it even registered back then. They told me they had bad news and asked if I’d like to sit down. I said to just tell me.” He was quiet for a long moment, lost in his memories. He shook his head, drew a deep breath and resumed his story as if he hadn’t stopped. “The detective explained Christian and Gwen had been murdered. Shot. No one knew Robert had killed them, not yet.

“You wanted to know how I felt? Shocked at first. I didn’t believe it. There had to be some kind of mistake. No, the detective assured me, there wasn’t. They were dead. It had been nearly a year since I’d last seen Christian and Julia, and I couldn’t really remember what they looked like. I should have been a better father. He would be alive if I had been.”

Shayne didn’t speak. Rarely did she find herself in a situation where she didn’t know what to say, but sitting before Cal Warren, his voice raw with regret, all she could come up with was, “I’m sorry.”

So small, so feeble, so ineffective.

He cleared his throat. “Do you have everything you need?”

She hated to push him, but she doubted he’d give her this chance again. “Were you surprised when you learned Robert Anderson was the man responsible?”

He tapped his finger on the desk. “I don’t remember feeling anything but furious.”

“At Robert?”

“At Gwen.” His finger bounced in a quick rhythmless staccato against the rich wood. “I was angry at her for marrying the man to force her mother to sever their ties. That’s why she chose him.”

“You don’t believe they fell in love?”

“Good God, no! He was a small-town mechanic and she was a CEO—what could they have possibly had in common?”

He might have had a point. Ian’s less-than-subtle hint his sister had been seeing someone else when she died came to mind. “Was Gwen involved with another man while married to Robert?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. You think
I’m
a user?” His voice rose, and his fingertip thudded against the desk like dull machine-gun fire. “She was too. When marrying me didn’t get her what she wanted, she went after Robert. He was already married, you know, with a child of his own.”

She did know. While she’d managed to track down Robert’s now-grown son, his ex-wife seemed to have vanished.

“That’s why she let him get her pregnant,” Warren continued. “Otherwise, Gwen wouldn’t have had enough leverage to convince Anderson to leave his wife. Her plan worked too. Robert Anderson was just the kind of man to force Heddi to disown her. But Gwen hadn’t calculated Robert’s reaction when she finally got fed up playing housewife in their hovel in the woods. She hadn’t counted on the man being angry enough to kill.”