Blue Clouds (28 page)

The box
. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd just been mail-bombed.

“You didn't happen to notice the address label before you opened it, did you, Mr. Wyatt?”

The police officer asking didn't wear the traditional blue uniform, but khakis and a denim shirt. Grimacing under the ice pack Pippa had insisted on applying, Seth shook his head. “Cut the ‘Mr. Wyatt' crap, Bert. You used to whale the devil out of me and call me ‘sissy.'”

Bert moved his shoulders uncomfortably beneath his shirt and jotted a note on his pad. “Yeah, well, I can be a lot more imaginative these days, so be thankful for what you get. Just answer the question.”

“No, I don't remember the address label. I assumed it was from my publisher. Pippa doesn't open any packages from them. She just stacks them on my desk.”

“She opens your other packages?”

“Doug does. I do exercise a certain degree of caution. He's taken some bodyguard classes.” Seth wished his head didn't hurt so much. He couldn't think clearly. Why hadn't he noticed the label?

“I'm going to call Doug in here. You haven't had any disagreements with him recently, have you?”

Seth gave a morbid chuckle. “If you mean have I fired him lately, probably not. I've been otherwise occupied.”

“You fire him regularly?” Bert jotted another note across his pad.

“I fire everybody regularly. They just don't take the hint. You'll probably find the lot of them outside the door, hovering like vultures.” Like guardian angels, more like it, but that was too embarrassing to admit. He liked it better when he could snap and growl without compunction, but lately, a certain administrative assistant had changed his outlook. Even his mother was beginning to look human. If it weren't for Chad, he'd toss the lot of them out. Life was much simpler when lived alone.

Before he realized Bert had opened the door, Pippa was hovering over him again, and Doug was barking surly replies. Just for the hell of it, Seth looked up and winked at her. She pinched his arm.

He could rely on Pippa to keep him in his place. Grinning inwardly and feeling more grounded now, Seth tuned in on Bert's questioning. He didn't like the direction in the least.

“Lay off him, Bert. If Doug wanted to cream me, he wouldn't have to build a bomb to do it. Have you got men searching for Durwood? I don't want him out there at nightfall. He hasn't the sense of a six-year-old. He'll fall off a cliff.”

Bert punched his radio and after an exchange of static, nodded and turned it off. “They found him down in a corner of the property. He couldn't locate the gate, apparently.”

Doug snickered, but at Bert's glance, quickly stiffened. He'd been in trouble with the law one too many times to be comfortable with cops, Seth knew. He didn't like seeing his friend intimidated by a small-town bully. “Doug, there were several boxes on the desk when I came in. Were they all from publishers?”

Doug frowned. “I only brought in one I didn't open. But things been kinda crazy 'round here these last few days. Durwood brought some up the other day. I looked through them before he brought 'em in here. There's that FedEx from Japan, the one from your publisher I didn't open, a package from Kentucky for Pippa, and a couple of junky things from people trying to sell you something. I reckon Pippa left most of 'em on the desk since I told her they ain't nothin' to worry about.”

Behind him, Seth felt Pippa stiffen at the mention of the package to her. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. He wanted to reach up and grasp them, to ease whatever had bothered her, but he wouldn't let Bert think dirty thoughts. Carefully, he asked, “Did you get your box, Pippa?”

“I forgot about it,” she whispered. “Doug told me it was down here, but you know how things have been. I just forgot about it.”

Odd, he heard terror in her voice. Why should she be terrified that she hadn't opened a box addressed to her? Surely there weren't maniacs out there threatening nurses? Or had she been threatened because of him?

Feeling a sudden rush of anger at that thought, Seth worked even harder not to betray his thoughts. “Where did you put Pippa's box?” he asked, ignoring Bert's frown.

Doug shrugged. “I didn't. That was one of them Durwood carried in. I was on the way to get more Coke for the kid.”

Bert interrupted. “Let me get this straight. The only people with access to the mail are Mr. Brown, Miss Cochran, and the gardener?”

“And Lillian,” Pippa mentioned quietly. “She's been helping while Chad was sick.”

“So any of the four of you could have put that box in here?” Bert asked in a voice spilling suspicion.

“No member of my household would deliberately plant a bomb in my office,” Seth declared adamantly. He refused to think it. Couldn't. Not now, anyway. Without turning, he asked Pippa, “The box from Kentucky isn't in your office?”

“No,” she whispered. “Durwood must have brought it in here. I doubt he can read.”

“Is there any reason to believe someone might address a mail bomb to your assistant in hopes of harming you?” Bert asked sternly.

It didn't make sense. Seth waited for Pippa to say something, but she remained ominously quiet. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seth admitted he didn't want to think about it any longer. That was what he had Dirk for. He'd better call Dirk as soon as he got Goody Two-shoes out of here.

“I can't think of any good reason for this. Maybe it was a harmless prank that went bad. I still can't believe it was actually a bomb,” Seth said. “Can't other things explode if they get too hot or are left too long or something?”

“I'm no bomb expert. That's why we called in the state police. They'll tell us more in a few days. But it would help tremendously if we had the return addresses of all the packages that arrived here.” Bert glared at Doug again. “I don't suppose you remember whether these were mail or UPS or whatever, do you?”

Doug glowered back. “I told you, the one from Japan was FedEx. The junk was post office. Pippa's and the publisher's came UPS. Can't you trace those UPS things?”

“We'll do that.” Bert flipped a page of his notepad and turned to Pippa. “Now, Miss Cochran, were you expecting anything from Kentucky?”

“That's my home,” she murmured. “A friend picks up my mail. She forwards anything important. And...”

Bert leapt in with the question that Seth wanted to ask. “Why didn't you have the post office forward your mail?”

Again, her fingers tightened on Seth's shoulder. Her voice shook slightly as she replied. “I didn't know how long I'd be out here. I didn't think about it before I left and didn't think I could do it from here. Besides, I didn't want to clutter up Seth's mail with my personal correspondence. It just seemed easier.”

Seth heard the gaping holes in her story, but Bert didn't. Impatiently, Seth threw aside the ice pack and stood, however shakily. “I have to look in on my son, Bert. He's been ill, and I don't want him worrying. I'll be cautious with any further packages. Get back to me if you hear anything useful.”

Bert knew a tone of dismissal when he heard one. The look he threw Seth wasn't a pleasant one, but he jerked on his baseball cap and headed for the door. “Maybe you ought to start thinking about why anyone would want to kill you, Mr. Wyatt,” he said sarcastically as he grabbed the doorknob. “Make a list of suspects. It should keep the police department employed for several years.”

The door fell off its hinges as he tried to slam it. Glancing down at the shambles, Bert had the grace to look ashamed before he nodded in Pippa's direction, then stalked off.

“Doug, out of here,” Seth ordered, not turning around to look at Pippa yet.

Doug raised an eyebrow but did as told. Seth didn't miss the concerned look he threw Pippa. Everybody in the whole damned house kept looking at her as if she were the one harmed when he was the one swaying on his feet. What did they think he would do, bite her head off?

When they were finally alone, Seth turned cautiously so as not to unbalance himself and eyed his currently unbouncy assistant. The smile had disappeared from her eyes, the color from her cheeks. She looked haunted. No wonder all the men around here wanted to wrap her in cotton batting.

“Sit,” he ordered.

She glanced around and a wry quirk returned to her lips. Clearing a place on the floor with her toe, she sat on the scorched remains of his hideously expensive Oriental carpet. She looked up at him like a frog on a lily pad.

“Oh, hell, now I see why men take up drinking.” Too exhausted and battered to seek another solution, Seth leaned over, grabbed her by the armpits, lifted her from the floor, and dropped her into his undamaged recliner.

She gasped in surprise, her eyes widening into circles that inexplicably pleased him, but she said nothing. Cautiously, Seth tested the corner of his desk. It had once been solid mahogany, an immense acre of wood that had provided a barrier against the world. Even with a hole in its middle, it stood firm. He leaned back against it and crossed his arms. He knew the body language of intimidation well enough. He applied it now.

“Who do you think sent the package, Pippa? And don't give me that runaround about the mail. You left home so hurriedly that you didn't leave a forwarding address. And you were afraid someone might follow you if you sent one in once you had a permanent place to stay. I might even venture to say you blackmailed me into letting you stay here because you liked the isolation. You're not a person who likes isolation, Pippa Cochran. So spill it. I'll not have some maniac endangering Chad because of you.”

She paled even more. She had the translucent skin of a redhead, even if he suspected the red was enhanced. That enhancement was the only color she sported right now. He should be ashamed of himself, but he was too frightened of the consequences to think beyond them. If he hadn't leaned over to look out the window, he could have had his head blown off. If Pippa had opened the box, she'd be in as many pieces as his computer. The image of her torn and bloody body scattered across his office ripped at his soul.

“Billy,” she whispered. “I can't see how it's possible. It doesn't make sense. But if it was the package addressed to me...” She looked up at him again. “Do you think, could that package possibly have been blown to bits when yours blew up? Maybe it wasn't mine that exploded.”

“It's possible,” he grudgingly admitted. “Someone could have stolen a label from my publisher. They'd have to know Doug didn't open those packages though. That's not very likely.”

But there was the candy, Seth acknowledged. That had been addressed to him. What if it had been poisoned, as Pippa thought? This Billy person wouldn't have tried to poison him, would he? If he were the jealous type, he might, Seth conceded. He didn't mention that to Pippa. She was frightened enough as it was.

“You and Miss MacGregor and Doug and I are the only people who know I don't open my packages,” he said, continuing his earlier train of thought.

She nodded and covered her eyes with her hand. “And stealing a label is pretty elaborate planning, unless your publisher decided to blow you up. I don't suppose you could have ticked off someone over there?”

Seth snorted. “I've ticked them all off at one time or another, but people don't generally go around blowing up the goose who lays the golden eggs. That would take a really sick mind.”

“It would take a really sick mind to send a bomb,” she murmured.

He had the ridiculous urge to gather her in his arms as he would Chad, to hold her in his lap and comfort her. But he couldn't get involved. She was the cuckoo in his nest, and he had to protect his family. “Who's Billy?”

She shook her head, keeping her eyes covered. Then with sudden decision, she dropped her hand and stared at him. Her eyes were enormous, unfathomable green lakes against her pinched skin, but he resisted their pull.

“My ex-fiancé. He beat me to a pulp the day before I left town.”

Seth tried not to let the sickness flood over him at her blunt admission, but it was there anyway, all those years of helplessness, of getting his teeth kicked in, his ribs bruised, his head pounded. Applying those images to this soft woman in front of him... Horror gripped him as he remembered the makeup she'd worn so thickly when she'd first arrived. He realized now that she seldom wore any cosmetics but lipstick. How many bruises had she carried that day?

He could deal with this. He'd learned how to deal with violence. It had taken years of training, mental and physical, but he could do it. Steeling himself, Seth questioned her coldly, pulling out all the details of her brutalized kitten, her decimated home, and her vandalized car. If the sickness gnawed at his guts, he didn't let it show. He would have to verify what she told him. People lied for strange reasons. He never trusted anyone.

But if Pippa told the truth... He would have this Billy the Cop crucified.

Seth argued with his conscience, but he couldn't hold himself back any longer. Pippa had nursed his son as tenderly as if she'd been Chad's mother. Better. She had loved him last night and given herself without strings or regret. He couldn't believe her guilty of anything but loving the wrong man.