Collateral Damage (3 page)

Conrad descended the steps in a surreal haze and found the torn part of Bill’s letter lying on the ground.

After staring at Thomas’s body for a long few minutes, Conrad realized the upside of the situation. He now had the clue and he didn’t have to deal with Thomas’s righteous shit ever again. The sense of relief flooding him was akin to escaping a death sentence. He finished reading the clue then tucked the pieces of the letter away before he erased evidence of his presence. The clues on where Bill had hidden the money didn’t make sense yet.

There once lived a king
.
He died on a throne
.

Hopefully with a third letter, Conrad could piece the whole of it together.

Selling security systems to his best friends turned out to be worth something after all because he knew exactly how to erase his tracks at Thomas’s and getting into Bill Collins’s house tonight would be a breeze. It shouldn’t be too hard to find the letter Bill sent to Lauren and once he did, Conrad would already be halfway to five million dollars and never have to put up with the others’ shit ever again.

Chapter Three

Atlanta, Georgia

“Watch out, Matt!” Lauren Collins grabbed her son from the proximity of the pony’s hooves in a harried rush. Hank, the pony ride handler, was more focused on the moms than the kids. At what appeared to be twenty-something he was an Alan Jackson look alike with country written from his boots to his curled hat and milked that for everything it was worth. He treated every woman as if he were Mr. Irresistible who could satisfy their every want, making it obvious he was a cub looking for a rich cougar.

“Go, Mitch! Go faster and shoot the bad guys!” Squirming against her hold, Matt egged his brother on, his blue eyes as bright as Christmas stars. They were identical in looks except for tiny moles on their temple. Matt’s was on the left, Mitch’s was on the right. In everything else, they were different. One liked chocolate ice cream, the other vanilla. One liked the color blue, the other green. Mitch took things slow whereas Matt charged full steam ahead and wasn’t happy until he’d pushed everything to its limit—even his brother.

“Let me go help him, Mom. We’re soldiers like Uncle Jason, and we’re taking over the enemy camp. Please!”

Lauren braced against the pain in her heart and bit back the “Like Uncle Jason had been” that cut through her mind. A year ago, her brother had gone missing in action and her hope of him being found alive had dwindled with every passing day.

Matt wiggled harder. “Please, Mom?”

“Only if you promise to stay beside the horse and not get behind it again. It could kick you.”

“I pomise,” he said. “It’s not a real horse, though. It’s a pony.”

She let Matt go. “Ponies know how to kick too.” But she spoke to empty space. He’d already taken off, wind ruffling his golden hair as he scrambled to dodge enemy fire.

“Giddy up! Shoot ’em! Go!” Mitch yelled, practically standing in the saddle and jumping as he pointed his finger at an imaginary foe.

“Sit down, Mitch!” Lauren squinted against the low hanging sun. If she survived the last few minutes of the boys’ birthday party, she’d count it a miracle.

“You’re the one who needs to sit before you fall down.” Angie Freemont, best friend and official birthday bash photographer, joined Lauren. After snapping a couple of pictures of Mitch on the pony, she grabbed Lauren’s elbow and steered her to a nearby shaded chair then brushed her red curls back from her face and sighed. “Man, it’s hot.”

Lauren nodded. “You can say that again.” The summer sun and humid heat were still powerful forces to be reckoned with despite the evening hour. She melted into a chair and picked up her sweet tea, brushing her forehead and cheeks with the icy glass before taking a long, cool drink. There were a number of things one could always count on having in the South, like grits and biscuits and gravy, but steamy weather and sweet tea were at the very top of the list.

Holding an outdoor birthday anytime between ten and four would have been scorching. So Lauren had gambled for a five o’clock party time, hoped it wouldn’t thunderstorm, and won. Few trees shaded the expanse of rolling green grass that surrounded the Southern plantation-style home. She’d have preferred to keep the sprawling oaks and blooming dogwoods that had covered the lot when they’d bought it, but Bill had wanted an unhindered view of the world-class golf course. That was before he’d traded his family and eighteen classic holes to tango with Double-D’s in and out of bed.

Don’t go there
, Lauren chastised herself. She should long be past the hurt of it all.

The remnants of honey barbeque scented the air and a rainbow of rented umbrellas dotted the luxurious lawn, each marking tables where neighborhood kids licked icing off cake and excitedly dug through their GI Joe goody bags they’d just gotten. All in all the party was a resounding success and she should relax. Would relax if Matt and Mitch would show just a little more caution. But that would be like stopping the ocean from rushing to the shore. Completely impossible. Just as impossible it would be for her not to worry about them.

“You look frazzled to a pulp.”

Lauren tried to smile, but winced instead. “Am I that bad?”

“Worse. I was being kind. So what’s up?”

Lauren had met Angie six years ago and they had quickly forged a bond that went deep. Angie had been Matt and Mitch’s nurse in the Neonatal ICU at Northside Hospital and Lauren swore it was the woman’s sharp instincts and devoted care that helped the boys survive those first desperate hours and days. Born at twenty-seven weeks with complications, hope for their survival had been dim. But Matt and Mitch had survived and were a miracle of life. Lauren didn’t breathe without remembering and thanking God for that miracle.

“I’m fine.” She deliberately ignored the root of her anxiety. Or roots she should say. Bill was only part of it. The other part involved restless nights, her worry for her children, and the feeling that she’d been hanging in limbo forever. Her divorce from Bill was taking a long time to finalize. But at the moment, a different dilemma with Bill had churned to the surface and had her strung tight.

Angie lifted her brow, disbelief in her sharp green gaze.

“Really, I’m fine.” Lauren spied Matt behind the pony again and nearly spilled her tea as she jumped up. Before she could shout, Hank scooped up Matt and plopped him on the pony with Mitch. She sat back down.

Angie took several pictures of the boys together then let the camera drop to her chest. Holding up three fingers, she eliminated them one by one as she spoke. “First, let me point out that the pony is only a little taller than the beasts you call dogs, which would likely make mince meat of the pony. Secondly, the pony is presently moving less than a mile per hour. The boys never move that slow, even in their sleep, so they’re actually being good. Thirdly, and most importantly, something besides the boys has you upset.”

Lauren sighed. “You’re right on all accounts.” Angie never missed a thing, which made her a great nurse and an excellent part-time photographer. The beasts she referred to were Sasha and Sam, White American Shepherds who guarded her sons with fervor.

When Bill had brought the puppies home on Matt and Mitch’s first birthday, Lauren thought her husband had lost his mind. She had twins with multiple health and developmental problems. She didn’t need to add two puppies to the mix, no matter how adorable they were. Matt and Mitch had squealed with delight at the puppies, but when the boys had begun rolling and then crawling across the floor to get to Sasha and Sam, Lauren had cried with joy. Bill had found the key to motivating their sons through their developmental difficulties. They wanted to go and do everything that Sasha and Sam did. It was something she kept reminding herself about after Bill changed.

She glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock. If Bill planned on showing up for their sons’ birthday party, he would have been here by now.

“You still haven’t heard from the toad, right?”

“Not a word.”

To Angie there were three kinds of men. Toads who were always toads—a prevalent breed. Prince Charmings who were always Prince Charmings—a rare breed. And Prince Charmings that turned into toads—a dangerous breed. Bill fit Angie’s dangerous category. He’d been Lauren’s Prince Charming until about two years ago. Lauren blamed it on his new job. When he became head of public relations for BioLogics—a company geared toward the promotion of save-the-earth green technology—he started keeping secrets for business, going places and seeing people he couldn’t tell her about. When she asked what about being an environmentalist had to be so top secret, Bill had become surly. Then his behavior worsened. Other women entered the picture. That had been Lauren’s last straw. They’d been separated for a year and a half, but the divorce wouldn’t be final until next month.

Lauren shook off her thoughts and explained to Angie what the problem was. “Bill said he’d be back for the boys’ birthday and they’re expecting him. I called his secretary earlier today and she hasn’t heard from him. Neither has anyone else. It’s been over two weeks since he left and he hasn’t called once. How can he disappoint them like this?”

Angie set her hand on Lauren’s. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix it.”

“Me too.” Lauren focused her gaze on Matt and Mitch. They were laughing, their blond hair gleaming like spun gold, their smiles bright. If she didn’t hear from Bill in the next hour, she would have to tell the boys that their father had a business problem and couldn’t make it. Then they’d want to talk to him and they’d demand to know when he was coming back. He was their father and this was their birthday. She glanced at her watch and faced what she’d been avoiding all day. It was an hour later in Sao Paulo. Last month Bill had called the boys from there. The name Milania Carridas had shown on the caller ID that night.

Google revealed quite a bit about the Brazilian actress and her lush curves, right down to what amounted to a G-string and pasties on her Double-D’s. To top it off, a video popped up of Milania with Bill at a high-end Brazilian resort doing the tango up close and personal on the dance floor that left no doubt they were doing the horizontal tango as well.

She resented this whole situation. Why should she hunt Bill down to remind him about his sons’ birthday? He was an adult and he should have to bear the brunt of his mistakes. But it wasn’t Bill who would hurt the most. It was Matt and Mitch. How could she not somehow make the effort to find out if Bill was there?

Yet the thought of calling made her ill.

“I’d castrate the toad too,” Angie added.

“Hmm?” Lauren blinked at Angie, surfacing from her dilemma.

“The
toad
. While I’m waving my magic wand to fix things, I’ll fix him too.”

Lauren’s half-laugh fizzled. “I’m mad enough to Bobbitt him and have been for a while. But being pissed off at Bill only makes things harder for the boys. I know they sense my anger, and I’m sure that’s making them more insecure.”

“Good. You be Ms. Responsible. Fortunately, I’m not under such constraints and can therefore express enough mad for both of us.”

Lauren shook her head. “Then by all means castrate the toad, but we’ll have to find him first.” She groaned then. “Which means someone should call Brazil and see if he’s there.”

“Call Double-D G-string?” Angie winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Can you just shoot me now?”

Angie’s smile turned devilish. “I’ve an idea. I’ll call for you. I’ll tell her that MetroSouthern is considering an article on jet-setting couples, and that I saw her picture with the toad. Even if he’s not with her, she might have an idea of where he is. And you know she won’t turn down US exposure.”

Angie’s mother was the editor for the hip mag that featured who’s who in the new generation of business people and trendsetters in “Hotlanta”.

“You’d do that?”

“In a heartbeat. While I am at it, I’ll see if she can be bribed enough to strangle the toad with her G-string.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Angie held up her hand. “Not so fast with the feel good. There’s a catch.”

Lauren didn’t like the sound of this one. “What?”

“You must promise me that you’ll come to the next MetroSouthern soiree with me. The guys are good looking, dynamic business men with plenty of money. The next step for you is a date where you engage in conversation with an interesting man, even if you aren’t ready to jump into bed with him.”

Each month the MetroSouthern magazine held a gathering for people featured in the current issue and Angie had been nagging her to go since Bill waltzed out the door.

Lauren nodded. “How can I even consider dipping a toe into the dating pool again when I was so wrong about Bill? MetroSouthern men sound as if they’d only be more of the same.”

“Don’t throw out the whole barrel because of one rotten apple.”

“Yeah, well. I bit into that rotten apple, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not interested in having apple pie any time soon. I won’t attend the soiree, but I will promise to go out. How’s that?”

Angie narrowed her eyes. “On a date?”

Lauren winced then nodded, her mind quickly zeroing on how she could get around going on a “real” date.

“With who?” Angie demanded. “It’s only a deal if it is a
date
date. Not your cousin, a friend or that to-die-for gourmet cook pal from Faire Fureur. The only thing that lights his eyes up besides his masterpiece meals is a man.”

She blushed, because that exactly what she had in mind.

“So who?” Angie asked.

“I don’t know yet. Someone different. Someone who doesn’t remind me of Bill.”

Angie did the three finger thing again. “He must be hetero, single and between twenty-five and forty-five.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“Just wait. You haven’t heard anything yet. Those are the qualifications for a
talking
date. The criteria for a
sex
date are a lot more vigorous, pun intended. But we’ll worry about that one next month.”

Sex date? She didn’t do…she couldn’t just do…she couldn’t even think about…could she?