Her Dying Breath (14 page)

“W
hat’s wrong, Brenda?” Nick asked.

Brenda stuffed her phone in her purse. “Oh…nothing.”

Nick had learned to read people in his training, an asset while interrogating the enemy. Brenda’s eyes had blinked rapidly at his question.

She was lying.

“Who was the text from?” he asked.

She shrugged. “My mother. They’re expecting me for dinner.”

At the reminder of her parents and their status, a social level he would never achieve even if he had the desire to, which he definitely didn’t, he stiffened. “Then you’d better get to the mayor and his wife.”

An odd look pinched her face. He caught the door before she could close it and fixed his gaze on her. “You will tell me if you hear from the killer again, won’t you, Brenda?”

She blinked rapidly again.

“Yes, of course,” she said with a saccharine smile.

He wanted to shake the truth out of her. She’d just told another lie.

Which meant the killer
had
contacted her again.

“Brenda,” he said in a dark warning voice. “Don’t do anything stupid like trying to track down this maniac yourself.”

Her gaze skittered sideways. “Trust me, Nick, I’m not a fool.”

She slammed the door, started the engine, and tore from the parking lot.

Nick’s pulse jumped. Despite her bravado, he’d detected a note of fear in her voice before she’d pulled away. And she hadn’t made any promises…

He stepped to the side of the trailer and punched in the number for the security company where Logger had worked prior to the trucking company. An automated operator answered: “We’re sorry, but this number is no longer in service.”

Nick cursed, then stared at the dust stirred up in Brenda’s wake. She’d said the text was from her parents, to trust her.

He didn’t trust anyone.

Brenda was ambitious, smart, and a go-getter. She had beaten him here, and if the killer contacted her, Brenda might even arrange a meeting, which would be dangerous.

Damn her.

Pretty or not, Brenda was in the middle of his investigation.

He leaned against his car and phoned the agency, then asked to speak to Charlie, the best technical analyst he’d ever met.

“What can I do for you, Nick?”

“Access that trace on Brenda Banks’s phone. Forward her texts to me.”

“Sure. Hang on.”

Keys tapped, then a few seconds later, Charlie spoke up. “I just e-mailed them to you.”

Nick scrolled down and noted a couple of texts from Brenda’s boss, praising her for the motel coverage and wanting to know when she would have more information.

But the last one stopped him cold.

Good job at the motel, Brenda. I knew when I saw you at the sanitarium years ago that you and I would be friends.

Goddammit. He was right. Brenda
had
heard from their unsub, and she was keeping it from him.

He reread the text, searching for clues.

What had the message meant, she’d seen Brenda at the sanitarium? Had Brenda visited someone there? He couldn’t imagine her hoity-toity family spending time in that place for any reason.

Then again…what if Brenda or one of her family members had been admitted to the hospital for treatment?

His hand grew itchy, and he jumped in his car and peeled away from the trucking company. He needed his computer.

Then he’d hack into the hospital records, and find out what Brenda was hiding.

Brenda straightened her jacket as she entered her family’s house. Her mother’s maid, Geraldine, met her at the door. “Thank goodness you finally got here, Miss Agnes has been having a conniption fit.”

Brenda squeezed Geraldine’s arm. “When isn’t Mother having a conniption fit?”

They both laughed. “This one isn’t so bad,” Geraldine said with a twinkle in her eyes.

So this was a setup. “Fix me a martini fast.”

The housekeeper laughed again. “A dirty blue is waiting on you at the bar.”

“Thanks.” Brenda hugged her and grabbed the martini on her way to join the dinner party.

Still, she felt her father’s disapproval as she entered the sunroom. Her mother was laughing at something another woman said, while her father was talking to a man much younger than
him, with short brown hair. The younger man was dressed in a designer suit that he definitely hadn’t bought in Slaughter Creek. His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his face, but she instantly sized him up as a preppy lawyer, stockbroker, or something equally boring.

Diamonds glittered from her mother’s hands and neck, and she wore a dark blue silk dress that flattered her slender figure. Agnes Banks looked fantastic for her age. She should—she divided her time between the gym, the country club, and the spa.

“Brenda!” Her mother waved her over with a smile, although Brenda detected a slight flicker of disapproval at Brenda’s crumpled suit. “Come and meet the senator’s wife, Julianne Stowe.”

Her father paused, and the man with him turned toward her. Instant recognition dawned. He stood almost six feet, with olive skin, close-cropped hair, and charming eyes. Not the senator, but this was his son. His picture had been plastered all over the Internet and television, where he worked tirelessly on his father’s campaign.

He also ranked number ten on the top one hundred eligible bachelors in the States.

“Hi, Mother, Daddy,” Brenda said as her mother drew her up to her side. Brenda tolerated her air kisses. “I didn’t realize this was a formal party, or I would have dressed for it.”

Agnes’s smile warned her to behave. “You’re fine, honey.” She introduced her daughter to the senator’s wife, and Brenda shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stowe,” Brenda said.

“Oh, please, dear, call me Julianne.”

Brenda nodded, but her mother continued the introductions.

“And this is the senator’s son, Ron. He works for his father’s campaign.”

“Yes, I recognize him.” He was the good son.

Unlike her—the naughty daughter who went off on her own.

Brenda smiled and shook his hand as if she
were
the good daughter, though. His white teeth beamed as he grinned at her. “Nice to finally meet you, Brenda. I saw your piece the other night about that murder at the motel.”

Brenda arched a brow. Was he trying to flatter her to earn publicity for his father’s campaign?

“Hush, now, we don’t want to talk about that awful stuff,” her mother said. “Why don’t you show Ron the gardens, while Geraldine gets dinner on the table.”

“Agnes,” her father said, as if he knew she was being obvious.

Brenda wanted to choke both of them. But her Southern manners kicked in, and she motioned for Ron to follow her. “Come on, we’ll take a walk.”

The scent of freshly cut grass, roses, and the hint of rain floated around her as they walked along the cobblestone path through the gazebo to her mother’s garden.

“I suppose you’re really interested in flowers,” Brenda said wryly.

Ron’s deep chuckle rumbled through the air. “Yes, although they smell faintly like a setup.”

Brenda laughed, appreciating his good nature. “I’m sorry. My parents obviously think I need help in the dating department.”

“Do you?” Ron asked. A teasing gleam glittered in his eyes.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m the reporter, I’m supposed to ask the questions.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Ask away. I’m an open book.”

“Right.” Brenda sipped her drink as she settled onto the wrought iron bench tucked inside the garden by the wall. “You’re good-looking, slick, the perfect politician’s son. No ghosts in your closet?”

He folded his arms, sat down beside her, and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Now, Brenda, we all have our secrets.”

Brenda lifted her chin in challenge. “Don’t tell me one of the most eligible bachelors in the States is actually hurting for women?”

‘Well, not exactly hurting.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I like you already, Brenda.” The ice clinked in his glass as he sipped his drink.

Brenda couldn’t help but like him as well. But how much of his charm was an act?

“When I saw you on television, I knew we’d get along,” Ron said.

Brenda traced a finger along the rim of her glass. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you have spunk,” he said. “Most of the women I meet are boring, plastic. They’re money hungry and only want to talk to me because of my father.”

“Sounds like we’re soul mates.”

He grinned. “Maybe we are.”

Or maybe she would be just another conquest for him. That, and he wanted to use her for publicity.

Besides, she couldn’t help but compare him to Nick, and there Ron failed miserably.

“Tell me about this murder you’re covering,” Ron said. “Was it related to the big story about that sanitarium?”

“You read my piece?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m sure the town was in shock when they learned those experiments were conducted under their noses.”

Brenda shifted. “Yes, they were.”

“Have you learned who the other subjects were?”

“Not yet,” Brenda said. “I’m trying to set up an interview with Arthur Blackwood, but so far I haven’t managed to. And he’s not talking to the police.”

He lifted a rose petal that had fallen to the ground and sniffed it. “Was someone working with Blackwood?”

Brenda shrugged. “The FBI suspect a higher-ranking power in the CIA or military headed the project.”

Ronald dropped the rose petal, and the wind caught it. “Any idea who?”

She watched the petal float to the ground. “Not that I know of.”

“Was the motel murder related?”

She stiffened, suddenly feeling as if she was at an inquisition. There was no way she’d tell him about the text from Jim Logger’s murderer.

Fortunately, the dinner bell tinkled, and she stood. “We’d better put our murder talk on hold. Mother frowns on talk of dead bodies at the dinner table.”

He chuckled as they walked back to the house. Inside, he morphed back into the charismatic politician’s son. Dinner conversation revolved around the upcoming election and speculation over who might be appointed chief of defense.

Luckily Brenda kept abreast of politics for her job, and the conversation flowed smoothly.

But still she felt like a fraud at the table, as if she didn’t belong in this group, in this fancy house.

She’d felt that way most of her life, as if she were an outsider.

Now she knew the reason—she
didn’t
belong. She had come from someone else, not from Agnes and William.

And as soon as this case ended, she’d find out the name of her birth parents. She had to know the truth about who she was.

Even if the truth wasn’t pretty.

Nick pulled into the parking deck across from the building housing the security company, a high-rise sandwiched between another building and a strip mall on the outskirts of Nashville. His thoughts strayed to Brenda and her dinner as night set in.

Her parents enjoyed the society crowd. Were they entertaining tonight? Was Brenda sipping drinks with some polished rich guy? Some slick man who’d talk his way into her bed?

Irritated that the idea bothered him, he struck her from his mind. Let her sleep with whomever the hell she wanted.