Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (23 page)

“Doesn't matter,” Marnie heard herself saying. She didn't love Kent. Never had. And in the past few weeks she'd seen a side to him that was frightening.

“Probably not. I doubt if I'd ever forgive him, if I were in your shoes. But I thought you should know the full story. Done with that?” she asked, flicking her finger toward Marnie's nearly empty cup.

“Yes. And thanks.”

“Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're back and back on your own terms. See ya later.” She swept out of the room, leaving Marnie restless and concerned.

She spent the better part of the first week working with the Montgomery Inns account and spending more time at the hotel than she did at her own office. Donna, ever efficient, swore that she had the situation under control, but the most difficult part of Marnie's job was being so removed from Adam. After Kate's rebuff, when he'd tried and failed to contact Victor, he'd decided not to call Montgomery Inns. Marnie had to content herself with seeing him in the evenings at her place. At the thought of their nights together, she smiled.

At the hotel, she worked with Todd Byers, who had assumed her position for the few weeks she'd been gone.
Todd was about twenty-seven, with unruly blond hair and round, owlish-looking glasses.

“That about does it,” he said, flopping back in a chair near her desk and resting his heels on another chair. “We should have all the publicity for Puget Sound West done for the next six months.”

Marnie rubbed her chin. She couldn't afford to blow this account. “You're right, but I'll follow up just in case.”

Todd shrugged, obviously thinking she was overly careful. “The next project's in California. San Francisco. Renovations are half finished,” Todd said. “Victor wants us to go there next month.”

“I know,” Marnie admitted, remembering her conversation with her father about her schedule and wondering how she was going to juggle her time as it was. She thought about leaving Adam, and her heart tugged a little, but she ignored that tiny pain.

“Well, I've got a few loose ends to tie up, then I'm outta here,” Todd said, dropping his feet to the floor and slapping his hands on his legs. “It's almost seven.”

The time had gone by so quickly, Marnie had barely noticed. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she said as Todd smiled, saluted her, and exited.

Twenty minutes later, as she was leaving, she bumped into Rose Trullinger in the hallway. “Just the person I wanted to see,” Rose said, though she was wearing a full-length coat and was tugging on a pair of gloves as if she were heading outside to her car. “I don't have time to go into it right now, but I want the Puget West brochure changed. The pictures of the suites don't do justice to the design.”

Marnie couldn't believe it. “But you approved those shots.” A courtesy, since Rose really had no authority over publicity. But Marnie had tried to please everyone.

“I know, I know. I made a mistake.” She finished with
the glove and met Marnie's gaze levelly, as if she were daring Marnie to challenge her.

“The brochures are already being printed.”

Rose smiled thinly. “Then get them back,” she said. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“You bet you will,” Marnie said under her breath. She headed toward her father's office, but discovered that he and Kate were already gone for the day. In fact, the executive offices were practically deserted. She should go home, work on the Jorgenson Real Estate account, her latest client, but she was in no hurry, as Adam was out of town, meeting with some investors from Los Angeles.

Rose's strange attitude had reminded her of her conversation with Adam. Hadn't he said one of the accomplices could be a woman? She hesitated as an idea occurred to her—maybe she could help find the culprit. She was alone in the building, with access to all the computer files… This might be her only chance to prove, once and for all, that Adam was innocent.

She walked down a corridor, turned right and entered the accounting area for the entire hotel chain. There were twenty desks, none currently occupied, in the bookkeeping area and three offices, partitioned off from the rest of the workers: a cubicle for Fred Ainger, one for Linda Kirk and one for Desmond Cipriano, the man who had replaced Gerald Henderson.

Feeling a little like a thief, she walked straight to Fred's desk, and using her own code, accessed the computer files for the Puget West hotel. She printed out scores of records, accounting as well as construction and research, hoping for some clue as to who took the money. She believed Adam was innocent. There were times when she didn't trust him, but she really believed that he hadn't taken a dime from her father. If he had, why would he want to dig up all the evidence again? No, Adam was a man hell-bent
to clear his name, and to that end, Marnie decided, she could help him.

For the next three nights, she pored over the documents, making notes to herself, reading all the information until the figures swam before her eyes, but she found nothing, not one shred of evidence concerning the missing funds. True, she wasn't trained in accounting, and a dozen lawyers and accountants and auditors had gone over the books when the discrepancy was discovered, but she'd hoped… fantasized…that she would be able to unearth the crucial evidence that would prove Adam's innocence, absolve him of the crime, and give him back his sterling reputation.

“You are a fool,” she told herself on Saturday morning as she dressed. Adam was due back in town later in the afternoon, and she planned on using the morning to visit the
Marnie Lee.
There was still the matter of Kent's belongings on the boat, a point he'd made several times since she'd started work at the hotel, and she wanted all trace of him out of her private life. Of course, she'd have to find a way to buy out his half of the vessel, but that would have to wait until she had a little more cash or could talk to her banker. A loan would probably be impossible, though. She'd just started her own business, didn't own her own home and her car was worth only a few thousand dollars. Her savings had to be used to keep her afloat until the receipts for the business exceeded the expenses.

The only person who would loan her enough money to buy out Kent was Victor, and she'd sell the boat rather than crawl back to her father and beg for money just when she was trying to prove she could make it on her own. It looked as if the
Marnie Lee
would soon be on the auction block. Kent had already indicated that he couldn't afford to buy Marnie out—so there was no other option.

She drove to the marina and walked along the waterfront. The sun was bright, the air brisk and clear, the sky a
vivid blue. Only a few wispy clouds dared to float across the heavens.

Marnie zipped up her jacket and watched as sails and flags snapped in the brisk breeze. She was almost to the
Marnie Lee
's berth when she heard her name. “Miss Montgomery!”

Turning, she spied Ed, the caretaker for the marina, scurrying toward her. He was small and wiry, not any taller than she. “Miss Montgomery. I need to talk to you!” he said, a trifle breathless.

“Hi, Ed.”

“Hey, you told me to tell you if anyone asked about your boat, you want to know about it.”

Marnie grinned. So someone wanted the
Marnie Lee!
Just when she needed the cash! “Did he leave his name and number?”

“Nope. But I know the guy,” Ed said uncomfortably. “Name's Kent Simms.”

“Oh.” All her hopes were crumpled, and anger coursed through her blood. “And what did he want?”

“On board. But I said, ‘No dice. Not unless you're with Miss Montgomery.' He left, but he was none-too-pleased about the situation.”

“I'll bet not. When was he here?”

“Just yesterday around noon, and once before.” Ed explained that Kent had been trying to get aboard the
Marnie Lee
for nearly three weeks, off and on. Marnie was annoyed before she realized that maybe he wanted more than the few belongings stashed aboard the yacht. Maybe he wanted more. Perhaps he thought he owed her one by stealing the boat, just to get back at her for taking the
Marnie Lee
the night of the party.

She didn't really blame him because she knew that Kent, right or wrong, considered the boat his. He'd had a strange attachment to the
Marnie Lee
from the first time
he'd seen the boat, as Victor had proudly presented his gift to the two of them for “sailing along life's choppy waters and calm seas.” Victor had walked them grandly through the cabins and decks, showing off a boat that was equal to his pride and joy, the
Vanessa.
Nonetheless, half the boat was hers, and the sooner Kent accepted that fact, the better for them both.

What if Kent balked when she put the sleek yacht up for sale? What if he refused to sign the papers?

After thanking Ed for his eagle eye and fierce loyalty, she walked down the sun-bleached planks of the pier and boarded the gently rocking boat. The
Marnie Lee
was a source of pride to her, as well. She rubbed a hand over the rail and eyed the teak decking and polished chrome fittings. Yes, it was beautiful and, now, after discovering Adam aboard this very boat, she had a special attachment to the craft as well. Unfortunately she couldn't afford the upkeep.

Running her hands down the polished rail, she entered the main salon and started rifling through drawers and cupboards, pulling out Kent's personal chessboard, his brass compass, his deck of cards, a few sailing magazines and a couple of paperback murder mysteries. She checked the galley and packed up his gourmet coffee, popcorn and exotic teas. She didn't want him to have any reason to return. She boxed everything she recognized as Kent's and realized how little, she, herself, had added to the belongings on the boat.

In the main cabin, she tossed Kent's clothes, shoes, swimsuit, slippers, cuff links, shaving kit and date book into a box. She started packing his laptop computer, but hesitated, then turned on the machine. Waiting until the tiny monitor warmed up, she wondered what she hoped to find. Her stomach knotted. What if this computer was the key, the proof of Kent's duplicity? As the access screen
glowed in front of her, she worked with the various menus, and spent two hours scanning the files. Nothing. Not one shred of incriminating evidence against him. She didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

She unplugged the laptop and packed it in a box with Kent's clothes. After double-checking the bureau a second time, she opened the closet and noticed the wall safe. She'd almost forgotten about it. The combination was easy; the numbers were a sequence of dates, the day, month and year of Kent's birth. Grimly she turned the dial, listening for the tumblers to click.

Nothing. The lock didn't budge.

She tried again, convinced she'd fouled up the number sequence in her haste.

Again the lock held.

“What the devil? Come on, you!” she muttered to the lock.

With renewed concentration, she redialed the combination three more times, giving up when she realized that Kent had changed the code. Probably after she'd broken up with him.

“Well, that's great,” she muttered, hands on her hips, perspiration dotting her brow. “Just super!” Now she'd have to get the damned combination from Kent and return to the boat before she could be sure that nothing on board belonged to him. Frustrated, she threw the last of his belongings—a picture of the two of them, their arms wound around each other as if they were really in love—into a box.

It took most of the morning to clean out the boat and, with Ed's help, carry all Kent's belongings to her car, but when she was finished and was driving home she felt a sense of accomplishment, as if she'd managed to break the last remaining link of the chain that bound her to Kent. “Except you still have to dispose of the boat,” she
reminded herself as she parked in her assigned parking space at her apartment. And there was the small but irritating matter of the wall safe.

As for Kent's belongings, she'd leave them in her locked car and take them to the office on Monday, where in the basement parking lot of Montgomery Inns, they would separate once and for all.

* * *

T
HROUGH THE WINDOW
, Adam noticed the sprawling suburbs of Seattle as the plane descended at SeaTac airport. He'd had two drinks on the way back from L.A., where his talk with Brodie hadn't gone any better than the last time. Yes, Brodie and his investment group were interested, but, as before, if Adam couldn't completely clear his name, the investors just weren't able to do business with him.

He'd spoken to another man as well, Norman Howick, an oil man, a millionaire with a reputation for taking risks on new ventures. Howick had been interested, but hadn't been able to commit. He'd been too much of a gentleman to mention Adam's unsavory past, but the inference had hung in the air between them like a bad smell.

“Back to square one,” he muttered to himself as the 747 touched down with a chirp of tires and a bump. The big plane screamed as it slowed before taxiing toward the terminal.

Closing his eyes, pleasant thoughts of Marnie rippled through his mind. He realized his feelings for her had changed and deepened. He no longer viewed her as Victor's daughter, and that was probably a mistake, but he couldn't help himself.

Being with her brought a certain brilliance to his otherwise austere world. She was the light and he was night, she was a smile and he was a frown. Not that she didn't have her own dark side and her temper—he'd been on the wrong end of that a time or two. He chuckled softly as he
remembered her fury—the scarlet tinge on her cheeks, the fiery spark in her blue eyes, the rapier cut of her words and the haughty toss of her flaxen hair when she was truly angry.

“You've got it bad, Drake,” he chastised as he walked along the jetway and through the terminal. It took half an hour to locate his baggage and his car, and then he was speeding along the freeway and back to Marnie.