Luxury Model Wife (27 page)

She paused and took a shaky breath. “And then something else happened.”

Beverly’s eyes began to water and she burst into tears.

Steve felt his heart rip from his chest at the sight and he wanted to scream. He wished he could throw something, like a table, through the window, but fought for calm. He needed to keep a level head for Beverly’s sake.

“The fire was my fault.” Beverly sobbed and turned her face away. Steve touched his fingers to her shoulder to soothe her.

What was she talking about?

“You’re not making sense, Beverly. None of this was your fault. If blame lies with anyone, it’s me. I should never have let you stay behind.”

“I wouldn’t have listened, no matter what you said. I was excited about the new acquisitions and wanted to plan my restoration schedule.” Beverly reached for a tissue on the bedside table.

“I started the fire.” She sobbed harder.

Steve’s body went numb from head to toe, as if shots of Novocain had hit his system. His lungs felt like they’d seized. Then he curled his fingers into his palms to control the tremors and forced himself to speak. “What are you talking about, Bev?”

She blew her nose and took a gulp of air. “Now I understand why you said I shouldn’t smoke inside the warehouse.”

Smoking? She was smoking?
The numbness in his limbs dissipated, but his skin had turned to ice. He had the sudden need for a sweater or jacket, but could only rub his hands along his arms to warm them.

Carlson’s had a strict no-smoking policy and Beverly knew better than to light up in her studio. Warehouse inventory and restoration planning, however, didn’t involve toxic chemicals or flammables.

He wondered how many times she’d smoked in his warehouse and had endangered her life and his property.

As if she’d read his mind, Beverly added, “I swear, boss, that was the first time.” She began to sob again. “And the last, probably.”

His head started to pound at the temples, but he fought back the urge to yell at her. Or fire her on the spot. Beverly’s mistake had almost cost her her life. Compared to that, his losses were nothing.

What could he do? He had a soft spot for Beverly and knew he’d forgive her almost anything.

Beverly wiped her eyes again and continued her explanation in a fast, breathy voice. “I’d entered a deep psychometric experience with one of the Van Orr objects and my cigarette was sitting in the ashtray on a table beside me. That’s why I didn’t see or hear Slater and Flynn enter the building. I saw them just before one of them started hitting me. It was my stupid fault for leaving the door open to let out the cigarette smoke.”

She shuddered with the memory. “The next thing I knew, I was knocked to the ground. My skull crashed against a table before it hit the concrete floor.”

Beverly took another shaky breath, wiped her eyes, and continued. “My cigarette fell to the floor and caught on something. A stack of old newspapers, I think. My vision kinda went wonky after that.

“The men didn’t notice the cigarette smoldering because they’d already started carrying things away after they knocked me down. Though I was hurt and couldn’t move, I could see their movements from the floor…”

Beverly stopped talking for a long moment, licked her lips, and dozed off.

Steve watched the rhythms of her breathing as her chest rose and fell. He was tired to the marrow but would wait as long as it took for her to finish her story.

After several minutes, Beverly opened her eyes. She seemed surprised to see him sitting there, and then offered a wan smile. “Did I nod off?”

“You were telling me about the fire. Your cigarette and the burglary.”

She blinked and furrowed her brow as if the memory were painful.

Beverly shifted inside her bed covers and pointed to a plastic cup. “May I have a drink of water?”

Steve poured a glass and waited while she drank.

“Thanks.” She handed back the cup. “The other man, Flynn, the private detective, tried to stomp out the flames, but by then it was too late. I remember watching the flames spread, unable to move.”

“And the bastards left you lying there.”

Beverly nodded. “Smoke filled the room after Flynn ran out. Slater ran behind him, but I saw him trip over something and fall. I don’t know if Flynn tried to help him up, or not. The next sound was an engine roar. Probably their truck. Funny, I didn’t notice sounds of an engine when they pulled up. I must have been concentrating on my work.”

Steve knew about Beverly’s uncanny ability to focus on a task.

She continued with her story. “I forced myself to belly crawl toward the emergency exit, though I think I passed out a couple of times on the way. Behind me, the flames had become a small inferno. Something fell from the ceiling. I was trapped.”

“If you hadn’t pushed yourself toward the exit, Victoria and I would never have found you.” He shuddered with the memory.

A sob escaped Beverly’s lips and she touched her fingertips to her mouth. “Sorry. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” Steve got up from his seat to touch her shoulder.

“I know what you risked to find me,” she replied. Beverly sniffled again.

Someone cleared his throat by the door. Steve turned to see Leighton make his way to the bedside.

“It’s good to see you awake, Mrs. Orange. The doctors tell me you’ll make a full recovery. That’s great news. You up to giving your statement now?”

Beverly nodded. “I was just telling Steve what happened.”

The lieutenant pulled up an empty chair and started taking notes when Beverly began to speak. She told him everything she’d told Steve.

“Jimmy Van Orr is up to his pencil neck in this,” Steve added. “I don’t know how, but I intend to find out.” He glared at Norm Leighton. “I want his ass on a platter. Understand?”

Leighton nodded. “I’ll question him, don’t worry.”

“He admitted involvement, though I don’t know the extent. He’ll be coated with lawyers like a Teflon pan if you go after him.” Steve felt his blood pressure surge.

“Any witnesses to his admission?”

Steve shook his head. “Just me.”

Leighton sighed. “Your word against his.”

The lieutenant leaned back in his chair and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Slater’s dead, and dead men don’t talk. But we’ll find Flynn. The state police are looking for him. If he’s not picked up in a few hours, we’ll ask the FBI to get involved. We’ll talk to Mitchell and Vega again, too. We’ll get to the bottom of what happened. Somehow I think these guys are all connected.” He patted his old friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’m like a hound dog. I never quit. I’ll find the link, whatever it is.”

Steve smiled, despite himself. He looked over at Beverly. The undamaged side of her face lifted with a hopeful grin and his chest ached for her. She was a trouper, all right.

“I’ll need to take Victoria’s statement. I want this case as solid as a granite slab.”

Leighton scribbled another note on his pad. “And now, Carlson, it’s your turn to talk. Give it all to me, step by step.”

*****

Victoria opened her eyes when Steve kissed her lips. Though her mouth was cracked and swollen, Steve thought it the sweetest kiss he’d ever had.

The woman he loved was alive.

He took her hand in his, careful not to disturb her intravenous drip. Steve rubbed the tips of her fingers with his and reached with his free hand to caress her shoulder. The sight of her breathing through oxygen tubes made him want to weep.

“You’re here,” she said. Her voice was a shadow of a whisper, yet filled with tenderness.

“And I’m not going anywhere
.”

I didn’t die and I didn’t abandon you.

He leaned to place a kiss against her hairline, just above a patch of white gauze bandages.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” She didn’t have to say the name. He understood she meant Slater, her father.

Steve nodded, trying to keep his expression impassive.

Victoria watched him for several seconds and then closed her eyes. She ran her tongue over her lips and moved her mouth as if to speak, but no words came.

“Good riddance,” he muttered.

When she opened her eyes, they filled with tears. “I tried, but I couldn’t save him.”

“Despite your boxing lessons, I knew you didn’t have it in you to kill anyone.” He touched the crown of her hair to comfort her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did, no matter how I felt about the man.”

A long, low sigh escaped her lips and her body shuddered with the sound. “I did kill him. I forced him to let me go.” Tears slid over her face.

The thought of her dying next to Slater sent shooting pains through his eyes and into his skull. He blinked against the mental images and rubbed his temples to ease the tension.

“He was an evil man who did terrible things to my mother and me. I used to dream about killing him, but in the end, I wanted to do the right thing. I should be glad he’s dead. Though he’ll never bother me again, I can’t get him out of my head.”

Steve brushed the tears from her face with the pads of his thumbs and let them drift over her cheekbones.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has either betrayed me or died.” Her lips quivered. “Relationships are too hard. I’d rather be alone than go through another loss.”

“There’s no reason to make this an all-or-nothing deal between us.” His throat was still raw and his words came out in a fit of starts and stops. “We’ll figure it out.”

He brought his face closer to hers and held her gaze. “I can’t promise I won’t die. But I
do
promise I will never, ever hurt you.”

The emotion must have been too much for her, because she closed her eyes again and seemed to struggle for breath. When she gasped with the effort, he ran to the door to flag down a nurse.

An R.N. hurried into the room. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Van Orr?”

She rushed to Victoria’s bedside, checked her vitals, and adjusted the dosage on the oxygen tank. Almost immediately, Victoria’s breathing leveled off.

The nurse’s eyes flashed. “Did you upset her?”

Steve resisted a defensive comeback. He couldn’t blame the nurse for doing her job. “She’s been through a lot. Her father died in that fire.” He left out the more descriptive words he wanted to use to describe Slater. The man had earned Victoria’s fear and hatred.

Still, Slater was her father, and coming to terms with that complicated relationship would bring a fresh round of emotions to sort through when she got out of the hospital. Though he was no psychologist, he’d learned enough in medical school to know that abuse left permanent wounds that often resulted in rage and depression.

Steve said a silent prayer she wouldn’t hate him, too. He’d failed to protect the last remnants of her life with James. Almost everything of value she’d owned had either been stolen or charred. Steve felt like a failure, and his guilt must have shown plain on his face.

The nurse’s expression changed from accusatory to sympathetic. “Okay. Well, just try to keep her calm. She nearly collapsed a lung by the time the ambulance brought her in. Smoke inhalation can do that. And worse. She was lucky to survive.” The nurse offered him a brief smile. “You, too.”

“I know.” He looked at Victoria again. Dark smudges had formed beneath her eyes. Her skin had turned bright red, as if from a bad sunburn, and her cheeks were scraped and bruised. He touched her singed hair and his heart sank. She would have to cut her beautiful dark waves.

Suddenly, weariness overtook him. A phantom boulder sat on his chest. His feet seemed glued to the floor, but he forced them to move to a chair.

Steve closed his eyes to sleep beside Victoria’s bed.

Chapter Eighteen

Two weeks later, Officer Wilson led Victoria to his desk at the police station and pulled up a chair for her. Steve was already seated, but he stood when she approached. His eyes searched hers with a hopeful gleam, though his expression remained tight.

Her feelings for him had become a jumble. Though she still loved him, and would be forever grateful he’d saved her life, the devastating losses she’d suffered and her feelings of guilt and failure had numbed those emotions. Since the fire, she’d locked herself in her home and spent most of her days and nights alone.

Her doctor said she needed time to heal from her trauma. Death had gotten too close. Fiery nightmares and memories of her father in his final moments haunted her.

Steve seemed willing to give her all the time and space she needed and had made it clear his feelings for her hadn’t changed.

If she couldn’t reciprocate, she’d have to let him go.

“I asked you to stop by to take a look at something,” Officer Wilson said, typing rapidly on his keyboard. Pinnacle Antiques Auction’s website popped up on the screen. “Notice anything interesting?”

Victoria studied the home page, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “What makes it special?”

“Exactly the question I’ve been asking,” Wilson answered. “I’ve been watching this website since the case opened. Something about it niggled at me. It kept scratching the back of my mind like a sand crab. There was something about this website I sensed would be important to this case.”

The rookie sat back in his chair and opened his hands in question. “What was the connection between Bruce Mitchell, Carlos Vega, Jimmy Van Orr, and Flynn and Slater, if any? Back-to-back burglaries are not uncommon, but they’re usually committed by the same person or persons. As far as the police could determine, the dealers from Pinnacle Antiques Auctions had never had contact with Flynn and Slater. Why would they? They came from two different worlds. I just couldn’t figure that out before.”

Steve seemed to catch the inference. “
Before
? You mean you’ve got it now?”

Wilson grinned like a kid tasting his first chocolate chip cookie. “Bet your sweet ass—” He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Sure have. I may be green when it comes to the streets, but I know computers.” He tapped a finger on the monitor. “See the name of Pinnacle’s website administrator?”

Steve leaned forward.