Promise Her (7 page)

It took several more minutes to convince TJ.

When Lisa hung up, she looked at Darin. “Will you take me to my car?”

“I’ll take you,” Douglas said before Darin could answer.

“I’m closer,” Darin argued.

“I have questions. Then I’ll follow her home, make sure she’s safe.”

Darin threw his hands up in surrender.

“Why don’t you hang around a bit and see what you can find out about all this,” Douglas suggested.

Lisa looked over at Douglas, thankful that her attorney was so eager to help her. But she wanted more.

Chapter Five

Lisa awoke with the worst headache she’d ever had. But then, she’d never before been accused of murder. Just the thought brought back the horror of last night. If it hadn’t been for Douglas she didn’t know what she would have done. True, Max and Darin had been there for her, but it was Douglas who had protected her, searched the apartment when he'd brought her home, made a pot of tea and sat with her until she calmed down.

No wonder she loved him.

She struggled out of bed, made a pot of coffee, took two Tylenol, and reached for her cell phone.

First, she called TJ to reassure her pregnant friend the cops’ more than subtle accusations weren’t going to get her down and she was sticking with her regular schedule for the day. Next, she called Nellie, her adopted mom, to tell the matriarch of the Callahan tribe first-hand that she was fine.

She decided against calling Douglas, and dialed Darin’s number instead. He knew nothing more than what they'd learned last night.

After showering and dressing in a pair of worn jeans, T-shirt, jacket, and boots, she left the apartment.

She had a job to do. She wasn’t going to mope around her apartment and feel sorry for herself because the cops wanted to hang a murder rap around her neck. She’d rather find the killer herself.

Right now, she didn’t know where to look. The rodeo was a given. Other than Harold, who else at the rodeo could be put in the suspicious column? No one she could think of.

She’d have to concentrate on Harold. He was the key. His edginess the night Tempest died told her he had something to hide. That something most likely pertained to his wife. She’d bet on it. Her mind whirled with questions she wanted to ask him—with all she wanted to check out.

But not today. At least not until tonight. Right now, she had something almost as important to do.

****

It was a glorious winter morning with blue skies and a temperature in the fifties. It was a perfect day for Lisa to practice. But when Douglas climbed out of his SUV and looked across the field, he didn’t see her.

Lisa stabled her horse, Sugarplum, next to a practice field, and went there as often as possible. With her barrel racing competition coming up, he’d bet on her being here now.

Just as he thought he might be mistaken, a horse and rider thundered toward three barrels set in the middle of the field. The rider sat low in the saddle, one hand on the horn, the other holding the reins. Beneath a worn Stetson, Lisa’s long, blond hair was unmistakable.

Douglas smiled.

The pair made a beautiful picture; the Palomino horse with its tan body and golden mane and tail, and the woman whose hair almost matched.

As she guided Sugarplum around the barrel turns, they took his breath away.

He’d watched Lisa practice before at the ranch where she rode one of their horses. But their horses weren’t trained. Sugarplum was. The difference was amazing.

Horse and rider leaned low to the side and flew around the first barrel in a tight but perfect circle. Douglas’ heart leaped into his throat. Then, Sugarplum thundered in the opposite direction toward the second barrel. They made the turn with graceful precision. He couldn’t help admiring them both.

Racing against the clock, Lisa and Sugarplum turned toward the third and final barrel. Lisa’s boot clipped the barrel, knocking it to the ground.

Ignoring the fault, she thundered toward the finish.

He’d practically been born in a saddle, but could never match her skill.

He wondered how someone so slight in build could handle a horse that well. It took more than skill. The rider had to be in top physical shape as well.

Her cheeks were flushed from the ride, her hair a tangle of blond silk. His heart did that funny tripping thing again.

Seeing him, Lisa drew Sugarplum to a walk and came over.

“What brings you here this morning?”

“You were magnificent.”

“I kicked the barrel. Cost me five seconds. I have to do better.”

She slid out of the saddle, took off her Stetson and brushed hair back from her face. “If you have bad news, I don’t want to hear it.”

“No. Actually, I wanted to talk about Tempest and what happened that night.”

“Here?”

He looked around. “Join me for a cup of coffee?”

“Give me a few minutes to brush Sugarplum. If you’re in a hurry, I can meet you at your office.”

“Are you through?”

“With what—practicing?”

He nodded.

“For now.” Her brow wrinkled. “I can’t seem to concentrate.”

“Understandable.”

“Has HPD contacted you?”

“If you’re asking if they want to question you again, the answer is no. I think they realize the evidence is too circumstantial.”

“Harold is a womanizer. He’d take any woman with a pulse to bed, and spend Tempest’s money on her the whole time. That’s reason enough to look at him.”

“Hey. You’re preaching to the choir here. Remember?”

When she grinned he felt that thump in his chest area again.

He drove his SUV to the stable and waited while Lisa took care of Sugarplum. He couldn’t blame any man for hitting on her. But the idea of Harold Wheatley pursuing her made his stomach tighten.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to figure out why his feelings were changing. She was beautiful and talented. But he had always known that. Had Lisa grown up and he was just now noticing?

Wouldn’t that be normal even for a brother?

Thirty minutes later, he still had no answer. When she climbed in to sit beside him, he thought he’d never seen her so beautiful.

He cleared his throat. “Coffee?”

“There’s a grocery store about a mile up the road. They have a Starbucks coffee bar.

“I know that one,” he said as he backed out and turned around.

“I talked to Mom.”

“I heard from her this morning myself. She’s worried, told me to take care of this nonsense.”

“I tried to convince her it was just a misunderstanding.”

“You know Mom’s a worrier.”

Of course she did. Why couldn’t he seem to get his footing? Conversation, especially with women, had never been a problem. Now he felt tongue-tied. Something was definitely wrong. Though the morning was cool, he felt perspiration on his forehead. Not normal at all.

Within minutes, they were seated at a small table for two, sipping hot coffee.

“The family’s upset and worried, Lisa.” That was putting it mildly; they were hounding him to get this over with. Now.

“You spent ten bucks on coffee to tell me that?”

Brilliant move. His mouth grew dry as he struggled to think of why he wanted to see her this morning. “They don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Hurt? The only way I’ll get hurt is if this goes any further. I’ve told everyone who will listen that Harold’s behind this. But I’m being ignored.”

“Not by everyone.” He paused. “Some think you’re out to get Harold Wheatley.”

“For what reason?” Her voice raised a couple of notches. “That makes me look more guilty!”

He took her clenched hand, turned it over, smoothed out her fingers and fought the temptation to bring her perfectly manicured fingers to his lips in a manner that wouldn’t be deemed brotherly. “You couldn’t hurt anyone, Lisa. Anyone who knows you knows that.”

She eased her hand from his.

“Are you telling me in your nice, friendly way that HPD is going to continue looking in my direction?”

He took a sip of coffee to give himself time to get his feelings and his thoughts under control. “Looks that way. Darin says he’s talked to the police chief this morning. Because of your connection to the Callahans, they’re not listening to him.”

“How stupid is that? They’re letting Harold get away with murder.”

“I wish I knew the problem. But they tell me there’s no evidence that points to him.”

“What about Tempest’s trust and the missing money?”

“They say that every withdrawal has her signature, that she withdrew the money herself.” He leaned across the table, looked into those deep blue eyes. “Lisa, could Tempest have lied to you?”

“No. And I can’t believe you asked. Do you think I don’t know my job? I can read people better than that. Can’t you tell when a client is lying to you?” She paused a minute. “Are you sure the signatures aren’t forged?”

“I’m sure. Tempest came in and made the withdrawals herself. At least that’s the story.”

Lisa shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. If she made the withdrawals herself it would be too easy to prove.”

Douglas shrugged. “Maybe she had some kind of agenda you knew nothing about.”

Lisa wasn’t buying it. She may not have known Tempest long, but she was a good judge of character. Tempest hadn’t lied, at least not to her. “Tempest told me everything she knew. Is there any way you can get a copy of the withdrawals? If the cops won’t do their jobs, then we’ll do it for them. I’ll mention it to Max. He has Bernie working almost full time on this. If anyone can get their hands on information, he can.”

“Yeah. I know Bernie’s reputation,” Douglas said.

I’m the trained investigator. I’ll spend every minute of every day on the computer to get what I need.

She looked over at Douglas, felt that familiar wave of longing wash over her. He was more handsome than usual this morning. Instead of his lawyer suit and tie, he wore a pair of tan slacks and matching jacket, a cream-colored golf shirt and boots. His green eyes glowed with purpose.

The Callahans had rallied around her. And she was grateful. Except she wanted more than a brother’s concern from Douglas. But Douglas treated her with the same affection he gave his sister.

“I’ll lose my job if this continues,” she said.

“Max would never fire you.”

“Max would have no choice. Every employee has to pass a barrage of tests, including a background check. How could AAF keep clients if I stay on the payroll while I’m charged with Tempest’s murder?”

His face paled.

Was he thinking about her losing her job? Or about how this would affect his
real
sister’s fledgling company? She blinked away tears. She’d have to quit. She refused to do anything that would endanger TJ, Max, or the company.

“I won’t let it get that far, Lisa. You have to trust me.”

“I do. But this is really scary.” Everyone on the rodeo circuit knew her in one way or another. Now she wondered how many of them believed her guilty. She had so much to lose: her job, her reputation, and her freedom.

“Cops make mistakes every day. This is one of them. No one who knows you will believe you killed Tempest.”

Lisa’s heart took a little leap. Douglas was willing to fight for her. But then he would, wouldn’t he?

“If HPD refuses to look at Harold as a suspect, we’ll find the evidence ourselves,” she vowed.

“Will you be at the rodeo tonight?”

“Of course. Staying away, hiding in my apartment will make me look guilty.” She had thought about it though, thought about staying home and not competing. She
was
embarrassed. But she was going to the rodeo as usual and she
would
compete.

“You’ll compete tomorrow night?”

Lisa nodded slowly. She wouldn’t let them take away the one thing she loved best. She hadn’t practiced two or three days a week all year to back out now.

“Good. After what I just saw, you’ll be an easy win.”

“Will you be there?” She watched him as he looked blankly at the shoppers as they pushed carts filled with groceries. She’d never seen that expression on his face before. Did he have doubts about her after all?

He cleared his throat, looked back at her. “I’ll be there with the rest of the family tomorrow night. I’ll also be there tonight.”

“Really?” A flutter skipped through her chest. Was he suggesting they go to the rodeo together? Like a date?

“I want to nose around, ask a few questions of my own. Tonight would be a good time to do it.”

Had she imagined he wanted to be with her? She should have known better. “Actually, I have a couple of extra tickets. If you want to bring a friend, feel free.”

She rose from her chair and dumped her coffee cup in the garbage.

Douglas had no choice but to follow her.

“Don’t worry, Lisa. I’ll work this out.”

“Hope so.” She looked out the window, unable to focus past the sheen in her eyes.

He reached over to take her hand. She pulled it back.

Her dreams were just that—dreams. Douglas would never think of her in a romantic way.

When he dropped her off, she said, “I’ll leave the tickets at the box office under your name.”

She got out of his SUV wanting to slam the door, release a little frustration. How could one man be so dense? She was wasting her time. He’d never come to his senses and see her as a woman instead of a second sister.

Guess what, Douglas Callahan—I have more than two extra tickets and tonight I’m bringing my own friend.

Before long, she was back on Sugarplum, racing the clock again. This time, she didn’t clip a barrel.

At the rodeo later that evening, Lisa wished for the umpteenth time that she hadn’t let her temper send her to the phone to ask George DePalma to be her guest tonight.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t a nice guy. He was.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t a good-looking man. He was.

He just wasn’t Douglas Callahan.

She couldn’t sit around and wait until Douglas decided to look at her that certain way. No way was she going to beat herself up because he found other women more attractive, more desirable. She had a life, just not a love life. But Douglas Callahan didn’t need to know that.