Silent Weapon (13 page)

The garage was dark now, the door closed.

I felt numb…terrified.

And there wasn’t anything I could do.

Chapter 10

A
t 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday I retired to my rooms and shed the outfit that designated me as the hired help. I climbed into the shower and let the water glide over me without putting forth any effort to cleanse my skin.

Three days had passed and nothing. I had no idea what had happened to the man I’d seen in the garage. The doors had been closed ever since that night. Not a single opportunity had arisen for me to try to get inside.

But I knew he was dead. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Vargas had killed him.

A shudder quaked through me.

I closed my eyes and tried to block the troubling thought. How could I have ever imagined that I could do this? Temporary insanity, that’s all it could have been.

Luther Hammond held his meetings behind closed doors. Not a single opportunity had arisen for me to oversee anything…other than what had happened in the garage, and I hadn’t learned anything from that. Detective Barlow hadn’t attempted to contact me and I, of course, hadn’t reached out to him. My silence spoke loudly and clearly. I had nothing to report.

He was no doubt disappointed but not surprised. My failure would be seen as proof of his original conclusion. Sending me into this operation had been a mistake. He’d probably already gone to Chiefs Kent and Adcock to see if he could pull the plug on my participation.

I opened my eyes and clenched my jaw in determination. No way was I going to let that happen. The need to prove myself surged stronger than ever. If I failed now my family would never let me live my life the way I wanted. Sarah would eventually find out about this little undercover operation and she would, for my own good, tell my brothers. I shuddered at the idea. I could not let that happen.

Taking my time, I washed my hair and smoothed the soap over my skin. I let the hot water relax me. All involved in this operation had known it might take time. Weeks, even. No point in getting worked up just yet. I had to stay calm, stay focused.

After toweling my skin and drying my hair, I slipped on a pair of jeans and a pale yellow blouse. I could use a nice walk. The weather was perfect, not too hot. I’d stayed inside most of the time the past few days, familiarizing myself with the house and the people who lived there. Getting a better look around outside might prove beneficial later.

This time I planned to do it while it was still daylight. I shivered at the idea of how I hadn’t been able to help that man. I’d told myself over and over that it might not have been what I thought. Maybe they’d sent him on his way with a message…yeah, right.

Taking a couple more deep breaths to relax myself, I strolled into the deserted parlor and out through the French doors. The terrace and backyard were deserted as well so I meandered across the cobblestone and headed for the very back of the property where the high iron fence hugged the edge of the cliff. The view was magnificent. To my right stood the detached six-car garage. I shuddered. On the left was the two-story guest house that the guards and anyone else who lived on the property called home.

Speaking of guards, I noted the two men roaming the boundary of the property. Both wore suits and ties and neither paid any attention to me.

I still couldn’t help thinking that Conrad had somehow seen me in the darkness through my window before I’d ever gone outside. But that was impossible. My room had been completely dark. He couldn’t have seen me. I hadn’t mentioned the incident and didn’t plan to.

The day after my little adventure I’d jumped every time anyone entered whatever room I worked in. I kept remembering what Barlow said about how I would be watched. What if someone had seen me leave my room all dressed in black? What if they knew I’d seen the man in the garage?

Finally I’d had to stop thinking about it. No one nabbed me and dragged me away. No one said a thing about that night.

The wind picked up a little, whipping my hair in front of my face. It would be dark soon. It was almost seven. I imagined that Hammond, his daughter, Cecilia, Vargas and Conrad were preparing to sit down in the massive dining room. The cook, his assistant and I dined in the kitchen around eight o’clock, which was fine by me. Despite how nice Luther Hammond and Mason Conrad had been to me, I didn’t appear to have much in common with the others. A smile slid across my face. Tiffany was another story. We got along great. The last two days she’d tricked me into reading to her before her afternoon quiet time. I was aware that she could read quite well herself, but she liked my voice…or so she said.

Cecilia didn’t seem to mind. She’d scolded Tiff the first time, but I had assured her that I was okay with it, which appeared to be the au pair’s primary concern.

A frown nudged across my forehead. Mr. Vargas was the biggest mystery to me. I got the distinct impression that he didn’t like me at all. He avoided me for the most part and had yet to type a message on my PDA. More often than not he merely glowered at me when faced with my presence. I didn’t know what I’d done to get on his bad side, but I planned to stay out of his way as much as possible. He, apparently, did most of the dirty work.

I tucked my hands into my pockets and walked along the fence with no particular direction in mind. The guest house was built with the same classic red brick as the house. I wondered if the interior decorating was similar to that of my rooms. Since the guys who lived here were responsible for everyday cleaning up with the exception of laundry, I’d had no excuse to check it out, but I didn’t see any harm in venturing inside.

Climbing the three steps, I convinced myself there was no reason to feel uncomfortable about it. No one had told me the guest house was off-limits.

Just inside the front door an entry hall sprawled into a long hallway that stretched to the rear of the house. The front entry of the main house was laid out in a similar manner, only with a lot more pomp and circumstance.

As I’d guessed, the guest house decorating was nice and neat, like my rooms, but not nearly so elegant and luxurious as the main house. A standard, rather unspectacular staircase led to the second level and the private rooms of those housed there.

I wandered to the end of the hall, passing a parlor, kitchen and a small bathroom. I was curious to see if there was a back porch or deck. There was. I pushed open the French-style door and stepped out onto the smooth wooden decking. Cushioned seating made for a perfect place to sit and enjoy the view of the valley below. Very nice. The breeze felt stronger here, or maybe it had just kicked up some more as dusk descended. I inhaled deeply, relishing the clean mountain air. Another perk of living high above the city and all the unpleasant by-products the perpetual growth of a metropolis entailed.

The windows and street lamps below glowed as if the whole city had been draped in Christmas lights. I mentally pinpointed the neighborhood where my parents and three of my older brothers lived in traditional ranch-style homes. A few blocks away was my own little home. Beyond that the downtown location where another of my brothers had purchased a modern city loft. A sigh heaved from my chest. As much as I hated to admit it, I missed them. The other night I could scarcely eat for thinking about how everyone would be gathered at my childhood home for dinner. Everyone but me.

I rolled my eyes and turned away from the gorgeous view. What was wrong with me? Feeling sorry for myself. How silly was that? My mind kept replaying what I’d seen in the garage. I had to get past that. I knew what these men were before I came here. That they seemed so normal by day had nothing to do with the truth.

Goose bumps skittered over my skin as another gust of cool evening wind blew over me. Might as well go back to the house. I stepped back into the hallway and blinked to focus in the darkness. No one had bothered to turn on any lights just yet. Halfway down the hall I stopped when the front door opened. A lamp on a table near the door came on and I immediately recognized Cecilia and Vargas standing in the entry hall near the front door.

I couldn’t say what it was that made me press against the wall and keep quiet, but I did. This far down the hall the shadows concealed my presence. I felt certain it was past seven, and I couldn’t understand why these two weren’t dining with the boss. But what intrigued me the most was the way the two looked at each other.

I will not give up.

Cecilia made the statement with an odd expression on her face. Fury, maybe. What was she angry about?

Vargas said something back to her, but I couldn’t make it out since he stood at an angle to me. Cecilia faced him and I could see her clearly.

She braced her hands on her hips.
I know what I want and I will have it.
She smirked.
Do you think I’m doing all this for nothing?

Whatever Vargas said to her then really made her mad. Her hand flew up to slap him, but he manacled her wrist before her palm contacted with his jaw.

My pulse tripped in the tense three or four seconds that passed before he jerked her menacingly close. Just when I thought they were going to resort to violence again, he kissed her hard. Shock jarred through me. Were Cecilia and Vargas having an affair?

That didn’t seem likely. The two were total opposites from what I’d seen. Cecilia appeared far too proper and, well, snobbish for a plain old workingman like Vargas. Not to mention she was outgoing and talkative and he was the silent, brooding type.

But when the highbrow au pair snaked her arms around the man’s neck and dived headfirst into the kiss, I had to amend my assessment.

Now, this was truly sad. I was supposed to be eavesdropping on mob business and here I was playing Peeping Tom to Cecilia’s love life. How sick was that?

Just when I felt certain the two would have sex right there against the door, Vargas scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. My jaw dropped in something akin to jealousy. Okay, I’d definitely crossed the line with that one. Somehow I had to find my balance in my personal life. I couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter.

I sneaked cautiously to the front door and slipped out. Nearly stumbling down the steps, I caught myself then walked determinedly across the yard toward the terrace where I’d exited the main house. The sooner I got back to my own room, the better I’d feel. The sooner I could forget…that everyone else in the world had a sex life but me. Jesus, how had my own sex life, or lack thereof, entered the equation?

Something in my peripheral vision distracted me. I slowed to a stop. A side door at the end of the garage facing the guest house stood ajar.

I glanced at the house, then looked back at the door. Did I dare?

I’d never noticed that door before, then I remembered it on the model Barlow had shown me. It was almost dark. I could either keep standing here arguing with myself or I could go into the garage and check it out.

What would be my excuse for going in?

My tongue darted out and moistened my bottom lip. I could be looking for Conrad. Mason, I amended. He’d told me to call him Mason. I was bored. I thought he might want to watch a movie with me.

Okay, that was totally lame, but it could work.

I sauntered over to the open door, made sure my movements weren’t hurried in any way. I glanced around the long garage thankful for the last of the day’s light, noted the vehicles parked there. The Mercedes dominated the place where the man had been sitting. I walked all the way around it, coming back to my starting point.

The six-figure automobile occupied the last bay—or the first, depending upon which end you started. I surveyed the other vehicles, pretending to admire them.

Now or never.

I dropped down onto all fours, tucked my PDA into my waistband and peered under the Mercedes.

Relief, disappointment or maybe a little of both washed over me. There was no blood on the concrete floor beneath the car. I don’t know what I’d expected. Maybe a big old puddle with murder written in the now-thickened fluid.

When I would have pushed back up, something caught my eye. Something crinkled and white. Small. I squinted, looked again. A few feet from the tire on the front driver’s side. I crawled closer to the tire and reached beneath the car. I could almost get it. I strained…stretched my fingers.

Light suddenly blared down from the ceiling.

I froze. My face flattened against the cool concrete.

From my position on the floor I saw two feet move up next to one of the vehicles in bay three or four. The accompanying door had yawned open.

I held my breath…didn’t move.

The feet disappeared. Got into the car. Then the car slowly rolled out of the garage. Moments later the door closed and eventually the overhead light went dark again.

During this entire time I didn’t even breathe. Every ounce of blood in my body had surrendered to gravity and pooled against the floor, leaving the rest of me numb.

When my heart started to beat once more, I squeezed my body under the edge of the vehicle…got a hold on the object with the very tips of my fingers. I got it! Scrambling up onto my knees I saw that it was a crumpled business card. I didn’t recognize the name. I shoved the card into my pocket, dusted myself off and stole out of the garage.

Once inside the house I peered back through the glass door to make sure no one had followed me. The guards were nowhere to be seen. Cecilia and Vargas were likely far too preoccupied to be following me around. Then again there was always the chance one of the other residents of the guest house had seen me.

My chest ached. I slowed my breathing and finger-combed my hair before moving forward. I’m okay, I told myself.

I don’t know what I was thinking going into the garage like that. This card could have been in there for months. I doubted my trouble would yield anything significant to this operation. I’d likely only succeeded in almost giving myself a heart attack. I glanced at the towering grandfather clock that made itself at home on this end of the huge corridor, cutting the downstairs part of the house in half. It read 7:45.