Silver Sparks (6 page)

He left without waiting to hear her response. From what he already knew of Maggie, he’d lay bets it was colorful. And loud.

Cal caught himself wondering about Maggie at least ten times the next day as he tracked down resort employees who might have seen the two missing girls. He wondered what Rafe would do to her. What the press would do to her. Each time, he furiously blocked the thought and turned his focus to Julie. Julie, who at twenty had been too naive to see the shallow side of Rafe De Luca that Maggie had pegged within minutes. And too stubborn to call her big brother for help when things had turned ugly and dangerous.

But blaming Julie for not calling him was a cop-out. She would have been too proud to admit she’d misjudged the handsome, famous man who’d swept her off her feet. Too embarrassed to ask the brother she barely knew for help getting away from him. Still, their mother had figured it out. Cal might have intervened in time to save Julie if his mother had known how to reach him.

But she hadn’t. He’d intentionally cut himself off from her, left without giving her so much as a phone number. But if Sherrie June Drummond Ellis Howard knew one thing it was men, and she’d recognized the evil in Rafe De Luca. She’d known her daughter was in over her head. And she would have turned to Cal for help if she could.

Because she couldn’t, Julie had died.

He had to live with that guilt. Assuming his two half sisters could depend on whatever man happened to currently be in their mother’s life had been stupid. He’d failed Julie as badly as their mother had. All he could do for her now was prove that Rafe De Luca was the monster who had killed her and dumped her body like a piece of garbage.

That would be a lot easier if Rafe didn’t find out who he was. Claiming to be Maggie’s boyfriend might actually help—there was no reason for Rafe to connect Maggie’s local friend Cal Drummond to Julie Ellis, a brief fling in California.

A bigger danger might be the reporters. Being in their sights would restrict his ability to monitor Rafe, and it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out that he wasn’t local. He had to be extra careful, which included not letting them follow him straight to his cabin.

Cal cruised slowly by the slightly shabby main building of the Lost Canyon Lodge and the cabins that trailed deep into the trees on either side of it. His gaze lingered on a blue car parked by the main lodge with a man behind the wheel. The guy might be waiting while his wife paid the bill or bought a souvenir T-shirt in the tiny gift shop. Or he might be a reporter, staking out the place in hopes of finding the mystery man who’d helped Maggie escape from The Aerie bar.

He wasn’t willing to risk it. Turning around at a gas station, he drove back to the small family restaurant across the street. He could watch the driver of the blue car and anyone else who might be loitering near the cabins for the next half hour to make sure they weren’t looking for him. He wasn’t in a hurry; Rafe probably wouldn’t be prowling for women until later tonight.

He walked in and scoped the place out. All the tables along the windows seated four or more—they’d never let a lone diner monopolize one. A perky young girl led him to a table for two in the center. He chose the chair that faced the windows and the lodge across the street. The blue car and driver were still there. Cal ordered a piece of pie and a coffee, scarfed down the pie, then sat sipping the coffee as he watched the blue car.

“Hey, you want this?”

He looked up to find the lone diner at the table next to him offering a folded newspaper.

“I’m done with it, and you looked like you needed something to do.”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” The guy dropped it on his table. “Can’t say I blame you. It’s nothing but speculation about that scuffle between Rafe De Luca and some local chick.”

“I already heard about it.” Cal took another sip of coffee and returned to watching the lodge across the street. The blue car hadn’t moved.

“It’s nothing but trash journalism.”

Cal agreed but didn’t answer. Better to let the subject die.

“’Course, you gotta wonder, anytime a woman hits a man,” the guy said. Apparently some people couldn’t take a hint. “Mostly, women don’t like to make a scene. Unless they’ve been drinking. No telling then. Maybe this Maggie chick was drunk.”

He should ignore him. Or grunt agreement, reinforcing the idea that he didn’t want to talk. But the idea of another nasty rumor about Maggie floating around town ate at his conscience like acid on metal. “She wasn’t drunk,” he muttered.

“Really? Seems unlikely—”

“I got it firsthand from someone who was there,” Cal said, cutting him off abruptly.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh. Now shut up and find something more important to think about.
People needed to get a life and stop wasting time reading celebrity gossip. Or hanging around cheap tourist cabins waiting to see if he showed up. Damn reporters were going to have him looking over his shoulder until this thing died down, which didn’t look to be anytime soon.

“Of course, there’s that whole other piece of the puzzle, the guy who stepped in and decked the bodyguard,” the man reasoned aloud. “Could be he started the whole thing. Jealousy can make a guy do strange things.”

Cal pushed his coffee away, even though it probably wasn’t the reason for the sour feeling in his stomach. He turned sideways to face the guy. Long hair brushed the man’s eyebrows in front and covered his collar in back. Cal figured a haircut was about two months overdue. A shave wouldn’t hurt, either. Combined with the guy’s worn denim shirt and jeans, he could have been a man in need of a job. Except for the glasses. The square black frames imparted a serious, slightly professorial air to a face that was not much older than his own. Or maybe it was the steady gaze behind the glasses. The guy looked too smart to care about some no-talent rich asshole’s bar fight.

Cal gave him his stern cop face, the one he saved for argumentative drunks. “Sounds like you’ve read all about it. I thought you said it was trash journalism.”

He shrugged. “Entertainment for the masses.”

“More like crack cocaine,” Cal told him. “Feeds an empty craving while taking the focus off real life. I told you, I’m not interested.”

“You don’t think it matters if a woman slugs a man in a bar, then ducks out like she has something to hide?”

“I think it’s between the man and woman, and the cops. And just because a woman doesn’t want to get shot by a raging, drunk bodyguard, doesn’t mean she has something to hide.”

The guy cocked his head, thinking it over, nodding sagely. “You could be right.”

“I am.” Cal turned back to the window.

“I guess you would know.” He let a pause hang in the air for a few seconds. “Since you were involved.”

Cal turned back. The guy’s frank gaze looked pretty damn sharp now as he waited for a reaction. Cal scowled. If he was fishing for a quote, he wasn’t going to get one.

The guy held out his hand. “Rick Grady. You got a name, other than Mystery Man?”

Cal ignored the hand. The name sounded familiar, probably from one of the bylines in those trashy tabloids, and he had no desire to shake hands with one of those hacks. “Congratulations, you found me. I have nothing to say to you or the other slugs who live under your rock.”

He shrugged. “That won’t stop anyone from writing about you.”

The reporter’s lack of concern only aggravated the frustration that had been building since last night. “And you have the scoop on that, don’t you? You can tell the world that I like apple pie and take my coffee black. Or do you just make shit up like all the other vultures?”

Rick Grady leaned back in his chair, unmoved. In fact, Cal thought he looked slightly amused. “Your diet is fascinating stuff, but I’m not interested in writing about you.”

“And yet you sit here making wild speculations and pumping me for comments on the big incident. That doesn’t sound like a lack of interest to me.” The problem was, Cal hadn’t been the only subject of those speculations. The thought of Rick Grady spreading more lies about Maggie jabbed at his gut like a hot poker, spreading heat through his whole body. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “If you even think of writing one of your sick, twisted lies about Maggie Larkin, I’ll find you and break your fingers one by one.”

“Jesus, buddy, back off.” But instead of looking scared and retreating, Grady leaned forward. “Pushed your buttons, huh? I suggest you learn to control that reaction, or you’ll be their next big headline instead of a mildly interesting sidebar.”

Cal curled his fist around his chair instead of smashing it into Grady’s face, and forced himself to take several deep breaths. Rick Grady might have sold his soul to whatever tabloid he worked for, but he was right. Despite his best instincts, Maggie Larkin had gotten under Cal’s skin. She was impulsive, bossy, and a giant pain in the ass, and defending her was distracting him from his main objective. He should be thinking of Julie.

But he couldn’t stand by and watch Rafe De Luca and the tabloids rip Maggie to shreds. If he had to take them on one by one, he would. He stood, looming over the reporter and forcing him back in his chair. “Listen, asshole, if you write one word that isn’t true—”

Grady held up both hands. “I’m not writing anything. I’m not interested in the lady.”

Cal frowned. The guy looked sincere, but you could never tell with his species. They’d rat out their own mothers for a good story. “Then what the hell are you doing?”

“Looking to burn Rafe De Luca’s sorry ass. Without collateral damage—that means I don’t care about you and your girlfriend.”

“Right. You just happened to be eating here while keeping an eye on the Lost Canyon Lodge, where I just happen to be staying.”

“I eat here because I like the prices. And I’m watching the blue car over there, same as you. That’s Rob Ventner with
The Hollywood Scene
. If he’s still there when we’re done talking, I’ll get rid of him for you.”

Cal eased back, more puzzled now than angry. Grady pointed at the chair across from him. “Have a seat. I think we might be able to help each other out.”

Chapter
Four

C
al didn’t see how a reporter could help him, but Grady obviously wasn’t the typical tabloid stringer. Not unless he was lying about not being interested in him or Maggie, and Cal didn’t think he was. He pulled out the chair across the table and sat. “Who do you work for, and what makes you think you can help me?” he asked.

“I don’t work for anyone. I freelance. Mostly I do articles for online news sites.” His superior look revealed what he thought of the tabloid reporters. “But about a year ago I happened to be in the right place at the right time, and I took a picture of Rafe De Luca arguing with a woman—a girl, really, about sixteen—outside a club in Acapulco. No one else was there, I was the only one who caught it. I sold it to a tabloid for fifty thousand dollars.”

“Holy shit.” No wonder those photographers were on De Luca like leeches.

“No kidding. That was way more than I made on my articles that year. And I only took the picture because two seconds before that I saw Rafe hit her. He looked like he was going to do it again, and if I couldn’t scare him off I wanted to at least document it.”

“Son of a bitch,” Cal muttered. He gave Rick a hard look, noting the decently muscled build and flat stomach. The guy was no wimpy pencil pusher. “Why the hell didn’t you do more than take a picture? He was abusing a girl. You look like you could handle yourself in a fight.”

“I was in a parking lot, separated from them by a chain-link fence. But I yelled, and he saw the flash from the camera. That was enough to stop him. Caught him with his arm raised and a look of desperate fear on the girl’s face.”

Cal raised his eyebrows. “I remember that picture. It caused a brief stir, but he explained it, and the girl backed him up. Something about practicing a scene for a TV show.”

“At two a.m. behind a Mexican nightclub?” Grady gave a derisive snort. “He bought her off.”

Cal grunted, not surprised. But the story was nothing without proof. “You know that for sure?”

“Sure as I could get. I tracked the girl’s family to a little run-down apartment across town, but I couldn’t talk to them. They’d moved away. Left town the day before in their brand-new pickup truck, the neighbors said.”

Cal believed it. But that didn’t mean he trusted Rick Grady. Gesturing at the camera and zoom lens on the chair between them, he said, “So you moonlight now as a tabloid photographer to pay the bills?” For that kind of money he could hardly blame him, but he still found it distasteful.

“Not exactly.” Rick fiddled with his water glass, his expression grim. “I’m hoping to catch him in another act of abuse. I heard in Mexico he likes his girls underage, and he’s not gentle.”

Cal bit back a string of curses only because he was conscious of the two young kids dining with their parents a few tables away. He wasn’t surprised at Rafe’s behavior, but it still infuriated him to hear it. Worse, horrible possibilities started playing in his head, making him wonder if Julie had gone through the same sort of abuse. Or maybe she’d been a willing participant until things got rougher, or more degrading. Images he didn’t want flashed to life in his mind, nightmare scenarios of what Rafe might have done to Julie before the final, outrageous assault on her young body.

“I thought you should know what you’re dealing with,” Rick said, “since your girlfriend crossed him and he looks mad enough to kill her.”

Cal gave him a sharp look. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Rick looked confused. “Sorry, I just assumed, since you rescued her like that . . . or did they exaggerate?”

He ran a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. “No. It was a train wreck—I saw it coming and I couldn’t stop it, and couldn’t look away. Couldn’t leave her to handle Rafe on her own either, especially after she made it worse by charging back in to shake her fist at that hulking idiot bodyguard of De Luca’s. Crazy woman.”

Rick chuckled. “I thought it was great. Dangerous as hell, but great.”

The problem was, somewhere deep inside, so did Cal. He admired Maggie for not backing down, for not letting Rafe use her. But it didn’t outweigh his fear for her, and for the rage she aggravated further every time she defied Rafe. He’d seen what that bold approach to life could do. It didn’t always turn out well.

“How do you figure you can help me?” he asked.

The determined look on Rick’s face was the same one he’d seen on Maggie’s. “I’m going to nail the bastard. He’s obviously unstable if he’s pushed too far, and it’s bound to happen again. I intend to be there when it does.”

“So you can get a picture and another big check?”

“No.” Rick looked annoyed. “So I can expose him for what he is. Sure, I’ll take the money. But the guy’s got women throwing themselves at him, and they have no idea how dangerous he is. I know his type and I can guarantee that someday he’ll take it too far.”

Finally, someone else who realized the truth. He gave Rick a hard look, and decided to trust him. “He already has.”

Rick grew still and Cal could sense the man’s journalistic instincts going on high alert. “What do you mean? Did he do something to Maggie?”

Cal noted the barely leashed tension—Rick wanted to bring Rafe down as badly as Cal did. He still wasn’t sure if it was a passion for justice or simply lust for a juicy story, but maybe it didn’t matter. He also recalled where he’d heard Rick’s name before. They might be able to help each other in more ways than one. “Let me ask you something first. Have you ever done any investigative pieces, the deep-background type of exposé?”

“I did one on a police chief involved in a bribery scandal. Why?”

Cal allowed a smile of satisfaction. The article had been sensational, but gutsy and true, and he’d noted the reporter’s name. “Because you’re right about De Luca. And if you’re looking for another big scoop, I have a personal connection to a story that might interest you.”

Maggie had assured Zoe that the media attention didn’t bother her. She’d lied. Her sister bought it for only one day. By Monday evening she insisted on coming over.

Zoe stepped inside the house, took Maggie by the shoulders, and searched her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Maggie smiled, washed by a warm wave of affection for her sister. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear someone ask that. Nodding, she pulled Zoe into a quick hug. “I am now. Thanks for asking, it’s been brutal. And Zoe, I’m so sorry if they’ve dragged you into it, too.”

“They haven’t. At least, nothing more than reciting some old news to prove you come from a degenerate family. They can’t hurt me with what this town already knows and has discussed to death. I’ve been squeaky clean for years, which translates to boring. But the way they’re ripping into you . . . I saw the stories. Brutal is the right word. It’s like they
want
to hurt you.”

“They do. From what Rafe implied, his family can control some of the stories. He threatened to make my life miserable.” She led Zoe to the living room and dropped onto the couch, glad to finally be off her feet. “A couple friends said they tried to tell reporters that I wasn’t anything like what those articles said, but they weren’t interested in printing it.” She gave her sister a grateful look. “It’s nice to know I have some support. But you shouldn’t have bought those horrid papers. I resent every dime they’ll make from shredding my private life to ribbons.”

“I didn’t buy a paper,” Zoe said, sitting beside her. “I read it online.”

A weak feeling hit her stomach. “I’m on the Internet?”

Zoe looked apologetic. “Just the entertainment sites.” She winced as she added, “With links.”

“Great. The gossip section, which is probably what pops up as soon as you turn your computer on.”

“Well, no, you were after the president’s trip to Europe and that airplane accident. . . .” Her voice trailed off at her sister’s annoyed look.

Maggie sighed. There was no point in being the only one who hadn’t read it. “What did they say? Was I vilified for being a bar bimbo, or was it about my supposed criminal past? Or maybe they speculated about the mystery man in my love triangle with Rafe?”

“Uh, no, actually the one I read was about your loose morals and how you go through men like candy. They got a few quotes from some guys you dated, or so they claimed.” She frowned. “I didn’t recognize the names.”

Maggie’s muscles coiled inward as if she’d taken a punch in the stomach. “You’re kidding. Someone I dated told the press I had loose morals?” Not that she’d always been as discriminating as she should have been in choosing her dates, but it still felt like a betrayal to know that one of them had talked to the tabloids about her. Grabbing her laptop off the coffee table, she shoved it toward Zoe and demanded, “Show me. Find the article. I want to see who said that.”

Zoe obediently tapped keys and pulled up the article, then turned the computer toward Maggie. Large headlines read, “Rafe’s Accuser Has Questionable Past.”

“Accuser,” Maggie muttered. “I’d love to give that witless wonder some real accusations to deal with.” Then she began reading.

It was worse than Zoe had said. “Will Brenton? I never even went out with Will Brenton! And he has the nerve to say I’m an easy lay!” She burned Zoe with a blazing stare. “Did you read this whole thing? This is outrageous! Mitch Rutkowski says I probably slept with half the senior class—what a crock!” Even as promiscuous as she’d been then, the claim was outrageous. “How can they get away with saying this crap? Maybe I should sue them.”

“I don’t think you have a case if that’s what people told them, and you know it probably is. People in this town will believe anything bad about the Larkin girls.”

“You’re right,” Maggie grumbled. “And besides, the tabloids are just following where the De Luca family points. Rafe said his family would go after me, and this is what he meant.”

Zoe’s jaw tightened. “Big deal, we’ve taken hits before. So we fight back. Go after Rafe.”

Rather than fire her up, the words pricked Maggie like pins, leaving her deflated. “I can’t.”

“What?” Anger mixed with incredulity as Zoe’s mouth dropped open. “Why not? You know I’ll support you. I’ll do whatever I can.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not it. It’s Sophie. Cal said if I keep this fight going, the tabloids will find her and drag her into it.”

“What can they possibly say about her?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows in weary defeat. “Anything they want, apparently. If they hurt her, they hurt me, and that’s what Rafe wants. Just saying she’s related to me would be bad enough. Having her name dragged through the tabloids won’t help her get a teaching position at a university. Plus, she’s never dealt with this crap. She never had to develop that hard shell, and I like her that way.”

“Damn. I’ll bet that’s why she wanted to meet us here.”

Maggie frowned. “When? Next weekend when she comes home?”

“No, tonight, any time now. She left school early and said she’d meet me here so we could talk about it. You think she’s worried about how this might impact her?”

“Oh, God. Probably. She should be.” She pressed her lips together and gave Zoe a pleading look. “I can’t let them drag her into this, Zoe. I’d rather let everyone think I had some brief fling with Rafael De Luca than turn the tabloids loose to ravage Sophie. At least one of the Larkin girls can walk through this town without causing whispered comments, and I’d like to keep it that way. Can you understand?”

“Sure.” Zoe reached out to take Maggie’s hand in her own. “I agree; we need to keep this from touching Sophie. And we can always put the true story out later, that you just lied about having an affair with Rafe in order to stop all the lies.”

“No, I can’t. I’ll have to sign something that says I can’t talk about it.”

Zoe made a disgusted face. “Well, I don’t, and I’ll be glad to tell everyone exactly what sort of arrogant asses the De Lucas are.”

At the crunch of tires on gravel, they both looked toward the front window. Zoe flipped back the curtain and confirmed, “It’s Sophie.”

They met her at the door, each of them drawing their slender, chestnut-haired sister into a firm hug. “You cut your hair,” Maggie said, fingering the locks that barely reached past Sophie’s jawline. “I love it. It’s even shorter than mine.”

“Thanks. Listen—”

“God, those are cute shoes. Where’d you get them?”

“Boulder. I have to—”

“Adorable,” Zoe agreed.

“It’s so good to see you,” Maggie gushed, hugging Sophie again. “Will David be coming soon? I’m dying to meet him.”

“Maggie!”

Maggie paused, blinking at her youngest sister. “What?”

“I didn’t come to discuss my shoes or my boyfriend. Well, not exactly,” she corrected, letting the vague statement hang there. “I want to hear about this stuff with Rafe De Luca. I know whatever I heard can’t be true, and I want the whole story from you.”

Maggie shrugged it off as she guided Sophie toward a seat in the living room. “I’ll tell you everything, but don’t worry about it, it’s all going to be over soon anyway. The De Lucas are going to spin it as an affair and a lovers’ quarrel, and they’ll make sure all the nasty stories stop.”

“What!” Sophie popped back off the couch. “You had an affair with that little prick?”