Sweet Peas in April (6 page)

“I only had one drink,” she insisted. “I should go back to work.”

“You shouldn't have had any.”

She scowled. “Who do you think you are? My mother?”

“Your lawyer,” he remonstrated sharply. “Do you make a habit of drinking at lunch?”

“I don't drink at all. Peter insisted I have one. He said we can't go to Lancini's and stick to water or juice. I haven't drunk in years, not since…” She paused, taking a deep breath. She didn't want to upset him again. “Actually, not since you left.”

Adam opened his car door for her. “Oh?”

“Long story.” She slid into the car and did up her belt.

Adam ran around the other side and got in. He stared at her. “Go on.”

She looked down at her nails. She wasn't proud of this part of her life, but she'd brought it up. “The night you left, I got sooooo drunk. I figured, why not? I'd lost everything. You, Immy, my family, parents, friends. So I went and bought a bottle of vodka, got smashed, and took a whole load of pills.”

The admission was worth it for the look of shock and horror on his face. His eyes widened. “You did
what
? Where did you get the pills?”

“The ones they gave me to help me sleep after Immy died, remember?”

He nodded slowly. He started the car, gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his fingers white.

Sam swallowed. Tears burned her eyes. “I woke with the worst hangover known to man.” She pushed back into the seat. “I can't even kill myself right. Lousy parent, rubbish wife, and a total failure.”

Adam pulled away from the parking space. “You're drunk. That's why you're talking this way.”

“Am not,” she whispered. “If I was, I wouldn't feel the way I do now.” She let the tears fall, turning her face to the window. Adam hadn't refuted anything she'd said, therefore he must agree with her.

He drove silently, finally pulling up outside a house she didn't recognize.

“This isn't my place.” She wiped her face on her sleeve.

“No, it's mine. I'm going to make you some coffee. I also want to change out of my suit.”

She followed him up the path and into what was obviously a bachelor pad. Drab and dull with none of the little touches that made a house a home. “Do you bring many women back here?” she called.

“No,” came the reply from the kitchen. “None.”

“Seriously?” That did surprise her. “A good looking bloke like you and no women.”

“No. Don't you remember that we already had this conversation? You haven't dated since we separated and neither have I.”

Sam rubbed her head. It was swimming now. Maybe Adam was right and she was a little tipsy. But on one glass? It had never affected her like this before. Ever. Had Peter put something in it while she went out to the loo? She dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Peter liked her. He'd made that plain on more than one occasion. And she liked the attention.

But if she were honest, there was only one man she wanted the attention from.

Adam came into the room, his cologne preceding him. He held out a mug of coffee.

“Thanks.” She took it, her fingers brushing against his. She sipped it. “Good coffee.” She took a few more sips and set the cup down. She wanted to sit and glanced around for the sofa but lost her balance as she stepped towards it.

Adam's arms immediately circled her. “You OK?”

The answer to that was no. No, she wasn't all right. She wouldn't be all right for some time, but being here, with his arms holding her, made things seem a little better.

She wrapped her arms around him. “Missed you. Missed this.” His firm body still felt the same as all those years ago—although a little broader around the chest now.

His hands rested on her arms as he tried to pull away. “Sam…”

“Just hold me for a minute. Please. For old times' sake.” She looked up. His face was inches from hers. His gaze met hers and she shivered.

Adam's right hand cupped her face; his fingers caught her ear as they slid into her hair. His touch was warm and familiar.

“Adam…” she whispered.

The kiss was deep and passionate. She wasn't sure who initiated it; all she knew was that she didn't want it to end. His left hand held her in place against his firm body. Her hands slid down his back, caressing and pulling him closer.

Breathless disappointment engulfed her as he drew away.

“Sam, no, don't…”

“But you want to,” she whispered, not letting go of him.

“It's not right.” He stepped away, leaving her bereft and cold.

She grabbed his hand and curled his fingers, touching his wedding ring. “We're still married.”

“And you're not thinking straight,” he said as he tugged his hand free. “Drink your coffee while I go and change.”

Sam dropped her hand to her side and moved away. “Fine.” She slumped on the couch and rubbed her hands over her face. Had she really fallen so far that not even Adam wanted her? Peter was the first bloke in years to have given her more than a second look, and he had turned out to be a jerk. As nice as the attention was, albeit slightly full-on and creepy, he'd gotten her arrested.

Arrested…

What if it had been someone from church who'd…? She broke off.

It had been David, the bloke she'd sat next to at the church meeting. He'd been the one who'd tapped on the window: his partner telling him to call the uniformed cops as soon as they smelled the booze on Peter's breath.

Now it would be all over Headley Baptist. She'd be thrown out of membership. No one would want anything to do with her now.

Adam came back into the room wearing faded blue jeans and a red polo shirt. He sat and nursed the coffee in his hands. He studied her with a far-off look she knew only too well.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Just wondering how you were converted,” he said swirling the coffee. “You said it was three years ago, so it wasn't your brush with death.”

“Attempted suicide,” she said bluntly. “And you're the first person I told about that. Hence the fact I don't have a psych record or anything. I got converted after Mum died. I just got thinking what's going to happen when I die. Mum was so sure of where she was going, and I just started reading and asking questions. What about you?”

Adam swallowed several mouthfuls of coffee before answering. “Actually it was through David.”

“The cop, David?”

Adam nodded. “I met him in court and we've been friends ever since. He invited me along to a guest service at church. I'd always thought I was a good person, but the pastor that night made me see that I wasn't.”

Sam sighed. “And never will be.”

“Not this side of heaven, anyway. Did you want to go back to work?”

“No,” she sighed. “But I ought to.” She took a long drag on the coffee. “This caution they gave me. Is it permanently on my record now?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “It will stay on your police record forever,
but
if you stay out of trouble it will disappear from CRB checks after five years. Unless someone does an enhanced check, in which case your file will light up like a Christmas tree.”

“Why would they do that?”

“In case you want to work for the police or GCHQ or something.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But you got off lightly.”

She nodded slowly. “So this third trail you found on those files in my office?”

“It seems to suggest there's either someone else skimming the books or Troy Branning still has access somehow. I'd like to bring in a private investigator.”

Sam glanced at him and then down. The coffee lay heavy and her stomach pitted. “Is this because we kissed?”

Adam looked flummoxed. “Yes…no…”

“Well, which is it?”

“Neither, both.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I'm not sure I'm the right person to track the money. I just know what to do with the end result.”

“You've done fine, so far.”

“And it's time to get someone in who knows how to go deeper.”

“Fine, but I still need a lawyer. To bail me out of jail if nothing else.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “This morning's mess will be forgotten before the week is out. I'll speak to a private investigator friend of mine, see what he says.”

“Thanks.” Sam paused. “I should get back to the office.”

“I'll drive you.”

She nodded and stood. “Adam—I'm not sorry we kissed.”

An awkward look crossed his face and he stood there for a moment. “We should go.”

Sam picked up her bag and followed him out to the car. Her heart sank. Again she'd said something about how she felt and he hadn't reciprocated. Did he really dislike her that much?

Could the day possibly get any worse?

The answer to that question was waiting in her office for her. Peter sat behind her desk, still reeking of alcohol, and fuming.

Sam hung up her coat and looked at him. “You shouldn't be here. And what are you doing my side of the desk?”

He scowled. “So, where's your posh lawyer friend now? Bailed you out and left me there to rot. How come you're not being charged?”

“I got a caution, a slapped wrist if you want.”

“They took my license,” he slurred. “And I have to go to court. And it's his fault.”

She frowned, knocking his feet off her desk. “Who's fault?”

“West's. Think about it, Sam. He knew we were going to Lancini's. He didn't want me seeing you. Who else could have done it?”

“I have no idea.”

“You honestly believe that two random plainclothes cops want a quick chat about something totally unrelated, just as I'm about to drive away?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You were about to drive whilst drunk.”

“You were about to let me.”

“That isn't a crime and that isn't what they arrested me for.”

He stabbed a finger at her. “You need to ask your lawyer if he did dob me in and ask him why.”

“You need to go home. Ask reception to call you a taxi.”

He pushed upright, staggering and grasping the desk for support. “This isn't over.”

“Just go home, Peter. Come back tomorrow. Preferably sober.” She glared at him until he left the room. Then she sank into her chair and buried her face in her hands, turning the whole sorry mess over to God.

****

Adam hadn't intended to go back to work, but when the PI he'd rung said he could come over and see him that afternoon, Adam changed his plans. He changed back into his suit, albeit with a clean shirt and tie, and drove straight to the office.

He once again was grateful for the parking space that came with the partnership.

He looked up at the pretty red head that stood in front of his desk, and rose. “Freddie,” he said, holding out a hand. “Marriage agrees with you.”

Freddie Bryant, née Flynn, grinned as she shook his hand. “Jason thinks so too, but then he's biased.”

“And you use your married name? Whatever happened to the independent PI we all know and love?”

“I used Flynn for a bit, but it's far more fun confusing people by us both having male names and the same surname. No one knows which ‘Mr. Bryant' is going to turn up. No doubt Jason said
he'll
be here, not
she'll
be here.”

Adam laughed. “Of course. Have a seat.”

Freddie eased into the chair opposite and looked at him. “So, what have you got?”

“A mess,” he said honestly. “This would be why I called you. I need someone who's good at following trails and making connections where there aren't any. Or any that are obvious at any rate.”

He spent the next hour taking Freddie through all the files and data he had. Then he sat back and watched as she typed and studied, frowning and making notes.

Finally, she looked up. “OK, it's someone who knows money, knows how the system works and the best way to hide it. See how this account is almost piggybacking on top of the others? Virtually down to the same times of the bank transfers?”

Adam nodded.

“This account wasn't meant to be found.” She looked up. “I'm going to run checks on all the employees, including Sam Reece.”

Adam straightened, shock running rife. “Sam? Why?”

“She owns the company. This account became active the day she took over as CEO. If her lifestyle doesn't match her means—”

He raised his hands. “Before you go any further, there is something I need to tell you. Sam Reece is otherwise known as Sam West. She's my wife. We've been separated ten years, but we're still married.”

Freddie didn't blink. “I already knew, but thank you for being honest. Jason did some background checks after you rang. It didn't take long to figure out the connection between the two of you. So you need to back off this case and get someone else to investigate, and if need be, prosecute. There is a massive conflict of interest here. Any judge will tell you the same thing.”

“I know.” Adam swallowed. “And I will, just not yet. I'll do some checking of my own today and let you know what I find.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow. “Anything you do find will be inadmissible, Adam. You know the law better than I do. One single foot wrong or loophole and whoever did this can crawl through, and both this case
and
your reputation are ruined.”

“Not if I pass it onto the police and CPS. Never mind the fact it is perfectly legal for a murderer to represent themselves in court. You do your job, and I'll do mine.” He sucked in a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I'm sorry. That was rude and uncalled for.”

“It's OK, Adam. It must be hard seeing her again. I know I found working with Jason impossible to start with.”

“It is. It's dredged up all kinds of memories and thoughts I assumed I'd dealt with. It worked out for you both though. I don't know if—”