The Virgin and Zach Coulter (15 page)

“I think he set her up, but I'm damned if I know how he did it,” Zach growled, frustrated.

“Then we'll have to figure it out,” Cade told him calmly, although his eyes were hard. “Who else besides Cynthia had access to the information?”

“She says nobody,” Zach said. “But there must have been someone.”

“One of the contractors? Or one of the suppliers for the Lodge?” Mariah asked.

“We'd better write down names,” Zach told her. “My laptop's up at the Lodge—have you got paper and pens?”

Mariah hurried out of the room, and Zach looked at Cade.

“I'm not sleeping until I know how Meyers did this,” he vowed grimly. “And when I find out, I'm going after him.”

He didn't say it aloud, but he knew he wouldn't rest until Cynthia's name was cleared and she was safe.

Then he could ask her to marry him.

He refused to contemplate her saying anything but yes.

 

Cynthia spent the weekend trying to stay busy. She cleaned the house in a whirlwind of activity and late Sunday afternoon, when she could find nothing left that needed washing or polishing, she moved outdoors.

She raked the nearly spotless flower beds, fertilized the roses, shoveled and spread bark mulch beneath the trees and shrubs. She was inspecting the leaves on the lilac bushes for any brown spots when Natasha strolled out onto the porch.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” her mother asked as she settled into a wicker rocker, a glass of iced tea in one hand, a glossy fashion magazine in the other. “You've barely sat down all weekend and I swear, I don't think I've heard you say twenty words.”

“Sorry, Natasha,” Cynthia murmured, considering a
lilac leaf with a small blemish. Deciding not to remove it, she moved on to the yellow Peace rose next to it.

“What does that mean? You're sorry about what—not talking or not sitting still for two days?”

The faint echo of concern in Natasha's voice caught Cynthia's attention and she looked up, past the porch railing and at the chair where her mother sat.

“I suppose about not talking. I didn't realize I was being so uncommunicative.”

“Yes, well…” Natasha waved the magazine impatiently. “You are. And although you're not exactly a chatterbox, you're rarely nearly silent, either. What on earth is wrong?”

Cynthia sighed, frowning at the rose leaf. “There's a…situation at work. I can't get my mind off it—I suppose that's why I haven't been very good company.”

“What kind of a situation?” Natasha frowned. “Not more bad boss problems?”

“No.” Cynthia shook her head in instant denial. “Not at all. Zach's a great boss.”

“Then what's the problem?” Natasha insisted, sipping her tea.

“Someone made a complaint to the zoning commission about the permits for the Lodge.”

“Someone? Who was it?”

“I don't think I should say more until Zach gives me permission to talk about it.” Cynthia realized she'd gripped the green leaf so tightly that it had torn in two.

“Well, if you ask me,” Natasha said with a sniff. “It sounds like much ado about nothing. The Coulters have
enough influence to do whatever they want with the Lodge. Who could stop them?”

“The zoning commission has the power to rescind permits and block the opening,” Cynthia told her.

“I've heard rumors that Zach plans to open the Lodge and when it becomes popular, sell it and go back to California. Is that true?”

“I don't know.” Cynthia wished she knew what Zach's plans were, but he seemed totally focused on the opening date and hadn't said anything definitive beyond that time.

“If he's not going to stay, it would be better if he sold,” Natasha commented. “Businesses are healthier with a local owner. Absentee owners are always bad for business.”

Cynthia stared at her mother. “I heard someone else say almost the same thing not so long ago,” she said slowly. “Have you been talking to Jim Meyers, Mother?”

Faint pink color tinted Natasha's cheeks. “What if I have?” she asked defensively. “Why shouldn't I?”

“No reason. I wasn't aware you knew him.”

Natasha leaned over and set her tea glass down on the low wicker table, her gaze averted. “I ran into him at the pharmacy when I first arrived.”

“Are you seeing him?” Cynthia held her breath, hoping against hope the answer was no.

“We've gone out.” Natasha shot Cynthia a defensive glare. “I know he's younger than me, but he's a lot of fun. There's nothing wrong with dating a younger man.”

“Of course not,” Cynthia said patiently. “But he's the one who made the complaint to the zoning commission
about the Lodge. He had access to information that he shouldn't have.”

Natasha looked startled, then angry. “He's never asked me anything about the Lodge—and it's not as if I know anything I could have told him anyway. You don't tell me anything about your work except generalities.”

“No, I don't.” Her mother was right. She didn't talk about confidential work matters with anyone but Zach, so Meyers couldn't have gotten his information from Natasha. She sighed and tugged off her gloves, abandoning the rosebush to climb the porch steps. “But he seems to have a questionable character, Natasha. I hope you don't get involved with him.”

“I'm not involved. I told you, we enjoy each other's company. That's all.”

Cynthia sincerely hoped her mother was telling the truth. Because Jim Meyers had shown a nasty, vindictive side that she hoped wouldn't impact Natasha. “I think I'll go in and take a shower to wash away the garden dirt, then start dinner. Will you be here or are you going out?”

“I'm meeting friends at the Black Bear this evening for dinner, then we're going on to catch a movie.”

“Sounds like fun.” Cynthia pulled open the screen door. “I'll be down in a bit.” She stepped inside and heard her mother murmur she'd see her later as she crossed the entryway and headed upstairs.

As she showered and shampooed her hair, she tried to decide if she should call Zach and tell him Natasha had been dating Jim Meyers. She'd definitely gotten the impression Zach wanted her out of the way, and
uninvolved, while he did what was necessary to find out how Jim had managed to get the file.

Face it,
she told herself with brutal honesty,
Zach probably thinks you gave Jim Meyers that information.

She felt sick every time she thought about it. She was the only person who'd had the information in her possession. She had no explanation for how Meyers had managed to gain access to it—and certainly no evidence that could prove she was innocent of aiding him.

If she were Zach, she would be able to draw only one conclusion—all the evidence pointed to her guilt.

Her stomach was tied in knots, but by the time she'd dried her hair, then dressed in clean shorts and a top, she'd made up her mind. She picked up her cell phone and dialed Zach.

“Hello.” The familiarity of his deep voice was both comforting and fraught with tension for Cynthia.

“Hi, Zach, it's me.”

“Cynthia, what's up?”

At least he didn't sound angry and he hadn't immediately hung up, she thought. “I have some information for you, although I don't know if it will help or just make things more confusing.”

“What is it?” He sounded interested but faintly distracted, as if his attention was elsewhere.

“My mother has been seeing Jim Meyers.”

Silence met her statement.

“Zach? Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard. Since when?”

“She said they ran into each other shortly after she came back to town, so it's been a few weeks.” Cynthia wished she could tell if he thought the information was
helpful. “I don't see how this helps but I thought I should tell you. It just seems suspicious that he's seeing my mother at the same time he somehow gained possession of documents he could only have accessed off my computer.”

“Sounds too coincidental—unbelievably so,” Zach agreed. “Didn't you tell me you have an external hard drive at home that you use to back up your laptop files?”

“Yes, I do. But it's password protected. I don't see how he could have gained access.”

“Hold on.” His voice was instantly muffled, as if he'd covered the receiver with his hand. “Are you going to be home for a while?”

“Of course.”

“I'm sending J.T. in to pick up your hard drive and laptop. Are you okay with that?”

“Certainly. But I'd be glad to bring it out if you need it, Zach.”

“No.” His voice was adamant, brusque. “I don't want you involved in this. J.T. will be there in about twenty minutes or so—I'll need passwords for your locked files on the laptop and access to the external drive.”

Cynthia gave him the information and a moment later, he said goodbye.

A little while later, J.T. knocked on her door, collected the laptop and hard drive and after a few moments left, but since the teenager had known as little as Cynthia about what Zach was up to, she was none the wiser.

Anxious to know whether Zach had solved the mystery, Cynthia arrived at work early the following morning, only to learn that Zach wasn't there.

When he hadn't shown up by noon, she called Cade.

“I was hoping to talk to Zach this morning,” she told him. “Do you know where he is?”

“He drove down to Billings to pick up a visitor at the airport. He wants you to meet him at the commissioners' offices at four this afternoon.”

And that was all the information Cade would give her. She was sure he knew more about the mysterious visitor and Zach's investigation, but if he did, he wasn't sharing.

Frustrated, Cynthia went back to work, checking shipping invoices against the deliveries by hand. Her laptop still hadn't been returned.

The afternoon dragged. By the time she arrived at the commissioners' offices, she was strung tight with nerves. Cade and Mariah pulled in behind her and the three walked in together, taking a seat on the bench just behind the tables.

Within a few moments, Jim Meyers entered the room. He sat on the opposite side of the aisle, in the same row.

Cynthia kept glancing at her watch.

“What's keeping Zach?” she whispered to Mariah.

“Cade says he'll be here, don't worry,” Mariah whispered back.

The door to the commissioners' chambers opened and the three men and Hazel filed in. All of them greeted Mariah, asking her how things were at the café.

Just as the commissioners were taking seats and opening files, the door at the rear of the room opened. Cynthia twisted to look behind her and saw Zach hold
ing the door to let two women enter the room ahead of him.

One was a stranger, a young woman with center-parted, straight black hair that fell to her hips in a shining ebony fall. Black kohl eyeliner accented eyes that were a deep turquoise; her skin was so fair it seemed almost white, and scarlet lipstick accented her full lips. She was dressed all in black and when she turned her head to say something to Zach, her hair swung back over her shoulder, revealing multiple gold studs and hoop earrings along the rim of her ear. A smocked top fell to mid-thigh over black leggings and black leather boots reached almost to her knees.

She looked as alien as if a spaceship had dropped her onto Indian Springs's Main Street.

And when Zach bent his head to listen to her, the intimacy between the two was obvious. A sharp, suffocating pain caught Cynthia and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Then the woman stepped away from Zach and walked down the aisle. For the first time, Cynthia looked at the other woman and realized it was Natasha.

Zach followed the two women down the aisle, setting Cynthia's laptop and external drive on the small table in front. The younger woman pulled out a chair and sat at the table, while Zach ushered Natasha to a seat next to Cynthia.

Their eyes met, caught, and he winked before turning away to the table.

Cynthia drew a deep, shuddering breath, reassured by his glance. Before she could ask her mother what
was happening, however, the commissioner rapped the gavel.

Cynthia heard the soft sound of the exit door opening and closing, the sound nearly covered by the gavel. She glanced over her shoulder to see a sheriff's deputy had entered and now sat in the last bench before the exit.

“Mr. Coulter,” the commissioner said.

Cynthia faced front once again, riveted by the unfolding drama.

“It appears you may have some information to present to the commission?” he asked.

“Yes, I do.” Zach stood. “I believe I've solved the mystery as to how preliminary documents, which were never more than one of many possibilities for the Lodge's future and never intended for the Lodge to pursue, were stolen from Cynthia Deacon's computer.” He turned to the black-haired woman. “This is my assistant, Angela Freewater. She's a computer expert, and I asked her to run some tests on Ms. Deacon's computer and external hard drive where she backs up all her work. I believe you'll find her comments interesting.”

Angela stood as Zach sat. In a smooth, laconic drawl, she gave the enthralled listeners a ten-minute lesson on tracking cyber crime. Then she explained how she'd accessed Cynthia's computer and backup drive, run scans that traced the accessing of both, and identified the hacker who'd done it.

“And who was it?” Zach asked.

“The hacker's name is Jim Meyers.”

Across the aisle from Cynthia, Meyers shot to his feet. “That's a lie,” he blustered. “It's impossible for anyone to do what she says she did. I'm being set up.”

“It's not impossible when the hacker is an amateur who uses his own laptop to hook up to an external drive,” Angela said with barely a hint of contempt. “And his laptop leaves fingerprints any ten-year-old computer geek can read, trace and identify.”