Hart To Hart (4 page)

“If you say so.”

Smartass. Ellie wiped her mouth with her napkin then pushed back her chair and stood. “Let me know what you find out.” She nabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and rushed out, not daring to look back.

Coming here had been a big mistake.

Chapter Three

E
llie had really
botched that encounter. Why had she mentioned Charlotte? It was the one link she and Vic shared, but she didn’t want him to use that to get back with her. While he had left Ellie alone after he’d called a few months back, she could see it in his eyes that he still cared. Truthfully, she thought he’d be put off by her larger size. Fifty extra pounds wasn’t something she could hide, yet Vic seemed blind to her faults.

Damn him. If he’d made fun of her, she’d have been able to handle him better. As she strode toward her car, she spotted a sign for the Rock Hard Art museum. Since it would take Amy time to find the information—assuming she could get the owner to hand over the surveillance tapes—Ellie wanted to keep busy. And that meant doing something she loved instead of dwelling on Vic Hart.

So, for the next few hours she wandered first through the art museum, and then took in the Natural History Museum. On her way back to the hotel, she found a local gallery that looked interesting. The paintings of wild animals in the display window spoke to her. They were truly amazing. Ellie stepped inside and studied the brush strokes and the tonal quality of the composition.

“It’s quite superb, is it not?” said a voice behind Ellie.

She spun around to find an older woman with wild blonde-gray hair, wearing a long skirt, scuffed boots, and what looked like a homemade shawl. She would have fit in well at the Davies-Hart Gallery.

“Yes. It’s exceptional. Is the artist local?” Ellie would love to show some of his work in Virginia.

“He is. His name is Wolf Cunningham. I have his card at my desk. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll find it for you.”

Wolf? “I’ve never met a Wolf.”

The proprietor laughed. “I’ve always assumed it was a nickname.”

While the woman went in search of the information, Ellie looked around. The combination of artwork complemented each other very well. In fact, this gallery seemed to have many similar features to her own. Tears welled. She wanted to finish her vacation with her daughter, and then go home—back where she belonged.

“Here you are. Wolf is on vacation, but he should return in a few weeks.”

Ellie checked to make sure his email was on the card. “Thanks.”

By the time she returned to the hotel, she decided to spend some time reflecting on the many aspects of her life. It was time for her to figure out her next move—with Charlotte, with Hilton, and with Vic.

*     *     *

By the time
she awoke from her unintentional nap, it was around seven p.m., and she was starving. Not wanting to go out in the cold, she went down to the bar to grab a bite and to have a drink. God, did she need a drink after being with Vic today, or what? During the last five years, she’d maintained a high anger level toward him. He’d not been there for Charlotte so many times that she blamed anything that pissed her off on Vic. Unfair, for sure, but she had to take it out on someone.

It didn’t help her mood that this stalker seemed to be everywhere—both in Virginia as well as in Montana. Ellie had to conclude that Wendy must have mentioned where she was going. Or would Hilton have said something? He knew she was visiting Charlotte, while Brian did not, and Wendy knew all too well not to spill the beans to him.

Crap. Had her friend said something to Cal during one of their classes? There was only one way to find out: call Wendy and ask her.

Ellie slipped onto one of the barstools and grabbed a menu. Fried this, fried that. Yuk.

“What can I get you?” the female bartender asked.

She had to eat. “I’ll have the fried pickles and fried chicken tenders. And I’ll have a vodka tonic.”

“You got it.”

Ellie located her phone and called Wendy. She wouldn’t be teaching tonight.

“Hey, there,” Wendy answered with a ton of enthusiasm. “How’s Montana?”

She explained how freaked out Charlotte had been when Ellie explained about the odd events. “She insisted I hire Vic to find this person, so now I’m in Rock Hard.”

Wendy whistled. “Wow. How’s that going?”

“Let’s just say I’m sitting at the hotel bar and I’ve ordered a vodka tonic.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I think Vic might be interested in me, and I can’t handle that. He was so nice, which means he has an ulterior motive.”

“Hey. Don’t be so cynical. Nice is good.”

“I guess. The bad thing was that I got another email during lunch, and I kind of freaked.”

The bartender placed her vodka tonic on the counter in front of her. Ellie probably should wait until after she had some food in her stomach, but she wanted to get a buzz, hoping it would erase the jitters.

“What did it say?” The worry in Wendy’s voice brought her back to the present.

Ellie sipped her drink. Within seconds, the chilled alcohol hit her bloodstream. She told Wendy what the message said. “Vic has someone in D.C. who might be able to help, but you’ll never guess who that someone is.” Wendy had known Amy when Ellie was still married.

“Who?”

“Amy.”

“Amy Sanchez?”

“I don’t know for sure. Vic didn’t tell me her last name.”

“I know Amy is doing freelance work in computers.”

Damn. “Then it’s probably her.” Ellie polished off half the drink in two large gulps.

“Tell me the truth. How does he look?”

Wendy always could spot a lie. “Good.” Ellie finished her drink. “He’s thinner, but the scars from the fire are kind of sexy in a weird sort of way. He has a bit of a tan that goes well with his dark hair and mocha eyes.” She inwardly groaned.

“Mocha, huh?”

“Slip of the tongue.”

“Sure. Does Vic have any theories about who might be after you?”

“No, which was why I called you. Did you mention to the class where I was?”

“Hell, no. I figured it might be one of them.”

The bartender placed a second vodka tonic in front of her, along with her not-so-healthy dinner. Ellie gave her a thin smile and swiveled on the seat to place an elbow on the bar. “Darn. I thought perhaps Cal was trying to catch my attention.”

“By slashing your tires?”

Ellie shook her head. Didn’t matter Wendy couldn’t see her. “I think that had nothing to do with anything. Just bad luck.”

A bell sounded in the background. “Hey, someone just came in,” Wendy said. “I gotta go. Keep in touch, sweetie.”

“Will do.”

For the few minutes she was speaking with her good friend, the world seemed a better place. Now Ellie was alone again. The rich aroma of the food finally pierced her brain, and Ellie popped a chicken tender in her mouth. Mmm. She was pleasantly surprised at the burst of flavor. She alternated between her drink and the fried food until she finished the whole plate. When she returned to Virginia, she’d have to hit the gym for sure.

“Buy you another drink?” said a deep male voice.

Ellie spun back around and blinked. A good looking man in his mid-thirties, wearing a charcoal gray suit, but no tie, slid onto the stool next to her. He waved to the bartender. “Michelob please, and whatever the lady is having.”

Ellie was so taken aback that she failed to object. He splayed his left hand on the bar and the gleaming wedding band shone in the light. She relaxed. He wasn’t hitting on her—or so she hoped. He was probably just looking for someone to talk to.

“I’m Tom. Tom Travers, from Seattle.”

“Ellie Hart, from Virginia.”

“Hi, Ellie from Virginia. What brings you here?”

She wasn’t sure she should answer, but there didn’t seem to be any harm. Another drink appeared in front of her. “I’m visiting my daughter. You?” While her daughter wasn’t in Rock Hard, Ellie didn’t need to give him too many details.

“I sell energy-efficient windows. This is part of my territory.”

Ellie relaxed. He was a salesman. A safe person. “Do your travels take you away from home a lot?”

He tipped back his beer. “Too much, but I have three kids to put through college. I have to work hard.”

“I hear ya. I run an art gallery and it’s non-stop work.”

His lips pressed together appearing impressed. “What does your husband do?”

She’d heard that line before, but Tom seemed on the up and up. “I’m divorced.”

He smiled.

*     *     *

Amy finally called
around nine, and Vic picked up right away. “Got something for me?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m sending the video clip now.”

Vic clicked on his mail tab. “Got it. Give me a sec to look.” What he saw was a young woman approach a computer terminal, take out a piece of paper, and type something on the computer. The camera was too far away to see what she wrote. Then it cut off.

“Not what you expected, huh?” Amy asked.

“This makes no sense. Are you sure this is the terminal?”

“Positive.”

“You get a name?” He wasn’t sure how she could, but he had to ask.

“I’m good, but not that good.” Amy laughed.

“Thanks. I owe you.”

As soon as he disconnected the call, he wanted to tell El his findings. He dialed her number, but her cell went to voicemail. Damn. She’d want to know that her stalker might be a woman. Wendy perhaps? He hadn’t seen El’s best friend in years, but it was possible the person El most trusted was out to drive her crazy.

When Amy had called, he’d been about to head home. Since the Park Hotel was on his way, Vic jumped in his SUV, drove the two miles down the main thoroughfare, and parked a half block away from the hotel entrance.

Inside, the lobby was cozy, especially since they had the fireplace lit. Two high-backed chairs faced the fire, looking romantic. A band tightened around his chest. He missed El. Missed her laughter, her gentle fingers, and her loving mouth.

Stop it
.

Why did he keep torturing himself? She’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d changed. The best he could do now was to find the man after her.

Vic stepped up to the woman at the counter. “Can you tell me what room Eleanor Hart is in?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give out that information. I can call her room and see if she will give me permission to tell you. May I have your name?”

“Vic Hart.”

“Oh. Is she your wife?”

Vic didn’t lie. “My ex-wife.”

The woman’s lips thinned. From the sadness emanating from her, she might be a divorcee herself. She held up a finger and dialed. After ten seconds, she hung up. “Ms. Hart isn’t answering.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you like to leave a voice message?”

“Tell her to call me.”

“I will.”

Where could she be? Taking a shower? He immediately squashed the image of her naked and delved into the logical part of his brain. He doubted El would venture out at night.

As long as he was here, he might as well check the bar, in case she wanted a nightcap, though when they were married, El rarely drank. Right before he entered the dark bar area, her lilting laugh reached him. Damn. Vic strode in and had no problem spotting her despite the dimly lit room. What he was having a hard time with was that El was smiling at a man in a charcoal gray suit. Vic clenched his fists and stalked toward her. Yes, she had every right to talk with whomever she wanted, but she couldn’t possibly know this person. What was she doing?

“El?”

The man in the suit faced him. He was a decent-looking guy who had to be at least ten years younger than El. Shit. This guy was suave, where Vic was not.

“Vic? What are you do-oing here?”

Holy shit. El was drunk, and he didn’t like it one bit. “I have some news for you.”

“Good news or bad news?” She giggled then directed her gaze to the man in the suit.

Vic gently placed a hand on her arm. “Come on. Let me walk you to your room.”

The man stiffened. “Ellie? You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to.”