Authors: Cassie Miles
Embarrassed that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion and
regretful that she’d treated him coolly for most of the evening, Kelly dared to gaze directly into those gorgeous blue eyes. “That’s quite a pick-up line.”
“Did it work?”
Indeed, it did.
Chapter Two
Sunday, 7:43 p.m.
Nick had been immediately attracted to Kelly. During the Lamaze class, she’d been barefoot, and he’d noticed that her toenails were painted in alternating shades of pink, yellow and purple. He’d imagined himself kissing those toes, running his hands up her long, slender legs, continuing up her body to her limber waist, onward to her breasts and
finally her lips. That would be a trip worth taking.
While she lectured, he could tell that she was smart and had a sense of humor. And he was desperately seeking a diversion—a woman he could relax with and share a couple of laughs. His brain was on overload from dealing with the financial problems that plagued the family business.
“Just to make it clear,” he said as he escorted her
onto the elevator, “I’m not currently married.”
“That implies that you once were married.”
“I was,” he admitted. “You?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look at him but faced forward, following elevator protocol. “In class, I might have been a little bit rude to you, but I’m not going to apologize. I thought you were Lauren’s husband, and that you were hitting on me.”
“Was I?”
“You were.”
Her voice was certain, but she fidgeted with the knot on the Kelly-green scarf she wore with her plaid jacket. “You stared at me. You whispered to me.”
He ducked his head to put his lips close to her ear. “Maybe I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly like a fox.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t look dangerous until you’re ready to pounce.”
“Scared?” he asked.
“I can handle a pounce.”
“I bet you can.”
Finally, she turned her head and looked at him. When her lips curled into a smile, her green eyes crinkled at the corners. He guessed she was in her early thirties, which was, in his opinion, the perfect age. They wouldn’t have to waste time playing games.
“Tell me about the gold,” she said. “Why do you keep it here instead of in a bank
vault?”
“Spencer Enterprises is still family owned and operated, which means our company tolerates more than our share of eccentricity. My uncle, Samuel, is the last of the older generation of Spencers. He’s kind of a genius when it comes to architecture. He designed this office park.”
Forty years ago, the oil business had been booming in Colorado, and Samuel had proposed a ten-story
building and three others that were four stories each. There was a definite need for more office space in the Denver/Boulder area, but Valiant wasn’t the most convenient location. Prevailing opinion—including that of Nick’s father, who was the CEO—had been that good old Samuel had taken a swan dive into the crazy pool.
As it turned out, Samuel was right. Valiant was just close enough to Boulder
and Fort Collins to be a viable corporate headquarters. They played up the outdoorsy lifestyle and the nearness to the mountains. When the oil and gas companies moved out, the software companies moved in. “Uncle Samuel situated Spencer Enterprises on the ninth and tenth floors. And he wanted the gold to be here.”
“But why?” Kelly asked.
“Part of our corporate identity,” he said with
a shrug. “We do a lot of construction business all around the world. The clients who come here want to see the gold. They’re usually impressed.”
“How much is it worth?”
“Fifty kilobars at two pounds each.” The elevator dinged at the ninth floor. “It’s about two and a half million dollars.”
She gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money to leave lying around.”
“We’re eccentric,
but we’re not stupid. Our security is intense.”
When the elevator door opened, Marian Whitman stood waiting for him. Though it was almost eight o’clock on a Sunday night, her grooming was sleek perfection. Not a single blond hair dared to slip out of place. The only color on her face came from her perfectly painted ruby lips. Her mouth barely moved when she said, “I expected you to be alone,
Nick. We have business to discuss.”
He didn’t want to talk about corporate deficits and poor investment decisions. “It can wait.”
“Your uncle is here. He’s in his office. I think this might be a good time to confront him, while there are no other distractions.”
But Nick longed for distraction. He wanted to sling his arm around Kelly’s slender waist and take her outside for a walk
along the path outside the office park. He wanted to tease her and make her laugh while they looked up at the half-moon. The March air would be crisp and invigorating.
Kelly shook Marian’s hand as she introduced herself. “I don’t want to interrupt. I’ll be going.”
“Thank you,” Marian said, “for understanding. Nick? Come with me.”
Though she was the Chief Financial Officer and the
undisputed queen of the corporate balance sheets, he was still the boss. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “First, I’m going to show Kelly the gold. Then, I’ll escort her downstairs to her car. If I’m lucky, she’ll agree to come for a walk with me along the creek and we’ll see a couple of chipmunks scampering away from the nighthawks. After that, Marian, I’ll come back here. Then, and only
then, we can talk.”
Not waiting for a response, he directed Kelly through the glass doors into the reception area for Spencer Enterprises. Behind his back, he heard Marian give an angry snarl. If he looked over his shoulder, he might see steam shooting out of her ears.
Kelly cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t mind if we did this another time.”
“I would,” he muttered. “I spent the whole
day dressed in a monkey suit, shaking hands and representing Spencer Enterprises. The last thing I want to do is spend my night mediating a rant between my uncle and Marian.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
“Shakespeare?”
“Or somebody like that,” she said.
He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her around the receptionist’s desk and into an open area
with several windows on one side and cubicles for the accounting department on the other. “I suspect you’ve been around other people who thought they deserved to wear crowns.”
“My ex was a lawyer. Lots of bigheaded people in that profession want tiaras and crowns.”
As they strolled past the cubicles that were decorated with photos and personalized touches, the overhead lights—which were
on motion sensors after the offices closed—came on automatically. Samuel had done an extensive upgrade on the electric and ventilation system in this building about five years ago. Though the decor featured saturated colors and lots of dark wood trim like an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club, the underlying design was state-of-the-art.
The back wall of the ninth floor had a large office in each
corner. “We’re in front of Marian’s office,” he said. “On the opposite side, it’s Uncle Samuel.”
In the area between, Kelly paused to admire the gold-mining artifacts in two glass cases, including pans, winches and pickaxes. She studied the large oil painting above the oak wainscoting. The subject was a grizzled prospector leading a mule. She said, “That looks like a Remington.”
“It’s
Remington’s style, but my great-grandfather commissioned the painting from one of his contemporaries. The prospector’s face is actually a portrait of Great-Grandpa Spencer himself. At one time, the ass had the face of his number-one competitor.”
“Why was it changed?”
“After my great-grandpa drove the ass out of business, the painting seemed mean.” He pushed open the door to a large conference
room with a polished oak table, leather chairs and several other paintings hanging on the walls. “That little one with the bronco rider is a Remington.”
“I like the historical touches. It’s very Old West Colorado.”
“Not really my taste,” he confided as he crossed the room. “I like light and modern with clean lines. The office I usually work from is in the mountains.”
“I thought
you lived in Valiant.”
“My brother wanted me to fill in while he was out of town for a week.” His clever brother had also dragged him into the issues with Uncle Samuel. “I’ve got a condo here, but I live in Breckenridge. Most of my work is in the ski resorts.”
At the back of the conference room, he paused beside a door that appeared to be dark oak. His knuckles flicked against the surface.
“This entire section of wall and the door is heavy-duty steel.”
“The security you were talking about.” She came closer. “Is the gold in there?”
“This is only the first step.” He flipped open a nearly invisible wall panel to reveal a keypad. After punching in a five-number code, he opened the door to a brightly lit room. The walls were lined with utilitarian shelves and file cabinets.
“This is our secure area where we keep confidential paperwork, contracts and mapping information. We call it the vault.”
“I’m surprised,” she said. “I would have thought this information would be computerized.”
“We’re working on it. Some of these documents date back to the 1800s. If they ever got lost, we’d have a hard time replacing them.” He took her by the shoulders and situated her
in front of a floor-to-ceiling section of smoky gray glass that was about twelve feet long. “Ready?”
“Amaze me,” she said.
He hit a switch and a light came on behind the glass, turning it transparent. Behind a wall of reinforced steel bars, the Valiant gold shone with a radiance that rivaled the sun. The stacks of fifty kilobars took up about as much space as a medium-size coffee table.
Nick had seen the gold hundreds of times. He’d held the kilobars and felt their weight in his hands. Still, being this close always gave him a thrill.
Kelly whispered, “Can I touch it?”
“Afraid not.”
She leaned forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the real color of gold before. It almost seems alive.”
He heard the excitement
in her voice as she continued. “When I look at this, I can understand why gold has been coveted throughout history—from King Midas to the search for El Dorado.”
“And into the present day. Two months ago, an Ethiopian prince offered to purchase the Valiant gold.”
His family’s treasure was more than a showpiece; it was collateral. If Marian was right and the company was on the brink of
disaster, they could sell the gold—a worst-case scenario.
She tapped the glass wall. “This doesn’t seem like enough protection.”
“The glass is reinforced and the steel bars are unbreakable. The only way to open these doors is with a code and two simultaneous fingerprints from Spencer heirs. That includes me, my brother, Uncle Samuel and a cousin who’s currently on an expedition to the
North Pole.”
“What about your mother?”
“Mom passed away when I was just a kid.”
“I’m sorry.... Do I see a safe in the corner behind the gold?”
He nodded. “There’s family jewelry in there. Ironically, the diamonds are probably worth as much as the gold. It’s too bad those necklaces and rings are almost never worn.”
“A real shame.” She pivoted and looked up at him. “Diamonds
are meant to be seen.”
He would have liked nothing more than to retrieve one of the ornate necklaces from the safe, drape it around her throat and make love to her on the Valiant gold. “I wish I could show you.”
“There’s something magical about precious gems. I got to wear a very valuable rented bracelet once.” She gestured gracefully. “Rubies and diamonds.”
“You must have been
attending an important event.”
“The Governor’s Inaugural Ball. He’s a friend of my ex.”
Nick was getting curious about the ex’s identity. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve always been good at fading into the wallpaper, even when I’m wearing diamonds.”
“You look plenty sparkling to me.”
He heard a loud pop. A gunshot?
Grabbing Kelly’s wrist, he pulled her
out of the vault and shut the door. As he ran toward the exit from the conference room, he shouted to her, “Stay back.”
In the hallway, Marian poked her head out of her office and called to him. “The noise sounded like it came from your uncle’s office.”
“Was it a gun?”
“I think so.”
A moment ago, he’d thought the worst fate that could befall the Spencers was to lose the gold.
He hadn’t considered physical harm to his family. At the door to his uncle’s office, Nick grasped the handle. It was locked. “Samuel, open up. Samuel? Are you all right?”
There was no reply. If there was a gunman in the office, Nick should proceed carefully. But if Samuel had been shot, they had to get in there and help him.
Marian grasped his sleeve. “Don’t you have a key in your office?”
“That’s all the way upstairs. It’ll take too long.”
In a few strides, he was at the glass display case beside the prospector painting. Fortunately, the case wasn’t locked. Nick reached inside and wrapped his fingers around a pickax from the 1800s.
At the door to his uncle’s office, he used the tool to break the latch before he kicked the door open. The smell of gunpowder hung in
the air. There was no one in the room except for his white-haired Uncle Samuel who sprawled on the floor beside his desk. Blood spread in a dark stain on the beige carpet. A .45 caliber gun was in his right hand.
Nick knelt beside the old man and felt for a pulse. “He’s still breathing. Call 911.”
Kelly joined him on the floor. “Let me take care of him. I’m a nurse.”
“You deliver
babies.”
“I’m also an RN. Step back, Nick.”
He gently removed the gun from his uncle’s limp hand and stood, looking down as Kelly tried to stop the bleeding from a chest wound.
The door had been locked. The windows were closed.
A set of blueprints lay on the desk. Across them, his uncle had written two words:
I’m Sorry.
Chapter Three
Monday, 10:25 a.m.
“It’s not your fault that he died.”
“I know,” Kelly said.
Her friend Serena Bellows motioned for her to come out from behind the kitchen counter and join her in the living room. Picking her way through a minefield of toys and stuffed animals, Kelly made her way across the large room with the cathedral-style ceiling. Over the years,
Serena and Nigel’s farmhouse on a twenty-acre spread had grown from a small cabin to a sprawling four-bedroom house.
Serena liked to say that the house had grown organically. The original cabin was long, flat and ranch-style. The living room and attached kitchen fit into an A-frame with solar panels on the roof. A Victorian tower housed Nigel’s home office. There were no predominant colors.
Instead, the walls varied from room to room in a veritable rainbow.
“Sit,” Serena said. “Talk to me.”
Coffee mug in hand, Kelly sank onto the sofa. “I already told you what happened last night.”
“But you haven’t told me the whole story, and you need to let it out.” Holding her six-day-old daughter, Serena occupied a large oak rocking chair by the fireplace. She unbuttoned her turquoise
muslin blouse and prepared to start breast-feeding. “I can feel your grief.”
Kelly couldn’t deny her sadness. Though she’d never met Nick’s uncle while he was alive, she would forever be connected to Samuel Spencer. For a few moments, she’d held his life in her hands. “I wish I could have done more for him.”
She’d worked hard to keep his heart beating and to stanch the bleeding from
the gunshot wound. The paramedics had arrived eighteen minutes after Nick called 911. At that time, Samuel still had a pulse. Nick had gone with the ambulance while she and Marian had stayed behind to talk with the police. Less than an hour later, she’d learned that Samuel never regained consciousness and had died on the operating table. Logically, she knew that Serena was right and Samuel’s death
wasn’t her fault, but it always hurt to lose a patient.
“Have you ever wondered,” Serena asked, “why people like you and me choose to be midwives and not surgeons?”
“Because medical school is really expensive?”
“As midwives, we get to help people. Most important, there’s almost always a happy ending.”
Kelly knew exactly what she was talking about. Unlike the nurses who worked
in emergency rooms and faced life-and-death situations every day, midwives brought new life into the world. It was a great job. She loved hearing the first cries of a newborn, feeling the grip of a tiny hand around her finger and seeing a perfect cherub face.
Smiling, she watched her friend breast-feed her infant. For the first time this morning, she felt something resembling calm. Serena’s
husband had taken the other three kids and Serena’s sister to the grocery store. Though Kelly enjoyed staying with the raucous family with the totally appropriate last name of Bellows, she needed her moments of silence. Leaning back against the yellow-and-green-patterned sofa cushions, she sipped her coffee and said, “This is nice.”
“Being around all these kids and animals drives you crazy,
doesn’t it?”
“It’s different.” She had only one younger sister who had stayed in the Chicago area near their parents. “I’ve never been part of a big family.”
“You are now,” Serena said. “You’re one of us, and you’ll never be alone again.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise. If you ever need a friend, I’ve got your back.”
“That goes both ways,” Kelly said.
She and
Serena had been buddies since freshman year at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Even though they’d lived apart, they were as close as two friends could be. But they weren’t family, not really. Kelly had always wanted children of her own.
Serena adjusted the baby at her breast. “Are you ready to talk about last night?”
She inhaled a deep breath and started talking. “My first reaction
was panic. A ringing in my ears. Inability to breathe. Momentary paralysis. It was scary. We had to use a pickax to break the door down.”
“Then the adrenaline kicked in.”
She nodded. When she saw the wounded man, Kelly knew what needed to be done. Her mind was clear, and her hands were steady. She remembered procedures she hadn’t used in years. “It was only after the paramedics took
him away that I became aware of what had happened. I had blood all over my clothes. The scarf you gave me was destroyed.”
“The Kelly-green scarf?”
“It’s so corny that you got me a Kelly-green scarf.”
“What happened to it?”
“I used it to stanch the blood flow.” The memory caused her hand to shake, and she set down the coffee mug. “That poor man committed suicide.”
“Are
you sure about that? Most suicides don’t shoot themselves in the gut.”
“That was what the police said. They kept asking me if I saw powder burns on his shirt.” She’d torn away his clothing to get to the wound. “I couldn’t tell. There was too much blood.”
“Did the police think it was suicide?”
“There will be an investigation, for sure. But he was in a locked room with the murder
weapon in his hand, and he’d left a note that said he was sorry.”
“How did you find out that he’d died?” Serena asked.
“Nick called.”
“Nick Spencer?”
Kelly nodded. “He called me on his cell phone from the hospital. The doctors had gotten his uncle into the operating room when his heart stopped. They couldn’t revive him.”
She didn’t know Nick well, but she’d recognized
the pain in his voice. His words were flat and hollow as though he was speaking from the bottom of a deep well.
“What else did he say?” Serena asked.
“The paramedics told him that I did a good job. He thanked me for trying to save his uncle.”
Last night, she’d wanted to comfort him, and she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t called her this morning. Not that she had any right
to expect him to contact her; she barely knew the man. Dealing with his uncle’s suicide, Nick probably had his hands full.
“Nick Spencer,” Serena said. “He’s big and tall, am I right? And good-looking?”
“Last night, he was wearing a tux.”
“Yum.” Serena tucked her breast back into her nursing bra. Cradling her infant, she gently rocked. “I think you should call him to offer condolences.
Better yet, you should stop by his place and take him a homemade pie.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, he just might need a shoulder to cry on. Or a hand to hold. You know, human warmth.”
“Are you suggesting that I take advantage of a tragic situation to make a move on Nick?”
“I’m just saying that you’re both single and there must have been a reason you were alone with him on
the ninth floor of the Spencer Building.”
“He showed me the gold.”
“Wow! Nigel is going to be so jealous. He does work for a client in that building, and he’s never seen the gold. Nick must really like you.” Serena was on a roll, talking fast. “This is excellent, really excellent. If you and Nick hit it off, you’ll be motivated to stay in Valiant, and I’ll have a partner. This is so,
so, so perfect.”
Kelly chuckled. “So this is about giving me a reason to stay and be your partner. It’s all about you.”
“I’m thinking of you,” she said with a grin. “Honey, you could do a lot worse than Nick Spencer.”
Kelly couldn’t argue that point. Nick was handsome, sexy, funny, capable and rich. “If he’s such a catch, how come some other woman hasn’t snapped him up?”
“He’s
only been divorced for a couple of years. From what I hear, he’s a devoted daddy.”
She didn’t know he had children. “How many kids?”
“Two daughters, I think they’re seven and four. Beautiful girls, I’ve seen them in Valiant with Nick but I think they live in Denver with their mom. Both girls have black hair and blue eyes like their father.”
The front doorbell chimed, and Kelly rose
from the sofa. “Don’t move. I’ll get it.”
She rushed to the front door. The first ringing of the chimes hadn’t wakened the baby, and she wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a second bell. She whipped open the door and looked out through the screen.
Standing on the covered porch was a man in a black suit. Though he couldn’t have been more than forty, his close-cropped hair was completely
white. With his square jaw and angry eyes, he would have been intimidating if he hadn’t been standing beside a white goat with a black face and black splotches like polka dots decorating her round belly.
The goat, whose name was Fifi, tapped her hooves on the porch, rubbed against his trouser leg and bleated. She liked being around people, especially men.
Stifling a chuckle, Kelly asked,
“May I help you?”
“Are you Kelly Evans?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about last night.” He reached inside his jacket pocket, took out a gold card case, peeled one off and held it toward her.
“Y. E. Trask, private investigator.”
As she opened the screen door to take his card, Kelly decided that she didn’t want to invite him into the house. Grabbing her
denim jacket from a peg by the door, she stepped outside. There was something about this man that she didn’t trust, and she wanted to keep him away from Serena’s family.
“There isn’t much to say, Mr. Trask. I already gave my statement to the police.”
“I wanted to hear your story. In your own words.” Fifi butted his thigh, and he lurched forward. The goat bleated. Trask cursed. “Aren’t
these animals supposed to be in a pen?”
“Well, yes, but they’re good at escaping. If you pay some attention to her, she might leave you alone.”
“I’ve found the opposite to be true,” he said curtly. “If I pay attention to a female, she tends to stick around, even when she’s not wanted.”
This was a guy she definitely didn’t want to spend time with. “Fifi isn’t like that.”
“Don’t
waste my time, Ms. Evans. Are you going to help me or not? The family has concerns.”
If he’d told her right away that he worked for the Spencers, she would have been more cooperative. Looking down the driveway, she spotted the family van approaching the house. In a few moments, Nigel and the kids would be back and they’d be surrounded by chaos. “Come with me. We’ll find somewhere quiet to
talk.”
Waving to the van, she directed Trask across the farmyard toward the barn. Two spotted goats trotted side by side as though they had an important mission. One of the llamas strolled past the chicken coops, creating a flurry of angry hens.
Most people would have been amused. Not only was there a varied and interesting menagerie, but the lower two feet of the barn was painted with
wild artwork by the kids. It was kind of adorable, but Trask was all business. His primary concern seemed to be to avoid stepping on anything ugly and messing up his wingtip shoes.
By the corral fence, she found a space. “Ask your questions.”
“You were the first person to touch Samuel after entering the room,” he said. “Is that correct?”
“Actually, Nick was the first. He found a
pulse, and then I stepped in.”
“Assuming that Samuel committed suicide, can you speculate on how he did it?”
“He must have been standing because his body was beside the desk rather than behind it. He still had the gun in his hand. I’d guess that he turned the weapon toward himself and pulled the trigger.”
“He was still alive when you started treating him. Did he speak?”
“He
was mumbling, but he wasn’t conscious.” The police had asked her about this several times, and she knew that a dying declaration would be important. “I’ve been trying to remember if he said anything coherent, but none of it made sense. First he said to close the door. He repeated the word ‘gold’ several times. And he talked about a heart of stone.”
When Fifi came toward them, Trask glared.
His expression was so angry that Kelly thought he might pull a gun and shoot the cheerful goat. Fifi turned tail and bounded away.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Trask?”
“Concentrate, Ms. Evans. What did he say about the heart of stone?”
“It didn’t make sense.” She thought for a moment then shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not even sure if those were his words.”
“I don’t like surprises,”
he said. “If you’re holding back, we’re going to have a problem.”
Was he threatening her? “Why would I hold anything back?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he focused his angry glare at her. She stared right back at him. Kelly wasn’t a silly goat like Fifi, and she refused to be intimidated.
She snapped, “Are we done?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
He pivoted and strode away from her.
She imagined that being a private investigator wasn’t a pleasant job; you’d be spying on people, confronting them and serving them with legal papers. Y. E. Trask seemed to have exactly the right temperament for his work—hostile, aggressive and a little nasty.
It bothered her that Nick had sent Trask to interview her without letting her know. He should have warned her that a creepy white-haired
man would show up on Serena’s doorstep and accuse her of holding back. Something about this wasn’t right. She decided to talk to Nick.
Her cell phone was in the pocket of the denim jacket she’d grabbed before coming outside. She pulled it out and redialed the number he’d used last night to call her from the hospital. When he answered, she almost hung up. What had she been thinking? Nick had
just lost a close family member; she shouldn’t be bothering him because a private eye was rude to her.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Been better,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you. I wanted to thank you again for the way you jumped in and tried to save my uncle.”
“I’m glad to help in any way I can. I tried to answer questions for your private investigator, but I think I
made him angry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The guy you sent out to Serena’s house. He’s an investigator working for your family. His name is Y. E. Trask. He has white hair.”
“Hold on.” She could hear him talking to someone else but couldn’t tell what he was saying until he came back on the line. “Kelly, nobody has ever heard of him. He doesn’t work for us.”