“I suppose you could say that about me.” That was quite an admission, coming from Mike. “I grew up keeping my thoughts to myself.”
“Your parents must be good at communicating. They’d have to be, to deal with all those foster kids,” Paige said.
“They were great,” he confirmed. “We had family councils, and any child who stayed more than a few weeks got professional therapy, which included sessions with my parents. Marianne and I were another story. We felt more like staff than kids.”
She could imagine how that might happen. “Did you complain?”
“I just accepted the way things were.” Mike stopped to observe a rowdy group of teenagers jostling each other in the doorway. He relaxed when they sorted themselves out and headed for the counter. “My sister and I were both affected, though. She’s a dentist, like Dad, and unmarried, like me. I don’t think either of us wants children.”
“That must disappoint your parents.” Her own parents had adored each and every one of their numerous grandchildren.
“Oh, my foster sister Lourdes has two kids, my brother Denzel has one and of course Lock and Erica are expecting.”
Was that a note of hurt in his voice, that his parents lavished so much love on his siblings? “I’ll bet they’d be surprised to learn how you feel. They may take you for granted, but the love for a child runs deep.”
“I’m hardly a child now.” He eyed their empty dishes and cups. “Ready to go?”
Not really, but the place had filled up and people were standing in line for tables. “Sure.”
Outside in the brisk sea air, Paige wished impulsively for Mike to wrap a protective arm around her. Already, though, he seemed to be drawing into his private distance.
That retreat, following his self-disclosure, was understandable. All the same, she missed that tender side of Mike. Now that she’d glimpsed his vulnerability, it was going to be harder than ever to hold him away.
But for her peace of mind, she had to.
Chapter Ten
From Harbor Bluff Drive, Mike could see only a sliver of the Hightowers’ home, sheltered behind a white stucco wall draped with pink bougainvillea. He halted his car in front of the locked wrought-iron gate and announced himself over the speaker.
A moment later, the gate clicked open. He drove onto a concrete parking circle textured and tinted to resemble paving stones. The single-story white home sprawled atop a bluff, a few palm trees and a bird-of-paradise plant softening the classical pillars in front.
Gemma had emailed yesterday, changing the meeting place from his office to her home. Her husband would be attending a League of Cities meeting in Los Angeles this morning and, with almost no chance of his dropping in unexpectedly, she preferred the privacy.
As he got out of his sedan, Mike noted the pristine condition of the off-white paint as well as a new oak garage door with stained-glass windows. Expensive stuff for a real-estate broker struggling in a down market.
At the door, a maid in a gray-and-white uniform ushered him inside. They crossed a faux-marble entryway, went down a short hallway past a home office, and entered a large carpeted room set with velvety couches and silk cushions. On an end wall hung a giant TV.
Expansive windows overlooked a curving pool. Beyond it lay a lower bluff that held the Harbor View Hotel and, beyond that, the harbor where yesterday Mike and Paige had shared breakfast. While buildings obscured most of the quay, the two of them might have been briefly visible during their stroll had anyone been watching with binoculars.
“Coffee, Mr. Aaron?” the housekeeper asked.
“No, thank you.”
“Mrs. Hightower, she be here in a minute.” With a shadow of a smile, the woman departed.
Mike started to set his briefcase on a low table, changed his mind out of deference to the satin finish and put it on the floor. No wonder Gemma didn’t want to risk losing this gorgeous place in a divorce. And no wonder Yelena Yerchenko coveted it, if that was indeed her motive.
The woman had no doubt visited, perhaps several times, as a guest at parties. According to his research, the escrow company owner had done considerable business with Roy’s brokerage. Nothing unusual about that. In fact, they’d likely been acquainted for the better part of a decade, yet according to Mrs. Hightower, the affair had only been going on about a year. What had changed?
A shift in air pressure announced the arrival of the lady of the house. Wearing high heels and encased in a tight knit suit, her hair sleek in its chignon, Gemma Hightower entered with the carriage of someone making an entrance at the yacht club. Mike wondered if she was on her way to an event or if she dressed this way all the time.
Possibly both.
“Detective,” she said by way of greeting. “What do you have for me?”
As Mike retrieved the folder from his case, she perched on the front of a chair, angling her long legs to one side like a model. She must have learned to do that during her days as a debutante in Virginia, where she’d grown up in a patrician family near Washington, D.C. Her father had been a mere bureaucrat, but her mother’s family had a high social rank dating back to pre–Civil War days.
Mike researched his clients as well as their targets.
“Here’s what I found.” Seated on the couch, he presented photos along with his written report.
Holding them with her fingertips, Gemma turned pale. “That’s Yelena. I never thought…” Swallowing hard, she thrust the shots back into the folder as if they burned. “Do I really need to read the report?”
“I’ll sum it up for you. She lives near the restaurant, although, as you know, she owns a business here in Safe Harbor,” Mike said. “I could stake out her house and shoot more images, but that hardly seems necessary.”
Eyes dull with tears, Mrs. Hightower shook her head.
Now for the something extra that Paige had inspired. “I researched her background.” Mike didn’t need to consult notes for this part. “She’s been in this country for about a dozen years and has permanent-resident status. Her permits and licenses appear to be in order.”
“Why should I care about that?” Gemma asked crossly.
Mike described Yelena’s knife attack on her former boyfriend. It had been mentioned in the newspaper, but without all the details. “In my opinion, she slashed him in a jealous rage and made it look like self-defense. I thought you might prefer to find some other way to dissuade her rather than a one-on-one confrontation.”
Although he wouldn’t have thought it possible, Gemma blanched even more profoundly. “Oh, Lord. You’re right. If I had some way to…I don’t like to use the word
blackmail
, but…I just did, didn’t I?”
Mike pretended he hadn’t heard. Blackmail was illegal. However, there was no law against giving someone reason to think twice about her actions. “I was considering avenues to explore and I wondered if she might have an ulterior motive for this affair. I don’t have access to her financials beyond what’s public record. However, there may be something in your husband’s bank transactions that would give me a clue if they’re working some sort of deals together. Something that could put her business at risk.”
“Deals?” Mrs. Hightower bit down on her lips, turning them white against white.
“Are there large, unexplained deposits in any of his accounts?” Mike continued. “I wouldn’t put it past Yelena to have come up with some scheme, given how tough things have been in real estate.”
“A scheme?” The tears in her eyes seemed to freeze into ice crystals. “Don’t you dare put my husband’s business in jeopardy!”
“I’m just throwing out ideas.” Mike should have realized that Mrs. Hightower wouldn’t risk her financial security. “If you prefer, we could focus on Yelena. She still makes regular trips to Russia. Since as far as I could determine she has no family there, that raises interesting questions.”
“Are you implying she has mob connections?”
He’d considered that possibility. But if she had ties to unsavory characters inside Russia, then by implication so did Roy Hightower. “Honestly, I haven’t had time to move beyond a preliminary assessment. I just wanted to discuss options.”
His client arose with remarkable smoothness on her spiky heels. “Well, Detective, I am exercising my options. This case is at an end. From here on, I will handle it my way.”
He stood also. “That’s your choice. However, you’ve paid for several more hours of my time. I’m happy to do the research.”
“Keep the money.”
Since the retainer was nonrefundable, he intended to do just that. “I hope I’ve provided everything you expected.”
Tightly, she indicated the folder. “Unfortunately, yes. You’ve done very well. I don’t mean to harp on this, but everything we’ve discussed is strictly confidential, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You have no reason to go to anyone else with this information?”
“Absolutely not.” Had he found evidence of illegal activities, Mike would be obligated to report it. But he hadn’t, and regardless of any suspicions he might entertain, the probe stopped here.
When Mrs. Hightower shook his hand, hers felt boneless. “If we run into each other again, as I expect we will, you will give no sign that we have any particular acquaintance.”
“Of course not.”
He’d struck a nerve, Mike reflected as he exited into the June sunshine. Had it been the mention of large deposits?
Instincts honed as a police officer urged him to get to the bottom of this. But he had no right to do that. On the contrary, he had a duty to respect his client’s privacy.
Vague suspicions didn’t amount to evidence. While he feared that whatever was going on might blow up in the Hightowers’ faces, that was their business, not his.
* * *
A
FTER
A
JAM
-
PACKED
MORNING
when she worked in a couple of patients who’d suffered problems over the weekend, Paige ate a sandwich at her desk while updating charts. She kept fighting itchy eyelids and incipient yawns, her body’s annoying reminders that a nap would feel wonderful. Instead, she took extra vitamin supplements to make sure she wasn’t becoming anemic, and forged onward.
Guiltily, Paige reflected that she ought to schedule her first maternity checkup with Dr. Rayburn. Since his office was next door, that shouldn’t take much time, but for now she hated to spare even a few minutes. Now, if she could just focus on this chart…
Hearing a tap on her open door, she snapped to attention. Good heavens, had she dozed off without realizing it?
“Am I intruding?” Those sharp green eyes belonged to Nora Franco. With a surge of pleasure, Paige waved in her friend and colleague.
“You are totally welcome, anytime.” She clicked shut the patient’s records on the computer.
Her fellow obstetrician, wearing jeans and a flowing checkered top suitable for a nursing mom, took a chair. “You left the wedding in a hurry. I heard someone broke into your house. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, but Neo caught a fever and I’ve been preoccupied.”
“He’s doing well now?”
“Right as rain. He’s at my sister-in-law Kate’s house, playing with his cousins. Everything okay at your place?”
Paige explained about the drunken party guest. “Mike Aaron was a big help. He boarded up the window that night while I was at the hospital.”
“I hear he’s renting a room from you.” Nora regarded her archly. “Word spreads fast at the police department.” Her husband, Leo, had taken over Mike’s former job as a detective handling crimes against persons. Obviously, he knew the guys who’d stopped by to watch TV.
“Purely platonic,” Paige assured her.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Nora’s cheeks flushed. “Well, he ought to be reliable. Mike and Leo were never the best of friends, but Leo respects him. How’s everything else?”
An innocuous question under normal circumstances, but the urge to confide about her pregnancy had intensified with each passing day. Paige had counseled Nora through her accidental pregnancy and ups and downs with Leo before their marriage. If anyone would empathize, it was her.
“I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m pregnant,” Paige said, and inhaled sharply. Speaking the words aloud seemed to make it official.
Surprise and pleasure shaded to uncertainty in Nora’s expression. “Is this a good thing? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“I’m not and yes, it’s a good thing,” Paige told her. “I had AI.” That was medical shorthand for artificial insemination, although she’d mentioned the term once around a patient, a computer engineer, who’d asked in confusion why she should consider using artificial intelligence to get pregnant.
“Good for you!” Nora brightened. “You have guts. I considered it back when I didn’t think I’d ever find Mr. Right, but going through motherhood alone was a scary prospect. I doubt my father knows one end of an infant from the other. My mom did all the infant care when I was little.”
“I have a lot of family,” Paige conceded, “but none of them live around here. Not since my aunt died.”
“You must miss her a lot. I really liked her.” During their residency, Nora had had dinner with Bree and Paige several times. “You aren’t thinking of moving back to Texas, are you?”
“Not really.” Not at all, yet Paige discovered she couldn’t entirely dismiss the idea of all those loving arms and family gatherings to welcome her little one.
“Good!” Leaning forward, Nora folded her hands on the desk. “Remember what we discussed at the wedding?”
She’d mentioned returning to work, Paige recalled. “If you’re ready to come back, I’d love to have you.” The suite was large enough to accommodate two doctors, although they’d need to add another nurse.
“Seeing everyone last Saturday made me miss work. And I keep wondering what’s happened to all my patients.” Nora shook back her blonde hair, which looked thicker than ever. “It’ll be hard to leave Neo, even though I think he’d enjoy the hospital day-care center. I hear it’s excellent. Still, I’d only work part-time.”
“When can you start?” The sooner the better.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
How complicated could it be? Paige wondered. “Oh?”
Distractedly, Nora tugged on her maternity top. Her breasts must be filling up with milk, making her uncomfortable. “I’m presuming you’ll continue working after you have your baby, right?”
“Of course.” Paige couldn’t afford to quit even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. “I might cut back my hours for a few months, though.”
“That’s fine. Here’s the thing.” Nora drew a breath. What was she nervous about? “I’d like you to consider making this arrangement permanent by buying a half interest in my practice.”
Paige’s mind raced. She hadn’t considered this possibility. From paying the ongoing expenses in the months since Nora went on leave, she had an idea of the operating costs, but no sense of what the practice might be worth. “How much did you have in mind?”
“We can have the practice appraised. When I bought it, it didn’t cost much, honestly.”
This was so unexpected, Paige had a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea. “I’m not sure I can afford it, with the baby coming.”