The Trophy Hunter (10 page)

Diana pointed the pepper spray at him in what
she hoped was a menacing gesture. In her other hand, she hefted her
cell. “Get away from my car, or I’m calling the cops.”

“I know why you turned down my case,” he
continued, leaning toward her, ignoring her request. “It was your
friend Jess’s doin’s. I know that now. I need to set you
straight.”

No, it was your own actions.
Diana
swallowed the words. Instead she said in a voice so calm she
surprised herself, “What you need to do is get away from my car,
get in your truck and leave.”

He lurched back, as if her car had become hot
to the touch. “I never meant to scare you. But it makes sense now.
Winston told me. If you’ll just listen─”

“Leave at once, Mr. Flannigan.”

He threw his arms up, large gloveless hands
pawing the air; then he backed away from her car.

“That’s right, Mr. Flannigan. Now, get in
your truck and
leave
.”

“He took the kids. You knew that, right?”

“They’re his kids.”

“And he’s fuckin’ your friend, Jessie. You
okay with that?”

“Leave
now
, Mr. Flannigan.”

He shook his large head and slowly retreated.
Just before he got into his truck, he turned back, his words making
white puffs on the cold night air. Diana strained to hear and made
out the words, “…it’ll be you next.”

* * * * *

Once inside the house, Diana found she
couldn’t stop trembling. She turned off the timer-controlled lights
in the foyer and peeked out a window to make sure Flannigan hadn’t
doubled back. No sign of his truck. She waited in the dark.
Headlights from the direction of the subdivision entrance set her
heart racing. But the vehicle turned into a neighbor’s
driveway.

She checked the deadbolt again before going
toward the kitchen. An unexpected touch on her leg nearly loosed a
scream from her throat.
Tigger!

“Mau.” Tigger rubbed against her leg again.
“Mau.” Then the yellow tabby led the way to the kitchen where he
waited in front of the fridge.

Diana doled out a saucer of CatMilk, then
examined the contents of the refrigerator. Nothing appealed to her.
She turned to check on her phone on the island and saw two message
lights blinking in synch with her still-racing heart.

She pushed
play
without first checking
the caller ID and felt the blood rise to her face as she heard her
mother’s voice.

“Diana, don’t hang up now.” It didn’t sound
like a demand as much as a plea. Diana listened, ashamed of her
emotions.

“I know how hurt and upset you are,” whined
her mother.

I’m sure you do, Mother.
The anger
seeped back like a poison.

“Daddy and I have talked, and we’ve decided
you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. We’re coming for
Christmas─”

Oh, no!
Her mother’s voice droned on,
something about having the tickets already. Got a bereavement break
because of the baby.
How could she?

“… Daddy and I think you and Greg can work
things out─”

Diana pressed
delete
and quickly hung
up the phone. As she sat taking deep breaths, she felt perspiration
trickling onto her dried sweat.

After calming herself with a mug of tea, she
checked out the other call. Greg. Against her better judgment, she
pushed
play.

“Your mother called me tonight.” Greg’s voice
was strident. “What’s this about a reconciliation? You know that’s
not possible. Please do something to keep that woman from calling
me. Am I going to need to change my cell number?”

“Arrgh!” She screamed a long, mad-woman
scream. Tigger jumped at the sound and raced toward his cat
door.

* * * * *

“Jessie?” Diana, wrapped in her green plush
robe, purred into the phone. A warm shower had calmed her nerves,
and Tigger now snuggled on the bed beside her.

“What’s up?” came Jess’s reply.

“How’d your case go? Any sign of the missing
girl?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I did find a
potential witness … hey, since when do you call about my cases?
What’s
really
on your mind?”

“I was wondering what you’re doing for
Christmas. You and Winston usually go out of town … but I guess not
this year.”

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you.” Jess sounded
genuinely touched. “I guess I didn’t mention it, but we’re having a
kind-of Christmas family reunion in L.A. To celebrate Linc’s new
movie.”

Diana knew Linc Edwards, Jess’s older
brother, was a Hollywood celebrity. In an industry that had been
slow to open the door to African-Americans, Linc’s success as a
producer/director was still something of an anomaly.

Take me with you. I can’t stay here.
Diana plucked nervously at the sash of her robe.

“What? What?” Jess seemed to catch Diana’s
thought waves. Or maybe she just wondered why the gaping silence,
punctuated by stifled sniffles.

“I need an out, okay?”

“I love you, too.” Jess’s outrage sounded
only half-fake.

“My parents are coming for Christmas. I can’t
be here when they arrive.”

“Jesus!”

Diana thought she heard Jess giggle. “Not
funny!”

“Well, I guess if you’re that desperate we
can fit you in at the Edwards Christmas table. You are telling your
folks about your other plans, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?” asked
Jess.

“Flannigan was parked in front of my house
when I got home. Before that, I think he was following me. But I’m
sure I lost him. You didn’t─”

“Tell him where you live? Of course not! What
a weird night. My witness got into a truck registered to the
missing girl’s dad. Go figure that one.”

“Maybe the girl killed her dad and stole his
truck. Or maybe he gave it to her.”

“I don’t think so. It was a man at the wheel,
and my client doesn’t answer his cell.”

“What happened to
Dare?
”

“Go pack your bags. I’ll tell you about it on
the plane.”

“How do you know I can get a reservation this
late?”

“Linc booked two tickets. I haven’t told him
about breaking up with Winston yet.”

Diana frowned. “I can’t use a ticket with
somebody else’s name on it.”

“Trust me. Linc can fix it. Call you back
with a time.”

Chapter 18

The interlude furnished by the Christmas
getaway with Jess had a calming effect on Diana. A Hollywood
Christmas was not exactly a high point on her fantasy list, but the
experience had been a pleasant surprise.

Linc Edwards lived in Benedict Canyon─low-key
by Hollywood standards. Diana found the area woodsy-charming until
Jess reminded her that the house in which Charles Manson and his
followers had murdered Sharon Tate and friends was just down the
road. Although the infamous murders had taken place before Diana
was born, she’d seen pictures of Manson and wondered how the short,
bushy-haired psycho had amassed an adoring female entourage. Maybe
the idea of Joe Flannigan seducing teen-aged girls wasn’t so far
fetched after all.

The warmth that Jess’s family exuded
surprised her, considering Jess’s tendency to keep people at arm’s
length. The parents, a distinguished-looking white-haired dentist
and a plump, sweet-faced housewife who bore no resemblance to Jess,
were an
original
couple, still together after forty-some
years. And apparently loving it. What was with Jess’s limbo dance
with commitment?

Although Linc and his long-time companion,
super-model Kendra Blair, weren’t married, they acted more like a
couple than Jess and Winston ever had.

The Edwards clan had talked Diana into
staying through New Years. Fortunately, she’d been able to enlist
Tamara to look in on Tigger, who was still mad about having his cat
door closed for a week.

Now, sitting in her office on the Monday
following New Years, Diana felt a let-down settle upon her. She’d
had the mercy to deflect her parents’ trip to Denver before they’d
gotten on the plane in Chicago.

In her haste to put the trip together and
head her folks off at the pass, Diana had forgotten to ask Jess
about the missing Strickland girl. Now she remembered, recalling
also that Jess hadn’t kept her promise about telling her on the
plane why
Dare
was now
the client.
In fact, Jess
hadn’t made one reference to Darren Rogart during the entire
holiday.
Just as well.

One lonely call light blinked on her
answering machine. Diana had avoided pressing
play
, in no
mood for another of her mother’s lectures. She pressed caller ID
and was relieved to see Winston’s name. When she played his
message, his rich baritone voice warmed her. “Happy New Year,
Diana. Just thought I’d touch base. Don’t be a stranger.”

Outside her window the sun’s brightness
belied the day’s frigid temperature. Diana basked for a moment in
the warmth of Winston’s voice. It was good to have friends.
Sometimes friends are all you’ve got.

Stop that!
When would the tears stop
coming when she least expected them? She shook her head vehemently
to dislodge the wave of depression. The doctor had warned her about
moods she might experience. She’d opted to start HRT, but with the
bio-identical hormones she’d read about. Fortunately, Dr. Hovac
wasn’t offended when his patients became proactive in their health
care decisions.

Her intercom buzzed, a dull, purring sound.
“Darren Rogart on line one.” Tamara’s voice was all business as
usual.

Diana frowned at the slight tremble she felt
in her hand as she lifted the instrument.

“Diana Martin here.” Cold. Stuffy.
Stop
that, Diana.

“Diana,” he drew out her name with a
familiarity he didn’t own, “it’s Darren.”

A pause.

“I know who you are, Mr. Rogart.” But she
didn’t, and this new anger seemed a bit over-the-top, even to
her.

If he found her tone offensive, he gave no
sign of it. “I called to thank you.”

“For what?”

She heard him sigh. “I have my children
back,” he said.

“That has nothing to do with me.” Why did the
phone instrument feel unnaturally warm?

“You’re being too modest. I think it
does.”

She didn’t answer him. Her throat was dry,
and she swallowed repeatedly, alarmed at the sound it made in her
own ears.
He can’t possibly hear…

“The fact that a reputable attorney turned
down his case has done a lot to take the wind out of my
father-in-law’s sails.”

Diana heard a smile in Rogart’s voice as he
continued, “I thought I’d be spending Christmas alone. Instead I
had my kids. You won’t acknowledge it, but that gift was yours,
intended or not.”

“I had nothing to do with what happened with
your children.” Alarm set in. She hoped Flannigan didn’t hear about
Rogart’s misplaced gratitude. Or maybe he already had and that had
been what prompted his unwelcome visit to her house just before
Christmas.

Diana heard Rogart sigh again. Silence. She
didn’t help him out. Instead, she held her breath, hoping he’d hang
up.

“Come on, humor me,” he wheedled. Diana
exhaled softly under the cover of his voice. “Let me take you to
lunch. My way of saying thanks for your unintended gift.”

Lunch?
Reality kicked in, bringing her
up short. This penniless man without means of support was proposing
lunch?
McDonald’s?
An unexpected giggle rattled her
throat.

“Did I actually get a smile out of you?”
continued Rogart.

“I’m not smiling, Mr. Rogart.” But she was.
If he says “Call me Dare,” I’m hanging up.

“Ever been to the Buckhorn?” he asked.

Diana knew the nineteenth century Denver
landmark, established by Buffalo Bill’s sidekick “Shorty Scout”
Zietz when the whole town was part of the Wild West. She knew the
place to be filled with trophy animal heads and therefore not her
idea of a backdrop for a relaxing meal.

“I know it by reputation,” replied Diana.
“It’s not a place I frequent.”
Stiffy-stuffy again. Damn
it!

“Well, I’d like to change that. Give you a
glimpse of how the other half lives. We hunters are not a bunch of
drooling cavemen.” He paused.

She kept her silence.
Why doesn’t he just
hang up?

“Gimme a break, Diana. Just one lunch, then
I’m out of your life.” Pleading, with a smile in his voice, did
hold a certain charm. She pictured his handsome face, then censored
the rest of the picture.

“Hey, I know the owners. I’ll bet I can get
them to whip up something vegetarian for the occasion.” She had the
feeling he was making fun of her. “You afraid you might develop a
taste for rare meat?”

Too far. She felt the blood rush to her
face.

“Wait, don’t hang up.” It was as if he could
see her reaction. “I know your year’s been a bummer, and the new
one’s not starting out that good.”

Thanks a bunch, Jessie.

“I just wanted to lighten things up. Don’t
look back, look ahead. Do something you’ve never done before. Then
write me off as a grateful nut case, who loves his kids to
distraction.”

He sounded so happy, as if the gloom she’d
observed that night in her office had lifted, and Diana was envious
of his ability to do that when his own year must have been pretty
crappy, too.

“You don’t have to take me to an expensive
restaurant. I realize your situation is … strained right now.”

“No, I do. I made three sales over the
holidays. Collected on a big moose head this morning. It’ll be my
pleasure.”

She had to wonder at his smoothness, his
assumption that Jess had filled her in on his taxidermy practice.
Then another thought impinged, changing the picture.