Still the One Page 7
The man’s gaze returned greedily to Kit, and Rafe squashed the heat that flared in his chest. He explained that Tony had skipped town.
“I spoke to him just this morning,” the other man protested.
“Did he say where he was?”
“No, but it was a local number.” He pawed through reams of paper on his desk, then leaned over to flip through a calf-high stack of pressboard folders. “I checked my caller ID.”
Rafe slid a look at Kit. “Could Tony rig something on the phones to give out a false number?”
Kit nodded.
Baker blew out a breath and flopped back in his chair. “Of course! He’s a genius with computer and phone stuff. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You had no reason to think he’d skipped town,” Kit offered.
Baker smiled at her, erasing some of the fatigue and transforming his features from homely to average. He pulled his gaze to Rafe, who was biting off an order for Baker to keep his eyes in his head. The other man said, “I’ll have one of my investigators get on this.”
The phone rang again, and Baker grabbed it up. After a short exchange, he hung up. “Sorry. Why are you looking for him?”
“Miss Foley’s sister might be with him.”
“Are you planning to go after him?”
Rafe shrugged noncommittally. “I’m just trying to help Miss Foley find her sister. We thought you might know something.”
“No.” Baker’s mud-brown gaze measured Rafe for a moment. “I have to report it.”
“Of course,” Rafe agreed blandly. Baker could do whatever he wanted; so could Rafe. His gaze panned over the stacks of paper, the wobbling mountains of files. “If we find him, it would save you some paperwork.”
“True.” The parole officer glanced at the sea of paperwork on top of and surrounding his desk.
Rafe pulled out a card and handed it to him. “I’d appreciate a call if you hear anything. I’m willing to reciprocate.”
The other man slicked a hand over his hangdog features, then took Rafe’s card. “Deal. Give it your best shot.”
“Thanks.” Rafe turned to go, glancing at Kit.
She rose, pausing in front of Baker’s desk. “Thank you.”
The man nodded, frank male appreciation lighting his eyes. Rafe clenched his jaw and put himself at Kit’s back as they left.
He closed the door behind them, wondering at her silence as they walked outside.
“The more people looking, the quicker we’ll find them,” Rafe offered.
“I know.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “I think that man will help us. He seemed overworked and a little…lonely, but honest.”
Baker had been flat-out panting after her, but leave it to Kit to downplay that. Still, her assessment about the overwork and honesty mirrored Rafe’s. Had she always had such good instincts about people? He’d never noticed it. Of course, when they’d been together before, his assertiveness could’ve overshadowed that quality in her. What else had he missed?
The thought intrigued him, but he refused to go down that road. Instead, he forced his mind to the scant information he’d gotten from Tony’s PO as he drove to the highway, then took the north exit off the Broadway Extension en route to Thoma Computer Systems.
He tried to keep his mind on the case, tried to screen memories of Kit standing in front of his hot tub, the breeze molding her thin blouse to her high breasts.
Her scent, her heat whispered around him in the car. She was everywhere—in his mind, in his space. And he resented it. He might have to take her with him, but he didn’t have to monitor her every move, he told himself even as he felt her shift beside him, thread her fingers through her dark hair.
His chest closed up, and he pressed the accelerator harder. When he’d nearly kissed her last night, he’d seen invitation in her eyes, and as much as he was tempted to lose himself in the taste of her, feel her body come alive beneath his hands again, he wouldn’t let her have another go at his heart.
They reached a four-story brick and glass building identified by a huge metal sign as Thoma Computer Systems, one of the largest employers in the Oklahoma City area. This time, they were directed to offices on the second floor. After a few minutes, Rafe and Kit were shown in to see Tony’s boss, Vernon Taliaferro.
Their visit was short, as Taliaferro was able to provide only the information Tony had given on his job application.
When Kit leaned forward and asked if they might speak to Mike Green, a man Tony had befriended, Rafe gave her a thumbs-up. No doubt she’d spent her entire life hunting down Liz to get her out of one scrape or another.
Mr. Taliaferro’s tall, red-haired secretary led them down a long, waxed corridor and around a corner. Conversation, which had been muted as they passed office doors and a conference room, was nonexistent at this far end of the building. The woman stopped in front of a steel door marked Personnel Only and knocked. When there was no answer, she opened the door, poking her head in.
“Mike! There are some people here who need to talk to you about Tony Valentine.”
Still no answer, but the woman stepped away from the door, smiling. “You’ll have to go in. He won’t hear a thing until you’re right on top of him.”
Rafe arched an eyebrow.
“He’s a little distracted when involved in a project, but I’m sure he’ll answer your questions.”
“Thanks.” Rafe smiled as the woman left them.
He opened the door wider, indicating that Kit precede him. He ducked to get through the door, then found he could stand to his full height once inside.
The muted fluorescent lighting revealed they were in a long, very narrow closet. Machines hummed. Frigid air blasted from vents overhead. As he and Kit moved slowly forward, the walls pressed in on him.
They neared a long mainframe computer, which stretched along the wall to his right, and he turned to negotiate the narrowing space. His shoulder bumped Kit’s.
She stiffened.
“Sorry,” he muttered. Hell, he hadn’t done it on purpose. “Mr. Green?” Rafe called, his voice sounding thick and low in the confined space.
On the wall in the back of the closet, a small lamp glared on the blond head of a man and the earpiece of a pair of black frame glasses.
“Mr. Green?” Kit stopped a few feet from him.
A young man—Rafe put him in his twenties—peered around the corner of a rectangular casing, which stood as high as Kit’s waist and fit against the mainframe like the top bar of a T. He blinked. “Yes?”
“I’m Kit Foley and this is Rafe Blackstock.”
“I’m a private investigator, Mr. Green. We’re here about Tony Valentine.”
“Is he all right?” The man, thin with bony arms and fingers, straightened. “He didn’t show up this morning. We were supposed to work on this mainframe together.”
“We think he’s fine.” Rafe tried to squeeze between Kit and the bulky computer so he could get a good look at Green. As he edged forward, his shoulder nudged Kit into the wall. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said tightly. She flattened herself against the wall, and when she did, her breasts pressed against his arm.
She looked quickly away and brought up an arm protectively over her chest. Or tried to. Instead, she jabbed Rafe in the side.
Refusing to acknowledge the tightness in his throat, he snapped his attention to the guy in front of them. “It seems Tony has disappeared, Mr. Green.”
“What?” The guy blinked like an owl behind his thick glasses.
Kit put her arm down, looking pained. Rafe faced her, scooting past so he stood slightly in front of her. This way, he could face Mike and so could she.
She moved behind him, inching closer to peer around his shoulder. When she did, her hips pressed against his, and the touch jolted him like fire.
He sucked in a breath. Holy crap. He’d managed to go all day without giving in to his imagination. Now his arm burned and a low insistent throbbin
g started in his blood. “Um, do you know him well?”
“Not really. He’s only been here, uh, let’s see…a couple of weeks.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Maybe a month?”
Rafe knew it had been less than three weeks. “Mr. Taliaferro says your cubicle is closest to Tony’s.”
“Right. And we’ve had lunch together a couple of times.”
“But you wouldn’t say you knew him well?”
“I was getting to know him, I guess.” Thumbing his glasses up his nose again, he glanced from Rafe to Kit.
“What’s going on? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“We think he might be. Is there anything you can tell us? Have you spoken to him in the last couple of days?”
“No, not since last Friday, here at work.” He slid a small screwdriver into his white shirt pocket, already sagging with the weight of other tools and a rubber-banded notebook. He quickly glanced at Kit. “Oh, you’re the one who left me a message about Tony.”
“Right.” She smiled tightly.
Rafe could feel tension humming through her body and knew it had nothing to do with her sister and everything to do with the tight press of his body against hers.
Mike smiled sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t call you back. I got here early this morning to work on one of the mainframes and I forgot.”
She nodded, her breath washing hotly against Rafe’s shoulder, which only increased the burn in his veins.
He cleared his throat. “Did Tony say if he had any plans to go out of town over the weekend?”
“No,” Green said. “He told me he was going to the movies, some science fiction picture, I think. I’m not big on movies.”
“And he wasn’t acting strangely?”
“Not that I could tell, but I really haven’t known him all that long.”
Rafe studied him for a moment, and the guy met his gaze without blinking, again nudging up his glasses. “Did he ever mention a man named Alexander?”
The man’s smooth forehead furrowed. “No.”
Rafe believed the guy; Tony probably wanted to keep Alexander as far as possible from his new life.
“If you hear from Tony, would you give me a call?” Rafe managed to get his arm up and slide two fingers into his shirt pocket to retrieve a business card. He handed it to Green.
“Sure.” Green glanced at it, then at Kit. “I hope everything’s okay. Are you his sister or something?”
“Something,” Rafe answered for her, shifting to show Kit he was ready to go. “Thanks for your time.”
She pressed against the wall, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. In the mix of bright and dim light, her cheeks looked flushed. “Do you know Tony’s wife, Mr. Green?”
“Liz?” As if startled by the question, the man blinked a couple of times. “Oh, sure. Tony’s crazy about her.”
“Have you met her, then?”
“We’ve had lunch together a couple of times.” He looked from Kit to Rafe. “Is this about Liz, too?”
Rafe watched Kit, admiration growing. She’d done that exactly as he would’ve.
“She’s my sister,” Kit admitted.
The man peered over the top of his glasses. “I don’t really see the resemblance.”
“Most people don’t,” she said with a smile, but Rafe wondered at the tightness in her voice.
“Hope you find them.”
“Thanks.”
“If you find out anything, it would really help us if you’d call,” Rafe reminded.
“Yeah, if I hear from them, I’ll let you know.”
“We’d appreciate it.”
Rafe reached the door first, curious to know if Kit’s cheeks were really as flushed as they appeared in the closet.
He stepped out, sucking in a deep breath. It was too dang tight in there.
Kit was right behind him, and she seemed as glad for the space as he did. He tried to put out of his mind the feel of her body against his, the way her scent still crowded his lungs.
Color flagged her high cheekbones. Her nostrils flared delicately. She was either turned on or mad. Or both.
“What’s going on?” he asked as they got into the elevator to take them to the first level.
“If Mike Green knows Liz, then that means she’s been seeing Tony while telling me she wasn’t. I mean, Tony’s only worked here three weeks!”
Mad. Rafe didn’t know why Kit was so surprised. Dizzy Lizzy had always done exactly as she pleased, regardless of what it might mean to or for Kit.
“She swore she’d changed. She swore she was getting her life back together, that she agreed when I told her she should wait and see if Tony was really going straight.” Kit shook her head, looking disgusted. “If she’s not in danger now, she’s going to be when I find her.”
Rafe bit back a grin, struggling not to replay the memory of all that passion exploding beneath him at one time. Had Kit always been so verbal? If so, he didn’t remember. Another trait he’d squashed with his personality?
As they walked outside and across the parking lot, he found he had to match her quick steps. Her heels clicked angrily against the asphalt.
“You think Green was telling the truth? About not knowing anything?” For some reason, Rafe really wanted her opinion.
Her nose scrunched up in that cute little way she had when she thought about something. “I do. I thought he was forthcoming. He didn’t have to say anything about my message, for one thing.”
“True.”
“I think his concern about Tony is genuine, also his surprise that Tony isn’t at work.”
“I agree.” Rafe was impressed. Not just by the fact that she was showing anger toward her sister for the first time since he’d known her, but also by the fact that they had actually worked together, and worked well.
As Kit slid into the ’Vette beside him and buckled her seat belt, he reminded himself that they would go their separate ways once this was over. He had to forget about wanting to know more about the woman she was now. He’d been close to her before, let his guard down and had his heart torn to pieces. That engagement ring had burned a hole in his pocket, and his heart, for a year as he’d waited and hoped she’d change her mind about them. She hadn’t. Neither would he.
Ten minutes later, Kit’s gaze shifted from the green blur of passing trees to Rafe as he hung up his cell phone. He’d put in another call about Alexander to Kent Porter, his buddy at the OCPD, and gotten no information. “I think I’ve wasted your time.”
“How so?” Rafe turned right into the parking lot of a flat-roofed, muddy brown apartment complex in northwest Oklahoma City. They had agreed the next stop should be Tony’s ex-cell mate, Eddie Sanchez, who was also out on parole.
“You heard Mike Green. Liz has been seeing Tony. You were right.” Kit shoved a hand through her hair, trying to corral the anger that bubbled through her. As she had a hundred times this morning, she checked the battery on her cell phone. Fully charged. “She probably took off with him to Cancun or somewhere for a wild time. That would be so Liz.”
“I don’t think so, Kit.”
“Why not? You know how she is.”
“I found a listening device and a camera in your house, a tracker on your car and mine. I think someone’s after them, through you.”
“Why haven’t I heard from her?” Frustration wound her nerves tight.
“I’m not saying they didn’t run off to Cancun, but it’s looking more and more as if they had a reason.”
Kit stared at him in amazement, then huffed out a breath. “This is a switch, huh? You defending Liz.”
He grinned. “I’m saying your instincts were right. There’s a difference.”
She laughed, but felt the same slow roll of her belly that she’d felt while sandwiched with him in that closet. Was it because she couldn’t stop looking at him, thinking about him? About them? Or was it because of the distance between them? A distance Kit knew needed to be there, regardless of the ache in her chest.
She felt more pleasure than she should about the fact that Rafe had agreed with her assessment of the parole officer.
Kit tried to concentrate on Tony’s ex-cell mate. Sanchez wasn’t home, and they learned from his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Hawkins, that Eddie was working the wheat harvest in Texas but was expected back the next day. Rafe slid a business card under Eddie’s door, then pulled out another and asked the woman to call if she heard from him. She promised she would.
As Rafe and Kit pulled out of the parking lot and headed to his office, she found herself staring at his strong jaw, the sculpted profile of his lips. He’d treated her like an equal today, and she liked it. But she couldn’t let herself wonder what might’ve happened between them ten years earlier if she’d felt they were equals then. Their breakup had been her fault for not asserting herself more, and Rafe’s for asserting himself too much.
As they walked into his office, Kit again checked her cell phone. In perfect working order and no word from Liz. The tension that had knotted her shoulders upon first learning of Liz’s disappearance wound tighter.
The same attractive, middle-aged brunette whom Kit had seen on her first visit rose from the dark pecan desk that dominated the reception area. A striking oil abstract of a serene lake on a canyon floor hung on the wall behind her. Burgundy leather chairs winged the corners of the desk, inviting people to wait comfortably. A credenza, matching the polished wood of the desk, held neatly slotted file folders and manila jackets bearing typed labels with case names.
“Kit, you’ve met Nita Howard, my office manager.” Rafe shut the door behind them and grinned at the other woman.
Nita’s short ash-brown hair was perfectly styled, her makeup meticulous and understated. Her deep purple suit gave her blue eyes a hint of mischief. “Hello, Kit. How nice to see you again.” She shook Kit’s hand warmly, her gaze measuring Rafe.
Kit wondered what Rafe might’ve said about her to his secretary.
Rafe handed her the photos of Liz and Tony that Kit had given him.
Nita pushed a small sheaf of messages at him. “Kit, have you had any word from your sister?”