Chapter Nine
The next morning, Spence arranged secure transportation and bodyguards for the three remaining Four-Leaf Clovers while they attended their ten-o’clock meeting at his grandpa Oliver’s house.
Not an easy task. He needed to post two guards at the cabin while they were gone to make sure the property and surrounding grounds stayed safe.
The driving to and fro required three separate vehicles.
Since Rossi had already met Erin and her daughter, his team was responsible for escorting them to their Cloverdell home from the safe house, waiting for them to get ready and driving them to the appointment at Grandpa’s.
Liz Quintana shed her camo and dressed appropriately for the afternoon memorial service in a gray linen suit with concealed gun holster, Taser and knife sheath.
She’d deliver Bethany to the meeting at his grandfather’s house, then take her to the memorial service at the church and, finally, the reception afterward at Great-aunt Irma’s mansion, where Bethany lived.
Protecting Mollie was his project.
After last night’s semi-accidental intimacy, he expected their relationship to be different, maybe strained or clumsy.
But she surprised him at breakfast with a jolt of cool sophistication.
Nobody would guess that a few hours ago she’d marched into his bedroom where he was naked under the covers.
She’d confided in him, admitted that she’d lied.
He’d comforted her. They’d shared an embrace and a kiss. No big deal, right?
But somehow during that brief encounter, her body had imprinted on his. Her sweet, natural fragrance and satin-smooth skin wakened his senses. He’d never forget the taste of her lips or the little gasp she made. She was luscious, and he was hooked. He never wanted their contact to end.
“A cup of coffee?” he offered.
“You already brought me one.”
“Thought you might be extra thirsty after what happened…yesterday.”
Calmly, she avoided innuendo. “I’m fine.”
If anyone was being awkward this morning, it was him. He was as tongue-tied and klutzy as a teenager with his first crush.
After she finished her mushroom, ham and cheese frittata and both cups of coffee he prepared for her, she went back upstairs to change into the teal dress that Erin had brought for her.
Spence was already dressed and ready to roll in a navy blue suit with a striped silk tie that Irma had given him when he graduated from law school.
He made a point of dressing well in his lawyer uniform for public occasions since his security assignments seemed to have taken on more importance than courtroom appearances.
At least he looked like he belonged at the Cameron family law firm.
When he saw Mollie standing at the top of the staircase, he was blown away.
Sure, he knew she was attractive. He’d have to be blind not to notice.
But he’d only seen her in baggy shorts and T-shirts with sneakers.
She’d transformed. The teal dress complemented her blue eyes.
The sleek fit of the garment emphasized her slim waist and long legs.
The lace sleeves showed off her well-toned arms and disguised the farmer’s tan.
She’d borrowed makeup from Erin to make her already lovely face even more perfect.
Her streaked blond hair was neatly combed.
She descended the staircase and paused directly in front of him. He cleared his throat to keep from stammering. “You look great.”
“Really? The dress is too big and too long. Not that I’m complaining.” She pointed to her beige platform sandals. “Erin remembered to bring shoes. I haven’t worn anything this high in months. Hope I can manage without stumbling.”
“Not to worry,” he assured her. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”
She did a twirl and beamed at him. “Six years ago, I remember how Madison and I went shopping together for something to wear for a fancy dinner party. She said this wasn’t the type of dress she’d ever choose but it would look good on me and I should always wear this shade of blue. My twin has excellent taste.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d spoken of Madison in the present tense.
Her belief in her sister’s survival would not be denied.
Mollie wanted her twin back and was willing to latch onto any shred of possible evidence to reinforce her hopeful opinion, no matter how unlikely.
Though he’d agreed to investigate the note with the scribbled M for a signature, he doubted it would lead anywhere.
When he took her hand to escort her out the front door to the green Escalade, the connection between them was palpable. They had an understanding. An empathy. There might be conflicts on how to proceed, but they had already bonded at a deep level.
In the passenger seat, she called his attention to the seat belt. “I found the envelope here, tucked between the straps. Did you figure out how someone left it there?”
“Still looking.” He started the SUV and pulled away from the safe house. “When the airport sniper blasted the picture window at the office of Salem Beacon Charter, the surveillance cameras were destroyed. We don’t have video evidence of what was happening near the hangar.”
“Did Rossi see anyone?”
“Nobody stood out to him.” Spence trusted Rossi, who had been employed by CLF for two years.
Plus he had training as a military cop and bodyguard.
Alert was his middle name. “He suggested contacting the Salem police and the FCC, who have several CCTV cameras at the airport. They have full coverage of entrances, exits, hangars and terminals.”
“Of course.”
He could also work through Agent Jamison to further their investigation.
The FBI had access to information Spence couldn’t touch.
“Rossi apologizes for missing the person who slipped an envelope into the car. He admits that he was distracted when the airport cops arrived and everything went sideways.”
She tucked her wavy hair behind her ear. “Chaos would be a mild way to describe the sniper, a shootout and an ambulance. Not to mention the siren-blaring Salem SWAT.”
“Today, we’ll take the actual note and envelope to a forensic lab in Salem. They’ve done work for us before, and I trust their results. They can lift prints and test the paper and ink used in the signature.”
“Good plan. Madison’s fingerprints are on file in AFIS.”
He gave her a skeptical glance. “Any particular reason why your twin is in a criminal data base?”
“She was always a little wild. Got arrested once or twice for mischief and graffiti, which Dad excused as creative expression.”
“I thought you were the artist.” Erin’s daughter had shown him the sketches Mollie did, and he thought they were as good as renderings done by trained forensic technicians to identify suspects. “I especially liked four-year-old Amy as a vampire.”
“Did you know that identical twins don’t have matching fingerprints?”
He shrugged. “What about DNA?”
“It’s very similar but not exactly the same. Which I suppose is good news for me,” she said. “I can’t get mistakenly identified as Madison.”
Again, present tense. “If my forensic people can’t find anything, I want to pass the note to Agent Jamison for analysis. The FBI has the best technology.”
“I’m not sure we should involve the feds. Trusting Marshal Youngblood in Denver might have been a big mistake.” She shook her head and made a lightning change of subject. “Have you given any more thought to how we’re going to handle the big event of the day?”
“Which big event?”
Spence counted three: The first was the upcoming discussion with his grandfather, the executor of Irma’s will.
Secondly, there was the memorial service at the Methodist Church, which would be a security nightmare with an overflow crowd.
Third, and final, was the reception at Irma Winchell’s mansion, including buffet and beverages.
“The five-o’clock meeting at the Clover Clubhouse.” She zoomed in on the most important event in her mind. The possibility of learning something new about her twin. In the note, she’d been instructed to come alone.
“I’ll tell you one thing about that meeting,” he said. “You’re not going alone.”
“But the message specifically said—”
“I’ll be with you.” Anyone who ever saw a horror movie knew that when an anonymous source said to come alone, psychotic ax murderers and werewolves were likely to pop out of the bushes. “You won’t see me. They’ll never know I’m there. But you need backup.”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I agree that a secret meeting is a risk.
But think of the reward.” He heard the irritation and the desperation in her voice.
When he glanced at her, he saw tears welling as she said, “Madison might be alive. She might need my help. I can’t turn my back on her. ”
“Which is why you don’t take risks. You have to be in control.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but—”
“We need to use all the technology and expertise available, starting with compliance. You and I need to arrange a time to give our statements to the various law enforcement agencies, including local police and the FBI, who are already investigating the sniper attack.” He paused. “We need to tell them the truth.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “But we don’t have to say anything about the note.”
She’d played this trick on him earlier when she vowed to be honest but didn’t mention the secret envelope. Omitting information counted as deception. Like serving almond cookies and neglecting to mention that the delicious scent came from cyanide.
“We can’t play games,” he said. “If we want honesty from them, we can’t withhold information. I need to consult with Agent Jamison. He’s a conduit I can trust to get police information.”
He felt her gaze resting upon him, studying and measuring. In a level tone, she asked, “Can I trust you, Spence?”
“I’ll be honest with you.”
“That’s all I ask.”